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fanaticsnail · 5 months ago

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Frills and Bundles

Masterlist Here

Word Count: 1,600+

Synopsis: Bound to your desk, you took to the task of testing out a new prototype of a dress Ivankov made for you. Not used to the frills and bundles, you become wrapped up in the feeling of it while your friend tries to halt his unhinged urges to do something about his pining.

Themes: Sabo x f!reader, 18+, NSFW, suggestive, Sabo is unhinged, Sabo is a little yandere, no smut - just fantasy, mutual pining, idiots in love, reader's birthday, fluff with an edge of spice beneath the surface.

Notes: Happy birthday @frillsinadress!! I hope you enjoy a small fic of Sabo longing and pining. May your day be glorious 🖤

Twin beady eyes gawked at you while sitting motionless atop your wooden desk. The shell on its back depicted the cross-hatched tattoo of your boss and leader of the revolutionary army. Your task for the day was to sit there and wait for the final report from Monkey D Dragon, and to organize a corresponding attack on the marines base with his direct orders as soon as he ordered them.

The full skirt attached to your hips gathered in heavy bunches in your lap, your chest rising and falling in strangled breaths beneath the constriction of the leathery corset Ivankov fashioned for you. Each element of the ruffled skirt weighed heavily on your hips regardless as to how you sat at your desk.

While the arrangement was beautiful, it was not at all practical while bound to the drawl of paperwork and snail-sitting. The reason you were dressed in this formal garb was specifically to train yourself how to act properly and daintily in order to infiltrate a gala, to gather intelligence for the revolutionary army in a reconnaissance mission within a small unit.

It was a bonus that you got to wear such a pretty arrangement on a day like today. Your birthday, to be exact.

While you never truly made a deal about yourself, never taking time off from your duties under Dragon to enjoy yourself, receiving the prototype from Ivankov did make you feel special in your own way. The extravagant array of frills and bundles waterfalling to the floor had the corners of your lips ticking up in a sweet smile.

Lost in your own world, you were yet to notice a presence leaning against the wooden post to your office door.

Head tilted, eyes examining, lips smiling, arms crossing, and foot tapping stood the flame emperor of the revolutionary army. Second in command under Dragon, your superior, who you answered to on occasion, and the man who recently became obsessed with you.

His obsession really seeped from the fact that you had only ever been kind and attentive to him: fetching his coat and hat when he left meetings, always dainty and poised regardless as to how well you were personally faring. From that brink came a spark within his chest that had him constantly feeling on edge. He was plagued with a lust that never seemed quenchable enough or satiated by his own pleasure while he fucked his fist to your fantasy.

Noticing your eyes left the two globes of the snail’s haunting and beady eyes to gawk down at your breasts hoisted in the corset, he felt morally obliged to do the same. As your hands traveled up to readjust them, you bunched the flesh in your hands and gave them a slight jiggle.

Sabo felt his mouth begin to water, salivating at the fantasy of picturing you palming them, while the other traveled beneath your skirts to give in to your need for release. Although all you were currently doing was toying and fussing with your seams, his mind had a way of running away with him when his eyes fell to you. Picturing all the thoughts he had of you pinching and fondling your naked breasts while he pistoned his cock, his mind for carried away as his gaze wandered lower.

His eyes stopped their mirage, hyper focussing on the fabrics bunched at your waist in an array of flowing frills. It was far too much material to get below the waist from the top. You would have to go from beneath to seek out that pretty pussy you've kept hidden from him.

Narrowing his gaze with a deep furrow of his brow, he concentrated on how much the material would prohibit such fun for you in an array of positions. The skirts almost seemed enough to hide another person beneath them.

Sabo could be that person beneath the frills and bundles for you.

Sabo wanted to be that person beneath the frills and bundles for you.

Sabo needed to dive beneath those skirts and consume your pleasure with his lips, tongue and teeth while his hands pried you apart and held you like that until you were clenching around him.

Shaking his head, he rid himself of those thoughts while gently coughing to alert you of his presence by the door.

“Sabo-!” you exclaimed, your hands frozen at their place fondling your breasts while shrouded in its corset. Face flushed, eyes wide, lips parting, and, in Sabo’s opinion, absolutely adorable: you had no idea how to react to being caught out squeezing at your breasts.

Gently smirking, he approached your station and removed his top-hat from his mop of tousled, blonde hair. Carding his digits through his locks, he sheepishly hung his head while his thighs brushed with your desk. Placing his hat down on your desk, he bit back his rising smirk and closed his eyes in humor.

“That-... Uh-...” He attempted to contain a chuckle from falling from his lips, “...New dress?” He continued to hold his eyes to the ground, peering at your fright through his peripherals.

“Yes, sir,” you nodded, finally releasing your breasts from your hands.

“One of Ivankov’s?” He rose his eyes to meet your gaze. While he feigned an air of innocence about him, that unhinged side wanted nothing than to see how much more he could fluster you. “I like it on you. A lot, actually.” He leaned his hip up to sit on your desk, gently tilting the snail aside to avoid its awakened gaze.

“I-It is one of Iva’s, yes,” you stutter, blinking rapidly while he hovers ever closer to you. “Thank you for saying so.” You gave him a soft giggle to shrug off your nerves, returning to your usual posture with a grin, “Caught me at an odd moment, I won't lie to you. I'm not used to being so constricted by ruffles, frills and bundles. Anything for the cause, right?”

Sabo chuckled alongside you as you spoke, shaking his head lightly while he took you in.

“I don't blame you,” he shrugged, leaning forward and punching a portion of the fabric between his gloved fingers, “It's rather surreal, seeing you all dressed up like this.” Using a swift motion, he slowly dragged you towards him by the nape of your neck.

Rising to your feet with his motions, you allowed yourself to be tugged up by the flame emperor and drawn closer towards him. Your lips tingle with anticipation, never truly knowing the intention he was envisioning while you rose to stand before him. Sabo had always been a little unhinged with his conversation, and you would reciprocate indulgently with his unhinged commentary every now and again for your own, personal benefit.

Now fully standing in front of him, he rose to his feet and maintained contact with you by his gloved hand while walking around the desk. Reaching forward with his unoccupied hand, he claimed yours and gently indicated for you to spin slowly with him as your partner. To the betterment of your abilities, you allowed yourself to be spun in place, skirts bunching and swaying to a soundless melody.

“So pretty,” Sabo commented on your display alongside your garment, “Such a pretty dress, for such a pretty girl.” He halted your dance, placing both hands on your waist as he slowly moved himself closer. “Any wishes for your birthday? Anything I could do to help you out while you're bound in chains to the desk?”

You giggle at his comment, gently tapping his cravat with the backs of your hands in a playful shove. Shaking your head, you smoothed the sides of his navy jacket and fixed his collar. While you craved so desperately to give into your desires and ask him to satisfy the plague of lust branded into your mind of him beneath your skirts and satisfying you while you worked, you chose to behave.

“I have all I need here, sir,” you nodded towards your desk, “And I'll be here until Dragon tells me otherwise.”

“I could hide beneath your desk?” Sabo suggested, gently thumbing at your hips and bringing his lips up to your jaw before pressing a sweet kiss to your cheek, “I have the whole day spare. I can be right here with you, and I won't make a peep.”

You shook your head at your friend, releasing his collar from your hands and gave him a playful shove.

“No distractions. I need to be at my desk until Dragon dismisses me for the day,” you nodded with a hint of melancholy to your tone, “The cause comes before all else, including pretty blondes hiding beneath my desk. Thank you for your suggestion, though. I do appreciate the offer.”

“Even on your birthday?” he suggested with a soft pout, “You're more dedicated than most of us here. I promise, as soon as you get off and away from your desk, as your friend: I will give you a birthday you won't easily forget.”

You shook your head, gently parting Sabo on the chest and returning to sit back at your desk.

“Thank you, Sabo,” you smile up at the man by your side, “You're a good friend. I'm looking forward to it.”

Giving you one last smile, he reached down and claimed your hand in his. Slowly dragging it up to his lips, he maintained eye contact while he pressed a kiss tentatively on the top of your knuckles. While the action in and of itself was sweet, the hidden promise dancing behind his eyes was raw and feral.

He knew exactly how he was going to make your day unforgettable. Each element of his date was meticulously planned and laid before him. The cuisine you favored, the sweets you preferred, a menu to sate your appetite for food, followed by the absolute cure to quench the thirst gathering in the thick, raw, primal tension rising between you.

For now, he would be satisfied by peering up at you though his blonde eyelashes, while he pictured all the ways he was going to carve your day into your memory. Confessing his love for you, expressing how devoted he was to you, and demonstrating that declaration by unraveling you in more ways you could ever perceive by every part of him he'd make available to you.

Sabo would confess.

All he hopes if that you would feel the same, and allow him to explore that with you.

Tag list: @mfreedomstuff @daydreamer-in-training @since-im-already-here @gingernut1314 @writingmysanity @i-am-vita @indydonuts @feral-artistry @the-light-of-star @empirenowmp3 @racfoam @sunflowersatori @carrotsunshine @skullfacedlady @jintaka-hane @thenotsofantasticlifestory

#one piece #x reader #flame emperor sabo #revolutionary sabo #sabo #sabo x reader #x f!reader #one piece x reader #birthday fic #moots mooting

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viloxity · 9 months ago

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Fluctuating Skies (Part 1 of 2) — Yandere! Sung Jinwoo x Female Reader

Part 2

Synopsis: The scenario where the Monarchs rule Earth and the Shadow Monarch finds you in the New World.

A/N: this is one of two parts (he’ll get more unhinged, don’t worry). additionally, this is cross posted on quotev under the same name (viloxity). Any and all feedback or comments are greatly appreciated!!!

You loved the sky.

The sky was beautiful, and perfect. It was never-ending; even when you stared until your eyes burned, you could never find the ending—or the beginning. You would stare, and stare, until you noticed the clouds. The way the clouds explored the skies’ vastness, steadily drifting towards their next unknown journey, gave you hope in this fickle world—a world where you were not sure if a tomorrow was guaranteed.

Each distortion that filled the skies—the skies you have started to despise—spelled an inevitable demise as humanity endured even worse losses. As you took exams at college, there were lines outside of hospitals. The day of your graduation, as you walked the confetti covered balcony, there were bodies lining graves—the A-rank dungeon break nearly flushed out a small city an hour away from you. That day, your supposed ‘celebration’ encompassed hesitant smiles and reluctant whispers that congratulated you on your success.

“At least we are still here.” You recalled a woman saying, scolding the looks on her family’s faces.

You looked at the sky, your tassel gently flowing with the motion of your head. Eventually, the monsters will take over this land. They will overwhelm humanity’s strongest fighters and wipe out the population in clusters. You could feel the anger pooling, then, at your helplessness. Average civilians were so weak, so useless. It hurt that you couldn’t even protect anyone, let alone yourself. Why, why were you born so weak—

Your emotions stilled at a cloud that slowly passed over the sun. Your heart was calm, beating slower.

Even when the world ends, the sky will remain unchanged—unchanged, vast, and still beautiful.

Then, the world ended.

You still remembered the day as if it were just yesterday, when the gates appeared—the roaring sounds oscillating across the entire country and its diameter devouring the peaceful summer sky. The action of itself was unjust—not because it triggered the apocalypse, but because it tied in a pacifist to the unyielding destruction of the entire world. There was a brief intermission between the gate openings and the flow of monsters; realization of the situation propelled Darwin’s theory of natural selection into motion. You were lucky to have broken out of your stupor, yelling out that everyone should run—maybe you saved some lives that day.

The screams were just as loud as the tremors that shook the earth once the rampage began. You could not focus on anything else but the shrieks, and the vile sounds of slicing of innocent faces you would now never get to meet in this lifetime. Once again, you were helpless to the world around you. No awakening, no power, no ability to do anything. The best you could do was silence your whimpers and hope it all stops.

Was your family okay? You thought as another scream fell silent. Where were they?

You looked at the sky for a miracle, but all you could see was that damned gate.

“Thank you.” The stranger’s trembling hands folded over the small bread bun, his eyes full of shame and gratitude.

You nodded, then smiled. “You can pick up water from the well just North of here.”

The man nodded his head, repeatedly murmuring ‘thank you’s’ with his voice growing hoarse as tears dripped down his eyes. He had not moved to start eating yet; you could feel his hesitance even after you gave him the bun. You nodded once more before making a swift exit. From a few meters away, you could distantly make out the sounds of biting and chewing.

Your heart felt content. It was warm, sometimes, but it was hard for the heat to linger long. It was hard to fan the flames in the first place; humanity had dispersed into fragments, with remnants of a sound society lost long ago. You also had not heard of a single word regarding your family, no matter how many villages you crossed or people you asked—you assumed them dead on the day of the Parade.

Yes, the day of the Parade. The day of the nightmare you wished to forget, the crossing of endless monstrosities, and the mark of the end of humanity. By some miracle, despite the constant onslaught of dragons and beasts crossing the gates, you lived. Back then, people agreed how fortunate you and others were to be able to hide—after all, if you didn’t hide, you ran. Yet, all you could feel was turmoil brewing within you.

Was it really something fortunate?

The people you loved; your family, friends, they were all gone. Your accomplishments, career, vanished the moment the gates flooded open. Back then, you were playing a game of ‘pretend’—those serene smiles and unsaid thoughts renounced the oncoming catastrophe as a tale of make-believe. You wanted to shout at the survivors that nothing was ‘fortunate’ anymore, that you all were apart of scrapped pages ripped from a fable that deemed your lives forfeit after its story reached the end. You were dirt on the ground, now; organic matter that existed as sustenance for better life forms.

Then, there was the sky. The sky you had loved and cherished deeply, was an entity that you blamed. It was the sky’s fault; something that symbolized tranquility and freedom was replaced as a symbol of the beginning of the end. Beautiful, were the bright explosions that blinded and wrecked cities. Vast, the lines of gates that it held. Limitless, the rows and rows of monsters it brought from within. No longer a constant variable in your life, it was something that reminded you of the day you lost everything.

At least, that’s what you thought back then.

There was more to life than you realized when you found the first village. You had trekked far from the city, and far from your home. You did not know where you were walking, and it looked fruitless based on the lack of your supplies. By a stroke of luck, a group came across you while you were slumped on the floor. They pitied you, offering to take you to their sanctuary—the last of humanity’s efforts to survive.

Upon arrival, you noticed the structure itself looked flimsy, with a handful of people walking through rubble and around deep holes in the ground. It also looked poorly built; houses were built from logs and leaves, with some looking as if they could fall over any moment. But, that didn’t matter—what mattered were the people. A person stood in the middle of the village; you could only make out his shouts and pointing in different directions to assume he was the leader of the village. You watched as men moved to build another house, the same poorly structured house, as others ran away to seemingly get supplies. The women occupied their time by cooking and playing with the children, and you nearly cried at how carefree the children looked.

Despite everyone’s losses, they still moved on. You all were specks of dirt in the ground, but together—as soil—you could erode even the hardest of rocks.

You stopped momentarily, turning behind a piece of wooden wall that was left from a now-destroyed-shed. You peeked around the corner, seeing the man feast on the tiny bun. Good, he was eating. You originally volunteered to assist outsiders, thus had been handing out bread buns the entire day to lone scavengers roaming the outskirts. Although you could no longer take care of your family like you used to, at least you can try to ensure the nourishment of others.

You sighed, relief sifting down your body. You shifted through your bag, feeling the weight of a singular item. You had one more piece left, meaning your work wasn’t over, but you had exhausted nearly the entire outskirts. Perhaps you should take another lap around again—

Out of the corner of your eye, you saw what looked to be a dark, blackened figure. It reminded you of the black spots you would get when you were dizzy or fatigued, so you turned your head for a better view.

There was… nothing. Everything was dark, covered by a half-broken roof and the rapid growth of moss and vines. You felt as if… something was staring at you. It was like a sharp pinch, as if there was a pair of eyes piercing like a needle into your soul. At the same time, you felt tired; enough so that if you were to close your eyes right now, you were sure the abyss would greet you in response.

Your eyes swept the shed, noticing a faintly drawn outline that was swaying within the void of darkness. You made contact with a pair of dimmed gray hues, its stare so bold and cold that a shiver quaked through your body. It was tempting to conclude that it was just some illusion, some petty trick on your mind so that the pill was easier to swallow. The longer you stared into the gray depths, the more you couldn’t look away.

What was this feeling?

It was not only that you felt your heart pump strenuously, but the surreality of your condition. You felt and heard your heart pump simultaneously with the feeling of adrenaline hitting your bloodstream. Your arms and legs tensed out of instinct, causing you to wince as your muscle fibers moved and pulled across your bones. The several cracks under the soles of your feet trembled slightly, as if matching your fear.

You wanted to look away so badly. You are too entranced now; a rabbit trapped under sharp claws as the wolf stared down its prey.

Please, please, please, look away.

No, this feeling—

You are remembering that day again. God, why even remember now?

It must be a coincidence—but it couldn’t be. It feels so much like…

Like…

Like those beasts.

Those beasts that walked where the sun did not follow.

They appeared in shaky and inky black forms. They would appear, and whatever they would do, would always result in a calamity. You heard the most screams from them, always.

“I’m paralyzed.” You thought, realization sinking in.

Is this the end?

Then, a sigh.

A deep, long, aired out sigh.

In an instant, all the pressure building within your frame vanished. The tension on your sarcomeres lessened, like a weight slowly floating off your shoulders. As the rush dissipated, you are left with trembling hands and shaky legs. Your senses came back to you, one by one.

Your head shot up, fearful eyes meeting wary ones. You see a figure, now—which looked to be a man—but it was odd. His frame was fluctuating between reality and obscurity, like he was struggling to pick the right balance of tenebrosity or to succumb entirely to the veil of night. His stare engraved holes into you; it was lucky that you hadn’t deflated into a balloon, most likely due to the restraint on his aura.

Aura… his sheer presence is powerful enough to knock you unconscious, that much you could tell.

To be truthful, you were clueless as to his actual thoughts. Initially, his presence was concealed—only emitting essence that you now thought was a warning. Maybe you pushed a button or two, seeing as he actually appeared in front of you. If anything, you were slightly grateful to know that you weren’t entirely crazy and that there was an actual person in the shed. However, you couldn’t read his expression at all; firstly because he wasn’t conveying anything, and secondly because you were too scared to try.

Neither of you moved; the shock having knocked the breath out of you and the stranger seemingly studying you.

Then,

“Go home.”

His voice was deep, so low in octave you imagined the sound waves still bouncing around your ear drums. In any other situation, it would’ve soothed you, as you envisioned singing lullabies or the humming of baritone tunes.

But, you also weren’t stupid. The man’s wording was specific—a demand. In a sense, he was a king; a ruler who offers you mercy after finding you in contempt of the sovereign because you tried stepping on his land. Unconsciously, your legs moved, recognizing that the lord gave you permission to leave—words your being waited on with bated breath to live another day.

So, you ran, not realizing that you dropped your bag of items, nor the growing smile on the stranger’s face.

That man, he never left your mind.

Somber gray eyes, and a complexion that rivaled Greek gods. His hair was as dark as the shadows devoured under his silhouette. He was more than ordinary, representative of a being that practices and deals in absolute power. There were only a handful of people who were gifted with abilities like that, back when the very first gates opened.

Right, now you remembered—they were called hunters. Hunters were classified into different rankings, all the way to S-rank and even national level hunters. To be a hunter, you were granted a certain seed of power.

If he were to be like anything else back then, could he have been a hunter? An S-class, even?

It was rare to come across ‘hunters’ anymore, the label long disbanding alongside the association that coined the term. When they appeared, it was considered a bad omen. Either they were chased by the Monarchs of the New World (for the risk they held) or isolated by the unawakened out of fear. Perhaps, the man was the last of the hunters—of the humans who could fight back at all.

Either way, you wanted to see him again. The more reflecting you did, the more you registered his seclusion; he is far, far from the remnants of civilization.

Regardless of the fear you felt, or the possibility of death, he was still human. He was someone who lost everything, just like you and everyone else.

The destination was a long and grueling walk from the current village you stayed at. Passing by outlanders, you gave out food and supplies as normal, while steadily making your way towards the shed.

Would he still be there? It was hard to say. Most remaining hunters were known to be nomads; staying in one place for longer than a day was like shooting fish in a barrel for their next enemy. You were not sure if he was a hunter in the first place, too—it was your latest profound superstition to be proven by whatever little luck you had left. As you treaded further, the familiarity of your surroundings fill you with perpetual dread. You began to second-guess your courage to embark on this trip in the first place, thoughts clouded and eventually drowned out by faint whispers inside decaying wooden walls. The moment your final step reached the broken shelter a hush filled the air, the shed girdling the edge of the forest encompassed by a heavy silence.

“Hello?” You called out to no one in particular.

You nearly surprised yourself with the surge of bravery to make out your greeting. You peeked into the shed, hands waving through vines. There was no one around the entrance, despite you hearing multiple voices.

Odd.

You weaved through a few cracks in the floorboard before being greeted by gray eyes. You jumped, obviously, because you did not expect him to be in such close proximity to you. He was a till a few feet away, but you could have never spotted him if he chose to sit closer to the wall. He was indeed discernible now, sitting under a small stream of light gifted by the sun. His shadow dragged along the box he sat atop of, sinking behind its crevices before pushing itself onto the wall and absorbing its shade. In any other universe, you would’ve described it as strange. In this case, you thought it supported how outlandish—and isolated—he must be.

“You’re back, what a surprise,” The man said, expression clearly detached. “I thought I scared you off.”

This was going to be difficult.

“Right. I was, but I thought it would be better to introduce myself since we got off on the wrong foot—“

A half truth, but you were also cautious.

“—my name is Y/N.”

He was burning holes into you again—the stare wasn’t any less discomforting than the previous time. His silence, too, was deafening. A sudden urge to scream to at least get a reaction out of him rose within you, but you quickly simmered it out.

The stranger’s eyes narrowed slightly as he let out a faint hum.

You winced. “I wanted to give you something that I couldn’t last time.”

You quickly plucked out a wrapped item, hastily tearing through the covering to reveal a bread bun. You weren’t able to catch a glimpse of his face, opting to shift the bread onto an elevated surface so he wouldn’t be incentivized to lunge at you.

“I hope that this helps you, even if it isn’t a whole lot.” You said, nervously picking your cuticles.

The silence was very, VERY heavy, and—can he please say something?

You looked up and caught the man’s wide eyed, dazed state as his eyes lingered on the bread. It reminded you of a skeptical stray cat at a crossroads when offered an open-hand. The man’s eyes met yours, then, and all you could think was how much better he looked without baring his teeth at you.

“You’re funny.” He dryly chuckled, faint smile betraying his nonchalance.

You offered a small smile, blissfully unaware of his next few words.

“I’m Jinwoo.”

And,

“See you tomorrow?”

“Are you a hunter, Jinwoo?” You asked after placing down the wrapped bread.

You wanted to use his name in some way, lest you forget it or say it wrong. It was ironic you carried over some of your social habits after the end of the world, like a puppy you once fed.

“You could say that,” Jinwoo replied simply.

“Could?” You echoed.

He must’ve noticed your frown, adding, “Not like it matters now.”

He had a point; the name lost its meaning awhile ago. Still, you were ruffled by his restrained disposition. Surely, the label still had meaning to him.

…No, that was an unfair presumption. Jinwoo knows his own memories and emotions better than everyone, especially you. Besides, it wasn’t worth arguing the semantics on the basis of mere suspicion.

Thus, you decided to let it go.

Ah, that reminded you—he never told you his last name.

“You don’t have family?”

“I did.”

You perked up. “…You lost them, too?”

Jinwoo closed his eyes, licking his lips. “Because of the Tragedy, yes, if that’s what you’re asking.”

Then, he squinted his eyes curiously. “I’m more interested in your story.”

You coughed suddenly, shocked by his gravitation towards you. Maybe it was because all you had to offer was bread and stories, or because you never took the chance to settle with your memories, but you felt compelled to talk.

And talk, you did.

Jinwoo was an excellent listener; he was levelheaded and passive, allowing you to just… talk, and talk, and talk (with a tendency to sigh or huff as remarks). You were spilling your family’s entire life story, grasping this fact in the middle of talking about your sister’s fiancé’s secret affair, but you found that you didn’t care. If you weren’t able to come to terms with your family’s passing before this, perhaps someone else can remember in your stead.

Did he care to remember every single detail, anyway? Probably not.

“Hold on—I lost track of the time. Crap, it’s getting dark.” You said, rushing to readjust your cloak. If you started the walk now, you might make it before it’s fully dark.

“It’s rather late, it wouldn’t be safe for you to leave.” Jinwoo said, rough voice clipping louder than your hurried shuffling.

“Did you like my stories that much?” You joked.

You waited a few beats of silence. “Sorry, bad joke; I wouldn’t have any place to sleep if I stayed, anyway.”

The shed violently shook at the end of your sentence, causing your heart to lurch in your chest. You latched onto the metal pole next to you, clutching tightly as you waited for the shaking to cease. Within seconds, Jinwoo was next to you, gently but firmly holding your arm; in moments, the quaking stopped.

“Must’ve been an earthquake.” Jinwoo noted, tone and expression laced with unconventional serenity.

Your quivering hadn’t stopped after the vibrations ceased. In fact, it increased exponentially because you were still trying to comprehend the glimpse of Jinwoo’s vibrant, deep purple eyes etched with absolute unadulterated fury.

You were deluded, you thought quickly as your breathing hastened. You were tired, surely.

“I should go home.”

His breathing stilled.

“Don’t forget about me tomorrow,” Jinwoo said, sounding strangely hollow as his iron grip slowly released you.

Once again, you ran away from his grasp.

#sung jinwoo x reader #sung jin-woo x reader #sung jin woo x reader #solo leveling x reader #yandere sung jinwoo #yandere sung jinwoo x reader #Yandere sung Jin-woo x reader #Yandere solo leveling #Yandere solo leveling x reader #yandere #yandere sung Jin woo x reader #yandere x reader #Jinwoo sung x reader #yandere jinwoo sung x reader #Yandere jinwoo sung #sung jinwoo #sung jin-woo

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xreaderbooks · 4 months ago

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Paradise on Earth (22)

Chapter: 22. The Bells

Pair: JJ Maybank x Routledge! Reader

Summary: stuck in a room with Rafe and the impending sense of doom.

Warnings: language, mentions of violence, hostages, strangling, drowning

Word Count: 1.9k

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Chapter 21 | Series Masterlist | Navigation | Next Chapter

Rafe clutched onto your shoulders with a frantic look, "No bullshit, Do you have the diary?"

You didn't want to talk to him, your eyes traveled to Kie's worried gaze welled with tears, a deep frown set in her features that matched your own. "No."

It was the only word you planned on speaking to him, one word for him to let go of his hold on you. When he didn't immediately remove his hands from your shoulders, you brushed them off and walked to the opposite side of the room.

Shit, shit, shit.

You didn't have the book. Would it even matter if you told Singh that you didn't have the book? With the way you perceived him to be unhinged, you doubted that he would believe you.

"We're fucked," You spoke directly to Kie with concerned eyes, whatever happened to Rafe was not your problem anymore and if you were being honest with yourself, he never was.

~~~

You and Kie took up the bed and had Rafe sleep on the floor, your room was long forgotten and it didn't seem like the guards cared, you weren't going to be able to escape either way.

You dreamt of the water, weaving beds of leaves, and being taught how to spearfish. It was a memory of a lifestyle you lived not too long ago, it felt like a dream.

Kie was above you a distant look on her face as she spoke to you in a hushed tone, "I have a plan, but you have to trust me." Anxiety settled into your chest as you remembered you were not still stranded on the island or even on the outer banks. The bed you sat up in with eyes still crusted with sleep belonged to a man willing to murder you and your best friend for a diary you currently did not have.

"What plan?" You rasped.

She moved fast, knocking on the window where a guard stood by and looked at her expressionless. "Go get Mr. Singh, I need to talk to him." She mouthed to him, he didn't move an inch, he simply turned his back to her.

"Kie, whatever you're planning isn't going to work if you don't talk me through it," You moved out of bed to follow her to the door and noted how sore your body felt. Your leg felt tender and bruised. When you looked down to inspect it, you saw the inside of your flesh from how deep the wound was but it wasn't bleeding so you called that a positive. You limped as you followed her around the room.

"It has to," She insisted. She pounded on the door, Rafe stirred in his sleep, waking up to her shouting for the man who was posted in front of it.

"The hell are you two doing?" Rafe's question goes unheard.

When neither of you two acknowledged him he tried to get your attention, "Hello?"

Ignoring Rafe, You shook your head, "I'll go with you. He seems to have some sort of interest in my family history, maybe it'll help."

"No fucking way," Rafe tells you. "Can someone please tell me what's going on?"

"Stay out of this," Kiara snaps at him. "Y/n, I'm going, you're hurt."

"I was just fine last night," You lift the leg of your silk pajama pants and show her that the bleeding had stopped. "It's a scratch."

She narrows her eyes, "You need stitches. I'm going."

The face of the man who's on guard duty comes in and Kie tells him she needs to speak with Singh urgently. He side-eyes you and Rafe and says, "Yes." He snatches her bicep.

"I got this," She whispers to you before she's dragged out of the room.

You punched the door in frustration, stressfully running your hands through your hair, and slid down the door, clutching your knees to bend to your chest. You heard Rafe take a step in your direction and your eyes jumped to his tense form.

"What is she going to do?" He asked.

You didn't respond, you thought if you ignored him, he would go away. He didn't.

"Y/n, Can we just talk?"

"No."

"Is 'no' the only word in your vocabulary now?"

You wanted to say that it was the only word you thought of when you saw him. It was a no to keep yourself from him, a no that should've been said when you became entwined in each other's lives deeper than they were or should have ever been. His whole existence to you is a no.

Instead, you said, "No."

"Please, Angel-" He pleaded. You cringed at the nickname that once made you feel weak-kneed, you didn't want to feel anything towards him or the words he spoke.

"Don't." You sent him a warning look, he didn't deserve any moment in your presence from the moment he strangled you. The moment he shot Peterkin and framed John B, all the way to when he drowned Sarah. He didn't deserve you way before then.

"Just hear me out, alright?" He kneeled to your level, "Please."

You turned your head to stare blankly at the wooden floorboards, he wasn't going to stop trying to talk to you. "I have nowhere to go, Rafe, so say whatever you want to say to me but I don't care. It doesn't change anything."

"I love you," He confesses and your heart tightens.

You deny it with a shake of your head, you didn't want to hear this, but you did just tell him to say whatever he wanted to. He's trying to lower your guard, you tell yourself. Don't let him get to you.

"I do, you know I do-" He sounded like he was pleading for you to believe him.

"You shot and drowned your own sister, what do you know about love?" You helped yourself up from the floor and walked around the room anxiously, ignoring the ache in your ankle and picking at the skin around your nails.

You wished Kie would've woken you up earlier and told you her plan. You felt bothered, even more so that she left you alone with Rafe.

"What went down between me and Sarah has nothing to do with us."

"There is no us." You laughed humourlessly, "Do you remember strangling me that same night?"

"I'm sorry, alright, you don't know how sorry I am. I never meant to hurt you." His eyebrows creased to match the pout displayed on his face. "My mind just goes places sometimes."

You halt in your steps and face him, "It is not my job to help you stay sane or to relieve you of your guilt, nor your deep-rooted daddy issues, Rafe."

You barely caught him flinching at your words but you did and didn't hesitate to continue, "I meant what I said that night. That I loved you, I did, but I've gotten over it and eventually you will too so while you deal with that, if you truly do love me then you'll leave me and my friends alone."

He opened his mouth to say something but Kie came through the door with a forceful shove.

"Kie?" You softly spoke her name, the girl was visibly upset. She held her head in her hands and her face was red. "What happened, what did he say?"

She avoided looking directly at you, "It didn't work."

"What didn't work, can one of you tell me what you just went to do?" Rafe insisted.

"After everything you've done, we don't owe you shit, Rafe." Kie sounded tired. "Shooting Peterkin, Sarah, Y/n."

Little did she know you had already had this conversation with him.

"Peterkin, I was protecting my father, okay?" He came closer to you both and you stepped in his way to block her from him just in case. He glanced at you and Kie, scoffing. "I did what I had to."

You sat next to her, rubbing circles on her back to soothe her, Rafe's voice cut through the calm with his excuses. You noted how he got more defensive around her.

"I'm as much of a victim as she is- think about it, what did I get from shooting Peterkin?" He waited a second as if waiting for either of you to respond, "Nothing. Okay? I had nothing against her I mean- I liked her, you think I wanted to make that choice?"

Unhinged is the word of the week, you thought, maybe you should spend less time around people like this. You almost laughed at your thought, maybe if you could stop getting kidnapped for more than five seconds.

"What I did was a gift, from me to my father for him and I got screwed because of it, I lost the only thing that mattered to me-" He glanced at you as he said that last part and focused his attention back on Kie. "So don't get that look when I say I'm a victim."

Kie didn't do so much as glance at him as he continued his rant, but regretfully, you did. You didn't know what was wrong with you, why you felt your heart grow with pity. It was a familiar feeling when you were around Rafe, not that your feelings for him were solely based on the sympathy you felt. It was very much real and pure attraction starting from the branches of kindness he would extend to you, and only you.

"I will admit, though, what I did to Sarah- what I tried to do- I admit that was wrong." His voice broke and tears were beginning to spill from his eyes. "I know that, so you don't have to remind me."

"Rafe," You uttered his name barely above a whisper. You didn't want to hear anymore and risk lowering whatever shield you had managed to build to keep him out.

"She was family, I should've never touched her, I should have never touched you." He reached out to you and recoiled, correcting himself, noticing how clearly you didn't want him to touch you. "I just lose control in moments like that, and I don't know what happened. I'm trying- I'm trying to get better."

Kie only gave a nod of recognition that she was listening.

"I'm just saying I'm not the bad guy here, but even if I was, bad Rafe Cameron or something- you got no choice. You may not want to trust me, but I'm your best bet."

You crossed your arms, your only way of denying him.

"I got a boat that can get us off the island, but first we gotta get out of here and it is better if we work together."

There was a commotion outside which made Kie rush to the window.

"They're leaving?" You came up behind her and peered over her shoulder.

She let out a shaky breath, "They're going to find Sarah and John B."

"How?" You panicked, "How did he find them?"

Her face contorted into a deeper frown as she finally told you, "They were setting themselves up as bait, pretending to be hostages."

The panic that had been festering the moment Kiara was tossed back into the prison of a room had sunk in deeper but you couldn't allow it to take over. You had to take this opportunity to form a plan to escape, there was no time to worry about your friends.

If only you can get the guard assigned to the door to come inside, you begin to think of the possibilities. He would have to think something was going on, something that would force him to come in, get him out of the way so that there would be no obstacle preventing the three of you from leaving the room.

"I think I have a way to get out of here."

~~~

let me know if you'd like to be tagged :)

a/n: been a while, how's everyone doing? I'm sorry for the major delay in updating, hope you all aren't too mad at me, its a short update but I figured something is better nothing after months of not being active

taglist:

@deanwherescas - @thtbwltts - @nerdypartytrashpsychic - @random-girl-army - @hereliesjanuary - @instabull - @sexyfoxlady - @bubs-world - @sdawn03 - @jellybassett - @mendesclines - @simpingbutch - @obx-pogues-4-life - @landosgirlxoxo - @p-prettybitch - @namacissi - @dczedhee - @inkandpen22 - @royalavenger - @ayeitsjustmee - @80strashbag - @onlyangel-444 - @freds-slut - @poppet05 - @itsjuststaticnoises - @ahnneyong - @lovepizza567 - @jasminfelling - @rana030 - @loki-loveer - @rana030 - @lostinatimeline - @boldlypessimistic - @clinelyn - @a-j-stuffs - @yunhobug - @syd223sworld - @strawberry-fawn- @mysticalavenuecheesecake - @itsmytimetoodream - @natashtessabeth12 - @thatsthewaythechrissycrumbles - @chervbs - @or-was-it-just-a-dream - @newbooksmell777 - @afterzonee - @ilovemen2much - @ilovesteveharrngton - @s1lngwns - @ye0nvibezzn - @ausipcious-manner - @mirellef2001 - @jjmayabnkisbf - - @flairtune - @callsignwidow - @yornayyy - @mxnst3rz

(if youre name is crossed out that means tumblr wont let me tag you, I'm sorry)

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yandere-sins · 9 months ago

Text

Guard #500

a/n: It's been a hot minute but I just got this idea for our beloved prince so I just went for it. Hopefully it comes across as fun as I had while writing it ♥

Fandom: Twisted Wonderland Pairings: Yandere!Guard!Malleus Draconia x AFAB!Reader Warnings: Yandere, Sexual Content (Malleus eating out reader, Mentioning of a one-night-stand), Abuse of authority, Manipulation, Mentioning of Reader unintentionally cutting on a knife (but no further actions in that regard), Mentioning of knifes/assassination/dead/dying, Slightly unhinged behavior from the Yandere, Slightly gorey description, Long Post

[Prison Project Introduction & How to request | Pinterest Moodboard]

There was something especially cruel about having your failure rubbed into your face.

He didn't even need to say anything, much less move. It was enough for your former target to stand outside your cell, unfortunately, alive and well, taunting you with his silence. Malleus Draconia was probably the most feared name one could hear when you were sent to prison for your crimes. And the more grave your crime was, the more you had to fear him.

"It doesn't suit you," he finally said after staring at you for a long time.

The two other guards at his side eyed him, confused about his statement. You stopped pretending to read your book, an activity you abandoned the moment he stepped up to your cell. Your mind was too nervous to concentrate on the words, but even so, you had the desire to pretend he wasn't there, hoping he'd leave.

"I don't know much about fashion—I should ask Schoenheit about that," he directed the last few words at his fellow officers rather than you. "But orange doesn't seem to suit you."

"Unfortunately," you sighed, pretending not to have a nervous tension all throughout you just from speaking in his presence. "The dress you saw me in last was just too pretty for prison."

"Unfortunate, indeed."

More silence, and you finally put down the book, looking up at him. You held no personal grudge against the man. He hadn't done anything to you yet. It had been a failed assassination, one you had been paid for and which would give you a nice retirement once you got out. Some guy stuck in this prison with you wanted him dead, hired you, and now the biggest blow was that to your ego.

Malleus Draconia, however, still sent shivers down your spine.

He had that authoritarian aura around him and the piercing green eyes to match. When your gaze met his across the dancefloor of his private estate, you had felt your heart miss out a beat, your body tensing, trying to decide whether to run or approach. Something about him just drew you in, magically even. And at the same time, you felt like prey even though you were hunting him. It had been him who had walked up to you first, asked for a dance, and you foolishly agreed, letting him sweep you over the floor and into his bedroom like a fool. You could have killed him there, easily, and disappeared into the night, never to be seen again.

But you couldn't. Not when he looked at you with the adoration of a lover. He was a rare jewel you could never possess, but you seemed to be the treasure of a lifetime in his eyes.

Never before had you let anyone deter you from your goals. Becoming an assassin hadn't been an easy task, betrayel your every-day business. You took advantage of your victims for as long as you needed, and then you stabbed them in the back, not caring if they knew it was you, cursing you with their dying breaths. But you did it well. Discreet and highly compensated, you thought that was all that mattered at the end of the day.

So why did the memory of that night still heat up your face?

You wanted to appear cool and unbothered by him now that you two were locked in this prison together. But how could you when you still remembered the dragging of his fingertips along your skin? The reverent way he parted your legs to fit himself between them, like the missing piece of a puzzle.

How could you forget the way his scent drafted all around you? His sheets, his hair, his body rubbing against yours, melting you into a malleable silhouette of passion and desire. If you took off your clothes, it was most likely you'd still find a hickey or lovebite left behind in the moments of pure lust, and when you touched yourself at night, you still imagined his image that of a slightly disheveled god looking down on you with the mercy and the grace of a servant.

At this point, you thought you saw Malleus' smile widen as if he could read your thoughts. Perhaps you never had the kind of pokerface you thought you did. But one way or another, he seemed to know exactly what you were thinking of, even if just because he was thinking of it, too.

"I liked you so much better, draped in my green sheets. But that's nothing that can't be arranged even now. I look forward to your next attempt, little assassin."

He left, appearing pleased with himself, to the absolute horror of you and the two other guards, who took a double take at their superior before shooting you dirty glances. That's right, you thought, almost wanting to say out loud, "I fucked your great Malleus Draconia."

But you didn't. Instead, you shrugged, feigning your return to read your book nonchalantly as if nothing that happened was a big deal. You had no beef with them, and trying to hide your embarrassment by sticking your nose in your book was better than letting them see how failure raked its claws over your back.

It felt almost the same as how Malleus had done it.

"Is this-- this even allowed?"

Your head fell back the moment you uttered your momentary concerns. Driving your fingers through the silky black hair, Malleus' eyes shot upwards, the green ever so piercing. However, instead of the fight and flight from before, now, the only thing it caused inside you was desire.

Everything about him was so regal, from how he knelt on only one knee beneath you, to how supportive his shoulder was to your leg draped over it. His hands were buried in your hips, enough to keep you steady but also to direct you exactly where he needed you to be. You were a helpless mess, whining when he pulled his tongue torturously slowly out of your cunt, and you bit your lip when he licked over his, your slick making them shine like some kind of fruity gloss.

"Do you not like it?" he murmured from between your legs, taking another full drag through your folds as if he was licking the spoon after eating a delicious dessert. "I suppose it hardly measures up to the splendor outside this prison, but I hope you can appreciate my gift to you."

"All I did was get beaten up by my employee, and you gift me a whole-ass cell for myself, prettied up to make it look like your room?"

You weren't sure whether to freak out or to laugh. Not having to share the public amenities and a room with three other stinky inmates was undoubtedly a welcome gift. Still, you were hardly deserving of it after trying to kill the man who presented you with it now.

"I'm still sorry about that; I should have come earlier," his gaze dropped, the light diminishing as he looked at your stomach. The bruise wasn't forming yet, but you knew it would come sooner than later. Even if you trained yourself to be a better assassin, you weren't immune to damage.

"But I promise to make up for it."

His eyes darted back to meet yours. Gone was the moment of regret; now, all that you saw before they lidded in the process of staying true to his words, was determination.

You felt his tongue slide back over your clit, the unnatural longness of it wrapping briefly around the nub before he began to suck. There must have been a world record somewhere for getting Malleus Draconia to eat you out, but he, surprisingly, proved to wear the badge of honor when it came to servicing someone.

It was wrong, but it felt so good.

Biting your finger, you held back the moans as you felt him probe at your entrance again. However, another uncomfortable thought crossed your mind, and as you pulled the finger from between your teeth, Malleus entered you, slipping right along your walls and making you buckle over.

You were glad for him supporting your body, feeling as if you might collapse there and then. "W-What about the others?" you stuttered, unable to shake the feeling even though his actions were very much shaking you. "What will they think if they hear us?"

"Let 'em," Malleus muttered against your pussy, not sounding so dignified with his tongue inside you. "They can 'now who you belon' to."

"Sir!" you gasped, only to let a loud moan escape. It was hard enough to keep up with your worries while your inside clenched around his tongue as if your life depended on it—although he seemed to not mind it in the least. Still, you didn't want to hear dirty talk from someone who was supposed to hate you more than anyone else. And although you felt a real orgasm build, hard and fast, you couldn't shake the embarrassment of being paraded to his goons.

"W-Wait, stop!"

God, you hated yourself. You were so close.

However, Malleus complied. Immediately, all movements ceased, and he looked back up at you, expecting your next command. You were troubled with catching your breath first, but eventually, you shook your head, and you felt the drag of his tongue as it pulled out—not without its tip going left and right, mind you, tasting as much as it could.

"You've done—ngh!—done enough. I appreciate it, really. But I can't accept this—any of it! I just... I can't. This has to stop."

Malleus stayed silent, gazing at you with a mix of disappointment and, what you could only describe, defiant refusal. "We will not," he finally concluded, and you gave him a confused look as he gently dropped your leg to the side so you could stand on it again before getting up.

"Is this not exciting for you? Have I been neglecting your needs? Given how... wet you are, I thought I was going in the right direction, but I can improve my technique if you give me pointers."

"W-What? No! It was fine—great! You were doing everything right, it's just..." Your shoulders sacked as you gestured around the room. "I shouldn't be rewarded like this for trying to kill you. Look, I have nothing against you personally. It was just a job. And what we had was great, but it wasn't that good for you to treat me like this. I mean, shouldn't you hate me? Why are you doing this?"

To your complete bafflement, Malleus chuckled while you were getting worked up about the weird circumstances you two were in.

"Hate you? How could I? You led me right to the people who wanted me dead in the first place. I recognize your role as a pawn in the scheme, but is that it? Do you think this to be boring, now that it is just between you and me? Do you miss the excitement of getting a job done?"

Turning sharply on his heels, every one of his moves so deliberate yet fluid, he stepped over to a small box on the table, opening it and taking something out of it. Turning towards you again, he only needed to snap it open to reveal the sharp, silver blade of a knife that you thought must have definitely been illegal to be brought into this prison.

"I thought of this, too, you see. That you might need some more excitement. So, here."

Taking your hand in his, he placed the cold jack knife in your hand, directing its tip towards him. When you looked up at him in shock, you could hardly figure out what he was thinking. You thought yourself good at reading expressions and little signs, but with Malleus' formal training, it was hard to make anything out. With the eyes of madness and the smile of adoration on his face, you couldn't make out a single thought in that head of his.

"Go on, do it. Stab me, cut me, rip me open if you must. Make a mess of my body. And then let me return to where I belong, at your feet, between your legs. Let me nourish on your juices so it may be the last taste on my lips before I perish. And when I am down there, please use me for your desires so you might remember me fondly as well."

"You're crazy," you muttered, doing the only right thing you could in this situation—pulling the knife back to the point you cut yourself before throwing it to the ground so he would stop almost piercing himself on it.

"Hm, crazy," he pondered, nodding his head thoughtfully. Even in the face of this situation, with his eyes closed, his face serene as a moonlit night, and his hair ever so slightly disheveled from you meddling with it before, he seemed completely composed. He looked nothing but otherworldly, as if he shouldn't be walking among humans but belonged to the creatures written in books. It was unnerving, just like his words.

Malleus could have had anyone. Surely people would line up to just awe at him for a split second. They'd pay more than you could ever earn in your measly life just to be regarded by him once. Yet, he choose the assassin who wanted to murder him. Who failed yet helped him. You thought you'd eventually meet your employer now that you were in the same prison and get a reminder not to speak of who hired you. You didn't know Malleus would be watching, being able to figure out who wanted him dead just by observing you.

And because of this, and perhaps the fling you two had on the night of his assassination attempt, he'd come to want you.

"Perhaps I am "crazy". It doesn't feel bad," he admitted, opening his eyes again to look at you. Nothing of the unreadable curse you saw before remained in his gaze. Only pure, unfiltered adoration now filled it. He looked at you like only someone madly in love could. You never thought someone could ever look this way at you, and if not for the nagging fight or flight instinct returning to the forefront of your mind, it almost pulled at your heartstrings.

But before you could react, he leaned forward, picking you up. You squeaked as he lifted you high in the air, your legs wrapping around his torso instinctively. He walked as if you weighed nothing, carefree and playful, tilting his head to nib at your hand that was gripping his uniform jacket before mending the agitation on your skin with a few pecks of his lips.

You eyed the door, waging your options. If you hammered against it, screaming for help, the two guards Malleus left in front of it might think he's in trouble and come in, even though he ordered them to stay outside. Something felt terribly off with this man you once thought to be this elegant, otherworldly prince who could do no wrong. You thought he joined the side of justice to keep up his image, but the amount of mercy he was showing you and only you bordered on selfishness.

It would be better to leave before it was too late. You shouldn't humor a beast that seemed to be starving, fixating itself on the only prey that had no choice but to obey when it was in a helpless position.

"Crazy or not, stabbing me or not. Either way, let's return to the matter at hand: you didn't cum yet, did you? However am I going to deal with it if my darling is dissatisfied with me?"

In a swooshing motion, you were thrown forward, falling right on your back, only to be caught in softness and comfort. The mattress of the bed he provided you with molded to your body, the pillows and sheets guaranteeing you a good night's sleep on imaginary clouds. And even better support for other activities.

"And just so you know..." Malleus added, climbing on top of you, straightening his back only to pull off his jacket before he hovered closer than ever to you. As if he had to completely erase any distance keeping him from you, his body sticking against yours like a magnet. He was mesmerizingly pretty and you still couldn't believe what he was doing. All of this was wrong, and some feral instincts from a century ago feared he'd rip out your throat as he buried his face beneath your chin, kissing along your neck.

"I soundproofed the room but I plan to let everyone hear us."

You gulped, and he chuckled, involuntarily feeling the movement press against his lips.

"You already belong to me," he stated matter-of-factly as his face popped up in front of yours again. You looked at the door once more, fearing it was too late. You were trapped, caught like a princess by the dragon, but there was no knight in shining armor to save you.

"And I'll prove it to everyone and you if I must."

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ohbo-ohno · 1 year ago

Note

Please please bo sort a girl out with Ghoap x Reader in an abandoned farm 🤪🤪

1k game here - no more please!

@luminousbeings-crudematter my beloved!!! idk if tumblr gives you a notif when i post an ask you sent so im tagging you just in case lol. also you said "unhinged texas chainsaw massacre" and i tried my best but i've never seen that movie :')

3.8k of ghoap x reader ft. ghost and soap hunting down their newest pet in a corn maze (cw: rough noncon sex, kinda puppy play? super light) this is mostly soap x reader, sorry!!

The collar is heavy around your neck, making every breath difficult as you pant. Your lungs seize in your chest when you stumble through the corn maze, desperate for any light at the end of the tunnel.

It doesn't come, but you push on anyways.

The corn is rough against your arms and legs, your body vulnerable to the rough stalks with so many tears in your clothes. Everything hurts - your feet from the rough ground, your throat from all the screaming, your stomach from pure fear and adrenaline. You're too blinded from terror to focus on any of that, the only thought in your head to go go go go get away.

The roar of a chainsaw is loud somewhere to your right. You nearly fall to your knees at the sound, windmilling your eyes to keep yourself steady. A loud, manic laugh echoes from the same direction, and your legs nearly give out.

Fuck, he's right there.

You can't think about how close the sound is, can't focus on how you swear you can see the corn moving, you can only run.

The stalks split in front of you, and you stumble into a clearing. You freeze, feet stopped right on the border of the new area. You bounce onto your toes, like you'd been tugged to a stop before exposing yourself.

The clearing is empty accept for an old tractor, sitting in the center of the grass. It's just a large enough circle that you'd be exposed for several seconds if you tried to reach it, totally clear if anyone was in the stalks.

But... you could hide there, couldn't you? The machine looks massive from your vantage point, there's surely a place to hide there.

It feels cruel to leave your fellow victims to the killers hunting them down, but you know that you have to try and save yourself before trying to help someone else.

You take a deep breath as you sink back to your heels, crouching a little lower in the corn to see if you can spot any movement around the perimeter.

The chainsaw revs again, and someone screams.

Your decision is made for you. The sound of death sends you forward, instinct making you move.

The dirt is rough beneath your feet, small rocks sticking into the soft parts of your sole and offsetting your run. You try your best to keep your balance, eyes trained on the tractor and the small space you know you can squeeze in.

It's silent but for the sound of your own panting, blood rushing through your ears, nothing but that perceived safety in your mind.

Just as you start to ready your legs to launch yourself up to the seat, legs tensing, you're shoved away. Your breath is forced from your lungs as you hit the ground, dirt and rocks shoved into your arms as you roll.

"Ah!" You cry out, forced to your stomach as you roll. It takes a minute to recognize what's happened, for it to click in your mind that someone's there.

It's too late by the time you realize.

You still try to get away, some animal part of you knowing that it's dangerous to stay down.

You manage to get to your knees, eyes darting wildly to spot whoever's tackled you, to know what direction to run. But the field is empty, and you're already moving before you think to look behind you.

It costs you, because you hardly get a step away before you're shoved to the ground again, your attacker staying over your body.

"Where you goin'?" The man rumbles in your ear, his chest pressed to your back and lips against your ear. He nips the shell of your ear and your eyes fly open, face shoved into the dirt.

Hardly a foot away, a chainsaw rests in the dirt. Blood drenches the blade, slowly dripping into a puddle beneath the weapon. It makes you whimper, trying to squirm away from the killer above you.

"No, no, no," he purrs, nosing his way to your cheek and just leaning there, pressing his smile into your skin, his voice rumbling through your back. "Down, pup, c'mon, you're caught. No point in runnin'."

"Please-" you gasp, neck arching to try and get away. "Please, please, please-"

He makes a sound that's somewhere between a laugh and a grunt. "Please, please, please?" His voice pitches up in a mocking tone, a horrible imitation of yours. "You a broken record, lass? Only wanna say the same thing? Come on, tha's no fun, gimme something new."

You shout, the sound caught somewhere between a cough and a sob, hands stretching forward and clawing at the earth. "Please!"

He truly laughs now, a sharp noise in your ear. He stretches himself up above you, chest lifting and hips pushing into yours so that your legs are pinned. All you can do it try to drag yourself forward, hot tears beginning to fall as you're held down in the same place.

"Guess it does sound good from your lips," he muses. He shifts behind you, knees squeezing to either side of your hips and hands reaching so he can grab your elbows.

"Look'it you," he tsks, bending forward to lace your hands together. You cry out at the feeling of being covered, his chest above your head. "Ruinin' your pretty nails, and for what?"

Your head drops to the ground, sobs tearing your throat to shreds as spit falls from your lips. You feel bile working in your stomach, that horrible tension beneath your tongue like you're about to throw up.

"I can't-" you gasp, panic clawing at your mind. You know this man is going to kill you, that he's going to make it hurt, and every part of you rebels at just the thoughts. You can't stop fighting, can't stop trying to get away from him even with the weight holding you down.

"Can't what?" He hums, shifting to kneel above you so that he's not nearly suffocating you. "Can't go anywhere? Naw, bonnie, you're not goin' anywhere now. Caught you fair and square, didn't I?"

There's a part of you that screams to try and argue, to take a deep breath and settle to see if you can make some sort of deal, but the bigger part of you can't calm down, can't do anything but try and shove yourself out from the maniac above you.

"Plus, if I let you go runnin' off you might get caught by Simon." His arms settle on your shoulders and you can't help but yelp, ducking your head low to try and protect your neck. "Then I'd lose. You want that? Thought we were closer than that, lass."

You sob, teeth clenched tight. You don't fucking know the man, you don't know whoever Simon is, you just want to go home.

"That's what I thought," he hums. "Now," he pushes up, and your arms and torso are free as he settles back to rest his weight on your thighs. "I think you and I have some time to play, hm? Before Simon catches us both."

You don't- you don't know what he means, and it's hard to breathe past the fear. It clicks when his hands move to your hips, gripping them tightly.

"Wait," you gasp, eyes flying wide when his fingers creep beneath the hem of your jeans. "Wait, stop-"

"Oh, look at that," he laughs, hands shoving further down until his palms wrap around your thighs. "Learned some new words, baby?"

Your eyes squeeze as your feet kick against the dirt, unable to find any traction without shoes. Scrabbling so frantically only to stay right where you're pinned only serves to work you up more, to make your heart race faster.

"You're warm," he hums, kneading at your thighs and using his wrists to force the pants down, slowly revealing more and more of your skin to the cold night air. "Gonna warm me up, lass?"

"No," you hiss, the realization of what he's going to do sinking in. Your pants are pulled down to mid thigh, keeping your thighs from spreading and leaving your backside on display. "Stop- I'll- don't you dare-"

He laughs again, landing a harsh smack to your vulnerable ass. You cut your begging off with a yelp, hips rocketing into the ground to try and escape the sting when he lands another slap.

"You tryin' to boss me around? Real cute, pup, but you don't have a leg to stand on. Stuck pinned in the dirt and still tryin' to be in charge?" He laughs again, blows shifting from slaps to taps, jiggling the fat of your ass. "Cute, bonnie. Real cute."

You fold an arm beneath your face, try to use the other to force yourself up. "Stop fucking- stop hitting me, you bastard!"

"Oh!" He cackles, his lap slap almost bruising in it's force. "She's got some spine, huh? Maybe you'll be more fun than I thought."

You snarl into the dirt, legs kicking up behind you to try and hit his back. He's too high up on your thighs o reach, and you end up kicking the air like a toddler throwing a tantrum. It only fuels your anger, makes you feel more stuck.

"Keep fightin', bonnie." He presses himself closer to your face, and you catch a glimpse of sharp teeth from your peripheral, his smile sharp. "Makes it more fun for me. Think you'll tighten up if you kick kickin' and screamin'?"

You scream, a primal sound straight from the gut as you throw your head back and to the side, trying to hit him. You somehow manage it, but you hurt yourself just as much. You cry out at the sudden pain in the back of your skull, crumbling back to the ground.

There's a loud moan over your shoulder, and his hips press into yours. He's hard to your horror, his length pressing against the softness of your ass. "Fuck, that felt good."

God, the man is disturbed.

Your attempted attack doesn't stop him from hooking his fingers in your underwear, tugging them down to rest in the crease where your thighs meet your ass.

"Pretty," he purrs, hands stroking from your rips to your jeans, hands pushing hard enough to make you whine. His treatment is all too rough, like he's trying to mold you into the shape he wants. "Can't wait to get my dick in you," he groans, groping you.

"Nooo," you whine, trying to push yourself into the dirt, like it might open you up and swallow you whole, help you escape the horror you can't do anything to stop. "You can't- you can't fuck me, please, don't-"

He moans again, and you hear the clinking of a belt being undone. "Fuck, say it again for me."

Your eyes squeeze shut. You want to be anywhere else, anywhere but here.

You feel the heat of his cock against your ass, and tears sting in your eyes. You taste dirt against your lips, feel your palms sluggishly bleed from the scrapes against the rough ground. You try to focus on everything but what the killer's doing to you, but's impossible

His palm cups your center, fingers wrapping around your vulva and holding firmly. You flinch when his middle finger works between your folds, coming to rest on your clit.

"Need to get you wet," he mumbles, starting to work at the nub to coax some pleasure out of your body. "Simon wouldn't like it if I made you bleed." He snorts, then corrects, "Well, bleeding down there. Won't be shocked if he wants to carve you up a bit."

You shiver, focused too much on staying stiff and keeping your mind as far away as possible to put off the inevitable. What he says doesn't even properly click in your mind, floating in one ear and out the other.

"There we go," he purrs, palm growing slick as your body warms to him unwillingly. He grunts as he shifts to use both hands, one focusing on your clit and the other coming back to tease at your hole.

Two fingers slip in without warning and you yelp at the sudden stretch, hips bucking back instinctively and forcing the fingers further. Your moan is pulled from your chest, part pleasure and part pain.

"You want more lass? Here, don't mind stretching you out."

The third finger comes too soon, too suddenly, and the sting edges too close to pain for you to feel good, even unwillingly.

He's got no patience at all, fingers spreading inside of you while his thumb works furiously at your clit. The mix of good and bad leaves your head clouded, tears slowing as your mind starts to float away a bit.

He moans against your back, face pressed into your shoulder. "Feel so tight, bonnie. Can't wait til you're wrapped around me, wet and tight... fuck, can't wait much longer..."

His teeth press into you throw the fabric of your shirt, the bite only slightly blunted. You breath stutters out of your chest, lips shaking. You want to fight, tell yourself that you should bite and claw and scream, but he's already proven to you that he'd only enjoy that. All you can do is lie in the dirt, lamp and shaking.

Despite all your fear and your hatred for the man over you, you wish he'd stretched you out more.

"Gotta get inside of ya," he grunts, tugging his fingers out with a terribly wet sound. You can hear him sucking your wetness off of them as he shifts further up, letting his hard length rest between your thighs. "Don't... God, you taste good, don't wanna stretch you out too much. You get it, yeah bonnie?"

You whine forlornly, turning your head to the side. You can see him over your shoulder - tall and broad, brown hair in a... mohawk?, bright teeth shown off in a smile. He ducks down while he fists his cock, dipping himself into your wetness.

Wet lips press a kiss to your cheek, a trail of that wetness left against your face. When he pulls back you see the blood dripping from his nose, sniffle at the realization that he's left his own blood over your face.

"Look pretty in red," he whispers, tone oddly soft. It tugs another tear out of you, dripping down the bridge of your nose. His free hand comes up to your face, running a finger through the tear track and sucking the drop off his fingertip. "Taste good everywhere, love."

Your eyes close when he notches himself at your hole, pressing in just enough for you to feel the stretch. He's massive, and the prospect of him shoving himself fully inside of you... you shudder, trying to loosen yourself as much as you can.

He's not kind when he pushes in. You're not sure why you hoped he would be, not with the blood-soaked chainsaw still in your line of sight. But the sudden fullness, the sting, the stretch, draws a high cry from your lips.

His groan nearly drowns out your sounds, your walls spasming around him to try and adjust. You hate that it feels so good for him when you feel like you can hardly breathe around him.

"Feels so good," he moans, words hardly enunciated, thick accent only thickened by his pleasure. You can hardly understand him, far too upset to bother translating him in your head.

"Can't-" he pants, hips jerking out just a few inches only to buck back into yours, pushing as far inside as he can. "Can't come, but can get you off, yeah?"

There's a part of you that's confused by that, that wonders what the fuck he's talking about, but a much larger part of you is focused on the slow drag inside of you.

It would feel better if you were a little wetter, a little more stretched out, but you can't change those things. You relax, try to force your body to cooperate just to make things easier. You try to lean into the parts that do feel good - the way his cock drags against all the most sensitive parts of you, the slap of his balls against your clit - and sink into that pleasant feeling instead of the adrenaline still lingering in your veins.

He doesn't speak when he fucks into you, forehead pressed into your shoulder blade as he starts to drive you truly insane. It starts feeling good quickly enough for you to forget the pain, the horror, and you gladly fall into the oblivion creeping over your mind.

It's good, as horrible as it is to think. The bastard knows what he's doing.

It's some indeterminate amount of time later when you hear the stalks shifting again, eyes flying open just in time to see a man step into the clearing.

The man over you moans when the stranger gets closer, turning his head to the side. His hips buck into you even more roughly, your thighs beginning to ache from the force.

"Simon," he calls out, and it clicks in your head.

The new man is masked and wearing all black, and you recognize him as the other killer hunting you through the maze. His mask is just as terrifying from close up as it was when you first glanced over your shoulder while running, the sight of him in the distance almost floating while surrounded by shadows.

"Bein' good, Johnny?" He rumbles, boots stopping next to the chainsaw and toeing it away.

"Yes, sir," the man over you - Johnny - grunts, thrusts erratic. "Left-left the ring on, haven't come, promise."

There's a hum from above you, the man crouching down. "Good boy. Woulda had to ruin your fun if you got yourself off."

He whines at that, and you can't help but furrow your eyebrows. The man above you going from cocky and terrifying asshole to whining and moaning above you doesn't fit with the image you'd had in your head.

"I ken. 'S why I didn't take it off, ye bawbag." Johnny's voice shakes a bit as he switches to grinding against you, hips pressed flush with yours. The sudden pressure against your clit and so deep inside of you leaves you moaning, eyes rolling back. The peak of an orgasm is right there, just out of reach, and you reach for it desperately.

"Watch it," Simon scolds, shifting forward to his knees and reaching far enough to slap Johnny, the sound echoing through the silent clearing. Your eyes fly open, instinctually flinching away.

Simon's head tilts down to you, ignoring Johnny's whine. His gloved hand comes down to rest on your face, gripping your chin and lifting enough to get a good look at your face.

"Pretty thing," he says, giving your face a little shake before letting you drop to the ground. You can't even begin to care so close to the edge, focus solely on getting off

"'S what I said."

"Hmm. Why don't you go ahead and get the poor pup off? Looks like she's cockdrunk enough as is, might as well get her the whole way there before we take her home."

"With pleasure, sir."

It's hard to focus after that point. Johnny's hand tunnels beneath your stomach and to your clit, working his hips in full thrusts and rubbing you so perfectly. It takes hardly any time at all to get you off, the perfect mix of sensations sending you flying over that edge.

You're not sure what happens between the time when you come and when Johnny pulls out. Your vision nearly whites out, moving away from the scrapes and bruises and into the pleasure gripping every muscle. It's so much easier to lean into the good than the bad, to pretend the warmth is just the pleasure instead of the man at your back.

You're brought back into the real world by the feeling of something being wrapped around your neck, left just tight enough for you to jerk, panicked you couldn't breathe.

"Hush, pup," Simon shushes when you jerk up, eyes flying wide. "Just givin' you your collar. Makin' sure anyone who spots you can take you right home, hm?"

Johnny tugs you up as Simon speaks, grip just a tad too rough on your shoulders when he pulls you up to your knees. You're still a bit out of it as he tucks your jeans and underwear up, dick hard and slick against the small of your back.

The fear comes back as you're brought to your feet by Simon, hands on your elbows tugging you up. You're unsteady on your feet, knees almost knocking together while you blearily blink up at the masked man.

The sound of metal clinking together, a small yank against your neck, is what brings you fully back into your skin. Simon clips a leash to your collar and then Johnny's, matching pink and blue leads that make your eyebrows furrow.

Johnny - shirtless, drenched in blood - smiles at you, teeth stained with his own blood.

"Come on," Simon rumbles, a sudden tug against your throat nearly sending you to your feet. "Need to get you home, pup."

Johnny catches you before you can fall, laughing as he helps you up. The sight of a black studded collar at his throat jars you, fingers lifting to feel at the fabric around your throat. It's not studded, just a soft leather with a thick ring at the front where the leash connects.

"Looks good on you," Johnny compliments, guiding you to stumble along behind Simon as the man leads you both away, into one of the entrances to the maze.

"What..." your throat is rough and you cough, heartbeat picking up. "What're you doing?"

Johnny's smile is a little condescending, almost herding you forward by staying half behind you. "Takin' you home, lass. You're the last one alive. You make a pretty final girl, bonnie."

There's a sharp yank at your collar, tugging your attention to Simon where he's glancing over his shoulder at you. "Think you'll make a good pup. Johnny's been needing a new little friend, might as well be you, hm?"

There's.... nothing really to say to that. You're too weak, too shaky to try and make a run for it. The blue leash is held loose in Simon's hand, but the pink is wrapped tight around his fist. There's no way you're strong enough to jerk it out of his hand, and even if you could you've got no way out of the maze - they already found you first.

Johnny's hand nudges you forward, almost making you fall. He moves to walk beside you, shoulders almost rubbing together. You think the expression he shoots you is supposed to be comforting, but it's anything but.

You breathe deeply, head beginning to throb again, and hope you have the strength to survive what they'll do to you.

#so sorry lumi i feel like this is repetitive and not that well written :( hope you enjoy regardless <3 #by the way... my attempt at johnny's accent.... it happened #luminousbeings-crudematter #< aka the loml #bo writes #1k celebration #ghoap x reader

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reilemon · 1 month ago

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⋆𐙚₊˚⊹♡ 2024 fics in review ⋆𐙚₊˚⊹♡

♡ thank you @rose-tinted-kalopsia for tagging me - you can view her post here ♡ i'm tagging @acciotaitlynn @nanamiscocksleeve @hesperisms @poisonf0rest + any writer who wants to join. and no pressure ofc 💕

Total number of fics: 16 Total word count: just under 82k

Chronological Breakdown:

April - ❄Cool Off * ✩Under The Stars May - ଳLove Don't Be Shy * ✩Xavier, Xavier, Xavier * ଳIridescent Scales June - ✩Passion Star Martini July - ✩My Everything August - ♪Ambrosia October - ❄Tight Spot * ଳBeneath The Abyss * ✩Velvet Night * ♪Possession * ❄Beneath The Collar * ❄ଳAmore Immortale♪✩ December - ♪Surrender❄ * ♪Return To You

Overall Thoughts:

Looking back, did you write more fic than you thought you would this year, less, or about what you’d predicted?

I didn't expect to write at all! I wrote some fics back in 2020 and 2021. After deleting them, I thought my writing days were over. But, Love and Deepspace resuscitated my love for writing.

What pairing/genre/fandom did you write that you would never have predicted in January?

Obviously, didn't expect to get attached to Love and Deepspace so much!

What’s your own favorite story of the year?

Beneath The Collar

Did you take any writing risks this year?

Writing Amore Immortale has my braincells working overtime, since it's supposed to be a slow burn that leads to polyamory.

Do you have any fanfic or profic goals for the new year?

To finish, or at least to be close to finishing Amore Immortale.

From my past year of writing, what was…

My best story of this year:

Beneath The Collar

My most popular story of this year:

Cool Off (2.8k notes) - i still don't understand why 😅 it's my very first fic for this fandom, and also the first fic after not writing smut for like three years. Ofc I'm grateful that people like it, but I cringe every time I remember the setting lol.

Story of mine most under-appreciated by the universe, in my opinion:

Beneath The Collar. Honestly, I expected it to be the most popular or at least second most popular during Kinktober. But the people who did like it were very invested in the story, so that makes me happy. And @gattapotatta made this beautiful artwork inspired by it.

Most fun story to write:

Amore Immortale. That one is the balm for my soul.

Story with the single sexiest moment:

I have no idea omfg

Most “holy crap, that’s wrong, even for you” story:

I think that everything I wrote was pretty tame. But I guess personal sacrilege in Beneath The Collar can be considered wrong lol. And some people were apparently taken aback by the dvp moment in Surrender.

Story that shifted my own perceptions of the characters:

None.

Hardest story to write:

Possession. I'm currently working on the sequel, and it continues to be the bane of my existence.

Biggest disappointment:

Xavier, Xavier, Xavier. For me, it's so bland, I almost didn't post it. Also, Tight Spot - Zayne is a little ooc there.

Biggest surprise:

Not to copy Roxie, but I'm so surprised by the love everyone has shown my fics! Without your support I'd probably just stop writing again.

Most unintentionally telling story:

There's the reoccurring theme in my fics where the Reader has run away to start a new life. 🤨

Highlights + Wrap-up:

I don't have that many fics to have 5 favorite opening, and closing lines. Or 5 favorite lines from anywhere. So I'll just write some randomly -

"Poor little bunny." - opening line in Amore Immortale, ch. 1.

He’s just a man now—just Zayne. - line from Beneath The Collar

Fic-writing goals for 2025:

Write more fluffy smut and more unhinged smut.

#love and deepspace #zayne love and deepspace #xavier love and deepspace #sylus love and deepspace #rafayel love and deepspace

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babyangelsky · 7 months ago

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My Favorite Expressions in Love Sea Ep. 5

I love this show and everyone in it so so much. I know it's going to hurt me at some point but I don't even care because right now it is giving me absolutely everything I want.

Peat Wasuthorn Chaijindar, I truly and genuinely love every single thing you do with your face.

Also! If anyone would like to be tagged in these posts every week, do let me know!

I'll say it again: one of these men does not yet realize what they signed up for and it is not Mahasamut.

Tongrak is a prickly little cactus but he does care for Mut, and I love that he got to see Tongrak get worked up on his behalf.

Hearing Vivi say her name like that shorted a circuit in my frazzled girly Mook's brain.

And Vivi knows it.

I do love Vivi. I especially love the way she looks at Mook when she's venting. She may be a menace, her strategies may be unhinged, and she may like teasing Mook a little too much, but there's so much fondness in her expression when she's with Mook. She never interrupts, she just loves listening to that girl regardless of what Mook is saying.

Also shout out to the craft services auntie who heard Mook venting and brought her a treat. I would've done the same.

"I want to take care of your life," Mut says, stopping Tongrak's annoyance dead in its tracks. Mut's sweetness and earnestness are so disarming for Tongrak and I love the little moments where we get to see it.

"Let me take care of you." I wonder if anyone has ever said that to Tongrak and meant it.

However, I will be taking that "old-timer" personally, Mut. Tongrak and I are NOT OLD.

VIVI LOVES THAT GIRL. Mook could read her the dictionary and she would be enthralled by her voice the whole time and I will be dying on this hill.

"You don't even like women." Kaimook. Be so serious right now. Look at the way she looks at you! I refuse to allow you to join me in the circus, there will be no clown behavior from you, miss ma'am.

I am so very familiar with this look. I'm sure it's been on my face for at least half my life. It's the sort of profound exhaustion only someone with a difficult family understands. Your whole day is about to be ruined by a battle you don't want with a person you despise but not fighting it is not an option. I both love and hate how dead Peat's gaze managed to be because it hit so close to home.

911, yes hello, I would like to report an imminent murder.

Mut:

I could not love these men more. Truly I could not.

This woman really thought she could roll up to Tongrak's house and start saying whatever she wanted. She really thought she could fuck around and not find out. Tongrak and his face said no and also GET A JOB. FIND SOMETHING TO DO.

Unrelated sidenote, I loathe the little tone she uses to talk to him. I hope we never see her again.

The face of a man who has found the adequate weapon in his arsenal. Also, someone actually agreed to be in a relationship with her? I'll send the poor S.O.B. a condolence card in the morning.

Peat really decided to hurt my feelings today because I know that look too. That's the expression of someone who's a hairsbreadth away from a breakdown after using up every ounce of bravery they possess. I'm surprised he didn't start crying on the stairs on the way to his bedroom.

There's so much I want to say about this scene in Tongrak's bedroom but I'll give it its own post.

All I'll say here is that it really is the littlest things, the smallest acts of kindness that end up pushing you even further over the edge. Why isn't it possible to hug someone through a screen?

Mut called Prin a diabolical brat and that's her name in Tongrak's phone and that's why they're soulmates. It's science.

THOSE ARE HEART EYES, KHUN TONGRAK. Mut is siding with you against your shitty family! THAT'S BEST BOY BEHAVIOR AND YOU KNOW IT.

Mut's just like me fr.

#rakmut #vimook #love sea #love sea the series #meta

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afsosville · 2 months ago

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An extension to the PIDW x Ever After High AU

The first post was pretty short so I'm going to put it here too.

For clarity, the 'parents' in this AU are the OG PIDW characters, and will go by their courtesy name, and the children are an AU version of them and have their birth name (so SQQ is the parent and SJ is the kid, YQY is the parent and YQ is the kid, LBG, is the parent, and LBM is the kid, or at least a more mentally stable version of Bingmei? etc)

SJ is pretty much fanon SJ, and a very mellowed out version of him, since in this AU, he didn't end up as a slave. Still traumatized tho. I like my Shen Jius traumatized. Shen Jiu is Raven in this AU, and he DOES NOT like his destiny. That's putting it lightly. NO ONE is happy. YQ doesn't want to be forced to abandon SJ and go through a horrifying qi deviation in the Lingxi Caves. And have his little brother's severed legs be sent to him as a present one day, and walk to his death the next. Yikes. Liu Mingyu doesn't want to die prematurely and have his shixiong be falsely accused of his murder. And Binghe doesn't like it either because he had a better childhood too, and is, well, disturbed, by the shit his father did, and the fate that's written for him. Binghe has his issues and he's that one quote "My father is the worst man alive and I am his favourite son". Like he knows the shit his dad did was completely unhinged. Him and the Book of Legends bear most of his hatred, and he never really has anything against Shen Jiu.

Everything just sorta revolves around everyone finding out what kinda person 'Shen Qingqiu' really is, along with the defying destiny thing Ever After High had going on. All the kids are just getting along far better than any of their parents did. The other mxtx characters are in here too, Wei Ying, Lan Zhan, Wen Ning, etc.

LBG is totally going to be here too. He's acting all creepy towards SJ, like this mf is so close to tearing his off limbs too, and he's really tryna hold himself back. And he's fully planning to torture him too once his son puts Shen Jiu is the water prison because his SQQ is already dead. When he sees SJ in the flesh, he's eying him in a way that screams "I'm going to own you and there's little stopping me from having you in chains like your father." SJ is not so subtly hiding behind LBM, while LBM is so ready to fight his father to the death for SJ.

The OG PLs from PIDW will definitely have some fucking regrets and will try to make it up to SJ coz the person they actually wronged is long dead (or is he?). And the peak lord kids are running interference everytime their parents want to get close to SJ, with maybe the exception of SQH and LQG. OG! LQG is alive because. Well I'll think of smt later. Plant body revival????

QHT has a son and a daughter who are supposed to be QJL and QHT, as is their so-called destiny. During Legacy Day, the kid that's supposed to end up like QJL sees flashes of his uncle's life and ofc he'll end up seeing the abuse SQQ endured under him. It is at that moment, what really happened in the Qiu manor was revealed. QHT's son is actually a chill dude who hates his destiny too and hates his uncle even more. SJ and QHT's kids are cool with each other, and this pisses off QHT so much lol.

Now more onto SQQ.

This mf is ALIVE and KICKING. And by that I mean he absolutely did pull mushroom body getaway and did some serious demonic cultivator bullshit to animate his dead body like some voodoo god. LBG was straight up torturing a corpse lol. SQQ originally didn't want to sign either but decided to do it anyway because he knew LBG definitely wanted to. SQQ thought that he should legitimately try to kill him so he doesn't turn into that. SQQ knew that ofc he would ultimately die in the end, but thought his villain halo could still try to do some damage to LBG, and to prevent his rise to power, and work against the destiny he signed at the same time. Obviously, the protagonist still had to come out on top and SQQ failed miserably. So. Mushroom getaway>>

Listen, those mushrooms were obviously supposed to be used in the OG PIDW. and somehow weren't iirc. And it was supposed to be used by a villain. So yes, SQQ's generation does end up being PIDW complacent. Except SQQ is a smartass and is living his life away from any destiny bullshit rn.

SJ/LBM will reunite with SQQ.

SQQ will end up liking LBM but he's still a mother hen, so he'll be giving him a really hard time before he's ready to let him anywhere near his son.

SQQ was separated from his son until this point. The name SQQ meant to give him was Jiu, as in turtledove. Which has this whole meaning of 'enduring love'. He meant for SJ to not turn out like him and to live out his best life despite what life throws at him. I absolutely love the fics where the author makes the Jiu in Shen Jiu be the character for turtledove. And with SQQ-J taking care of his younger self in a way. SQQ and SJ are going to have the fluffiest father-son relationship because I deem it to be so. Unlike LBG and LBM, my badd:/ Have fun with those daddy issues, buddy.

Within the chaos that is SQQ's mind, he really did not regret doing what he did to LBG, but y'know, having some time to himself while he was on his sabbatical, he learnt a few things about himself, and how he used LBG's future self to justify trying to kill smn who otherwise didn't do anything wrong (yet). And the fact that things could've turned out better if he truly went with his heart and hadn't signed the book like his son will HAUNT HIM. Sure LBG may or may not have wanted his destiny but SQQ definitely didn't!! He could've fucked up his story by not signing it just the same!! This is totally not eating him up alive!! Yup!! He just haddddd to sign it and thought be could kill LBG to avoid future devastation. Said future devastation still came to pass lol. RIP SQQ's sanity, I truly feel for you.

Let me make this worse. LBG didn't want to sign it either and was peer pressured into doing it. He genuinely thought he could reason with SQQ after Legacy Day and tell him he really didn't want them to hurt each other. And he was so sure SQQ felt the same way, he could've sworn they were on the same page- but then he saw how determined SQQ was to sign the Book of Legends on Legacy Day. And when SQQ's hardened gaze locked in on LBG, he met SQQ's eyes, promising a future of pain for them both. LBG ignores the way his heart shatters at the resolution.

Look, enemies to lovers BingJiu is fine and all, but consider LOVERS to ENEMIES BINGJIU!!! I'm just imagining BingJiu animatics in head with Taylor Swift's Bad Blood egckfxv.,

Coz yes, even the prev B9 gen totally had smt going on. Too bad for them tho, it ain't happening.

The rest is stuff from the first post >>>

Imagine how fucked up it would be if Shen Jiu is up there doing the book signing ceremony that seals his destiny of becoming the next 'Shen Qingqiu', and the mirrors display him getting thrown away by his martial siblings at the trial, and his limbs being torn off and other despicable tortures, and being brought down so low that your humanity is stripped away from you, all for an audience to see. And they cheer. The crowd is ecstatic, perhaps even more so than when his father, Shen Qingqiu, was put on trial.

Shen Jiu x Pain is my favourite ship, can you tell??

Shen Jiu is barely 15 when this happens and every goddamn person is reveling in this child getting tortured. Amidst the sea of people who loathe him, there is one person not advocating for his death, and that is LBH’s son!! The very person that’s supposed to kill him!!! When LBM sees the same hopelessness that he feels in SJ’s eyes, he decides at that moment that he will be SJ’s number one defender. Everything else be damned. When SJ announces that he will not be pledging to a life of misery, LBM gets up on that stage and makes it clear that he won’t either.

OML I did smt cool. You see the parallel I just fucking made wowwwwww.

Snippets that my mutes made for this AU 🩷🩷🩷

By Sleepyssnail

By Celestialbruise

Og post

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glow-worms-are-believers · 2 years ago

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Father of mist, Father of foam (dcxdp)

Inspired by this post because this ship is so unhinged and I felt like writing Talia.

There were many stories in the League. Most of them went untold, and were eventually buried with the dead. Everyone knew not to ask about them, especially not for Ra's Al Ghul's. But nothing would stop the whispers, especially about Talia and her parentage.

Growing up, Talia had always been curious. She had asked her father once about her mother. Once, and never again. Father had only looked at her, but the empty deadened gaze he fixed upon her that day had frightened her more than any of their sparring sessions.

So she had resolved to ignore the chatter, and lock away those questions in the deepest corner of her mind. She did so, and for years, she managed to keep it buried. That was until she turned 9 years old, and decided to sneak out of the compound. So proud was she of her victory, she did not pay attention to her footing, slipped and fell right into the tumultuous river alongside which she was walking.

Talia was a good swimmer, but the currents were too strong and she was sucked under. She woke up, wet but alive on the bank with a man sitting next to her. He smiled before speaking in a voice that sounded like bells in the wind. "Hello, daughter."

And as the truth of his word echoed, she understood. "Hello, father."

He smiled and it was like the moon, soft and sweet and sad which Talia knew meant their time was limited. So she sat right next to him, and nestled in his arm, before asking him to tell her a story.

"When I was younger," her father started. "I decided to venture to the mortal world once again. There I met a man to whom I would give my heart, my soul and my Core. " Her papa said, before sighing. "He was such a strong soul with an intricate mind and I was so in love. We were happy so very, very happy."

"What happened?" Talia asked.

"My dearest one started listening to the whispers, doubting my love, my devotion. I pleaded with him to trust in me and the strength of my affection and he did, and for a time, I believed this was enough. But the peace did not last long, the whispers had already infiltrated his mind, poisoned his thoughts."

Her father had had a far-away look. "He locked away my core away and I could stay no longer. I cannot give my core to another, as it is not mine anymore. I stole it back, but it will stay his for all eternity. But for his betrayal, I cannot be by his side either."

Talia could feel her eyes start to water for her papa.

"Do not weep for me, my child," he said as his big hands cupped her face. "For he gave me a gift more precious than anything. He gave me you, daughter."

Talia turned into her father's chest and gripped at the strange fabric of his garment. "Take me with you," she said in a whisper.

"It is too early, Beloved," her father said as he caressed her hair. "You were born of the Realms, but even you cannot enter before your time."

Then, he stood up and deposited Talia on her feet. He looked down to her with tender eyes before he bent to place a gentle kiss on her forehead. Talia closed her eyes and when she opened them again, he was gone.

#unhinged ships #Ra's al Ghul x Danny Fenton #you're welcome #Danny is kinda like a selkie here #talia al ghul #danny fenton #ra's al ghul #danny phantom #the league of assassins #dc x dp #dp x dc #talia al ghul is danny's daughter #vaguely fairytale like format #roxpox #roxpoxwrote

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starlightsearches · 3 months ago

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hi star! I saw your post about some election season comfort, so I hope it's okay if I send in a request! ☺️ (this is @charlottesbookclub btw, that person who's very unhinged about your stunning hux arranged marriage au – that might contextualize this ask a little haha)

I'd be so down to hear any additional thoughts you have on hux and his wife!! 🧡🧡

I was having some random scattered thoughts, but do with these what you will or feel free ignore them entirely!

them visiting his wife's home planet (which maybe has seasons, and thus perhaps some nice fall foliage) and she's like "the colors are so gorgeous, it looks just like your hair" to hux and he gets all flustered

they finally take that shared bath he fantasized about when he saw her in the tub??

can we give hux space hot coco?? like maybe again, it's a thing on his wife's home planet and she gives him some and he gets one of those marshmallow/whipped cream mustaches (space version of course lol) and she laughs at him, and he's like "ah fuck" and she's like "no not like that, you just look cute" and then fluff??

idk if these are anything, but they were the autumnal themed fluff thoughts that were circulating through my brain! again, literally no worries if you'd rather not do anything with them, I'd be so down to hear anything you'd like to share! ☺️🧡

anyway, I just want to say thank you for doing this, because election anxiety is so real! 💕💕 and if you don't end up having the energy to get to this, no worries at all! ☺️ I just want to say that I appreciate you and your writing so much and I hope you're able to take care of yourself during this stressful time! 🥰🥰

AAAAAAHHHHHH YAY!!!! I'm so happy I'm not the only one who loves the arranged marriage AU and I will happily chat with you about it forever and ever and ever and ever 💖 thank you for your sweet request and your even sweeter words, my love! wishing you peace of mind!

Warnings: a few vague allusions to patricide but nothing specific 🤭

The air is crisper than you remembered—cleaner in your lungs than anything you'd been breathing on The Finalizer, despite all the filters and processes it went through as it circulated.

You pull in cold, aching lungfuls, full of the smell of smoke and decaying leaves and fine leather—from Armitage's hand in yours, warm even through his glove.

Maybe this is just what it feels like to breathe without your father around.

Your husband had something to do with it, you're sure. You haven't asked, and he hasn't mentioned it. All the gratitude in you is aimed in his direction, regardless. For more than just this.

"How long has it been," you ask him, quiet, like you might break the stillness, pop the comforting shell that holds you both, "since you've been planet-side for this long?"

His eyes, normally impenetrable and grey, shine green in the light of the sunset, and his breaths grow a little heavier when you press closer against him to stave off the cold.

"It's been— a long, long time."

When Armitage meets your eyes, his cheeks and nose are dusted with pink from the cold air, but the color only deepens when your lips brush the shoulder of his coat.

You tug him further into the copse of trees, just past the garden and the greenhouse, into the shelter of their branches. Vivid leaves dust the ground you walk and the sky in the spaces between sunlight, and your heart swells with a happiness you had never imagined for yourself.

You had sobbed, after your father told you, cried and cried into the soft dirt here beneath your feet before you had ever seen the man who was supposed to be your husband.

It had felt like a death sentence. An ending. A thin slip of silk tied over your eyes before the executioner pressed the blade to your throat.

But it's all so much sweeter than any life you could have dreamed of—to be here with a man who blushes at the brush of fingers, who shows you in his every movement, in his every look, how deeply devoted he is to you.

You come to a stop, gentle, turning to face your husband, finding his other hand and taking it in your own.

"What is it?" he asks, and his voice is strained, on a knife's-edge of anxious.

You part your lips to speak, but no words make it out, your eyes caught on something just above his earnest, and a little frightened, gaze.

It almost blends in—a little more green than the reddish-blond of his hair, and you pick the leaf out by the stem, holding it in the space between you.

"You match," you tell Armitage, and he scoffs a little, but doesn't pull his hand away, his fingers still gripping tightly at your own.

"Do you like them?" you ask, and his eyes stray from yours for a moment, taking in the scenery with a critical set to his brow, determined to answer you honestly.

"I do," Armitage nods, and you toss the leaf to the side, taking his hands again.

Your face folds into a smile.

"I love you, Armitage."

His eyes go wide. You've frightened him, but he won't let you pull away from his grip.

The space between you shrinks with each shuffle of your feet, moving closer because you want him to know you understand. Know that he won't chase you away.

"It's alright. You don't have to say it back."

Armitage nods, relieved—you feel it when his nose brushes your cheek, breath hot against your skin. Maybe he does say the words back to you in the seconds before his lips meet yours.

✨☕️✨ Cozy Time 2 ✨☕️✨

#armitage hux x reader #general hux x reader #armitage hux x you #general hux x you #star wars fanfic #armitage hux #my writing #cozy time

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happypotato48 · 9 months ago

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Wandee Goodday EP 1 Unhinged Tangent Thoughts

God damn it Viu why no sub. i need that thing for making this kind of post better. help a nong out here, i'm too lazy to transelate and making cringy jokes at the same time.

Here we go! first episode of the horny boxer-doctor Sexy BL. could Yor-Yak's BIG Dick save our cringe fail Doctor Wandee from life of sexual repression? of course its can, BL dicks are magic like that!

Get it? wandee mean good day, horny double meaning message, me likey.

Ace rep woo woo! also how dare you besmirch ตาคิ้วหนา drake's eyebrows like that. those eyebrows are thai national treasure. it's the sexiest human features that ever grace us on thai television. is this why he haven't been cast as a lead in ages cause if that is the case then i'm willing to commit light ar$on at gmmtv hq for eyebr... i mean drake.

Ok that's good. they made being a doctor something relevant in the show. cause book wandee definitely seem like he doesn't care about being a doctor at all.

Cher can you teach me your game, เค้าอยากได้ผัวแบบนี้อ่าาาา.

Oh, Okay i get it, if someone this pretty did this to me i'd probably followed him around like lost puppy for 8 years too.

That's hot. god i really want a man who looks like they could beat me up.

YES! more eyebrowns fanservice. thank you show.

"Oh queer yoda bless us with your elder queer wisdom, us dumb twinks are too dumb and too horny to survived in this harsh society."

Money over dick, my kind of girl, loved her already.

Boy you didn't listen to a word he says, you're such a embarrassment for our people. thank fucking gay god i'm tired of perfect homos in BL already. let them be cringe let them be dumb and let them be failure of a human being, This is the representation i want!

Kao is the best of boy. he didn't even tried to stop his friend from embarrassing himself and even joined in the debasement. this is a friendship that would last a life time.

"whatta man whatta man whatta mighty good man"

Yas boy work it! and by work it i mean you need to work on your seduction face, cause idk wtf is going on here but i never been so turn off by a pretty face like this my entire life.

This is a face of a man who had seens all kind of crazy shits from life time of working night shift in a convenient store. i laughed so hard that he didn't faze at all by the whole situation 🤣

Thank you show for putting this man where he belongs. cause someone else's trash is someone's treasure and Yak is about to pick up the best trashsure he'll ever have.

Is this real do people get cramp when they have sex??? god i really need to sex ed myself. ข่วยไม่ได้นิเค้ายังจิ้นอยู่นี้นา >.>

Fine! i'll watch the eclipse.

This show is indeed Zab. i liked that the show fleshed out a lot of minor characters in the book cause Taemrak and Pakao characterization in the book was non existent. i also liked that they changed yak and dee first impression of each other to be more antagonistic. it like putting on a little spice in their dynamic, and i can't wait for more heat from the show.

#wandee goodday #thai bl #bl drama #dumb boy unhinged thoughts #wandee goodday the series

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that-sarcastic-writer · 1 year ago

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Twisted Love

Billy Russo X Latina!Mercenary!Reader

Summary: based on this moodboard murder date with Billy made by the love of my life @fluffyprettykitty thank you for the inspo

Warnings: explicit sexual content, minors yall better dnfi, unprotected sex, p in v, creampie, fingering, blood kink, choking, hair pulling, degradation, he calls her a whore and she likes it, allusion to gunplay & knife play, Billy and reader get turned on by questionable acts, def dark themes, dark!Billy, dead bodies, actual murder, many acts of violence, and Billy canonically likes it rough and painful, they're both just unhinged

Reader is referred to as she/her, speaks Spanish here and there and is described to have long hair. If this is not you, that is okay. This is solely based on the moodboard. I use no further specifications so you can enjoy it regardless :)

WC: 4k

A/N: I'm sorry in advance for the person that I am, I blame selene for encouraging this. You have been warned, you read under your own responsibility. I missed Billy and his murderous questionable kinks, so here we are. (If you actually enjoy this you I guarantee we will see each other in hell)

"Billy." You groaned quietly, the voice in your earpiece shutting up at the sharpness of your voice.

"Yes darlin'?"

"I can't focus on shooting your target if you keep saying how you're going to fuck me stupid tonight. Or how you've been really wanting to fuck me with your gun." You said the last part through your teeth as you did your best to remain professional and stay focused. You were a mercenary, sure, but you were a professional one.

"If you keep talkin' back, I will do so much more than that. You like knives, don't you?" You could hear the smug smirk he probably had on his face through his voice, even through your earpiece.

You couldn't help but groan, your skin growing burning hot under all of your gear, and it was getting hard to control your breathing the longer he kept spitting filthy words at you.

"This is your op, Billy. So we can either have phone sex or I can shoot your target. Can't do both." You rolled your eyes, adjusting your grip on your handgun as you tried to ignore the heat between your legs. You heard him chuckle.

"You're gettin' paid either way darlin'," he reminded you. "But if you get a headshot, I'll give you your bonus."

You actually laughed at this, a smirk of your own falling on your lips, "You know I never miss. Don't gotta double tap if I shoot 'em in the head."

This was like a little game of yours. Any time Billy called you— for anything other than a good fuck— it was for a target mission off the books. Legally, he was just a private contractor. Private security was his main gig. But off the books, he was still getting paid to take out targets for his old military superiors. When someone pushed at his buttons too much, he called you. Because you were like a ghost, in and out, no one even knew you were ever there. And he thought your post-op adrenaline made for killer sex. You getting paid was just a courtesy on his end. You had honestly stopped caring about the money a long time ago. But he paid you your part anyway. So it was a win-win situation for everyone involved.

"Mhmm, I love it when you talk dirty." He sighed a long breath and you smiled to yourself, holding your gun close to your chest as you quietly walked through the dark, otherwise empty house. You could hear movement and indistinct voices on the other side of the wall

"I hear voices in the next room. Two targets so far. Standby for confirmation." Billy laughed at how official you sounded. You truly never did get rid of that military part of you.

You peeked your head through the crack on the door of a large study. You chewed on your bottom lip as you tried to identify the targets. One was the man Billy had hired you to kill, a Marine Colonel that had gotten too greedy and was making threats. That didn't exactly sit well with Billy or anyone else involved. The other man, though, you weren't sure, but he also seemed to be military.

"I'm looking at your target. But I'm not sure who the other one is. Looks military, though. What do you want me to do?" You whispered the question to Billy. He stayed silent for a few seconds. You chewed on the inside of your cheek, growing inpatient at his silence. But he spoke before you could yell at him.

He groaned first, clearly something hadn't gone according to plan. "Just take both of them out. I don't need witnesses."

"Whatever you say, pretty boy." You took in a deep breath, your heart starting to race as the adrenaline started to pump in your blood.

"Remember, I want you in and out, don't worry about nobody else. That's what I'm here for, baby."

"You're such a romantic, mi cielo." You bit your lip, you heard him chuckle in response.

You waited another second, long enough for them to be close enough for you to take them out both at the same time before the other could draw their gun. Stealth was your specialty anyway. You were thankful the large doors didn't creak when you opened them further. Both men were facing away from you. Good. You took a step inside the study, and with a grin, you pulled the trigger.

One.

Two.

Both men dropped to the ground with a thud. You sighed out the breath you had been holding and you slowly approached the two bodies. And you smiled at your work.

Headshots.

"I'm done here. Getting out now." You said to Billy. You heard him give you a quick hum of confirmation.

You nodded to yourself, picking up your shell casings before you hurried out of the study. You went around through long halls for what seemed to be an eternity, until you came to the hall that led to the foyer of the house.

Almost there.

"Don't you fucking move." A voice rasped beside you. You saw out of the corner of your eye the barrel of a handgun. Well so much for Billy taking care of everything.

You closed your eyes, slowly raising your hands to show your handgun. You turned your head enough to look at the man. More military. Great. This was going to be shit show.

"Who the fuck are you? Why are you here?" The man screamed at you, his gun still on your face. You said nothing, you simply stared at him. He couldn't really see your face, not through your balaclava. Only your eyes were visible. "Give me that fucking gun and get on the ground. Now!"

You stared at him, not moving a muscle. The only man you would ever get on your knees for was Billy. This one could shoot you for all you cared.

"I said get on your knees or I'll shoot!'

"Shoot me then." You said dryly, hands still in the air.

Just get a bit closer, you thought.

The man seethed at your response and stepped closer. Your lips irked up. You turned your body, your free hand gripping his gun and diverting it away from your head. The man squeezed the trigger. You grunted loudly, your ears ringing, but you didn't care. You wrestled with the man, landing a punch on his face that made his nose gush with blood. He stumbled backward but didn't fall. If anything, that made him more angry, and he lunged at you. He reached for the braid that stuck from under your balaclava and he pulled, really fucking hard. You grunted out in pain when he tugged your hair to drag you close enough for him to grab you. You fought against him, but you could only do so much against a man twice your size. His fist hit your jaw with enough force to make you dizzy for a second. And he took that opportunity to grab your vest and threw you over a nearby coffee table. Your body slammed so hard against it you ended up on the floor, with it in pieces.

You weren't a religious person, but goddamn, you were seeing God right about now. You groaned in pain as you tried to push through. You tried to sit up as fast as you could, but the man was already towering over you, and a large boot forced you down by your chest. You forced down the cry of pain you wanted to let out, only breathing out sharply instead. You couldn't find your gun, and you had one, pointed right at your face now.

"Fucking bitch." The man spat, leaning down to tear your balaclava from your face. You grunted, your face twisted into a scowl as he pulled it off. He scoffed. He was about to say something into his walkie when a voice you were all too familiar with caught his attention.

"Hey." Billy stood a few feet away, having heard the gunshot and ran in. He didn't even flinch when he pulled the trigger. The man dropped dead a second later.

You blew out a breath of relief, and you laughed, running a hand over your face. Well shit. You were hoping you wouldn't get any blood on yourself tonight.

Billy was beside you in a split second, a large hand pulling you up to your feet. His eyes were big with a mixture of panic and anger, and he scanned your body for injuries. His hand landed on your lip, split and bleeding. His jaw ticked but you shook your head at him.

"You okay?" He asked with a heavy breath. You nodded at him, your own hands touching his face. Blood stained his neck and part of his face. But you had a feeling it wasn't his. "Si?"

You nodded again, "Si."

Billy plastered a hard kiss on your lips, his hand holding the back of your head. You hummed against his lips, gripping his own vest. He pulled back after a few seconds, and his eyes landed on the dead man lying next to him. His neck twitched, and his jaw tightened as he pulled the trigger two more times. The man was already dead, Billy had shot him in the head the first time. But he needed to get that out of his system.

"That was by far the hottest thing you've ever done for me." You breathed out, adrenaline pumping through your veins. You kissed him this time. Much harder. He groaned into your mouth, the side of his handgun brushing your hip as he gripped them with both hands.

"Did you do what I asked?" He muttered against your lips.

"Headshots. As always." You smirked against his lips, your skin growing hot just as the ache between your legs grew.

"Mhmm, that's a good girl." He pressed another kiss to your lips. "Come. Gotta get outta here."

You nodded, looking on the ground for a second for your handgun. Your eyes skimmed around for a bit before you smiled and you happily picked it up from the ground. When you looked up, Billy was looking at you with an irked eyebrow.

"Que? It's my favorite gun. I wasn't gonna leave it here. It's got my fingerprints all over it." You shrugged, casually walking past Billy towards the kitchen. You came through that backdoor. It'd probably be easier to leave that way as well.

Billy watched you with a raised eyebrow. It did always turn him on to see you in your tactical gear. He laughed to himself and followed you. He stayed close behind you, within hand reach at all times. He was so close that he actually bumped into your back when you stopped abruptly. You turned around, and one of your hands came to grip his vest while the other held up your handgun. He frowned, about to question you when you forcefully moved him to the side an inch or two.

"Agh shit!" He grunted out, a bullet still catching the plate on his back with enough force to make him stumble.

You kept your grip on his vest as you pulled the trigger twice and he heard a loud thud a second later. When he turned his head he saw a guard on his back, writhing in pain as blood gushed from his chest. Shit, he must have missed the guy when he was clearing the outside of the house.

He draped a hand over his shoulder where the bullet hit, eyes never leaving you as you quietly walked over to the guard, gun held up. The man began to stammer, coughing up blood as he tried to crawl away. You blinked, head tilted and jaw tight as you pulled the trigger two more times. The man stopped moving with that second bullet. Your face twisted with disdain when you felt blood splatter on your face. Again.

"Agh, puta sangre de mierda." This fucking blood.

You harshly wiped your hand over your face, probably making a bigger mess than there already was. You flinched, your gun held up and stopped at Billy's chest. He had a wide smirk on his face, his hands raised, but he was just mocking you.

"You wanna point that gun somewhere else, pretty girl?" He taunted with a smirk. You gritted your teeth and clenched your jaw.

"Estás fucking sordo?" Are you fucking deaf? Billy couldn't speak Spanish. But he had learned to pick up on your angry Spanish over time. His smirk only grew wider when you holstered your gun and slammed your flat hands against his chest, attempting to shove him, but he didn't move much. "Did you not hear the motherfucker coming? Are you okay? Did the bullet go through the plate?"

He found your angry concern amusing, endearing even. But the mocking smirk on his face only made your blood boil more.

"Aw, my pretty mercenary is worried about me?" He taunted you more, and the fire in your eyes made him completely forget about the throbbing on his shoulder blade. Though he felt a different kind of throb when he felt your flat palm collide with his cheek.

His eyes widened for a second as he processed the heat spreading through his cheek. He breathed a laugh, but it wasn't a humorous one. Not in the slightest. He ran his tongue over his lips, he could taste the smallest bit of blood. He counted in his head. Six guards altogether, three Marines inside. There were five dead bodies outside. Four inside. Good.

He didn't say a word as he reached out to you, he grabbed the back of your braid and crashed his lips against yours with so much force it gave you whiplash. You didn't protest though, you welcomed it, actually. You gripped his vest tightly as he slipped his tongue inside your mouth. He hummed with satisfaction as you clung to his vest. He gripped your hair tightly as he made you back into the kitchen island behind you.

You gasped into his mouth when you felt him hoist you up on the counter.

"The fuck are you doing?" You pulled back enough to speak, not that you were arguing with him, you had been wanting him ever since you got here. He flashed you a sadistic grin as he gripped your vest and pulled you to the edge so that he was standing between your open legs.

"Gonna fuck you stupid. That's what." He replied in a heartbeat as his fingers unbuckled the clasps of your vest. He tossed it aside and his eyes instantly landed on the blood splatters staining your jaw and neck.

"Right here?" You gave him a wide eyed look, lips slightly parted as he ridded himself of his own vest, leaving him a plain black long-sleeve compression shirt.

"Right here. You did everythin' I asked, and more. And you know I'm a man of my word." Your long-sleeve black shirt was gone next and his lips immediately attached to your jaw. "You don't gotta play innocent with me darlin'. Bet if I touch you you’ll be soaking wet."

Fuck, you wished he didn’t know you so well. You were real fucking good at pretending with the whole world. But you couldn't pretend with him. And you couldn't deny that you had been wanting him to fuck you senseless the second you saw his face that day. And that tactical uniform of his, fuck it didn't help your cause in the slightest.

"You know I always want you, doesn't matter when or where." You answered through a ragged breath, your eyelashes fluttered as he ran his tongue over the skin of your neck, and at the same time, he shoved his hand into your cargo pants, right past your panties.

"Yeah, you want me? You want me right now? Covered in blood and everythin'?" He pulled back enough to watch your face as his finger brushed over your cunt. And he was pleased by how right he was. You were so wet. Your mouth fell open as he slipped a finger into you with ease. "You are such a fuckin' whore. You've been this wet this whole time, haven't you? You just killed three men for me, and you're wet?"

God, you should feel disgusted with yourself, with him, but you felt nothing of the sort. If anything, it aroused you more. You ground your hips against his hand, desperate for more as your shaky hands fumbled with the belt of your cargo pants. You tugged until you ultimately got them off one leg once you managed to kick off one of your combat boots. Billy only watched with amusement as you struggled. But he otherwise didn't help you. He liked watching you struggle.

"Goddamn you're so needy. Such a needy whore." He mocked you with a laugh, but he rewarded you with another finger nonetheless.

"Yes, yes I'm a whore." You whined, holding yourself upright by gripping his shirt. "I'm your whore. Fuck— Please, I did good."

Billy nodded at this, the pathetic pleads coming from your mouth making his cock strain against his cargos even more. How such a fierce and vicious mercenary like yourself could give in so easily to him he had no idea, but he sure wasn't complaining. Not in the slightest.

"Yeah. Yeah, you did. I'm gonna give you exactly what you deserve, don't worry." He spoke through a groan, he rutted his palm against your clit, brushing against it as he curled his fingers against that one spot that made your thighs shudder.

You bunched his shirt around your fist as your mouth fell open in a silent moan, your hips involuntarily grinding against his hand. Billy watched with amusement as you desperately rocked yourself back and forth on the counter while he undid his pants with his free hand.

His fingers left you abruptly, leaving your chasing and jaw slacked. You whined, your mouth opening to curse at him but he was gripping your braid with one hand as he brushed his cock through your folds, coating himself in your slick.

"Yell at me again and I will fuck you with my gun until you cry." He spat, his jaw twitching as he forcefully slammed into you with a snap of his hips.

You actually cried out this time, your toes curling and your nails dug into his chest. He pulled you to the edge of the counter until your legs hung loosely over his hips. He wound up his hand around your hair, pulling your head back as he rutted himself against you. He held your neck on full display as he dipped his head and ran his tongue over where blood stained your skin.

"Fuck baby— you always feel so good. But goddamn, you fuckin' taste like heaven." He breathed against your skin, dragging his tongue from your pulse point to your jaw.

Your fingers slipped into his hair, tangling around the chocolate locks to the root. And you pulled, and you pulled so hard he actually grunted in pain.

"Dios Billy." You moaned, your lips against his ear, and he slammed into you so hard then he made you slide back on the counter.

"Not God, baby. But I can be." He breathed out a laugh, his face pressed against your cheek as he wrapped his long fingers around your throat. "Trust me, darlin', when I'm done with you, not even God is gonna make you get outta bed tomorrow."

You choked out a cry as he brought you closer against him— if that was even possible— and threw one of your legs over his shoulder. His cock hit so deep it actually made you roll your eyes back this time.

"O-oh shit— shit Billy. I'm gonna come. Please, I wanna come." You spoke in between pants, what you could manage to say with his hand on your throat. You were holding on to him for dear fucking life, both arms thrown over his shoulder as if he was the only thing keeping you from slipping off the countertop.

"You wanna come? My pretty mercenary wants to come? You earned it, didn't you?" He pulled back enough to watch your face, and he released the grip on your throat so you could respond.

"Yes! Coño I earned it, please." You sounded so desperate but you didn't care, if there was one man in this world you could let yourself be vulnerable for it was Billy.

"Mhmm, of course you did." He slipped his hand between your bodies and his thumb rubbed harsh circles on your clit and he drilled into you, pretty much holding you in one place with a tight grip on your ass. "Yeah, like that? Yeah just like that, come for me. You're good at following orders, so come."

You were seeing white the second his thumb was on your clit and your fingers tugged at the roots of his hair as you came with a silent cry. You eyes were screwed shut and your mouth was hanging wide open as you gripped him tight enough to make his cock twitch. He breathed out a sigh of satisfaction and his lips curled up as he felt your wetness coat his cock. He looked down, and the sight of his cock slick with your come almost made him lose it.

With a grunt he held you to his chest with a tight grip on the back of your neck and his fingers dug into your ass, holding you still for him as he fucked you.

"Yeah, you take it just like that. Fuck— fuck that's a good girl." He moaned out the words, his head falling back ever so slightly. Enough for you to press your lips to his neck. But what made him completely lose it was your tongue, on his neck, similarly licking up the dry blood on his skin. "Ooh fuck me."

His fingers dug deep into your scalp, enough for you to feel a slight burn, but you didn't fucking care. You dragged your lips up to his jaw as he fell still and you breathed out a laugh of satisfaction when you felt him spill himself inside you. He dragged his hips lazily, once, twice more before he just stood still. His fingers were deep rooted in your hair and his eyes were closed. You closed your own eyes as you pressed your forehead against his chest with a lazy smile on your face.

Billy was silent, his fingers loosening on your hair until only his fingers were lazily dragging his fingers through the now loose strands. You kept your face on his chest, simply listening to his rapid heartbeat that matched your own. It slowly went steady, back to its normal rhythm. Only then Billy pulled back enough to look at your face. His dark eyes watched your face with something much softer and his fingers brushed over your bruised lip.

"'M fine Billy. You've done worse." You sighed softly at him, your hand coming up to hold his wrist. He furrowed his eyebrows at you.

"That's me, though. I've never hit you— without your permission anyway. But I've never bruised your face. It ain't the same." He frowned, and you couldn't help but grin at his protectiveness.

"I said I'm fine, mi cielo." You squeezed his wrist and shot up your eyebrows at him with a suggestive smile on your face. "Does this place have a master bathroom?"

Billy thought for a second, he had been here once at least before. He figured a house this big probably did have a large bathroom.

"Probably, why?"

"Wanna wash this blood off me?"

Billy's scowl was quickly replaced by a wide smirk of his own and he could feel his cock twitch the slightest bit as your suggestive tone.

"For this pussy? Baby, I'd kiss the fuckin' ground you walk on."

Billy was a fucked up man that had met his fucked up match. And he'd be damned if he ever denied you anything.

#billy russo x reader #billy russo x female reader #billy russo x you #billy russo smut #billy russo #the punisher

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lylathewise · 3 months ago

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S2:E5 First thoughts

Man, that guy will never keep his jaw, if Vi has anything to say about it

Ugh, that one Silco goon. Ick

They're legit reuniting? I'm bouncing about this

Aww, I was kinda hoping Ambessa was dead. I was all pumped to write about how Caitlyn would steadily lose more allies and people she could talk to, becoming more unhinged and descending while Jinx rises and becomes more stable with friends and allies, showing that support means everything. I still think that's where this is headed

Caitlyn looks like a vampire, and then she's surrounded by all this gore?

Ooh, the visualizing thing came back

Damn, Singed isn't dead and is now in the hands of Piltover? Although, maybe Salo will come looking for him?

Literally how do they know Singed summoned Warwick with his blood?

Mel, my baby, what did they do to you?

The prison cell looks dope though

Yay!! I knew they'd at least show her brother!

Big ol mouthful of marshmallow fluff

Ooh, they're really having it out

The shade! Stop, Jinx, she's already dead, just look at her hair!

God, this is such sister fighting, it's great

That little flash of who I assume is Singe's daughter? Chilling

YOUNG SILCO, I REPEAT YOUNG SILCO

So they did keep the backstory where Silco was the one who initiated the riot by throwing a molotov cocktail, getting Powder and Vi's parents killed

The contrast between the young Jinxs eyes, yeesh

Ok, so Singe merged the faces of himself and Silco in Vanders mind? And also made him hotter? His working eye? The longer hair? I'm not ok

Kino is such a charming rebellious son

Of course the writing on the wall is the way to get out

Is Kino working with Black Rose?

The daughter's room is beautiful

I love this way of taking Mel out of her regular zone of influence and really letting her shine

Aww, I'm kinda sad Kino really is dead, but the show can't handle another character to focus on

Mel going Super saiyan wasn't on my bingo card, but I love it. I'm a little sad that she isn't just a regular human, everybody has to be super special in some way

So did Silco kill Vanders wife by accident? Or was he already angry about it and Silco pissed him off?

Blisters and bedrock, their mining motto, I love it so much

The way she said "Vander, no" like telling him not to be on the couch

Vi is chasing the monsters away from Isha

Young Vander! So cute!

YOUNG SILCO!!! I'M GOING TO LOSE MY MIND

look at my little revolutionary scribbling with that bun!!!

Ok, that nail polish and that voice, she's absolutely Vi and Jinxs mother

We get silco smile?! Oh Silco community, we fucking ball

Vander doing the same juice routine for Jinx as he did for her mother while the same song plays? What if I cried?

Soft Silco and Vander? I feel like I'm dreaming

Ohhh Silco loves her. Oh no

Ohhh, no wonder Silco was so fucking furious. Vander completely gave up on her memory, at least that's what he thought, until he took in one of her daughters too

Yay big hug!!!

Aaaaa big hug!!!!

How did Salo get fixed??

How's it feel to be forever physically scarred by the results of your actions, Jayce? How's it feel?

Ohhh, he went to Viktor! Of course, when the Messiah comes around, you gotta go!

Do you want to speak to your ex? Ha, no time for an answer, here he is!

Woooowwww, basically no hesitation in mercing Salo. Respect, Jayce

This is my new favorite episode, I got post breakup Vi, Sisterly fighting, My beloved ratman, Big family Reunion, Two exes seeing each other after divorce, and Jayce not fucking around anymore 10/10

#arcane #arcane spoilers #jinx arcane #vi arcane #vander arcane #warwick #silco #jayce talis #viktor arcane

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gingerlurk · 1 year ago

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Lovers' Crest | Chapter 11: The Question

Din Djarin x f!Reader

Masterlist

Summary: You ask Din a question that changes everything.

Word count: 5.9k

Warnings: 18+ MDNI, slow burn, non-canon (the Razor Crest never gets destroyed, it also gets upgraded with a cabin), post season 3, SMUT, here we go, fingering, unprotected PiV (be safe), creampie, multiple orgasms, soft & tender.

A few days have passed and you’ve worked yourself into a state. You just couldn’t stop the wondering.

You were bound to be curious, right? He would have said something if it was not an okay thing to do. That was his way.

After pacing a couple of times with wringing hands and a racing heart, you decide that just asking the question is innocent enough. You press an only slightly shaking hand to your side, where the plaster seal holds your wound and the man’s bare hands had stroked you so carefully.

It’s just an innocent question.

So you check the kid is still sleeping, for no other reason than he was really tuckered out from the day, and approach the back of Din’s form as he moves the fresh supplies about the cabin.

He doesn’t seem to notice you, so you clear your throat. His helmet turns.

‘Um.’ You shift your feet.

‘I think we were a bit zealous with the fruit,’ he says. Pushing two overloaded bags into a rack, they barely fit. ‘Not sure we will get through it all.’

‘Oh,’ you give a nervous giggle. Giggle? What the fuck is wrong with you? ‘I’m sure kiddo will have no trouble devouring it all.’

‘Mm.’ He continues shoving the bags into place. You watch his able hands draw a loop of webbing through the rack and tie a deft knot.

Hands… Hands! His hands. You give yourself a mental slap and step up. ‘Din?’

‘Mm?’

‘Can I ask you a question?’ He must hear something in your voice because he turns and faces you square on. His broad frame glimmers in the dim light floating in from outside and you can tell by the tilt of his helmet that you have his full attention. Gods, he can make you feel so fucking exposed.

‘When I came to…’ You stop, huff a breath and go again. ‘After the treasury and the-- and the carbon freeze…’ You rub clammy palms on your thighs, pushing the memory of the burning chill away. ‘When I woke up, you, you were—’ Gods, fuck, just fucking ask him!

He hasn’t moved or gestured for you to go on. You think he might be holding his breath.

‘You were treating my injuries and,’ you stare down at his hands, held stiffly at his sides, ‘I don’t think you had your gauntlets on.’ You say it in a rush and look up a little further to his forearms. ‘Or your vambraces.’

The items in question are reflecting the sun into the hold, the light having shifted lower as you dithered around your point. You lose focus for a moment.

‘That’s true,’ Din whispers into the silence. You almost miss it. ‘The stitcher gauge is very fine. I had to be precise or I could have overdone it and burned you. So, I thought a direct hand best.’

‘Ohh, oh- okay. Th-thanks for that.’ Thanks for that? Unhinged.

‘And,’ you push on. Your eyes dart lower for a second then back up to Din’s motionless visage. ‘I don’t think you had your cuisse on either. Your-- your thigh armour.’ You make a weak gesture to his lower body then lock your arms across your front, willing your heart to get out of your throat and back into your chest. ‘When I, uh,’ you stare up at the ceiling, ‘when I grabbed hold of you – because of the pain, I mean – I didn’t feel it there.’ You should just die right now.

‘In order to reset your shoulder,’ he says, ‘I had to lean my knee into your hip. I did not want the beskar to cause any more harm.’ Is his voice raspier than usual? Even deeper, somehow?

‘Right. You did a great job.’ You release your arms and swing the shoulder in question back and forth a couple of times. ‘Feels good.’ Are you out of your mind?

‘That’s good.’

Silence.

‘You had a question?’

‘Yes! Yes I did. Uh…’ You swallow the driest mouth you’ve ever had. ‘So my question being, it didn’t seem to concern you when I came to. Like, you weren’t worried having pieces of your armour off in my presence. I thought, you know, with the creed and all…’ Just get this over with and you can go sprint into the forest and throw up. But then he takes a step toward you and gives a long exhale. The sound makes your body flush all over. Without your volition, your thoughts and nerves rush to your core – igniting a pulsing need.

‘That is still not a question, but yes. It did not worry me.’ His voice has reached a gravelly tone that you let wash over you, finding the calm amid the sonic velvet. ‘My armour is a part of my religion and I hold it as sacrosanct.’ He touches a hand to his cuirass. ‘But the Creed speaks of only the helmet being removed and my face being seen. It does not forbid removing my armour in the presence of another, though I would only do so when needs are an absolute must.’

He drops his hand to his side. ‘Or when I am with one that I trust.’

Holy shit. Heart is climbing up your throat and into your mouth. You lick your lips.

‘Okay, so, here’s my question,’ you clench your fist once then reach out and take hold of his hand. You lift it up and with your other hand ghost your fingers over his. You have an urgent thought, look up at him. ‘To be clear, I’d never ask you to take off your helmet.’

‘I know.’

‘Ever,’ a hard shake of your head.

‘I know.’

‘But, can I take off this glove?’ You stare directly into the dark T of his visor. He leans to you.

‘You can.’

Molten, burning desire coils in your belly. A graphic mental image of stripping him bare and climbing him like a tree flashes white hot in your mind. The things you want to do to him, and let him do to you. Thought upon thought tumbles through you. This hand you’re holding touching you all over, finding your aching need, pulling your juices from you in an endless stream. These huge fingers—

‘Start here,’ he says gently, and you realise you’ve been stood stock still staring at his hand in yours. He lifts his other hand to the edge of the vambrace by his wrist and releases a catch. The metal of the two armour pieces, warmed by him, come away with a clunk. He drops them onto the bench beside you. Then waits.

You grip two of his gloved fingers and draw the garment toward you. You blink back the moisture gathering at your eyes so you can take in the sight of millimetre on millimetre of skin being revealed to you. When the glove has dropped to the floor, you push your fingers into his to entwine them. He spreads his own and lets your digits link. Gods, but they feel so soft between your calloused ones. With your other hand, you circle his wrist and start to push up the long sleeve up his forearm, greedy to see more, touch more. But he flinches.

‘Sorry! I’m sorry,’ you make to draw back but he tightens your joined fingers together to hold you still.

‘No,’ he whispers. ‘It is not you. I’m just, I have not felt– for a long time…’

Of course, you think. This is the most touch-starved man in the galaxy.

Lick your lips again, bite down on the corner of your mouth. Look up to him.

‘Okay,’ you say. ‘Why don’t you lead? Just, you can touch me instead for a little while? If you like?’

‘I would like that.’ It’s nothing but a low rumble to your ears.

He unclasps the armour from his other arm and tugs the glove off. It gets tossed to the side, almost carelessly, then both hands reach for you. You decide to stay still, not spook the wild creature in front of you. You make another choice and let your eyes fall closed.

You’re so glad to be wearing only a singlet when each hand moves to your wrists and slowly, gods so slowly and tenderly, start to skim up, up. Fingers caress your outer forearms as each thumb presses a little into the soft, paler flesh heading toward your inner elbows. There, he circles each arm, holding them in a grip that has you spinning again into fantasies of things to come. You hope.

This is where you become aware of Din’s breathing. You open your eyes and see his chest rising and falling in bursts. Fast, harsh gasps hit the modulator of his helmet.

‘Din,’ you whisper, not moving a muscle. ‘It��s okay. It’s me. Breathe.’

He gives you a nearly imperceptible nod and takes a moment to fill his lungs a few times. When he’s ready, his right hand moves from your elbow, up to your shoulder and splays there across your upper chest. His thumb rests at the base of your throat but you barely notice its experimental nudge there as his fingers curl under the strap of your top and rest underneath it. His whole hand is pressed flush against your skin.

It’s so fucking reverent you want to cry.

Then he pushes the fabric off your shoulder and down your arm, mirroring the action on your other side until your shoulders and decolletage are bare. Another long, agonising pause as he holds you there makes you feel like you’re going to astral project with tension. Your eyes look up to lock on the visage facing you – then all at once it snaps between you.

He grips your arms tight and pulls you into his chest. The hard, plated beskar seers your skin as you lift onto your toes toward him. Gripping onto his elbows over his clothed sleeves to stay steady, you nuzzle into the arched curve of his helmet, pressing your nose to where you imagine his cheek could be.

He moves, walking you backwards into the cabin.

When your calves back into the bed, Din brings his hands to the hem of your top. You raise your arms and drop to the mattress in one motion. The fabric rustles up and off for Din to toss to the side. Chest bare, you lean back to let him look at you.

The black sights of the visor stay steady on your body as he stands over you. But his hands start to move on himself. To his shoulders, his chest – clasps and buckles are released and one item after another is drawn away.

It’s like watching a God work at himself.

You rise from your elbows to your palms when he tucks his hands under his midriff and starts to rip at fasteners, tugging the top half of his flight suit loose. Huh, you think, you didn’t know it could be a two-piece.

And then all thought stops. The outfit opens down the middle and you stare as, oh gods, oh gods, oh gods, he drags it out and off his shoulders. Letting it thump to the floor.

As you expected, he’s broad and hard. The muscles carry the easy definition of a fighter like himself, powerful but swift. They twitch and flex as your hungry eyes roam everywhere. Soft hair dusts his chest and funnels into an inviting trail down over his stomach and into his pants. What really captures your attention is the taut, pulsing veins highlighting his neck and collarbones, tensing beneath your gaze.

You take in each other for a beat. Then he seems to read your mind and drops to his knees between your legs. You sit up as he leans forward and gently, slowly, with hands moving to arms and with small reassuring nods from Din, the two of you come to be pressed together. Chest to naked chest. You rest each hand on his generous shoulders. His arms circle to your back and he tilts his helmet to rest over your shoulder, the delicate skin of his neck pressing there. So achingly tender.

Wait here. Wait for him to move.

As soon as the thought crosses your mind, he does. Hands move to your front, sliding across your ribs and barely hesitating before cupping your breasts. He gives an experimental squeeze and teases at your peaked buds. You fall onto your back to give him full access.

His fingers find your lips. You suck them in and let your saliva coat as much as you’re able. Satisfied, he moves them back to your tits, letting the slick slide back and forth over your nipples. He’s brushing, pinching and squeezing with a pattern and pace that is so intuitive to your arousal you’re now sure he’s inside your head.

You’re pushing your chest into his ministrations, feeling every single tug and twitch shoot a jolt of pure pleasure to your pussy. It’s soaking your clothed thighs more and more but doing exactly zero to slake your cravings. You squirm and cry out, pawing aimlessly at chest, arms, helmed face.

‘Fuuhhhh,’ you pant. ‘Fuck, Din!’

At that he presses his face to your chest and draws it down your body, hard and cold forehead dragging over the skin between your tits and down your belly. His helm presses firmly on the belt at your pants, as if in protest, and you shudder with every inch of muscle as he continues down. He lays his forehead to rest directly against your clothed throbbing cunt.

You think you’ve gone insane when you swear you hear him inhale there. Can he smell through that thing? Shut up.

With his helmet pressed there, breathing in and out heavily, he whispers, ‘Mesh’la.’

You can’t help yourself. You thrust your hips up, a white-hot pulse reverberates in your cunt and you keen. It feels profane.

But he freezes.

Your eyes shoot open and you look down, a tinny shred of fear licking at your arousal.

You’ve ruined everything.

He moves away from your centre. No… you whine.

But he leans up, climbing onto the bed beside you, nudging you further up the mattress and settling at your side. He’s gazing at you and you’re not sure where his eyes are focused. It just feels like everywhere. His hands, which moved from your chest in his descent down you, now roam, uncertain.

He speaks.

‘What—’ an exhale. ‘What would you like me to do? Tell me.’

You shiver at the sound of his delicious voice. Working hard to compose yourself enough to speak, you say, ‘Just, just keep going with your hands? Whatever you want to do. Whatever you want. Just please don’t stop.’

A hand grips at the buckle of your pants; your legs tremble. ‘This?’

‘Fuck, please.’

It is quick work. You hike your hips and raise a hand to assist the worn material in sliding down your legs. You hadn’t gripped its waistband yourself, but Din has your underwear as well as your pants hooked in his fingers and they both shift down and off.

Now you’re naked and the bare hand of the Mandalorian is dragging a slow, punishing course up your entire leg. Little skitters of pleasure race ahead, gathering and creating a crescendo of sensation to release tides of wet bliss.

You think you may die as his fingertips trace a path to where you need them. Please touch me. You make a silent prayer. Touch, touch, touch.

It feels like he’s within you already. Without pausing, the index and middle fingers push in and up, separating the soaking folds around your entrance. He doesn’t even pause there, sensing your momentum, and pushes them right into the hot, clenching flesh.

The ecstatic moan that pushes up from your chest is nearly drowned out by a ragged groan from Din. You both writhe together as he works his two fingers in, draws back and circles, then pushes back in, settling into a pumping action that curls up, up.

‘How much I have wanted this, mesh’la,’ he sighs. ‘You would have no idea.’

Oh, you have some idea. ‘I—' That’s as far as you get. The pad of his thumb finds your clit.

After all the anticipation, all the yearning, all the tender build up – it’s all you need. The orgasm that rushes toward you is a wave that crests in your belly and breaks into every part of you, rising to the very crown of your head where you’ve thrown it back with mouth open in an O of ecstasy.

You open your eyes to see Din watching your face, fingers still seated inside you, and he’s murmuring, ‘That’s good, that’s so good. Fuck, so beautiful. So gorgeous. Can I do that again? Gods please, let me do that again…’

You wiggle your hips some and hiss at the intensity flickering across your whole pussy. His hand flexes there but doesn’t resume stimulating yet, waiting for you. You sense a pressure on your thigh and wonder how in the stars you hadn’t noticed his bulging erection before now, pushing as it is into your shivering flesh. You reach a hand, pausing at his sharp inhale.

You rest your palm on your leg, just by where he’s pressed into you.

‘Yes, Din,’ you say, hoping in all the worlds that you’re making eye contact with him. ‘Yes, you can, over and over, as much as you want. For- for as long as you want. And… can I?’ You glance down, then back up.

He presses the top of his helm into your forehead and you’re awash in his ragged breathing and tiny groans. As he begins to move inside you again, adding a third finger and immediately setting a renewed fire that will not take long to blaze, you feel him nod against your face.

It’s only a little fiddly as you reach around the arm working at you to open up more of his flight suit. It would be easier if he pulled his hand away for a moment, but you don’t think that’s up for negotiation, so you just push and tug until – oh, oh gods, oh fuck – his smooth, gorgeously hard cock is pressing into your skin.

You take him in hand and revel at the weight and thickness of him. You greedily explore his entire length, circling fingers over the head, wrapping your palm around him and moving down, running knuckles through the coarse hair there, and back up. You drink in every little strangled moan he gives you, senses flooded, skin sizzling with desire.

He shifts, slipping his other hand under your neck to pull you closer. You move a little to your side so you’re facing him more, and you jerk each other off. You press your lips into the cool metal of his helmet and he lets you.

He’s figured out that a thumb rubbing at your clit is going to end you the fastest, so he focuses there. But the hand cradling your head also finds a spot just behind your ear and strokes there unconsciously. That’s what really undoes you again. You cry out into the unyielding curve of beskar, and hear him muttering again, ‘yes, y-- s- so perfect, so fucking perfect…’

You lose rhythm stroking him, but he seems to be enjoying it anyway, hips jutting up into your hand and legs locking with yours to find purchase. Groaning, you drop your face to his neck and collarbone and mouth hungrily there, resetting your pace again as you feel his body start to tense. His breathing becomes short and ragged and you can feel his head pressing hard into the bed just above you.

‘F-, uh, Fuuuh, please, please,’ he’s begging you, losing his damn mind. ‘I’m going to- going to- do you want me to—’

‘Let go, Din,’ you moan into his skin. ‘Let me make you cum.’

Your side and stomach are suddenly slippery as he spills on you like a shot. You let him rut there into the hot mess you’ve made of him, taking the last as he stills. In the midst of his shuddering release, his hand still locked on your cunt creates enough friction for a third shimmering climax to wash through you and you writhe into his palm.

Never in your life had you felt so sated.

A distressed ‘ Ehhe! ’ pierces the bliss you’d lost yourselves in. A gentler, ‘buub,’ follows. You each disentangle and sit up, listening.

‘The kid!’ Din says, starting to pull at his pants and move to stand, but you reach for him in slight panic. You can’t handle the thought of seeing him cover up, close in again, just yet.

‘No, no, it’s okay. I’ll go,’ you say, laying a hand on Din’s shoulder and guiding him back down. ‘Please, please just, stay like this. I haven’t… haven’t had enough of this just yet. Okay?’

He hesitates, but stops trying to tuck himself away. You glance down and see he’s still half hard. Maybe… you think.

‘Besides,’ you say with a wink. ‘I can get dressed faster.’

Thank all the worlds, he relents, relaxes his hands and watches you stand to pick your clothing off the floor. You give him one final look and duck out to check on the child.

Just a few minutes later, you slip back into the cabin and your heart bursts.

Din is fucking naked.

While you’d been out he’d shucked off the rest of his flight suit and boots and now lay in the centre of the bed, one arm raised behind his helmet and the other over his middle, self-consciously stroking at his taut abdomen.

You gape for a moment, willing yourself to speak.

‘He was just thirsty,’ you croak out, raking your eyes up and down his body. His legs. His fucking thighs. ‘Out like a light again.’

Din doesn’t say anything, just reaches a hand for you. You check his cock, still half hard, resting against his belly. Gonna change that first, you think.

You grip the hem of your singlet and, as leisurely as you’re able, draw it up yourself, revealing just an inch of skin at a time. Din’s head rises slightly as he watches. You pause just as you’re about to bare your breasts again, do another check, getting there.

In the time it takes to tip your head back and draw the garment over you to drop it back to the floor, Din has raised up onto his elbows and he’s rock hard and twitching.

Okay, no more time wasting. You move into action, unbuckling and shoving your pants down your legs as you climb onto the foot of the bed, crawling to him. He leans forward and takes your upper arms into his hands to yank you all the way up. Your nose bumps his helmet again as you straddle his hips.

Hands come up to grip either side of your face, fingers caressing that area by your ears you apparently love and thumbs nudging at the edges of your mouth. You part your lips and let him work them in, licking and sucking at every point of contact. They taste of leather and salt and you.

You’re holding your naked cunt directly above his groin and you let it sink down so it rubs against his shaft. Slippery and so, so smooth. He moans. He pushes into you for a moment but then stills, huffing hard short breaths.

‘L- love,’ he pants, looking down between you. ‘I have to help you- ready- first--’

‘I’m ready,’ you whimper, near losing your mind at the endearment. ‘Gods, I am. I’m ready. Are you?’

His thumbs leave your mouth and he nudges your face so you focus on the visor right in front of you. He tilts his hips just so, so that the head of his cock slips perfectly to sit at your entrance. You can feel how slick you are, feel how much your body wants this gorgeous, throbbing cock to take you apart.

‘Yes,’ he rasps. ‘I want you so m- hhn!’

You take him in one long luscious sinking of your hips, not stopping until your seated flush against him. The burn feels good, the pressure at your cervix talking to your body and promising imminent bliss.

You look down at Din, he is silent but you can see the veins on his neck straining and the hollow of his throat dipping and peaking. He’s still holding your head, and as he shifts his hands you expect them to come to handle your hips. But he traces your neck and shoulders, bringing them instead to your tits, cupping them and thumbing your nipples.

He holds the rest of his body still, waiting for you, letting you choose the pace. You decide to make it long and languid to start. Settling your knees on the bed and hands braced by his shoulders, you draw yourself back up, slow and delicious. Let yourself feel every millimetre until his head is cresting at your entrance again before sliding back down.

That finally elicits a desperate, shaky groan from behind the helmet. An unintelligible string of ‘s’good, ahh- ama--, fuuhh—’ tumbles forth. You do it again, and a third time, feeling yourself covering his cock in your juices, slicker and hotter each time.

On a downward thrust you collapse into his chest, holding his sides and moaning, ‘Gods, god- You- you were made for me, Din.’ You keep him deep inside you, the pressure of his pelvis on your clit connected by a razor of pleasure to the pressure of his tip at your cervix. The sensation of being split wide open causes sparks to careen around your core.

Groaning and panting into your ear as you work yourself on him, Din braces his feet and pushes his hips up, giving you just the angle you need to reach for the peak and tumble over it. You shudder and gush around him, latching lips onto a muscled bicep and moaning into his skin.

At that he does move to grip your hips. He brings his knees higher and holds you tight. You release your mouth long enough to utter a string of begging nonsense, telling him to take you hard. And he does, he fucks up into you with wild fervour, slamming your spent hips down onto his cock. There’s nothing between your bodies but sweat and your release as he loses himself in you. You regain enough strength to set your knees and move to meet each of his thrilling thrusts.

You start to wonder how much longer he’ll last when his hold changes from pulling himself in to pushing you away. You’re confused at first but then he bursts out, ‘Gonna c--, uh, fuh, huh—’

He’s trying to pull out, so you whisper, ‘Cum, Din. Let me feel it, now, pl—! ’

A guttural ‘uhhnhh’ fills the air as he spends himself into you. His hands, the fingers of one locked to the small of your back and the others digging into your ass, could puncture you to burst. Heat and electricity already crackle across your body but the warmth of his seed turns you to cinders.

Your mingled pants and gasps settle the inferno you’d created together as the walls of the cabin reform, bringing you back into reality.

‘Wow,’ you breathe. ‘That was…’

Din moves a hand to the side of your head and carries it up to be level with his, bumping your foreheads together. He sighs, long and hard, ‘It was.’

‘Yeah,’ you agree.

Even though there’s a pinch tugging at your hips, spread wide over his, you don’t feel a want to move at all. He seems to feel the same, his relaxing cock staying seated inside you. You let yourself imagine you’re one and the same, connected and bound, melted and merged.

Through your glowing haze, you feel a thump thump thump against your chest. Not your heart. His. It’s hammering.

‘You okay?’ you ask, trying to study that T visor like it has the answers to existence.

He presses his head back. You picture his eyes screwed shut and his teeth clenched, trying to will himself to calm. No clue what he looks like but it still feels vivid and real to you.

‘Yes, I am,’ he rasps. Gods, you can finally revel in the gorgeousness of that voice. ‘I am okay, I swear.’

‘Um, good?’ you say when he pauses there but doesn’t relax.

‘Yes, just,’ he murmurs, moving hands back to where they were right before you’d penetrated yourself on him – either side of your head and his thumbs seeking entrance to your mouth. You oblige and kiss and nip and lick at them with hunger.

He stares, ‘Gods, you’re so fucking beautiful.’ He moves a palm across your mouth and you lave into that too, pouring your lust into consuming whatever he can give you.

Though you’re not too lost in the feeling of making out with his hand that you don’t notice the return of pressure on your pelvic walls. No way, you think.

You push yourself up, give a lazy tilt of your hips to circle there. The feeling of him swelling inside you is absolutely intoxicating. You circle again and grin down at him.

He sits up and pulls you close, closer, starts to gently move your bodies together. It’s not long before momentum takes hold. You rock into each other as hands explore and caress everything in reach. His card through your hair, grip the back of your neck, wrap around your waist and run up and down your thighs. Yours draw nails across broad shoulders and chest, cradle his helmet, trace the lines of his abdomen and clutch his arms for purchase.

He’s mumbling something but it’s incoherent and you’re just chanting his name, minds gone.

You reach for your fifth, telling him you’re close, so close… Gods, Din.

‘It’s yours, mesh’la,’ he grits. ‘Let it be yours-- it's all yours.’

‘Fuh-- huh!’ Sound sticks in your throat. He murmurs quiet affirmations and praise as you’re awash in bliss. Just as the exquisite feeling ebbs, Din rolls you both over to fuck you down into the bed before going rigid. He sighs through it, then stills.

You can’t physically hold your hips open anymore so you nudge and stroke at him until he moves off. He pulls you to his side and wraps you in an embrace. You tuck in, stroke and caress neck and chest and bicep.

After a very generous stretch of lounging into him, you excuse yourself to the fresher to clean up a little. Just a little though, the slippery feeling of his release twice over too delicious to not hold onto a little more. When you return to the bed, he has a similar thing on his mind.

‘Cyar’ika,’ he starts. Pauses. Sighs and goes on. ‘I am not sure how to ask this, but…’

You stop him, curl back into his side and play a hand coyly over the gorgeous planes of his body.

‘Got the implants years ago,’ you say, just above a whisper.

‘Oh, okay,’ he says, skimming his knuckles up and down your side.

‘Yeah,’ you blurt. ‘Nobody wanted precious heiress knocked up before her time…’

Why’d you say that? You want to push that all away as quickly as you can, so you climb onto him again, finding him ready and willing beneath you.

This is where Din wants to live for the rest of his days. Laying on his back, arms looped around you and your head nestled against his chest. Your hand rests over his heart and you are gently pushing a thumb back and forth. It’s heaven.

But something still hangs in the air between you. The two of you had pushed through much of the veils of doubts and fears you’d been stringing up since meeting, trying to protect yourselves from the intensity of this feeling. Even the last few days, after everything, you’d been dancing around each other, waiting for the right time, the right way…

Now that you were pressed skin to skin, all he wants is to let you in.

‘I am… so sorry, mesh’la,’ he says. You tip your head up to him with a curious mm ? ‘For before.’ You lower your gaze again. Okay, still some distance needed for this. But you nestle a little closer, tucking your face into his neck. Keep going…

‘For how I acted, how I treated you. The things I said, I should have known better. Understood… But I was…’ A heavy sigh, just say it. ‘I was afraid. I thought I was losing…’

The words won’t come, so he settles for rubbing your arm instead.

A long, quiet moment stretches out between you. You make small motions against each other, a caress, a squeeze. You talk each other through the things you cannot say.

‘I’m sorry too,’ you finally say. He wishes you didn’t feel the need; it was all his fault. ‘Guess I was afraid too… I was just starting to feel… at home, out here. Having a past I’ve tried to get away from collide with the present I’ve been wanting so badly to… to hold onto. I just--’

He moves a hand to stroke at your hair.

Your next words are whisper quiet. He’s so glad his helmet sensors are still dialled up or he wouldn’t have caught it, ‘Been so long since I felt any sense of home.’

His response is possibly way too much, way too soon, but it feels so right he just lets himself say it. ‘You’ll have a home here. Always.’

Back to silent communication for a moment, letting touch do the telling.

Then you laugh lightly and the tension eases some. ‘You realise that means you can’t go anywhere, right?’

As if he’s ever going anywhere else, but he asks anyway, ‘What do you mean?’

‘I’d be stranded!’ You finally lift your head to look at him, eyes twinkling. ‘No point being on the best ship in the verse if I can’t go anywhere.’

There’s so much to process in that sentence, he focuses on the simplest. ‘You can’t… you don’t know how to pilot?’

You shrug, ‘Never did have a chance to learn.’

He sits up a little, leans away so he can see you more. ‘You could pull the Crest apart and put it back together in a day, but you can’t fly it?’

‘Do pilot and mechanic mean the same thing to you?’ you ask, smiling wider.

‘Well, no. But I thought… given everything else…’

You keep looking at him, eyes flicking across the motionless mask as if you’re reading every thought in his head. Slowly, the look shifts from one of amusement to something deeper – softer and hungrier.

He doesn’t know how to say what he wants to say, so he settles for the next best thing. ‘Want me to show you?’

You grin, flop your head back onto his chest and hold him tight. ‘More than anything.’

Yeah, this is where Din wants to live for the rest of his days.

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