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shaanks · 2 months

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Hello!! So, for the lovely @quinloki 's birthday request event, I have written a thing!! It's a day later than I intended, but we made it!!

This thing is a monster and it got away from me lmfao, but I genuinely hope you enjoy it. :)))) Even in the short time I've known you, I've found you to be a lovely person and a wonderful friend, and you deserve all the fun and joy in the world. If this manages to be even a little part of that, I will be honored and thrilled.

So, without further ado, please allow me to introduce:

Cabin in the Woods

summary: A break-in, a road-trip, and a mysterious cabin all coalesce on what should have been a quiet Tuesday night in August. The world is changing, and our reader must adapt to a mystery they could not have imagined, and circumstances they could not have foreseen.

cw: op x reader with Sabo, dark content, yandere stuff. (nothing graphic or even violent really happens, but the circumstances are still there). there is a gun, but no gun violence is involved. no pronouns are used, but the reader is mentioned as having breasts and a vagina. there's smut, both explicit and implied. petnames used: darling, love, sweetheart, baby.

I don't think i'm forgetting anything but as always if this kinda stuff isn't your cup of tea, don't read it.

14k word count so it's going under a readmore, but yeah!! Here we go!

A bump in the road jolted you awake, head snapping up from where it had slumped against the passenger side window.

“Sorry love,” a soft, familiar voice whispered from beside you, accompanied by the soothing warmth of a palm smoothed over your thigh and you sighed, relieved, allowing your eyes to slip closed for a moment again before you straightened up in your seat.

It was hard to tell how long the two of you had been on the road. Sabo had insisted on driving so that you could rest, but that had been in the wee hours of the morning. It was still dark now, the sky a sickly, bruised grey that could have been dawn or dusk, and you scrubbed a hand over your face, trying to get your bearings. With a heavy sigh, you dropped your hand into your lap again, eyes roaming aimlessly around the car before settling on the dash radio. 5:15 AM.

You frowned, muted worry etching itself across your brow as you shifted your hand to rest atop the back of your fiance’s. He must have read the look in his periphery, or felt your concern seeping into his skin at your touch because he chuckled warmly, turning his hand palm-up to lace his fingers with yours.

“Don’t you worry, okay? I’m a veteran roadtrip driver, and besides...you needed the rest. Last night was…” your lover trailed off for a moment, something vague and inscrutable flittering across his features for a moment.

“...a little hectic,” you supplied, finishing his thought, and that gentle smile returned to his features once more as he regarded you with a wink.

“Hectic. Yeah. S’as good a word for it as any,” He squeezed your hand a little more tightly, rubbing his thumb along the back of it in tender, absentminded circles.

Silence settled back over your little car for a while then, and you turned your attention out the windows again, trying not to let the memory of the previous night, or the reason for your impromptu flight from civilization, enter your mind. When you’d drifted off, it had been on an empty, nondescript stretch of freeway, fallow farmland on either side, no other cars in sight beyond one lonely set of taillights which had bobbed along ahead of you for perhaps ten miles before drifting off down an exit of its own, leaving the two of you to the liminal solitude of late night travel.

If Sabo had pulled off at any stops along the way, he hadn’t woken you for them, but given that the scenery had changed from open farmland to winding, forested foothills, it couldn’t have been more than once. Under normal circumstances you might have chided him for it ‘Breaks are normal, it’s not worth the hour saved to give yourself a UTI trying to do the whole trip in one go,’ but given the circumstances…

You blinked your eyes shut hard, shaking the thoughts away before stretching to the side a little to rest your head on Sabo’s shoulder.

“Want me to take over for a bit, ‘Bo?” You asked softly, running your free hand up his forearm a little.

Sabo leaned over slightly, slumping his cheek against the top of your head for a moment before pressing a soft kiss there, lingering just long enough to breathe the scent of you in before straightening back up.

Nah, s’okay. We’re only a couple hours out from it now, and the side road is really hard to catch. Hell, I used to come out here every summer with my brothers, and I still drive right past it sometimes.” He said, the corners of his lips turning slightly upwards at the memory.

You adored his brothers, boisterous and warm in their own ways. They were the only people on earth that Sabo loved as much as you, and for a moment your heart clenched at the thought. Between the bars of your mental blockade, you hoped faintly that they were holed up somewhere safe, too. That they’d found their way out of the city before--

“Do you think we should try the radio again? See if there’s any news...any updates?” Your voice sounded grave, frightened and thin in your own ears, and you winced.

Sabo squeezed your hand a little more tightly. “...Let’s wait til we’re up at the cabin. If the car radio runs out of signal we’ve got the ham radio, and that old long-range one Luffy’s grandfather left up there.” He lapsed into silence for a moment, and when he spoke again, his voice was lower, betraying the first hint of worry he’d let slip since your departure. “We beat the first wave out, and there’s nothing we can do ‘til we’re safe up there. Won’t help anything to get ourselves all wound up before then, right love?” his voice was low, reassuring, reasonable. He didn’t want you to be scared. You didn’t want you to be scared.

He offered you the out, and you took it. “Yeah. May as well get everything set up before we start taking stock of how bad it is.”

“Brilliant as always,” he crooned, lilting his voice with that cartoonishly syrupy sweetness that never failed to make you laugh. He grinned at the sound, heart fluttering in his chest, and exhaled a long, slow breath. He wasn’t worried about what might be on the radio. All that mattered was that he had you here, had you safe. Whatever else happened, you could weather it together.

True to his word, the little road that led back to the cabin was barely visible until the car was almost on top of it; even with the help of the morning light, filtering grey through the thickening cloud cover, the path Sabo slowed and pulled off onto could barely be called a road. You’d already pulled off the freeway maybe 30 minutes before, onto a two lane little back road that veered off and up into the hills and valleys beyond. This was an unpaved, overgrown footpath with delusions of grandeur, that seemed to meander almost aimlessly through the trees. Slowly but surely, the road behind you slid into the foliage and out of view, and though you knew he must be exhausted, you found yourself deeply grateful that Sabo had opted to finish the drive himself.

You could barely imagine picking your way through this on foot without prior knowledge, let alone in a car. At regular intervals Sabo’s side of the road would simply open up into nothing, offering a stunning view of the valley, of the forested mountain on the other side, and what you were sure was likely a precipitous drop off into the river below. The thought of it made you a bit queasy, despite the beauty of the scenery, and you leaned back into your seat, opting instead to watch the high wall of fallen leaves and hillside passing by on the passenger side.

“Just a little bit longer, I promise. The cabin’s just on the other side of the hilltop. You’re going to love the view. Plus it’s got good access to a little lake. The water is always unreasonably cold, but it’s gorgeous,” He said, turning his head only slightly towards you to keep his focus on the road. “Tell ya what, if the old rowboat is still functional, I’ll take you out on it. Tomorrow, after we’ve had some rest.”

You smiled at that, humming acquiescently. The thought of spending time out on the lake with him—spending time out anywhere with him—was wonderful, perfect, of course, though at the moment the only thing you could muster any true enthusiasm for was a long bath and the promise of a comfortable bed. The whole place was probably going to need aired out and dusted off, and while there was a generator Sabo had made it clear that it might need a little TLC before there would be any power. That was fine. If you two needed to spend the first night cooking hotdogs and smores in the fireplace, it wouldn’t be the end of the world.

That phrase rattled around in your mind a little, and you shuddered. Sabo glanced at you, before reaching out and flicking the AC down a couple of notches.

“Don’t worry,” he whispered. You squeezed his hand tightly, before drawing it up to your lips.

“With you? ‘Course not.” you whispered back.

He smiled, perhaps a little smugly, though that simply made you kiss the back of his hand once again.

When the road had finally meandered off the slope of the mountain you were on, following a little rise into a nestled clearing between peaks, you’d sighed in relief and slumped back in your seat, making Sabo laugh good-naturedly.

“The ride in is a little harrowing the first time, but I promise it’s gonna be worth it,” He’d said, letting go of your hand so he could ruffle it through your hair, and down to rest at the back of your neck, soothing the tense muscles with warm, precise little movements.

You weren’t honestly sure what you’d been expecting the cabin to look like. Vague images of a hunting lodge, of a summer camp bunk house, of a better homes and gardens style airbnb, and Rapunzel’s tower had all made their aimless way across your mind on the way in.

What you found was nothing short of magical. Even in the grey, dreary light of what had turned out to be a drizzly, windy sort of day, the little valley nestled between the peaks still seemed to glimmer with the echos of sun-warmed adventures and youthful secrets. The road you were on petered out into the soft green grass of a charmingly overgrown clearing. The hilltop seemed to cup the clearing like a giant hand, curving trees and bushes and delicate little wildflowers inward towards the cabin, more like the framing of a painting than the work of nature.

The cabin itself was larger than you’d anticipated, but not nearly as campish or dilapidated as Sabo had suggested. Dark old wood comprised both stories of the house, with a wraparound porch and swing visible as you approached, and a balcony on the one upstairs room you could see from this side.

The windows were boarded up, sure, but Sabo had assured you that was standard practice every time he and his brothers left the place for the season. Safer that way in case of storms, and it kept most of the animals from scratching around too much.

“We’ll pull the boards off the windows of the upstairs rooms so we can get a cross-breeze up where we’re gonna sleep. Rest of em we can work through tomorrow. No rush. We’ve got time to settle in.” he said, cheerful despite the situation, as he finally pulled the car to a stop, and killed the engine.

You leaned forward for a moment, taking in the place through the tinted blue of the top of the windshield, before unclipping your seat belt and climbing out of the car at long last. Without the rumble of the engine and the whirring of the AC, the place was even more beautiful. Wind swept through the valley, rustling in the trees, stray leaves twirling and trailing in the wind as they fell.

Sabo climbed out of the car too, leaning against the open driver’s side door to watch you, a gentle smile on his lips.

‘It’ll all be worth it. Even if all that ever came of it was this, it’d be worth it,’ the thought settled across his mind like gossamer silk, his eyes growing dreamy and unfocused, as he drank in the sight of your excitement. You seemed to glow in the gentle light that filtered down through the trees, and he knew in that moment that there was no one in the world more perfect than you. His love, his darling.

He could make you happy here. He would make you happy here. Happy, and safe, and loved. As you deserved.

You almost yelped in startled delight when you lowered your head from observing the trees around you to find Sabo directly by your side, lips quirked up into a grin. It was one of the things you loved about him, one of his many fascinating little quirks, he could be so quiet when he wanted to be. Your high little peal of laughter only widened his grin, and in one swift motion he had you lifted up into his arms, cradled against his chest, nestled into a grip that spoke of unfathomable reverence, and a heat that seemed always to be boiling just inches beneath his skin, a hunger that only ever found satiation in your love, your touch, your pleasure.

You looked up into the face of the man you loved breathlessly, the hint of color and responding heat beginning to touch your cheeks, and he sighed, letting those beautiful cornflower blue eyes of his slip closed, poorly feigning a chiding expression as he leaned forward to press his lips to your forehead.

“I see how it is,” he sighed airily, turning towards the cabin with you as though you weighed nothing at all. “What am I, compared to pretty leaves and a mysterious old cabin~” he intoned, hyperbolically mournful, and you rolled your eyes playfully before turning your head to kiss his chin.

“My guide through the darkness, as always,” you returned, mimicking his feigned mournfulness, though just as the words left your lips, Sabo carried you up onto the creaking old wood of the porch, and into the semi-darkness that came with it. The cloud cover was too heavy to throw off the pal of disuse, and you couldn’t quite manage to suppress the shiver that ran through you. Up close, with its boarded windows and unfamiliar shadows, there was something...ominous, about the place. Sabo stilled for a moment, glancing down at you, his playful expression giving way to concern, and something like remorse, as he set you gently onto your feet again.

“Nobody’s been out here in a couple years,” He squeezed your shoulders softly, rhythmically, before pulling you forward into a hug. “That’s all it is. There’s no way that anythi—that anyone would even know to come out this way beyond Ace and Luffy, and they’re out of state. You know that,” his voice was so even, so reasonable, and when he pulled back just far enough to rest his forehead against yours you sighed, and nodded.

“Whatever’s happening out there, it can’t get to us here. I’ll keep you safe.”

You sighed, leaning in to kiss him, and as he stroked your cheek and let you sink into his warmth, you willed the worry to subside, at least a little.

“Yeah,” you whispered, and he nodded with a soft sigh before turning his attention back towards the task at hand.

He seemed to ponder the boarded up door for a moment, brows furrowing thoughtfully. If you hadn’t known him so well, you might have wondered whether you were locked out...but after a moment of “contemplation,” Sabo tilted his head down towards you, and winked.

“We always board everything up when we leave...except the front door. Watch,” Sabo leaned forward, running his fingertips along the outside of the door frame until something gave way with a small click. Without bothering with the visible lock and seemingly independently of the doorknob, the entire boarded up apparatus swung open a couple of inches, and Sabo pulled it open the rest of the way with a flourish.

“Is it...fake?” you asked, reaching out to touch the camouflaged button he had pressed, watching the simple release mechanism punch outwards curiously.

“False front door,” Sabo replied proudly, almost excitedly, as he ran his palm down the old wood. “One of the few good ideas Luffy’s grandfather ever had. The actual front door is on the lakeside of the house. This way, even if someone did somehow manage to approach from the road, all they’d see is what looked like a boarded up old house.”

Something about that felt a little odd. Why would such a decoy be necessary in general, let alone for a place as secluded as this? But beyond what sounded like an old man’s paranoia, you couldn’t quite place why it struck you so strangely, nor did you have time to properly contemplate it, as Sabo was moving ahead of you into the house, striding confidently into the gloom.

You hesitated in the doorway, still gripped by that odd sense of foreboding; distantly, the sound of thunder began to roll through the hills, and it might as well have been night for all the grey light did to illuminate the interior of the cabin. Little slits of feeble light peeped out from impossibly far back in the space, and you noticed, once the rumbling of thunder died down, that the cabin had fallen quite silent. You couldn’t hear the sound of Sabo’s boots on the wooden floor, nor any of his usual stream of cheerful commentary.

It was as though the house had simply swallowed him whole.

Behind you, the wind seemed to be slowly picking up in intensity again, carrying the distant rolling thunder closer. Fat droplets of rain began to plop down through the trees, into the grass, hitting the windshield with intermittent but purposeful force.

The anxiety of the previous night began to creep up the back of your neck again, adrenaline pooling in your lungs as cool as rainwater.

Pat. Pat. Splat.

You’d been dead asleep when it started. The crash of glass had jarred you awake, the sound of screaming shortly after like nothing you’d ever heard. High and ragged and inhuman, like someone burning, like agony and rage and consumption tearing insufficient human vocal cords raw in punishment for attempting to express a pain and hatred so vast.

The sound had frozen you to your core, welding your joints in place, leaving you trapped and horrified in what had only moments before been one of the safest places in your world. There was a moment of quiet, punctuated by gasping, sickened breathing, by the steady pattering of something thick and wet falling to the floor of your bedroom. Shambling steps cracked the glass that littered the floor, erratic, listless...and this time, when that primal shriek ripped through the nauseating silence, you jolted beneath your sheets. Just barely. Just enough.

Something heavy had pressed down on the end of the bed, so close to your frozen legs that any further movement would have brought you into contact instantly. The thick, wet liquid dripped against the blankets as the unseen thing made its unsteady way up towards the headboard where you lay and it stank, rot and decay flooding your nostrils, turning your stomach almost enough to make you retch--

If it hadn’t been for Sabo, if he’d taken even a second longer, if he hadn’t dropped his water glass to shatter in the sink and flown down the hallway like a man possessed, it might have touched you. It might have dribbled that foul bile onto your face, into your mouth, and you would have screamed...you were sure you would have died. But as it was, you never saw it. Mercifully, you never saw it.

The weight had lifted from the bed the second your bedroom door had crashed open, and though you still hadn’t quite been able to make yourself move you heard it, Sabo’s fury and something that sounded suspiciously like metal as it sang through the air, only to crash into the thing with a sickening crack.

When he’d pulled you out of bed, he’d faced you away from the thing. From the mess you were sure must lay just beside where you’d been sleeping. The second he had you standing, the same spell that had frozen you sent you spinning into action, and he followed your lead. The two of you had grabbed what was easiest, throwing food and ice into a cooler, grabbing the first aid kit you usually kept for camping excursions, and you’d been in the car and out onto the road without evening looking back.

If it hadn’t been for several overturned cars, for several houses that stood like guttered ghosts with gaping eyes of broken glass, for the smoke that rose and billowed in the direction of town, it might have seemed like a normal night.

Sabo had turned on the radio only long enough to confirm that they were in range of nothing but the emergency broadcast system. Other than that one set of lonely taillights, you might have been the only two people left on--

All at once, the cabin lighting sprang to life, startling you from your reverie in a moment of mingled relief and panic. The warm orange glow of welcoming old lights filled the previously menacing space, and faintly over the sound of the rising storm, the labored rumbling of the generator could be heard.

“Looks like Ace actually left the thing topped off last time he was here, but we can still cook out in the fireplace if you w—” Sabo jogged back into view from where he’d disappeared—either to the basement or the back of the house—but his triumphant tone sagged into worried silence when he found you, ashen, still standing in the open doorway where he’d left you.

“I’m okay,” you said, though your voice wavered unconvincingly. A gust of wind splattered the steady drizzling rain against the back of your neck and this time you did jump, before stepping over the threshold and closing the door a bit harder than you’d intended.

“I’m okay.” You said again, more an order for your own frightened heart than a reassurance for your fiance, but he stepped forward anyway and pulled you into his arms again.

“We’re okay,” Sabo replied.

You breathed deeply into the warmth of his chest, and believed him.

That first day passed in a near constant stream of activity that kept your mind thankfully occupied, either by the seemingly endless stream of maintenance tasks the cabin seemed to need, or the loving, doting, and supportive attentions of your lover.

The storm that had blown in had made getting the windows unboarded and opened untenable, but the downstairs bathroom hadn’t required much to get to a usable state, and with the boiler kindly willing to acquiesce to your request to light, you’d been able to share a hot bath before changing into your set of spare clothes.

By the time you were nestled down in the sea of blankets Sabo had pulled out of their vacuum-sealed prisons and roasting hot dogs in the fireplace, the memory of the night before had slunk back into the recesses of your mind again, like the dregs of a bad dream. Sabo had said something about the storm likely interfering with the radio, and that he’d try to get it working once it had blown over.

You hadn’t argued. Eventually, you knew, you would have to open those floodgates, to see how bad things were...but if you had to wait another night to make it real, that was okay.

When your lover had rolled you gently onto your back in that sea of blankets, in the warmth of the dying fire and the storm raging outside, you had opened beneath him like a flower. He’d made short work of the boxers you’d borrowed, of the t-shirt which had been your only quick option during your flight.

The warmth of his hands as they cradled you to him, as they lifted your hips onto the improvised cushions and angled your body into a comfortable position, burned away, at least for the moment, any worries for the world outside.

Instead you sank into the sight of him, into the way the firelight seemed to dance across every inch of soft skin, every furrow of relaxed muscle, entranced by the way his belly contracted as he shimmied out of his pajama pants.

“Beautiful,” You’d whispered, as you opened your arms to him, following the familiar lines of muscle up over his shoulders to clasp around him, to close the gap between you that kept his warmth so cruelly from you.

“Not like you, love,” Sabo sighed softly, reverently, stifling any possible retort as he licked into your mouth at last, lapping over your tongue, tasting you as much as kissing you until any breath, any thought but desire for him, had been consumed.

Sabo had always been ravenous, had always run you up against the limits of what you thought you could take with, and though he was as gentle and supportive of your pleasure as he was of all aspects of your life, there was always that glimmer. That glint in his eye that suggested he would always need one more, one more from you, to ever properly be sated.

That night, with the outside world denied entry and the distractions of your previous life distant and moot, he was like a man possessed.

Even as the kiss left you gasping, wanting, he’d trailed lower, suckling marks into your throat that would take days to fade, lapping and soothing over each one as though determined to taste every inch of you.

“You know I’d give you all of me...everything I am,” his voice, usually so smooth and even and honey-sweet, came out raw and low, more a sensation against the peak of your nipple than voice before he closed his mouth around the bud, swirling it with his tongue as a promise of pleasure to come. Warmth blossomed through your body and when you whined softly in response, body flexing as you arched your back to press more of yourself into his mouth, he obliged in earnest, his palm sliding between your shoulderblades and lifting you like you weighed nothing at all.

Under any other circumstance he might have teased you. Might have made you ask, might have made you use your words, but the patience required had fled him. He kissed across your chest, watching the way your eyes fluttered, the way you flushed and writhed at his touch, and simply could not imagine a world where making you wait could be worth it. At least, not today.

This time, when he closed his mouth over the sensitive peak of your nipple, the fingers of his free hand trailed lower, soothing over your belly, calming your writhing body down even as he worked his teeth into the tender flesh there. This time when you cried out, he moaned sympathetically in return, as though the sudden surge of pleasure had rushed straight from your nerves into his, though he did nothing to lessen the intensity, the sympathetic noise turning into a low groan of need as his fingers dipped lower still, stroking the slick building between your thighs gently.

“Sabo, please,” your voice, thick and heavy with need, with a desperation much bigger than the moment, snapped his gaze towards yours for a moment.

“I know, I know,” he’d whispered, burying the quirk of his lips between your breasts, down your belly, nestling momentarily in the tuft of hair just above where you needed him most. “Gotta get you ready, darling, I—”

Rather than finishing the thought, rather than giving you the opportunity to thrash or beg him further, Sabo had dipped his tongue between your lips, watching you with hazy eyes as the taste of you flooded his senses. He teased the hood of your clit with the tip of his tongue, barely swiping over it in little circles before dipping lower, kissing between your legs, licking and suckling you open.

By the time he’d lifted his head again, chin slick with the evidence of your need, you almost felt hysterical. He watched in mesmerized pride as your clit twitched like a second heartbeat, swollen almost entirely out from under its hood, though only for a moment before finally giving you what you needed. The sound you made when he’d closed his lips around your desperate nub had almost sounded wounded, and Sabo had smoothed his palms up the backs of your thighs, tapping them wordlessly to get you to hold them while he drove you towards your peak.

It took almost nothing for the first orgasm to take you, racing up and crashing against your clit with every swirled beat of his tongue, though he’d given you only a moment to revel in it before slicking two fingers into your spasming cunt. He knew your body better than his own, knew where the little spot inside you was that made you growl and thrash in his arms like a thing wild, and he grinned against your core as your breathlessness gave way to a wail of pleasure that might almost have contained his name.

He didn’t let you rest. The pleasure of the first orgasm never quite ebbed enough to end as he dragged you through the pleasure up, up towards another peak. You were burning in his arms, beneath his mouth, molten desire stripped of more complex concerns, and he hadn’t even filled you yet.

“M’ready, I’m ready, S—aaa, Sabo please, plee-eeeaaa,” your pleas dissolved into another wordless groan as the pleasure began to crest again; this time when you came, your back arched so sharply that it practically lifted off the floor, your legs falling open at your sides as sense momentarily left you, displaced by the sensitive ecstasy he had driven into you.

You’d looked down then, vision hazy and eyes half-lidded through a cloud of bliss, and the small part of your mind still capable of thought expected to see him pulling away, getting to his knees, surely, surely you were wet enough now, pliant enough now...but the gaze that met yours from where your lover still lay between your legs seemed almost maddened with lust. At some point in the fog of your pleasure he had moved, knees spread out in a low crouch, and despite your previous two orgasms arousal twisted low in your guts as you realized he was rutting himself against the blankets beneath him, mindlessly soothing his own need while he drank from yours.

“Awww, I felt that, baby,” he whispered against you, grinning positively lethally in the firelight as you clenched and dribbled around his fingers. “Do you like that? Do you like knowing what you do to me, my love? How desperate you make me?” his voice was low, almost teasing despite all, as he rutted his hips against the blankets in quiet demonstration.

“Yes...fuck, yes,” you hadn’t bothered to hide it, he knew, and even if he didn’t, it wasn’t like your body was capable of covering for your lie. Sabo kissed the inside of your thigh in appreciation, though that hunger seemed to rise in him again when he slicked his fingers out of you only to watch your hole flutter around nothing.

Part of him wanted to simply dive back down into you, to slick his tongue in as deeply as he could and drink until he was full...but that would have been selfish. And besides...he had all the time in the world now worship at the altar of your thighs.

Gently, carefully, Sabo shifted his weight, sitting up on his knees properly again. He rested his cock, swollen and red and leaking, along the entire length of your slit as he leaned over your, taking his weight on one splayed palm so that he could lean down over you, nuzzling his forehead against yours. Beneath all that ferocious hunger, he loved you so, and the warmth that spread through his chest at the way you lifted your watery eyes to meet his almost quelled the need scrabbling between his ribs.

Almost.

He allowed you one last moment to breathe, enjoying the way you rolled your hips against his as he rutted the head of his cock against your clit once, twice, and then he was guiding himself lower, slick with your own pleasure and his slick as he rocked himself forward, fucking himself just barely through the spasming ring of your opening. The heat of you nearly knocked him senseless, and the mingled cry of desperate pleasure and relief was so mutual that there was no way to tell where your voice stopped and his started. His hips stuttered, pleasure surging through him at even this shallow connection, and he only managed to pull himself partially out of you before plunging back down, this time to the hilt.

Whether it was the terror that had driven you here, or the desperation for the normalcy of this intimacy, you might never know, but you would have sworn in that moment that you’d never felt so full in your entire life. Sabo gasped again, the sound sending rippling shocks of pleasure out from where you were connected, grinding himself in deeper still, fucking little spurts of precum against your cervix. When he kissed you it was so soft as to be jarring; a tender lament for what was to come.

Carefully, purposefully, Sabo moved you, unhooking the leg you had wrapped around his waist on instinct so that he could drape your knees over his elbows. Palms splayed against the makeshift bed as he held you open, letting you feel the way he pulsed and twitched inside you as he pulled halfway out, and fucked down in again, angling his hips to rut over the spot he’d been worrying with his fingertips before.

“Breathe for me, love,” he whispered, tone almost cloyingly sympathetic as he drove his hips downwards, patience finally slipping away as he took you in deep, rough strokes.

The instruction did nothing to stop the way the pleasure rushed into you again, leaving no room for air, for thoughts, for intention. Your eyes rolled back, and Sabo suckled your tongue into his mouth, toying with it the way he had your clit even as he ground his hips down to scrub against the little nub in turn.

You were going to cum again, he was going to make you cum again, and you babbled incoherencies against his tongue as that familiar feeling began to twist and tighten inside you again.

“That’s it darling, that’s it. Perfect love, gorgeous, do it for me, I know you can,” he panted against your lips, and you could feel it too, the way he was swelling inside you, the way his hips were starting to stutter and twitch.

You wanted him to feel good, needed him to follow you over the edge this time, and you knew he knew, somehow, knew he could tell what you wanted like he was living inside your head with you. Some distant part of you wondered if he was. If that would really be so bad.

With a last push of coordination Sabo wedged his hand between your bodies, fingers finding your clit and pressing down against it, rubbing neat, almost vicious circles, and you were gone, that final orgasm chasing away any sense that wasn’t the pleasure he fucked down into you. The all-consuming heat of it stole his breath too, and it was all he could do to rut you through it before he had to bury himself in you, teeth clenched and cock twitching as he filled you with hot, thick spasms of his pleasure.

Time seemed to trickle by, thick and slow as the heat between you as you both tried to settle back into reality. Love seemed to cradle you in all directions as Sabo murmured to you, gentle praise and careful check-ins melding together in your mind into a comforting static of safety.

You weren’t sure when sleep took you, only that when it did it was to the feeling of your lover’s lips against yours, and the soft slickness of his cock softening out of you. Bliss.

It almost felt like a honeymoon, despite the circumstances. That first week had been a whirlwind of activities, interspersed with spontaneous, increasingly intense lovemaking that left you dizzied, but satisfied and contented.

Sabo had always been an early riser, and you often found that by the time you joined him—at the oh-so-late hour of 9ish every morning—he had completed some new battery of tasks that left the day open for less strenuous maintenance, or walks down by the lake, or a bonfire in what turned out to be a very lovely firepit in the back yard.

If it hadn’t been for what had driven you from your home to begin with, you might have been content to simply let yourself fall into the routine he had set up for the two of you. Sabo certainly seemed devoted to keeping your mind off things—he hated to see you worry, hated the idea of you ever having to feel frightened—and had it not been for the issue of the radio, you might have settled into this new life without terribly much regard.

Sabo had always been, as far as you knew, an open book with you. Even when you’d just started dating, even when your relationship was fresh and tentative and new, he had always answered your questions honestly, had prioritized open communication and honesty as a core tenet of your life together.

So it concerned you when, after a week of trying to get signal, Sabo had outright refused to let you into the radio room to give it a try.

You’d thought he was joking at first, had laughed and tried to brush past him, but he’d taken your hand and spun you into a little dip, dancing you away towards the stairs that led down to the loft room you’d taken up residence in.

“It’s kinda...unsafe in there, to be honest,” he’d said, when it was clear that simply kissing you wasn’t going to put the conversation to bed.

“What do you mean ‘unsafe,’” you’d asked skeptically, the corners of your lips still upturned in a grin despite all, half-convinced this was all one of his jokes, though the good humor had started to melt back towards confusion and concern when his expression didn’t give.

For a long moment, Sabo didn’t answer. Instead he chewed on the inside of his cheek, eyes unfocused, and something in your stomach started to churn.

“Did you hear something?” you asked quietly. Sabo shook his head firmly.

“No no, nothing like that, it’s just. The only room in the cabin that’s not really finished.” He paused again, like he was trying to choose his words carefully, and when he met your gaze again there was something mournful, a little, in the blues of his eyes.

“Luffy’s grandfather set that room up in case of...emergencies. We weren’t even allowed to go into it while he was still alive, none of us had seen it until the deed to the place passed to us with his will. It’s just…” another short pause, and then. “It’s...boobytrapped. Kind of.”

There was a slight pause. Part of you had been tempted to laugh at the suggestion, vague images of Roadrunner and Wil E. Coyote running through your mind, but something in his expression stopped you from doing so.

“What kind of boobytraps…” you asked carefully, rubbing his arms with your palms. Sabo just shook his head.

“Luffy’s grandfather...Garp...got a little paranoid towards the end. He was sure Ace’s biological father was going to show up, that he needed to be ready for some kind of an attack…”

“Was he not on good terms with Ace’s father?” You asked quietly.

“No idea, we never knew him. By the time Garp started talking about this, Ace’s dad had been dead for nearly 20 years.”

Whatever concern or confusion had settled into your heart began to give way to sadness. Sabo’s eyes slid away from yours for a moment before he leaned forward to kiss your forehead.

“I wasn’t trying to hide anything from you, but the guy’s ex-military, special forces, we only figured out there was anything wrong with the room because Luffy stepped on a loose board and almost lost his foot to some kind of wire trap set into the space beneath it.”

You sighed heavily, glancing warily over his shoulder to where the door to the radio room stood partially ajar.

“Sorry baby, I shouldn’t have pressed,” you started, but Sabo shushed you, pulling you into his arms and rocking you gently.

“Nothing to be sorry for, I’d have been curious too! It’s just...tough to talk about. I’ve got it mostly mapped out in there, but I’d die if you got hurt, and it seems safe to assume there probably aren’t...hospitals. To take you to, in any event.”

You swallowed the lump in your throat, and nodded, and for a time you let the radio room and its mysteries slip out of your mind. If he caught a signal, you knew he would tell you, and until then...it seemed reasonable to give the room a wide berth.

The real trouble started when your hastily gathered supplies began to ran low. Clothes weren’t really an issue, the cabin had a washer and a line to dry things on, and enough dry detergent to last the next 20 years, but the food had began to dwindle after the third day, and while the lake seemed to be well stocked with fish, running it dry didn’t make a lot of sense.

Hunting wasn’t an option, neither of you were particularly proficient with firearms, and the idea of killing and gutting anything bigger than a fish turned you both off immensely...which left only one real option.

“I’m going to make a run into town—”

“We’re going to make a run into town—”

“There’s one just about a half hour away back up the main road, and I’ll be back before you can even miss me,” Sabo said, kissing your forehead and then your nose despite the fact that you had crossed your arms rather tightly against your chest and were refusing to budge.

He sighed. You arched your eyebrows and stared at him, waiting.

“Do you think I’m not capable of putting canned food in a shopping cart?” you asked dryly.

Sabo scrubbed a hand over his face, looking helpless. “Of course not, this has nothing to do with competency or ability,” he said evenly, though that mournful look at begun to creep its way into his eyes again.

“Okay. Then help me understand. This is basic horror movie rules, Sabo, don’t split the group, don’t send people off on their own. How do I keep in contact with you with no phones, what if the car breaks down, what if you d—” you stop yourself, wincing, irritated at the tears prickling the edges of your eyes.

Gently, patiently, Sabo pried your arms apart, rubbing and relaxing the muscles until you went limp enough for him to take your hands.

“I’m going to come back. I know it’s horror movie rules, but another horror movie rule is to not leave home base unattended, right?” he asked, kissing the backs of both your hands. You scowled up at him, though the expression was somewhat dampened when you leaned forward to gently bonk his forehead with yours. He laughed, the chiming sound of it wriggling stubbornly into your heart, and you sighed.

“Okay...next time I’m going though. We’ll trade off. Deal?” You asked.

Sabo linked his pinky with yours. “I’ll even bring back walkie-talkie’s, there’s a hunting store in town that ought to have decently long range ones.”

You nodded, placated for the time being, though it made you queasy with anxiety to watch him pulling away from your little safe haven, even moreso to watch the way the little car seemed to vanish into the foliage like it had never been there at all.

Sabo felt it too, nausea churning in his stomach as he pulled away. He knew you’d be safe this far out, but leaving you behind felt awful.

Lying to you felt awful, too. You were so good, so loving, so trusting, and it broke his heart to have to not be honest with you...but it was only for a little while longer. Routine cured a great many ills, and once he had everything settled, your life together would be secure. Unshakable.

Just a little while longer.

It had been eerie, a little, that first time, walking back up into the cabin alone. Not quite so ominous as the very first day, but the silence of it was unsettling. Without the semi-constant flow of conversation with your lover, or the sound of hammering, or the promise of outdoor activities, the reality of your situation...of, potentially, the world’s situation...began to creep in at the corners again.

Sabo had made fairly quick work of...whatever the creature had been, that was sure, but he had taken it by surprise. And there had only been one.

What if they moved in groups? What if only some of them were shambling and loud and slow like that that? What if—

You shut the thoughts down, slapping your hands gently against your cheeks until the mental noise started to subside. If you were going to be functional through this, you were going to have to learn to adapt...and to trust the man you loved to keep his promises.

He would come back to you, car loaded with enough soup to make you sick of the prospect, and everything would be fine.

For a moment you had simply stood in the middle of the livingroom, looking around the space thoughtfully. Most of the actually necessary maintenance had been done by now, the only rooms still boarded were ones where the glass had been damaged somewhat, whether by the storm or disuse.

You’d found so many bed linens and vacuum-sealed bags of clothes you’d both wondered how many people Garp had actually intended to have stay at the cabin, despite Sabo’s assurances that to his knowledge he, Luffy, Ace, and the old man had been the only ones he’d ever seen there.

Still, there were two floors and a basement full of closets and storage that it would hurt nothing to sort through, and so you set about that task. In a blind stroke of luck, the first closet you’d gone through in one of the side rooms on the first floor had contained a record player, and five boxes worth of old vinyls. That, at least, was something, and you had chased the eerie silence out of the cabin with The Eagles and Steely Dan while you worked.

By the time Sabo came back—almost exactly an hour and a half on the dot—you had cleaned out several shelves worth of vinyls, card games, and board games, and were feeling in considerably better spirits.

Your lover had laughed when he’d come in to find you sitting in a sea of old school entertainment, blasting classic rock, and you’d dashed up into his arms, kissing him thoroughly once you’d checked to make sure he wasn’t injured.

“Not a hair out of place, just like a promised,” he’d said, cradling your cheeks to kiss you back for a moment before reaching around you to turn the record player off. You’d gone out with him then to find a pretty impressive haul. Canned food, a better can-opener than the rusty old one in the kitchen, what looked like bulk boxes of jerky and dried meats from what was likely backstock, dried beans, rice, a rice cooker, snacks, a much nicer first aid kit, and, as promised, two long range walkie-talkies.

“This should hold us for a month if we’re careful with it, and fish at least once a week,” he said. You blinked up at him.

“Sabo I’m reasonably sure there’s enough soup and rice here to last us to Christmas if we had to ration,” you said, looking at all of it. Nothing was in bags, as though he had hastily loaded everything he could grab into carts and dumped it into the car.

Silence stretched between you for a long moment.

“How bad was it,” you asked quietly, watching his expression carefully.

Sabo exhaled, long and slow. “Not as bad as it could have been, maybe. Mostly it looks like people just evacuated, there’s a lot of places to hide in the mountains, but…” he worried the inside of his cheek for a moment, and ran his hand through his hair. “There were a lot of places that looked...damaged. Windows smashed in, a couple of places looked burned out. I didn’t...see anything. Anyone. But there was blood. In too many places to just have been an accident, I fear.”

Wind swept through the clearing, rustling through the trees, and a small part of your new reality began to settle over the pair of you at last. There was plenty of what had been to scavenge...but it did not seem as though there was anything to go back to.

“If things are that bad all the way out here, then the cities…” you trailed off, eyes focused a little too heavily on a can of chicken soup.

“I don’t know. I don’t know,” Sabo sighed. “Only thing we can do is stick it out here, and keep trying to find something on the radio.” He paused for a moment before leaning down to rest his chin on your shoulder. “Hey, at least we don’t have to worry about paying off those student loans anymore,” he said, kissing your cheek, and despite all you laughed just a little.

“That is one of the perks of the apocalypse. No rent either, credit scores are dead…” you said, glancing up at him with the tiniest grin before tugging him back towards the house.

“At least we’re together,” you added, and he beamed.

“At least we’re together.”

It took both of you, a bed sheet, and three trips to get everything he’d packed into the car in the house, and another hour spent organizing the kitchen into a well stocked and usable resource.

As you’d curled up together to sleep that night, you resolved to set what was out of your mind. There would be time to grieve...forever, perhaps, to grieve...but the first priority had to be keeping each other safe, and your spirits high. All you’d ever really had before was each other, at least on a daily basis, and you could do worse in the nebulous end of the world than having the love of your life by your side.

Sleep took you more easily, and when thunder rolled and rumbled through your little valley, nestled warmly in Sabo’s arms, you didn’t even stir.

Months passed, late summer blend into fall bled into early winter, and you and Sabo had fallen mostly into a comfortable routine.

Intermittently, perhaps a handful of times, Sabo had managed to raise someone on the radio. The people he contacted seemed healthy, sometimes scared, but nobody he spoke to seemed to know any more than they did. Occasionally, one of them would be willing to share their approximate location, but according to Sabo this part of the country had never been particularly trusting of strangers at the best of times, and he wasn’t terribly surprised most people didn’t want to give up their safe havens.

The people you did get information out of went up on a map you two had set up. While mostly people wouldn’t tell where they were, they were willing to share info about towns nearby, about the accessibility of supplies, and the levels of...activity that they’d seen.

It had been decided, after a week’s worth of debating back and forth, that given what appeared to be an increasing amount of activity, and given that Sabo was vastly more familiar with this area of the state than you were, that he would do the supply runs. They were few and far between, provided that he found well-enough stocked stores, and with the compromise that he go as early as possible, so that he wasn’t running around in broad daylight for...whatever might be there to see, you had eventually acquiesced.

The cabin was remote, but there was logic to keeping it locked and guarded with at least one occupant, as whatever this new world’s creatures were, they weren’t the only possible dangers that might crop up. While neither of you liked it, on the second big supply run Sabo had returned home with a rifle.

“You don’t have to use it, but I’d feel a lot better if you at least had it.” He’d explained, as you’d looked the thing over on the front lawn, frowning.

The idea of someone just stumbling onto your little refuge seemed extremely unlikely...but so had the world ending on a random Tuesday evening in August, previously. While you’d been mostly opposed in your previous life, it would have been silly to deny the ambient protection having the thing around provided. In the end, you’d agreed to keep it by the front door for emergencies during the day, and by your bedroom door for emergencies at night, and that had been the end of it.

All-in-all, you felt that the two of you were doing pretty well, all things considered. The cabin was comfortable and well-secured, you’d worked out a supply-running system that seemed to be keeping Sabo safe, and while the other people he’d found weren’t...accessible...knowing that the two of you weren’t the only people who had made it out, at least within range of the radio, was comforting enough to keep you both in good spirits.

For better or worse, everything seemed...perfect.

Which was why, when you were sorting through the most recent supply haul, trying to get all the consumables sorted from the toiletries and such, you weren’t exactly sure what to make of the slip of paper.

You’d almost thrown it away without thinking, eyes glazing over it when it dropped from between two bottles of shampoo, but just before it slipped out of your fingers and your mind entirely, you paused. Froze, rather, in the middle of the movement, and turned the paper over to look at it.

It was a receipt. It had been folded up and in on itself multiple times, long enough, perhaps, to accommodate the long list of supplies currently spread out at your feet.

Something acrid and metallic felt like it was creeping up your windpipe. Quickly, you had poked your head around the corner to check where Sabo was, only to find him chopping wood in the back yard, his breath clouded around his face in the cool winter air.

You watched him, your great love, until he looked up and smiled. You smiled back, and laughed a little when he blew you a kiss before going back to work.

You looked at him, and at the folded piece of paper on the counter, then back at him.

Maybe it was old. Neither of you had been the most fastidious people alive in the times before, perhaps this was simply from a long past shopping trip. Maybe it was from CVS, maybe that’s why it appeared to be several feet long.

That horrible, cold feeling lingered in your chest, though. Part of you wanted to look at it, if only to confirm that you were being ridiculous. Part of you felt like looking at it was a betrayal, was suggesting that you didn’t trust the love of your life.

Part of your mind began to turn over the radio room again, the fact that he was the only one leaving the clearing, that you hadn’t seen any part of the outside world beyond the lake and trails and grounds of the cabin in months.

It was absurd. A terrible train of thought. The manifestation of deferred grief, trying one last time to reason its way out of the end of your old life. You took a deep breath before picking up the piece of paper, determined to simply throw it away and be done, but the door opened just as you were about to let it go. On instinct, terrified for reasons you couldn’t imagine naming, you had stuffed it into your pocket instead, grabbing a jar of peanut butter and plastering on a grin just as Sabo came around the corner into the kitchen.

He paused for a moment at the sight of you, brows knitting together curiously as he approached you.

“You alright darling? You look a little pale,” he said, though he still stuffed his chilly fingers under your shirt, making you jump and laugh.

“Yeah, yeah,” you said, a little breathlessly, as you forewent the peanut butter in favor of warming him in your arms. “Just trying to get everything edible sorted out from cleaning stuff and meds, I think I’m just hungry,” you said bracingly, and he visibly relaxed.

“Tell ya what, let’s have a bath, and then I’ll get the stove going so we can make dinner, there’s enough wood chopped up to last us through the week I think,” he said, kissing your lips, your forehead, your nose.

You sighed contentedly, leaning into his affections with a nod. “Sounds perfect ‘Bo,” you said, and he grinned before popping off to run the water.

You stood there for a moment, fingertips brushing the outline of the receipt in your pocket, before calling out to Sabo that you were going to grab you both some fresh clothes and then you’d be in to join him. He acquiesced airily, easily, and you dashed upstairs, guilt and fear clawing at your throat.

You hated lying to him. You couldn’t even remember the last time you had. You stashed the crumpled receipt inside your pillowcase, before grabbing the promised clothes to bring down to him.

Next time he left, you’d look. It would be nothing, he’d laugh it off or console you for the misunderstanding...it would be nothing. You had no reason in the world to suspect him—objectively, the world’s most perfect partner—of anything at all. Let alone whatever your paranoid little mammal brain seemed to be trying to put together here.

When you reappeared with comfortable clothes and sank down into the bath with him, he held you tightly, washed your hair, your back, drained the water and refilled it when it started to cool, and made tender, gentle love to you until the water had half sloshed out and you were both laughing and sated.

‘Stupid,’ you’d thought dreamily, sleepily, as your fingers brushed the receipt later, tucked into bed and warm and safe.

‘I’ll just throw it away in the morning,’ you promised silently, as Sabo’s arms drew you into sleep.

But you didn’t though.

You kept it on you, somewhere, at all times. A strange, cursed talisman, unopened and dangerous, Schrödinger’s evidence of something unformed and unfathomable that you couldn’t bring yourself to define.

The winter holidays came and went, a New Year passed, to be spent fully in the new world you’d come to accept. The folded, worn piece of paper burned a hole in your pocket until finally, towards the end of January, supplies had dwindled low enough that Sabo announced he would be going on another run.

If he noticed your tension, or the way you seemed to hover and linger around him while he mapped out the route, he seemed to attribute it to nerves. Which wasn’t entirely an inaccurate, made it feel at least a little less like lying when you wrapped your arms around him and made him promise, as always, to come back to you safely.

Sabo watched you in the rearview mirror as he drove away, watched the little wave you raised as he trundled onto the path...and watched you disappear into the house before he’d made it fully into the trees.

Something was wrong. Like a miasma wafting through the air, nebulous, maddening, something had been wrong for weeks now.

It wasn’t always, of course, it wasn’t even often...but it was enough. Every now and again he’d catch you staring into space, eyes furrowed, worrying at the seams of your pants like you were trying not to be sick.

You never flinched away when he reached for you in those moments, always sank into the comfort of his touch...but you wouldn’t talk about it, either. At first, he’d been willing to brush it off as grief; your whole life, your whole world had changed, outside of your relationship with him. It was only natural that, eventually, that that wound would need tended to.

It was the little moments of fear that he couldn’t quite place, that unsettled him the most. Sometimes he would walk into the room and you would jump, startled; you always laughed it off as a moment of inattention, but even minutes later that haunted look would still be there, glimmering in the depths of your eyes…

He hated it. He hated that something was frightening you...and he hated that he couldn’t figure out what it was. He’d made sure everything here was as perfect, as comfortable, as safe and quiet and enjoyable as he possibly could. You had routine, you had fresh air, good food, books and games and music and—not to be forward—as many orgasms as he could give you in a given night.

Everything was perfect. So what had changed? What was different now, that hadn’t been there before?

Sabo pulled to a stop at the opening of the little side road, staring at the depression on the other side of the road for a moment before picking up the walkie-talkie.

“Eagle 1 to Kid Gorgeous, you there baby?” Sabo called casually into the receiver, and waited.

And waited. And waited.

He frowned, his heartbeat starting to falter, to race.

Something was wrong.

You’d never taken this long to answer, not since the first time when you’d accidentally gotten on different channels. Sabo pulled out onto the street wide, pulling back around to head back to the house, when the receiver crackled to life. He stopped dead in the street in his haste to answer it.

“Sorry, sorry hon, Kid Gorgeous was an idiot and dropped the pitcher of iced tea on the floor,” your voice settled over his frightened heart like balm on a wound, and he sighed, almost laughing before pressing the button down to answer you.

“Eagle One’s sorry to hear that, do you need me to come back and take care of the glass?”

“No, no, nothing here broken but a pitcher and my pride. Hopefully they’ve got another one where you’re headed.”

Sabo sighed, willing himself down out of panic mode, and put the car in drive, turning back onto the road again. “Roger that. I love you.”

“I love you, too, ‘Bo.”

With a deep breath, he set the receiver down in the cupholder, and willed himself to let the paranoia go.

If there was something wrong, you’d deal with it together. He had to trust you, he had to, or this was never going to work.

Sabo had been gone for maybe an hour by the time you collapsed onto the livingroom couch, annoyed with yourself and sweaty in the heat of the cabin despite the chill outside.

Part of you just wanted to take a shower and lay down, sleep through the empty hours until your lover returned. This time he was going on a run a couple little towns over, having mostly exhausted anything useful from the tiny town you’d been taking things from so far.

Your bed was comfortable, and so inviting after cleaning up glass and spilled tea and feeling very silly indeed...but the receipt was also up there, burning a hole in the innocent linen of your pillowcase.

Unwilling to go up there and face it, even for the reward of a nap, you had picked yourself up, resolved to grab a granola bar and head to the back of the cabin, to start going through the larger storage closet and its contents.

This little organization project had become something of a personal challenge for you, and Sabo had respected it, sitting with you while you worked on it sometimes, but largely leaving it to you. It was nice to have something to be working on ongoingly, nice to have something to do beyond just tidying up and listening to music when you were guarding the fort.

In hindsight, it was a little funny that the one truly unattended thing you were allowed to do here was what unraveled the entire facade.

The back bedroom seemed to have been Sabo’s youngest brother’s bedroom from when he was a child. The bed was covered over with protective covering still—as presumably Luffy had chosen a different room in the oddly cavernous cabin when he’d gotten older—the walls adorned with posters about different insects, the jungle-themed wallpaper adding a little extra fun and whimsy to what appeared to be a large collection of toys, action figures, and little pirate ships along the dressers.

You smiled fondly, but mostly left those things alone, determined instead to make the closet accessible, and to see if there was anything they might find useful inside.

It had occurred to you to ask, early on in your time here, whether Sabo’s brothers might try to find the cabin themselves. Sabo had looked hopeful for a moment, though his expression had quickly turned thoughtful.

“Lu’s off working on that nature preserve, and Ace is out there working with some of his buddies with the firewatch again,” he had said, smiling, if perhaps a little sadly. “They’re way out west...and while Ace has his Jeep, I don’t know that they’d risk such a long ride back. At least not until...or if...this craziness starts to die down.”

And that had made sense. It saddened you that Sabo might be out of range of his brothers for quite a long time, but neither of you had a solution for it, and so, like so many other things, you had simply learned to let it go.

You’d mostly been going through the boxes on autopilot, letting your tired mind drift while you went through what looked like children’s toys, books about beetles, old boxes with parts of expired experiments, a very dead chia pet...but you stopped when, at the bottom of the third box, a hand-crank radio slid into view.

It was pristine, despite how long it had likely sat buried underneath other toys and the remnants of childhood adventures past. You pulled it out of the bottom of the box, and for a long time you just...stared at it.

You glanced up at the ceiling, up towards the vague direction of the radio room that you’d never entered, towards the radio that was your only link to the outside world, the one thing in the house you’d effectively been forbidden to tamper with.

“It’s just a toy...it probably doesn’t have enough range to pick anything but the emergency broadcast system up,” you muttered to yourself, turning it over in your hand. Nothing on the back listed a distance, only a range of frequencies the little radio could pick up.

“Nothing but AM out this far probably, anyway. Maybe some automated church broadcast…”

you swallowed hard, suddenly stifled, like the walls of the cabin were pressing in on you, frozen, waiting.

What could it hurt? With slightly shaking fingers, you pulled the crank out of its cradle, and turned it. The first few times, nothing seemed to happen. Maybe it was broken, maybe it was so old it couldn’t be charged.

You turned it for 30 seconds, nothing. You turned it for another 30 seconds, nothing. You turned the crank for a full additional minute to no immediate response, and just as you were about to give up, to call it dead or broken and put it back in the box marked as unusable...the little front display lit up, and a voice blared out, lively and jarring in the solitude you’d come to accept.

“Annnnd folks we’re at the top of the hour, you’re listening to 43.3 AM, The Buzz. This is Buzz McCallan, comin to you with News on the 8s!”

You sat there for nearly 40 minutes, unmoving and sick. Through News on the 8s, through the update on sports, through a call-in section that seemed to be comprised of mostly disgruntled truckers...and through the Daily Update. A section on the reconstruction efforts, after the world’s brush with death.

After. The end of the world, as it turned out, had lasted for perhaps 3 weeks of sustained bloodshed and chaos, before the world had figured out how to fight back. It had taken another month after that to take stock of what had been lost, and to begin airdropping packets of a compound that seemed to reverse the damage to the parts of the brain that governed behavior and pain tolerance that the infection had damaged.

Now, nearly 6 months after the initial outbreak, the world, while still recovering...had mostly put itself back together again.

The little radio had finally run out of the charge you’d given it just as Buzz McCallan had finished his rant about gas prices, and when it shut off you simply sat there in the tinny, ringing silence.

Your mind was blank, perhaps mercifully so, as you rose on shaking, numb legs, and let your internal autopilot carry you up the stairs to the bedroom you’d been sharing.

By this point, you knew what you’d find as you fished out the crumpled receipt, and let it fall open in your hands.

Every item, listed and accounted for, dated and timestamped ‘Your cashier today was Marta!’ He’d paid in cash. He’d received $5.29 in change.

You wondered, somewhat perversely, if the people in the parking lot had thought he looked strange, dumping all of his neatly bagged groceries out, bag by bag, into the back of his car. You wondered if they thought it was one of those doomsday preppers, still too affected by the near-miss with apocalypse to think clearly.

You wondered if they thought he was nuts.

The whole world was still out there. Your job, your friends. Chinese takeout and movie trailers and neighbors you had always greeted politely but had no desire to meet.

“He’s keeping you prisoner,” a voice in your mind whispered. You frowned, brows furrowed, and shook your head.

“He’s never tried to stop me from leaving the cabin,” you whispered into the stagnant air.

The voice in your mind, which remembered horror movies and true crime podcasts, tutted. “Not the cabin. But have you so much as touched that car, unless he was there with you unloading groceries?”

You knew you were having a breakdown. You knew it was too much to take in, to understand.

“Something really did happen to us...to everyone, though. Maybe he’s just scared. He’s trying to keep us safe…” you whispered, your throat tightening around panic and tears and anger and grief.

“Sure. And that holds up for the first supply run...but you know he knew by the second. He’s paying in cash. He kidnapped you.”

Kidnapped. The word rocketed around your mind like a meteor, crashing through your rational thoughts, your excuses, battering your wounded and confused heart as it made its way down to lay like lead in your stomach.

Your internal voice didn’t have anything else to add, it seemed; the damage had been done, the illusion shattered. You had no idea what to think, what to do—your phone had been misplaced at some point early on, although now you wondered whether he hadn’t just chucked it into the lake, your purse was where you’d left it ages ago: in the car.

Still...you had to get out. Didn’t you? You couldn’t stay here, you couldn’t pretend that you didn’t know what happened. You couldn’t trust the love of your life.

Hot, stinging tears welled up and began to fall at that. Did you even know him? What was he capable of? Would he hurt you, if you tried to get away?

You shook your head so roughly your neck cracked, leaping up off the bed as you tried to stave off what you were sure was a panic attack.

You changed your clothes into something warmer, changed into a pair of the hiking boots you wore when the two of you went out fishing. The road was out there, you could follow it to the highway. Find someone. As long as you made it off the forest drive before he came back, you could make it. You tore through the kitchen, gathering food, filling your water bottle, getting a backpack you’d taken from one of the closets ready to depart.

You’d leave him a note. With the receipt and the radio. You could at least do that. Despite all, the idea of leaving him with nothing, with no way of knowing what had happened to you, hurt too much to consider.

After a moments thought, you grabbed the rifle from where it sat, primed, leaning against the doorway, and slung it over your shoulder. You didn’t know how far you’d have to go to find help, but walking alone in a world you hadn’t been part of in six months without any sort of protection seemed unwise, somehow.

The adrenaline in your system wasn’t helping the way you thought it should. Your body felt sluggish and unwieldy, like it might give out and drop you to the floor at any moment. Writing out the note felt like moving your hand through cement, comprehending the words to explain felt like sand against your brain. Everything hurt. The lights were too bright, your ears were ringing.

It was hard to hear anything over the sound of your body’s resistance to its new conditions. Which was probably why you hadn’t heard it when the car had come trundling to a stop. Hadn’t heard the sound of Sabo’s footsteps as he’d bounded up the stairs.

You almost screamed when the front door popped open, but when you whirled around with the rifle, at first, your lover had laughed—instinctively, nervously.

“Hey love, wh...what’s going on? You weren’t answering on the walkie,” he asked, raising his hands slowly, head cocked to the side in confusion, as he looked from the muzzle of the rifle to you.

The words seemed locked in your throat, and when you just stared at him, the look on his face changed from confusion to alarm. To fear. You grit your teeth, hating it, hating him, hating yourself.

“What’s going on, sweetheart...what happened here…?” Sabo took a tentative, slow step towards you. Your body, frozen to the spot, only managed to stare back at him, the muzzle trained on his chest still.

Those cornflower blue eyes you loved so dearly flickered between you and the gun again before looking back towards the entry hall table...only to fall upon the offerings you’d left there. The radio. The receipt. The rudiments of a note.

For the briefest flickering of a moment, Sabo’s expression went entirely blank, eyes darkening down to blackened slits of panic and pain that seemed to flash through your own chest sympathetically.

“Luffy’s room, probably, huh,” he whispered thickly.

You nodded, your own voice still trapped in your chest. You wondered idly whether you had truly lost your voice, or whether your body knew that if it let you speak you might never never never stop screaming.

You took a deep, unsteady breath. Sabo took another step towards you, pain and sorrow etched across his face once more.

“Let me have the gun, sweetheart. I swear I’ll explain, I’ll tell you everything. No more secrets. Just...let me have this,” He said softly, earnestly, lowering one hand slightly towards the rifle.

You took a jerky step back and he stopped, raising his hands again.

With a voice that was more breath and pain than sound, you whispered “I’ll shoot you.”

Tears welled delicately in Sabo’s eyes, but he shook his head. “No, you won’t.”

Your hands started to shake. Of course you wouldn’t. You couldn’t. The image of him, bloodied and cooling in the entryway, carved its way out of you like a knife and you whimpered...but held on.

“Why not,” you whispered again. “Why shouldn’t I?”

Sabo smiled gently, sadly, the tears slipping down his beautiful cheeks. “Because you love me...and the only ammunition I brought for the rifle are blanks.”

Dark spots began to swim in your vision then, the panic of the moment, the heat of the cabin, the agony of betrayal and confusion all beginning to wear through your senses. You had no plan for this, no experience to fall back on, the only comfort and safety you’d known in your adult life was standing opposite you, perched atop a castle of lies and coercion that you simply could not understand.

On instinct, you flung the rifle at him, winging it with all your waning strength as you lunged past him for the door.

He caught it with one hand, tossing it to the side as he spun to give chase, pressing something on the key ring as he did so.

Ahead of you, just barely out of reach, the front door swung closed ahead of you, and the odd trick mechanism clicked heavily into place. You ran into it, clumsy and sick with sadness and fear, just as Sabo caught up with you, colliding with your body and trapping you against the front door as the rest of the cabin responded to the panic button he had pressed.

His voice at your ear was so warm, so comforting, so unbelievably sad as he explained to you what was happening.

“Luffy’s grandfather really did lose it in his later years, the radio room actually is dangerous,” he whispered, running his palms soothingly up and down your arms despite the weight he was using to keep you pressed to the door. Just the way he had done a hundred thousand times before, conditioning you with his touch to be calm, to be pliant. Your mind felt like it was fracturing, leaning into the comfort of his touch just as it tried to wrestle your muscle control away from him.

Sabo shifted to make sure you could breathe and then continued. “He didn’t stop at the radio room, though. The doors and windows are all reinforced with steel, the doorframes are rooted into the foundation with concrete and rebar. I don’t know what he thought Ace’s biological father might be coming to do, but he prepped this place for war.”

Tears streamed down your face, frustrated, scared; part of you wished you’d just left well enough alone. That things could just go back to the way they were. Part of you didn’t understand how someone who loved you as thoroughly, as honestly as Sabo did, could do this to you. How anyone could ever do this.

“Why is this happening,” you whispered, partially muffled by the door.

Sabo sighed, sounding more weary than you’d ever heard him. “It was real, at first, whatever happened at the apartment. In the beginning all I could think about was making sure we got out here before it got worse, before people started to panic and the roads closed up. The storm really did interfere with the radio reception, and that little town really did look guttered out when I first made a run for supplies,” he said softly, fingertips lulling your unwilling body, coaxing you to relax. He kissed the back of your head, and it took all your control not to lean back into it.

“And it worked, you know, didn’t it? We got set up out here so fast, and since it’s private property and set so far back in the forest, nobody was able to follow us. Nothing sick made it out this far. You were safe, we were together, and…” he trailed off for a moment, forehead leaning against the back of your head, still trying to soothe you as the tears fell harder.

“...and we were happy. So happy. Happy as we’ve always been...and without any of the drudgery or people or circumstances that ever caused us stress. Remember, you said no student loans? No bills at all. No politics. None of your mean, ugly distant relatives, no more morning commute to work, no more mocking up powerpoints for rich assholes that never even commend you for your work.”

Your heart felt like it was going to beat out of your chest, but he continued, his voice steadying into something righteous, something indignant, although it was clear that furor wasn’t directed at you.

“Every day some nonsense or another kept us apart, wore you down, caused us trouble...there was plenty enough in the inheritance to keep us comfortable, if the cost of living hadn’t just kept climbing and climbing and climbing...but then the infection started. Then we came out here, we got away...and I know it’s awful, but part of me was desperate for it to be the end. To be a REAL reset. The whole system is rotten…” One of Sabo’s hands slid down until he could wrap it around your waist, pulling you to him, rocking you carefully back and forth against the door.

It frightened you that he was still trying to comfort you, it frightened you more how badly you wanted him to, how badly you wanted all of this to go away.

Maybe he was right...it wasn’t like rent was getting any lower.

“Stop, please...Sabo, please,” your voice sounded reedy thin in your ears. Sabo splayed his palm out against your belly, kissed the back of your neck softly.

You sighed against the door, warmth blossoming through you. You couldn’t think. This wasn’t right.

When he spoke again, his lips still brushing the back of your neck, it was with a voice so wounded, so desperate, that you almost didn’t recognize it.

“Has this really been so bad?” he asked softly, rocking with you again, fingertips stroking the slight line of skin where your shirt had ridden up. You shivered, and he sighed with you, sympathetic, in sync.

“Is being here...being together...being beyond everything that hurt us before...safe and comfortable...is it really such a bad thing to want?”

Your eyes slip closed as his fingers, blunt and warm, dip beneath the waistband of your pants. Your brows furrow, but the fight’s gone out of you now. Whatever moment there might have been to escape this, to escape back into your body and yourself and the world...had passed you, at some point.

“We’re safe here...we’re taken care of here...we can live for each other and no one else...not many people get to boast a life like that,” this time when he kissed the back of your neck, lips trailing down towards your ear, you leaned back into him, into his touch.

The world stopped, the cabin walls pressed in, anxious, greedy. Waiting.

“No,” you whispered, and this time when you shifted, Sabo leaned off just enough to let you turn in his arms.

When he kissed you, long and deep, you sank into it. Back into the comfort, back into the stability of a world—of a life—that your lover had made so, so simple for you.

Sabo’s body shook against you, in longing, in relief, even as his fingertips slid lower to find you wanting. Needing.

He’d hated lying to you. Hated every moment of it. He’d tell you, he’d spend the rest of his life on his knees for you if you needed it. Anything for you to feel safe.

“You’re perfect,” he mouthed against your lips, your throat, between the valley of your breasts once he’d removed the stupid sweater that had kept you hidden from him.

“I love you,” he vowed as he sank to his knees before you, taking away the winter pants you would no longer need, tossing your hiking boots with them over his shoulder and away.

“I’m sorry,” he intoned, as he slid his tongue between your lips, laved worship and remorse against you, filled your exhausted body and broken mind with pleasure.

“Not like you,” you’d whispered back, to this, and to all, as you let him take the pain away.

He offered you an out, as he slicked his fingers into you, curling forward, giving you everything just like he’d always promised.

He offered you an out, as the pleasure peaked, wracking you with relief far beyond the moment at hand…

...and you took it.

#av writes #op x reader #Sabo #cw dark content #cw yandere stuff #Quin hello!!!!#idk when you will see this but I'm sorry it took longer than intended!!!#I hope it's okay at least #I have done my damndest anyway #if anyone else reads this silly long ass thing #hello to you too and thank you!!!!#birthday request event 2024 #stuff for my buddy Quin #happy belated birthday my friend!!

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bleedingichorhearts · 2 months

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𝐋𝐨𝐧𝐠 𝐋𝐨𝐬𝐭 𝐏𝐭. 2

𝕬𝖚𝖙𝖍𝖔𝖗: Ruslans’ moments in the 40K Universe.

𝕿𝖆𝖌𝖌𝖊𝖉: @kit-williams, @egrets-not-regrets, @bispecsual, @gallifreyianrosearkytiorsusan, @sleepyfan-blog.

𝕾𝖚𝖒𝖒𝖆𝖗𝖞: Ruslan finds his lover over 15 years and something a bit more while he’s at it.

TW // Yandere Themes, Slight NSFW.

|°ᴛᴀɢ ʟɪꜱᴛ ᴀᴘᴘʟɪᴄᴀᴛɪᴏɴ°| |°ɪᴄʜᴏʀ’ꜱ ᴀᴏ3°| |°𝕄𝕒𝕤𝕥𝕖𝕣𝕃𝕚𝕤𝕥°| • {Pt. 1}

Ruslans black armor works fluently with his limbs as he crosses the densely fogged woods. The base of the trees on the planet looking a dry grey despite the grounding fog holding condensation in them. Their leafless branches winding up and tall above him, creating some sort of natural overhang. The strong scent of mire covering his own tracks and her scent better from what he overestimated for this murky planet.

His sabatons make a light squelch sound on the muddy soil every time he makes a haste forward, lumbering over any trees that have been ripped from their roots and fallen to the ground with ease. His gauntlet tightening on and off around the hilt of his sword, thinking of his next motion of his plan.

He knows the Interrogator-Chaplain Zophiel will be on this planet with him, trying to find Ruslan himself and make him repent, but he isn’t idiotic to trust the words of his once fellow brethren. He knows what he is there for and he isn’t willing to give him another pearl to add to his arsenal. He knows what his path is, but he questions that for the Interrogator-Chaplain himself, he’ll need it after his little disrespect to his Angel. Something he also notices on the much younger Astartes. The uncanny disrespect they have now days for the more older, higher ranks. He wonders what has changed for the Primaris Angelus Mortis to make them so… irritable.

The old veteran sighs and shakes his head. That is not a thought he needs right now. Right now he needs to find what he was promised by the Interrogator-Chaplain. Not that Ruslan would be absolutely sure of the Interrogator-Chaplains’ compliance, such as his own, but he has an inkling this Dark Angel has a bit of a daring soft spot to him, unlike a true Dark Angel that doesn’t hesitate. Ruslan can sense it, and not because of the Warp, but because they may have something in common between them. Something that only the both of them may understand, and perhaps he can use this knowledge against him.

Weaving around a thick trunk, he briefly stops to the side of it. Letting the tree protect him from his side as he listens to the silence of the forest. His ears pricking up for anything that maybe be to use of him or alert him. His helm tilting a little to side to side before he decides to continue on. A little disappointed with the blankness of this world.

Their planet was… different from his original tastes. He liked the tang of pines, spring waters and even wildlife to invade his smell. To hear the local birds sing on their perches and fresh water to run down through a rocky river and fall strongly into another body of water. He likes to touch the ferns that may grow around the springs and look up at the many webs of branches to overlap another with the plants suns or moons shining through the needles or leaves, creating a radiant glow over the thick vegetation he admires. That he thinks his little Angel would look perfectly good in. Resting by a flowing spring with the suns heating her form. A warm smile of hers given only to him.

Oh, how deeply yearning he is for his little Angel. To have her by his side again. To kiss the soft flesh of her neck and lips with his own scarred lips. Nip a little of her skin to get her pulse running with a gradient laugh escaping her. Her hands fruitlessly pushing the top of his head in order to lean away from his devious attacks. Yet nothing could keep him away to taste the cream of lotion on her skin. To nuzzle his way back into her neck, his hands gently guiding her down onto a bed of ferns with his shadow engulfing the glow of her innocent body. Looking up at him with trusting, hooded eyes through his darkness; through his iniquity. Her body open and relaxed just for him to devour and claim, and that’s what he did.

He remembers that day like it would be his future. Bedding his pure Angel on the rich, green plushness of the ferns in the middle of the flourishing forest. Taking what was rightfully his from the burning dawns of the beginning. Their soft breathes painting each others’ skin as her nails claw at his back in desperate ecstasy. Pliant, wanton moans of his name leaving her lips every time he shifts, finding all the secrets inside and out of her.

Lord, he wants to do that again, in the same spot. He wants to touch her again and to kiss her all over again. To make love to her again. It has been so long without her heart beating rhythmically to him and his ears; to his soul. To have her small fingers thread through his hair after he provides rather primitive aftercare for his little Angel. Both of them just relaxing in each others’ embrace, listening to the forest that sings quietly around them.

He… he doesn’t really remember what had happened afterward though, as it was about 17 to 20 years ago. Not that his mind was failing him.(Nor will it ever.) He just needs to focus on what’s around him in this foggy forest at the moment. He can’t be occupied with his thoughts and eagerness to find his little Angel with the Interrogator-Chaplin Zophiel running about on this planet too, trying to make him repent and potentially to steal what is his. Not that would ever happen on his holy oath. He made it, he is going to have to be slain by it.

“Master Ruslan!” A masculine voice booms through the fog, echoing to his left. His gauntlet on the hilt of his sword firmly grasping at the metal, eager to unsheathe his weapon. “I would have thought you would have made this a much more tantalizing experience!”

“You talk as if you were a daemon, Zophiel.” Ruslan insults the Interrogator-Chaplin in a collected tone. His mind thinking of a Slaanesh daemon to appoint as the scanners on his helmet search the area around him. His eye also scanning the seeable, grounded horizon. The fog growing thick enough to only see at least a mile in front of him. “Are you foolish enough as one?”

“You offended me Fallen, but I believe that is what you want.” Zophiel sighs, the light sound of armor and cloth shifting, echoing to his left again. “A pity you older ones are.”

“Pity? Pity is what you are.” Ruslan huffs, only merely disgruntled by his choice of words. His subconscious taking in the account of not stepping on anything on the ground that could prove his position. “You know nothing of shame as you are the humiliation. You’re feeble, flimsy, made by fragments and falsehood. You are the sin of the Imperium. You do not have the skill of what it takes; what it means to be a true Dark Angel.”

“Now you talk as a daemon has possessed you Fallen!” Zophiel huffs an echoing laugh. A soft shink flowing through the fog. “I might have to cut out your tongue and serve it to you.”

“Perhaps one has, but you don’t quite sound like a Dark Angel yourself either Zophiel.” He hums, his scans picking up nothing, but his sense of smell does. Having to lose an eye having some benefits for his other senses. “A true Dark Angel is quick and efficient to succeed, but you? You sound like the brash of a Night Lord. Another legion that you would put to shame, not like they already were.”

“Your voice of mental pressure does not sway me Fallen.” The Interrogator-Chaplin states, a tree groaning out with another echoing shink to his left. “You’ve got to be better than that.”

“That is not my intention.” Ruslan admits, a little confused on the scent he picked up because it smells just like you, but there was just something… odd to it, like it was somewhat new. Not fresh, but just like when he would first catch your scent.

“Then what is your intention? I am truly curious about your motive.” Zophiel asks through the fog, a close snap echoing through what Ruslan perceives is an empty valley; a deathly valley. “What is your infatuation with this Angel of yours that it overrules the Emperor himself? That has you abandoning your own Legion?”

‘I did not abandon them! They had abandoned me!’ Thats what Ruslan wants to roar out at that subject, but keeps himself strictly in check. He must not let the Interrogator-Chaplin know what may get him to go berserk. So he simply responds with a targeting approach of his own. “I believe you already know the answer to that, Zophiel. You have your own Angel, Да?(yes?)”

That gets the Interrogator-Chaplin to go silent for a second. The hollow branches shivering up above Ruslan as he takes this brief time to follow your off and on scent through the fog. Each step bringing him closer and closer to what he hopes is not a trap for him to be dishonorably led into. It would be a foul play for the Interrogator-Chaplin on his part.

“What do you know of what I seem to take a fondness for?” Zophiel questions, the foggy forest being a bit more eerie the normal that what it had been just minutes before.

“You feel a bit more… confiscating with your Angel. You feel as if one should touch your Angel they shall lose their hand or perhaps a bit more.” Ruslan more like states to the Interrogator-Chaplin rather than answering clearly. “You are too enraptured with their body and their soul like a Word Bearer.”

“Hmm, and this is what you feel with your Angel? That you would displace what you were meant to be?” Zophiel rumbles in a more quieter tone, making Ruslan to be more alert than what he already is.

“What I am meant to be is not in the hands of another, but mine.” Ruslan asserts his voice. His eye barely catching the indenting fog to the right of him. Finally his avid gauntlet taking out his sword and catching in with another, blocking the opposing metal that sparks against the sharp blades of both weapons. The struggle of strength ensuing.

“That is where you are wrong, Master Ruslan!” Zophiel hisses out, both sides struggling to keep their swords from scratching their armor. “Your existence is bound to bleed from my hands; to become yet another pearl.”

“Oh, how witless you have become Zophiel! So greedy to claim what is not rightfully yours.” Ruslan grunts, looking down on the Interrogator-Chaplin. “What would your Angel think?”

“Мой Ангел?(My Angel?) They know I shall return to them with righteous hands; stained with crystalline blood.” The greed Dark Angel huffs, changing his tactic. Leading Ruslans sword away with his own and an uppercutting his cuirass. Creating a distance between the two as the older Space Marine stumbles at the hit.

Ruslan groans at the fast paced hit, but doesn’t falter to recover and circle with the Interrogator-Chaplin, swords ready at their sides. This new Son of the Lion having his own sets of moves he must first pattern down. “Yet, are you sure you want to take that sacrifice?”

“You talk as if I would never see them again Fallen. Do you have something in that ancient brain of yours?” The Interrogator-Chaplin taunts, twirling his sword in his gauntlet once then twice. Side stepping with his bigger opponent.

“I am merely stating what could be.” Ruslan answers, calculating the few possibilities that he has. “How would you feel if you were left to the hands of death without seeing your Angel once more?”

Zophiel huffs and takes the first action, thrusting his sword forward while Ruslan takes the defense. Both their swords hitting with sparks and echos as Ruslan pushes the opposing sword away from him. Grabbing the Interrogator-Chaplin by his right pauldrons and chucking him to the side, loudly snapping a few trees in half.

“How would your Angel feel without your return? To leave her a widow for someone else to love?” Ruslan continues to pressure the Interrogator-Chaplin himself, stalking forward through the fog where he threw the man. Snapping some splinters and branches beneath his weight. “That would be a pity wouldn’t it? To never feel the warmth of what your Angel could give you again. To touch their frail body.”

“Enough Fallen!” Zophiel roars, the form of his body rising from the ground with his sword acting like a cane. His skull-like helmet looking up at the one of many of the Firsts slowly emerging from the fog. “You have had your play long enough!”

The younger Space Marine makes the effort to stand back up on their two feet. A little wobbly as they take their sword from the ground, but it flys from his gauntlet, landing somewhere within the fog with a thunk. His gorget suddenly being firmly grasped by a black gauntlet as he is lifted and pinned against the trunk of a tree. A soft crack going off while the helmet of the Fallen leans down to his head level, the glowing red visor of Ruslans helmet glaring into his own. Sending a feeling down Zophiel bones that he thought would be impossible.

“Your life will be wasted on this day, Interrogator-Chaplin.” The Fallen Dark Angel lowly speaks, and Zophiel swears he can feel the heated breath of his words underneath his helmet. “I believe it’s in your best interest to cooperate with me.”

“W-Why is that, Master Ruslan?” Zophiel asks, his gauntlet’s struggling with the Fallens own. Pulling and scratching at his armor with no luck of a weakening grasp. “Afraid to tarnish?”

The Fallen Dark Angel hums, pulling his upper body back a little while he positions the tip of his sword at an angle that would avoid the first, heavy layer of ceramite and cloth below his chestplate, but would penetrate the body of his organs. His eye watching the Interrogator-Chaplin closely for anything more than to just claw at him. Giving the younger Space Marine to plead for mercy if he so chooses.

“Ruslan?”

Ruslan nearly folds at all things holy and corrupted. The feminine voice giving him a instant wave of prickling remembrance; washing over his nerves as he takes in how her voice still sounds like the last day he had lost her: Sweet, innocent and soft as the petals on a lustrous flower. His helmet turning towards the sound of her voice. (All while never losing his grip on the Interrogator-Chaplin.)

“Мой Ангел.(My Angel.)” He nearly purrs, his fingers inching to just release the Interrogator-Chaplin in his hands so he could embrace you with all the years he has been roaming the galaxies without you. His hearts yearning to be touched by your soul.

“Who… who is that Dark Angel you are… holding?” She asks him, gesturing at the dark green armored man pinned to the tree, and Ruslan can’t help by scowl underneath his helmet. Looking back at the Dark Angel. He’s going to have to make another deal with this Dark Angel.

“This is Interrogator-Chaplin, Zophiel.” Ruslan introduces the former Dark Angel, letting go of his gorget and sheathing his sword as the man nearly falls down onto his knees. His eye watching him closely for any more moves of unthoughtful aggressiveness.

“…Interrogator-Chaplin?” She questions, bringing her hands closely to her body in a lovable, nervous manner. Swooning the older Astartes with just her form.

“An Interr—” Zophiel starts, but Ruslan quickly shuts him up with a harsh smack to the back of his helmet. A loud, metal thunk echoing out as the Interrogator-Chaplin nearly topples over again as Ruslan quickly send him a vox to ‘shut the hell up.’ With other vox following up with a practical ‘terms and agreements.’ He is not going to fight in front of his Angel. (Unless he has to.)

“Ruslan! That isn’t nice!” His Angel scolds him, coming forward to stand between the two squabbling Dark Angels. Barely getting two steps in before shes wrapped up in his black armor, an ‘eep!’ escaping her. “Ruslan Fallen!”

Oh, how the older Space Marine takes in the rapture of having her back in his arms. His helmet gently nuzzling into her neck as he gently thumbs at her skin. He doesn’t care if the Interrogator-Chaplin was watching him, it has been far too long without her embrace and the purity of her laughter. Not to mention her sudden scolding tone, and the use of his full name! He shivers and wonders when she had started to use it.

‘Fine, I’ll except these terms for now, but this doesn’t mean I’m done with you, Master Ruslan.’ Zophiel voxes him back, taking his leave with a shake to him helmet, and Ruslan couldn’t care less if he came back or not. He won’t hesitate to put the Interrogator-Chaplin back in his place if he has to.

“Ruslan, please! Spare me your love!” His Angel pleads as she smiles, trying to wiggle out of his embrace. Pushing her hands against his pauldrons. “You still have time to give!”

“Always trying to avoid my affection I see.” Ruslan rumbles, inhaling her scent despite still wearing his helmet. Yet he picks up another scent in hers and pauses mid nuzzles, confusion wrapping his mind as he holds her a bit more tightly than before. Was there someone else he wasn’t aware of? Was this just a passing scent? Was there something his little Angel needed to tell him?

“Angel.” He starts leaning a little away to look at his Angel who looks up at him with concern. “You smell… different, of somebody else.”

“Of somebody else? I haven’t been with anybody else since—” She pauses, looking away from him. Wincing a little when his gip tightens just a little bit more around her body. “Since you disappeared.”

Disappeared? He has never disappeared? She’s the one that left the planet without his knowledge. She clearly has a lot of explaining to do, and he has to admit too, so does he.

“Then why do you smell of another?” He asks for the thing that bugs him the most. Patient with his Angel as she becomes more shy in his hold rather than humiliated. Seeming like she just wants to wither away, not like he would allow such thing upon her.

“You… you remember the time in the forests?” She asks him, unable to look him in the eye as she blushes at the thought. His helmet tilting as he observes every little thing his Angel does.

“Да,(yes,) how can I forget? You were remarkable.” He softly coos, trying to encourage his little Angel more. Moving one of his gauntlets to lightly trace the dip of her back up and down while he holds her with the other.

“Well I… you—” She’s huffs, flustered with her own words. Burying her head in the palm of her hands, but she try’s again. “I maybe have… you have—”

“Mother!” Another voice calls through the fog; masculine as his Angel perks up at the call. Suddenly bouncing up and balancing herself on his paldrons, her bust in the visor of his helmet as she tries to pin point where the call is coming from.

“That, that is what happened.” She finally answerers him and it leaves him, for a second, confused again. Just what is exactly is ‘that?’ “Conayn! Over here!”

Conayn? Who in the right mind is that? A brother a sister? Father? Uncle? A new suitor? Oh, Ruslan does not like that thought. He’s not the one for sharing. So his little Angel is not surprised when a near Astartes-sized male comes out of the fog and Ruslan quite literally hisses at him. Putting his body forward and his little Angel behind him in his hold as the other male hisses at him as well.

“Ruslan Fallen! Be nice!” His little Angel smacks him on his cuirass then gives a stern glare to the other male. “You too Conayn Fallen!”

“I am sorry mother, but he hissed at me first!” The male points out, carefully looking between him and his little Angel. “Is he holding you against your will?”

“No, he is not—” His Angel starts, but Ruslan goes into a dazed-like state, questioning on what in the hell happened when he was gone all those years. Mother? Conayn Fallen? His last name. Was… was this his son?

Observing the young male some more as they bicker about her wellbeing. He does notice the similarities he has with the boy. His obvious height definitely being one of his genetics, and his lean body figure of when he started off as a Neophyte himself. He also had the blond hair of him. Which admittedly is longer than his own as his is a short cut, but he had gotten the radiant eyes of his little Angel. His mother.

By the Fallen, this was his son.

“He smells old; Looks old!” Conayn complains with his mother, trying to state the obvious. “How did you fall for an old man like him?”

“Oh, I’ll show you old, you Neophyte.” Ruslan growls, a little offended that his son was already calling him old as he kneels down to the ground for the safety his little Angel to hop off his arms.

“Mother? Mother, what does he mean?” Conayn asks, his body tensing up the more Ruslan stalks closer to him, his shadow barely touching his son before he eventually takes off. Circling the trunk of a poor nearby tree with Ruslan following shortly after. Keen to prove that he was still strong and healthy like he was before. Ready to provide once more.

“Come here boy!” Ruslan rumbles, trying to catch his rather quick son around the tree trunk. “I’ll show you old!”

#media res #warhammer 40k #third person pov #monogamy #interrogator-chaplain #primaris angelus mortis #fallen dark angel #space marine #space marine x reader #adeptus astartes #adeptus astartes x reader #dark angels #oc: ruslan fallen #oc: conayn fallen #oc: zophiel #tw: yandere #📈📉📈📉#they friends now… kinda.

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neverchecking · 1 year

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Hi! I'm new following you... Looks pretty interesting... But I'm a bit confused of the nicknames of the characters... Like "sun" or "sage"

Did you have a list of who is each one? Please? Qwq

Well, first off, Hi! Hello! My name is Cinder and I write Yandere! Linked Universe!

If you're not familiar with Linked Universe I would highly recommend checking out the comic for it -> Here!

Anyway, as a fandom, we needed a way to easily differentiate between each Link bc writing 'The hero of so-and-so' every time would suck. So, they each go by Monikers that represent their hero title! The Zeldas are kind of the same. When we wanna differentiate between each games Zelda we use a specific name to do so. Here's a breakdown of each Link and their Zelda!

Name: Sky

His Zelda: Sun

His Games/appearances: Skyword Sword

Cool fact: When not including First, is often seen as the first hero of Hyrule and the first Wielder of Fi; A.K.A The Master Sword. Has a soul connection with a creature called a Loftwing, who I have dubbed as Crimson on this blog. Is mostly seen in a relationship with Sun because of their interactions in Skyword Sword, but I don't think it's ever been confirmed. Is Hella cute though.

Name: Four

His Zelda: Dot

His Games/appearances: Minish Cap, Four Swords, Four Swords Adventures

Cool fact: Four has the ability to split into four versions of himself, each reflecting an aspect of his personality (Red; protective, Blue; soft hearted, Green; still have no clue, and Vio; the brain cell). There was another part named Shadow who was, as you guessed, a shadow but he died. From my inference he was closest with Vio, but I'm embarrassingly unfamiliar with it. Four also has the ability to shrink to the size of a Minish/Picori; a race of mouse sized beings known for hiding trinkets and rupees in grass for said hero! Had a talking hat name Enzlo who ended up being a Minish in disguise. Did not get to keep talking hat.

Name: Time

His Zelda: Lullaby/Sheik

His Games/appearances: Ocarina of Time, Majora's mask

Cool fact: Has masks. Lots of em. One in particular linking him to a war god dubbed the Fierce Deity. Had an ocarina that turned back time, but he broke the timeline (Like a ding dong). Timeline A; where he survived and defeated Ganon. And Timeline B: A.K.A the downfall timeline, where he died (like a noob). Often seen as the oldest of the group but we have no idea how old he actually is. Was raised by a tree and has issues with the moon. Got trust issues from a mask. In Linked Universe Lore, he is married to a farm girl name Malon- who wrote Epona's song.

Name: Legend

His Zelda: Fable

His Games/appearances: A Link to the Past, Oracle of Seasons, Oracle of Ages, Link's awakening, Link Between Worlds, Triforce Heroes

Cool fact: Has a lover named Marin. She was not in fact real. Gave him trust issues. Also known as the Veteran for the sheer amount of adventures he's been on. Known as a hoarder, especially with rings that grant him special abilities and has a funky counterpart named Ravio (A merchant who reigns from Lorule, a mirror verse of Hyrule. his Zelda is Hilda, but he's not a Link so he doesn't get a paragraph. He does have a cool bird though named Sheerow and wears a funky hood. He's just a funky dude.) Legend is part of the Downfall Timeline, coming directly after that version of time, fell.

Name: Hyrule

His Zelda: Dawn, Aurora (He has two, though I'm not sure on the why/how/basically anything about them.)

His Games/appearances: Legend of Zelda, Zelda II

Cool fact: Is half fairy! It grants him the ability to use magic, especially healing spells and a lightning spell called 'Thunder', and he can turn into the size of a fairy with wings. Comes directly after Legend. Hyrule is also part of the Downfall Timeline, and is most often paired with Legend because of it. His Hyrule is particularly hostile with poisoned water and barren lands. Also gives him trust issues.

Name: Twilight

His Zelda: Dusk

His Games/appearances: Twilight Princess

Cool fact: Fell in love once. Fucked him up. Nah, I kid. No I don't. Twilight was raised in a village called Ordon as a rancher before his journey. On said journey, he was faced with something called the Twilight Realm which turned him into a wolf (A.K.A. Wolfie). There he met the Spoiler Twilight Princess named Midna. While in game there were no confirmations on their relationship, in the Manga they did smooch. made me cry. Anyway, after their adventure together Midna goes back to her world, destroying the only thing that links hers and Twilights together as she did, offically ghosting him. Gave him turst issues. He wears a twilight shard around his neck that allows him to shift between forms as he pleases. He is Time's descendant and had Time as guide to him in his adventure in the form of the Hero's Shade. Twilight is part of Timeline A. The one that did not fall.

Name: Wind

His Zelda: Tetra

His Games/appearances: Wind Waker, Phantom Hourglass (Depending on who you ask, he's also Spirit Tracks Link, but I do not think so)

Cool fact: Is a pirate! Had a pirate ship dad! Had a little sister, Aryll, that was taken by birds. Gave him trust issues. Lived with his grandmother and Aryll before Tetra who is, spoiler, Zelda, shows up and helps him find his sister. Tetra is so cool man, she's a pirate captain. Anyway, most often seen as the youngest Link. In his game, he wasn't even a hero lmao. Just some guy who's sister got taken and he went and found the triforce before merking Ganon RIGHT BETWEEN THE EYES. He was just feeling a little silly. Wind, I believe, is part of some third timeline stemming from Time's adventure or in the Downfall Timeline as his Hyrule flooded, leaving most to live on high mountains to avoid drowning.

Name: Warriors

His Zelda: Artemis (my love <3)

His Games/appearances: Hyrule Warriors

Cool fact: He's got a scarf. Had a wizardess who was supposed to watch time and space fall in love with him. Gave him trust issues. Has scars from when he drew the Master sword; which dominoed into something called The War of Eras. Companions and other heroes were pulled to his time to assist in the war, including, but not limited too; Time (Known as Mask in this regards), Wind, Midna, Marin, Ravio, Linkle (A female Link who was originally Wars' sister but, that idea was scrapped), and probably more that I'm missing idk I haven't finished the game. Is Captain of his knight squadron and famously despises Traitors. His own Zelda turned into Sheik to assist in the battle, but she's perfect just the way she is <3 Does not fall explicitly into either time line.

Now, this is where things kind of get tricky. Wild can either be one hero on three adventures or three different guys who arise during their subsequent time. For this blog, we see them as three different people.

Name: Calamity

His Zelda: Fauna

His Games/appearances: Age of Calamity

Cool fact: While his game is not seen as canon to the timeline, we include him because he's cool. Was part of a timeline where his Zelda unlocked his sealing powers earlier and saved them in time to fight the Calamity. He did not die, did not sleep for a hundred years, and kept his memory. Also a knight, also has trust issues, eats rocks. Does not fall explicitly into either time line.

Name: Wild

His Zelda: Flora

His Games/appearances: Breath of the Wild

Cool fact: Is the version of Calamity that's canon. His Zelda failed to awaken her powers in time, he, along with the Champions, died, took a hundred year nap, got trust issues, got memory issues, did not know wtf a stick was at the start of his adventure. Has a cool tablet called a Sheikah slate that lets him use runes (Magnet, ice, bombs, freeze time). In Linked Universe, he has scars lacing his one side. Is said to have had Wolfie as a guide during his adventure. Does not fall explicitly into either time line, but if I had to guess I would put it as Timeline A.

Name: Sage

His Zelda: Natura

His Games/appearances: Tears of the Kingdom

Cool fact: So, Sage was actually cultivated here! He is the Link from the newest Zelda Game, characterized by his anger and grudges held against Hylia. Does not have the scars, because of Rauru, but does have Fangs. Falls directly after Wild, as they are technically the same guy. When referring to the 'triplets' we are referring to Sage, Wild and Calamity.

Anyway, hope this helped! If you have anymore questions, lmk!

#cinder rambles #Cinder's Links

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kit-williams · 8 months

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Mutual Pining

Male Lead: Tulio Female Lead: His darling he calls Psychi Universe/Au: Yandere Canon Status: Have yet to decide

This will be another story from Psychi's POV since we all should know about how much Tulio feels about his darling.

His smile was so charming it felt like she was cold snow melting in the sunlight... the way his blue eyes met her own... she felt the need to look away and not make direct eye contact but she couldn't look away.

The way his touch felt like electricity on her marred skin. She feels a blush on her face as she traces one of the scars on his arm as he tells her about the foes he fought. He's fought tyranids she learns.

He is a veteran so apart of the first company. Such an honor to be around a man like that. She drank up the way he looked at her it brought a blush to her face when she turned away having to remind herself that she was just a servant nothing more nothing less.

Someone else was talking and he was occasionally giving his points, all in high gothic of course. She had to hold in a soft yelp as he just pulled her into his lap and just running a thumb over her chin and cheek... he was fidgeting and using her as some sort of distraction?

He tilted his head and smiled, laughing as he spoke up in his turn as his rough thumb caressed her bottom lip for a brief moment. She continued to do her job utterly dutifully trying not to show how much this was doing to her. Oh by the throne wait wasn't there gossip from somewhere that speaks of them being able to smell? Oh dear... the cat was certainly out of the bag then about what she was feeling with the way his hands dragged over her and played with her hair.

She tries to play it cool and not let the blush overtake her face. But she can spy the big grin on his face as he watches her look about shyly as she is trying to keep him fed and his cup full and well she now has taken up the roll of keeping his wandering hands and twitching fingers.

Though she is fully unaware that he is the same admirer from before but she happily soaks up the attention from such an honorable Astarte.

Taglist @bispecsual @the-californicationist @egrets-not-regrets @libraryshadow @bleedingichorhearts @liar-anubiass-blog

#warhammer 40k #fluffuary2024 #fluffuary #OC: Tulio #Yandere #Yandere Space Marine #Yandere Ultramarine #Space Marine #Ultramarine #Fluff #space marine x reader #x reader

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domesticandlovingmonsters · 2 months

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Blog Introductions

Welcome!

This is a long time coming, but I thought I should do a little blog introduction post.

So, here we go!

Hi! You can call me Scribbles! She/Her. Bisexual. (A long time online alias, so I'm sticking with it) I'm not comfortable giving me exact age, but I am 21+. Hence why this is a +18 blog, minors DNI.

This blog is to share the horny little thoughts and stories that pop into my brain with others. And also see what others have in mind when it comes to the monstrous and weird and abnormal.

But that doesn't mean the sweet, tender and loving side of these stories are ignored. Both NSFW and SFW ideas are welcome.

But there are boundaries I ask you to acknowledge:

No bigotry or hate of any kind. I'm here to spread some creative mindsets and stories. So, please keep the negativity outside the door.

Kink limitations for asks/commissions: No scat, incest, anything to do with minors (unless family orientated stories), mommy/daddy play, non-con themes (exception of consensual non-con play)

Yandere and themes like it are welcome, to a degree. I'm a dark romance lover so I can excuse some tropes.

This is going to sound very hypocritical, but no animal/bestiality themes. If it doesn't pass the Harkness Test, I refuse to write about it.

My Current Kink List:

Oviposition (this is a new one, so if you have any content related to it or you're a veteran to this kink, please discuss it with me. I am intrigued)

Breeding. But not heavy on the pregnancy side of the kink. Maybe some wordplay with it; for example: "I'll ensure you're swollen with my seed" or the like.

Size Difference. I love me a big monster that could flatten me like a pancake and call me a sweet girl. Soft bellies or the hard thighs, I don't care. I wish to be squished.

And yes, Praise kink. I like the praise, ok. Call me basic. I like being called a 'good girl' or 'sweet thing' and being told I'm doing a good job.

Giving oral. I don't know if there's a name for it, but I adore giving oral.

Ownership play (to a degree). There has to be some connection before I let you collar me and tell me to do things. But I do like the idea of a big monster calling me "theirs" or "mine".

My Current Monster Types:

Dragons/Drakes/anything with scales. Love me a scaly person.

Tentacles or creatures based around eldritch types.

Aliens are fun!

Minotaurs/Fauns/Centuars (a newish fave. I haven't written much on them yet)

Asks are always welcome! Even just a hello! But if you don't know what to ask about, here's some personal stuff you can send in:

I'm currently reading: Tower Lord by Anthony Ryan. The second in a series I have adored for ages. A very heavy read about a man's journey from a boy to a realm known King slayer, feared for his brutality and strength.

Games I am currently playing: Darkest Dungeon, replaying Horizon: Zero Dawn, Carnal Instinct (a pretty decent, open world porn game with centaurs, cat and dog people and lore.)

Ask me about my WIPS!!! I love sharing what I'm working on.

Send me your fave monster/creature. Or even something that made you enjoy a certain aspect of this community.

Important Links:

Masterlist- Recently updated but I think some stories have slipped through the cracks. If you find any that aren't on the list, please let me know!

Patreon- Where Exclusive stories go and chaptered series are posted. There are free stories there Note: I am making a Patreon Information Post soon. Costs, things to expect; etc.

Commission Costs/Rules- If you're looking for something personal, here's where to start!

Thanks for dropping by! And giving this a read until the end. I hope you enjoy my content!

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spectralscathath · 1 year

Note

Same anon from the Tyrisummer ask - are there any other rwby ships you like that aren't that well known?

Hello again, Anon! And yes, I am a very big fan of many different less popular rwby ships, because the majority of the canon ships I loathe (not you taisummer you can stay), and a lot of the commonly popular ships don't do it for me either (not you freezerburn and ladybug you can also stay).

So here's a non exhaustive list of obscure-ish rwby ships I like, which I may or may not have discussed before:

Nora/May Marigold: if Nora lived in Antares this would be endgame this is MY SHIP

Ruby/Marrow: my need to make ruby aroace vs my adoration of 'little red riding hood X the big bad wolf'-themed ships

Elm/Ironwood: I'll be dead before I stop shipping this they're so soft

Yang/Mercury: this isn't even that obscure I just need to rep my favs

Theo/Leo: I love old gay war veterans (canon theo does not exist to me I see only Old Cowboy Theo (also featured in azre btw shoutout to azre))

Marrow/Adam: I'll die on the 'childhood best friends to idealistically-opposed to lovers' hill

Tai/Oobleck: they dated.

Marcus/Neo: It's the hamster with a banana meme if the hamster was a yandere

BRIR polycule: Sisterhood of Evil WLW Huntresses (them not being the true villains of arrowfell was a cop-out)

Vernal/Weiss: the princessXbandit vibes are immaculate, this was the real butch/femme rwby ship dynamic all along

Sun/Mercury: Mercury at all times deserves a buff blonde with big tits and a bigger heart

Clover/Watts: I'll ship this just for the shipname alone (it's 'phishing' btw)

Sun/Ruby: also not obscure technically but they're so qpr that I made a playlist for them

and finally,

the one that got me vagued on fucking

UQUIZ

Clover/Robyn: I know this uqiz was talking about me specifically because it mentioned that lucky shot had a fanfic and at the time I had the only purely Lucky Shot fic up on ao3 (no qrow involved), if nothing else can be my legacy I want it to be this.☘️🏹

#rwby #i ain't tagging all these #clover ebi #robyn hill #I'll tag them though just for the uquiz story #remains one of the funniest moments of my online life #that quizmaker was SEETHING #asks

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kindofatheatrekid · 1 month

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Soft Yandere! Veteran who will take care of you~!

Bro's a cutie actually- I can't believe he was written on a whim- You don't understand how much I love this old man- (I'd probably ride him until we both pass out-) This is unfortunately a fem reader scenario. Sorry, pookies- I can't make a descriptive scene if it can be both a dick and pussy. MINORS DNI. MINORS DNI. MINORS DNI. Anyways- This was written with "Guys My Age" put on the entire time- Probably explains all this- *** You don't know why it took you so long. If the you in the past knew just how good you could feel right now... Lackluster hookups and immaturity would've been a foreign concept to you. It was almost unfair if you compared any of your past lovers to the man between your legs right now. His tongue so sinful as it drags across your sopping wet cunt— your fingers tangled in his salt and pepper hair, his once combed hair now disheveled because of you. To be honest... The both of you looked fairly messed up by now. Your back arches when he starts to nip your sensitive bud, sucking on it in a way that makes you see stars when your head snaps up as a response to his ministrations. A whimper escapes from you as a finger effortlessly slides in your welcoming inner walls. A shiver runs through your spine when he chuckles at how wet you already were. "Look at you~ Are you really such a whore for an old man like me~? I’m honored~” You moan when he adds another finger in suddenly, breath hitching when he slowly scissors you. Was this what experienced men felt like? It was like he knew exactly where to go, like he knew your body better than you did. He pressed the right places, he kissed where you were the most sensitive— he looked at you in ways you never knew existed.

So when he made you cum harder than you ever did before… It didn’t surprise you when you felt the urge to keep him with you. You wanted more: more of him, more of whatever he was making you feel right now. He simply smiled when you shakily grabbed onto his shirt, pulling him in for a kiss. He quickly took control of the kiss too, his other hand snaking under your own shirt to grope your chest. It was only when your tears began to fall from the lack of air— did he finally part from your sweet, glossy lips.

“Already tapping out, huh?” He teases you, smirking when you shake your head and whine for him shamelessly. It didn’t matter that he was more than a decade older than you— it only mattered that he made you feel better than anyone ever did. Your heart only quickened when his thumb brushes against your drool-covered lips, sensually licking your spit off his thumb.

His tongue darts out to lick his lips as well, lips that were covered with your slick. Even in your daze, you noticed how his eyes roamed over your figure— looking at you as if he was about to dig into his favorite meal. A dark chuckle rumbles from his chest, his fingers leaving you to unbuckle his belt. Before you could even whine about the emptiness he left, your knees were bent into your chest. Your thighs spread in a way that allowed him to see just how much you needed him.

“Get ready, love. You’re going to find out that an old dog can learn a few new tricks.” *** You don't understand how much I love this man- The headcanons and a whole fluff/smut scene is already in the works. Like that baker dude on Tiktok always says: "I am awesome and my ego is still undamaged."

#yandere #smut #minors dni #yandere x reader #yandere x you #yandere x darling #fem reader #soft yandere #yandere male #yandere male oc #yandere dilf #soft yandere! veteran #this old man has my heart and pussy-#i'm a genius #he will talk you through it-#reader is like mid to late twenties in my imagination btw-#what other tags can I add to bring more interactions-#drabble

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crookedkryptonitebeliever · 3 years

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Yandere Hitman (No, not the game franchise.)

You know that trope where big quiet scary Hitman man who is known for being so skilled and heartless that you need him to at least tolerate you first before placing a hit. Or else he would just straight up kill you when he thinks you're mildly impolite.

Yeah that AND you, the reader, as the only soft spot for BQSHMM (Big Quiet Scary Hitman Man).

No don't give me flak about how this is just a bootleg of [Insert similar character here] because you are wrong, this is inspired by every Stoic and Brooding Contract Killer Character Ever and Batman even though I have never watched any movies or read any comics about him.

All I know that he :

Rich

An orphan

Can punch

Quiet

Does parkour

Hot buff nerd with all 20/20 vision

Acted by Christian Bale at least once

Have a family of other bat millennials and bat gen z's

Hates clowns

Wear smudged eyeliner

fast car

Cool belt

I get my sources from tumblr, occasional memes and snippets of batman conversation I happen to be in. I don't know if they are canon or not.

And also actually heavily inspired by the Korean movie Door Lock (2018) , except in this fic you're the ONLY victim <3

And this fic is just something to make your pussy or bussy or nonbinarussy throb, nothing too serious. Goes without saying, don't do this shit irl.

Enjoy.

Tw: AFAB reader, yandereness, violence, sex things, non con, somno oral, basically smut

(pt 1 out of 2)

You don't know squat about the underworld. Naive, innocent little you, still thinking that the black market is like a farmer's market except the vendors are selling not-so-legal-or-Farmer-y stuff such as... Oh, I don't know, like... Unpasteurized Milk?

You never once dabbled anything remotely legally dark, not even jaywalking. You are a law abiding citizen, following all the rules to a "T".

Oh, the Irony. You caught the eye of a person who kills people for a living. And that is highly illegal. Probably more illegal than Jaywalking.

He is lean and muscular with a large frame. Yet, so stealthy like a fucking cat that can squeeze through a dime sized hole with no noise and no complaint. Face, hands and basically vulnerable parts of his body like the neck are scarred from previous missions.

Stare into his eyes and you will see a void. All humanity has been scraped clean, who gives a shit if granny falls to her death in front of him? He doesn't see her as human or animal, simply something invaluable. At most, he's going to be slightly irritated that her blood got onto his coat and he is running out of peroxide.

No one catcalls you anymore. They're all dead or silenced in his own, crazy, silly way. Like getting their tongues cut off, or getting lobotomized (and miraculously surviving) to get the point across to everyone in the overworld and the underworld.

He is like what Santa is to kids in the 60's, he watches you 24/7. Knows if you've been good or bad. He could be watching you from a roof, using his rifle scope . And using his sniper rifle if he sees a threat.

Fresh syndicate criminals sees you as meat, a leverage to control the world's more notorious assassin. Seasoned ones know to stay the fuck away from you. Veterans know to not even think about or look at you. Your Hitman stalker is like a bloodhound for things that threatens your safety, as soon as anyone looks at you wrongly, it's bedtime forever.

It doesn't even take a look. He just knows if you're thinking about it. Actually, he takes no chances, everyone he doesn't trust is dead. That includes just about everyone he meets. Really puts the fear in the hearts of huge crime rings when he managed to leave the decapitated heads of their best men on the doorstep of their supposedly 'unknown' and 'unidentified' and 'anonymous' leaders.

From there, no matter how many of their members he kills off or WHO he kills off...gangs, mafias, crime syndicates and corporations knew not to go after him OR you. It's just not worth it, they're better off just cutting their losses and advising their members to steer clear at all costs.

This one man band is so scary that he gains protection somehow. Why?

Well, imagine this:

A rookie hitman decided to execute the most foolish task and try killing him.

So the rookie gets captured as expected and gets tortured.

Rookie says Mafia X sent him.

The entirety of Mafia X is going to disappear in a week unless someone can give Big Scary Gary Stu Hitman OC an explanation, saying Mafia Y framed them.

Then Mafia Y will be in deep shit. Provided Mafia X managed to convince them or else BOTH X and Y will get fucking nuked to bits.

But hey, business is good on his side. He's everyone's default hitman to go to (if you have the money), because it's almost always a 300% success rate.

Why 300%? It's because he's going to kill the intended target (and their entire family), the one who paid him and a person who is at the wrong place at the wrong time.

Hmm. Maybe the guaranteed death of the customer isn't good for business. As long as you follow the rule of thumb:

Don't be a dick.

Then you should have a pretty good success rate. Maybe.

You really can't tell.

Make a comment about his only joy in this world, which is you, the reader, and you're (not the reader) is getting instant death. It's like saying Voldemort's name.

He is the monster under your bed. Literally, he lives under your bed, sliding out at night to sniff your hair. That seems to keep him content.

For now.

Maybe you've noticed that your fridge is a little emptier than you remembered. Sometimes you don't remember buying a jar of pickles and opening them. There seem to be always something to eat these days, you're not one to shop responsibly. Then why are there actual healthy foods like fresh produce and meats instead of frozen, TV dinners?

Maybe the spirit of New Year's Resolution came and possessed you during the weekends. Maybe. Definitely not because you have an unknown roommate around.

You're not complaining, you get to eat delicious and healthy "fresh leftovers" in the fridge even though you have no memory twisting the gas knob of your stove.

You swore you just replenished your body wash, why did it decrease so much?

At times, you're sure that your toothpaste is about to run out, only to see a slightly used, plump tube on the sink shelf. Did you replace them while you're drunk? Why did you not have any recollection of it? Why is your toothbrush already wet?

The toilet paper holder never seem to run out of toilet paper too. Usually, once a month, you would have to awkwardly waddle out of the bathroom, pants around your ankle just to get a fresh roll. You stopped doing that now.

Yeah, these stuff leaves you weary and pretty much on edge. But you're already dead inside from working 12 hour shifts at minimum wage in customer service. Having a little spice in your life would give you that kick to keep you going once in a while.

Plus, free food and toiletries. The stuff you get back is way more than you can ever afford. Which you're grateful for and would even turn a blind eye to the fact that it's very clear someone is living with you without your consent or knowledge. And your place is much more cleaner and neater. A win for you.

Or you're just that fucking oblivious and airheaded that you don't think anything is out of place, I don't personally know everyone who reads this.

For the sake of plot, you will be the latter. It's easier to write for.

So you think all is sunshine and rainbows, you're fed, your chores are done and the trash took out itself. Yay!

You sleep better, like, much better. Too better. Too quickly as well, you missed the dip in your mattress.

You shouldn't have drank that mysterious cup of your favorite drink that mysteriously appeared in your fridge and has some white residue at the bottom!

You don't even wake up when he drapes his arm over you, cuddling you until the sun shows itself over the horizon. Sometimes the hugging can make your eyes open a bit, but you shut them back cause you thought it's just your sleep paralysis demon feeling a little loving towards you.

Having fingers gently running through your hair while you're off to dreamland is... Nice. Having a pair of lips tenderly kissing your face is... Nice.

Having that same pair of lips trailing kisses from your jaw down to your chest is... Questionable. But somewhat nice.

Having that same pair of lips trailing kisses down from your chest to your already exposed, vulnerable pussy is... Well. Up to your intepretation.

Hey, it's not like you're awake to stop him from spreading your legs, pumping your hole with his fingers and lapping you up, right? Who is going to stop him? Not you, definitely. You're just egging him on by cumming on his tongue as he tongue-fucks you like he's dehydrated and you're his only source of water.

No worries, your bedsheet won't be drenched when you wake up. He is sure to catch every single drop of your sweet, sweet, love nectar. What a thirsty menace, he is. Pleasuring you with his mouth in your sleep for hours and hours on end.

Actually, one hour and a half on average. He has other things to do, unfortunately. Like, putting a bullet in one of his target's cerebrum? He has a job too, you know.

The room would be silent save for his slurping, smooching, smacking and the stirring of Mac n' cheese. Gulping too, he swallows everything you give.

Once he has his fill, he would press one last kiss on your sex and a few more against your inner thighs as thanks before wiping his chin and lips with his thumb. He isn't going to let any of it go to waste, he's licking the left overs from his drenched digits. Eating you out seems to satisfy him.

For now.

He smiles as he slowly puts your underwear and sweatpants back on.

Hygiene is important. That is why, after every meal, he would brush his teeth.

With your toothbrush of course.

He would stare at himself in the mirror as he scrub his molars clean, already missing the taste of you. He tries not to put too much focus onto his own reflection as he dislikes staring into the deep, dark, depressing abyss. He is indifferent about himself, so apathetic that it's... Hollow. Empty.

He gives no shits about the world. They could burn for all he cares. Only you made him feel something, made him feel pure bliss, only you mattered to him, only you can make a tent in his pants. Only you, only you.

God, you were his only will to live. If you go, he goes. Period. You are irreplaceable, special and extremely important, his life, his happiness depends on yours.

You are perfection, no one can compete. Anyone who says otherwise is wrong and deserves to be waterboarded before getting impaled on a stick like shish kebab. You are his escape to his bleak reality, a drug, an addiction. A severe, addiction. He is too far deep, you can't pry him away from you, crowbar or by otherwise.

He lives for you. No, I don't think you understand the intensity of his love for you. He LIVES for you, if it wasn't for your existence, he would have taken his own life long ago.

I'll say it again, only YOU can get his dick up by looking in his general direction. Only YOU can get away with so many fucking things others had died for doing.

If the world is going to have this... Mega wipeout and he is given a chance to save 1000 people, he would only save you. No one else-- and also himself. The 998 empty slots would be wasted.

Only YOU... Could make him smile.

He gargled and spat into the sink, washing your toothbrush before replacing them in their original spot.

He sniffed your face towel deeply before using it to pat his face.

Your self proclaimed boyfriend went on to take a nice, hot shower. Steam fogs up the mirror and shower screen, he scrubs himself clean with your body shampoo. Stripping any smell, grime and blood off him.

He makes sure to remove the hair clogging the drain.

Again, he took a deep whiff of your shower towel before using it as intended.

He dries his hair with the towel as he gets out of the bathroom, wearing a fresh set of his pyjamas. His eyes softened as he sees your sleeping form on your bed, he mumbled a:

"I'll join you in bed in a minute, honey."

Under his breath. It's not like you're conscious to know what the fuck is going on.

He pecks your forehead and brushes the hair away from your face.

"I love you." He whispers. He receives zero (0) responses.

It's always like that. You go to sleep, he gives you the best head in your life, but you're to asleep to realize, he then brushes his teeth, he showers, he fix himself something to eat, he brushes his teeth again because... Smells. And finally, he goes to bed with you.

He likes pickles. It's salty, sour, briny and helps replenish his electrolytes. Anchovies too, its... Fishy, salty, oily. Lemon sorbets are also nice, it's sweet, sour and refreshing. Natto is great for his brain, he also likes the slimy texture of it and he doesn't mind the bitterness.

Okay, he just likes the taste of pussy. Specifically, your pussy. It should taste kinda salty, kinda sour, kinda sweet and kinda bitter.

Whatever.

But usually, he would just fix up a ham and egg wrap for himself. It's quick to prepare, not too smell offensive, not too noise offensive.

He would munch on it as he goes back to your bedroom. There is a TV in front of your bed, so he would turn it on and put the volume on zero. Your self proclaimed boyfriend would pull you to his chest, making you use him as a pillow as he enjoys his simple dinner and watch whatever is on TV.

One hand holding his meal, the other rhythmically patting your rear.

Sometimes, he pats a little too hard, the screen is a little too bright, the wrap is a little too tasty, you would wake up. But not fully.

You would slur and stir. Eyelids heavy, it's a struggle to even pry them apart.

He would remedy this by bringing his wrap to your lips, which you would, without fail, get a nibble. That's enough to send you back to sleep, subconsciously chewing and swallowing that micro bite.

You always thought your sleep paralysis demon has the sexiest chuckle and the softest kisses.

The next day rolls by and you're alone on your bed. The thing between your legs feels funny and you have a faint taste of ham and eggs in your mouth.

You yawn and swung your legs over the edge. Letting your feet touch the ground, giving him full view of your ankles from under the bed.

It's your off day today and he knows you would usually spend these doing nothing. Just lazily laying around, rot your brain with social media, cry about your mediocrity, then go back on social media, binge eat, cry about your mediocrity again, social media, binge eat and finally sleep until the next day.

These are the days where he so badly wishes to fuck your brains out, to fuck the tears away. To give you orgasm after orgasm to forget whatever is making you sad, to make you prefer him thrusting into you instead of seeing suspiciously successful lives on the internet, to overstimulate you so you think about nothing but pleasure.

Let the room reek of sex, let the moans and wet slapping bounce off the thin walls, let the taste of you coat every square inch of his mouth. Let his hands roam all over your body and let him worship you as this deity having a gorilla grip on his life.

These are the days where... It's best for him to leave your apartment to carry out a hit. As he might simply just lose control and take you as soon as he hears your sniffling. Stuff you full of cock and tongue, kissing your sorrows away.

The aftercare stuff excites him too, he would want to see you relax in his hold, letting him work his masseur magic. Allowing him to feed you proper, warm meals after a pleasant, sensual shower.

He may be obsessive and unhinged. But not delusional. At least, not THAT delusional to think you'll see and accept him as your boyfriend if he jumps out of his hiding place now. You're going to have a panic attack and possibly throw up and die.

So he has no choice but to suppress it. He will have to strike when an opening comes. Maybe, enact a cliche romantic meeting and work up from there? Perhaps, that sounds like a good idea.

He is satisfied with what the bottle of sleeping pills hidden in his pocket can do.

For now.

#yandere assassin #yandere x reader #yandere #yandere concept #yandere content #x reader #tw afab reader #tw somnophilia #tw yandere #yandere scenarios #tw noncon #tw: graphiccontent.#yandere hitman

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jetiisyandereclones · 2 years

Text

Yandere Kenobi Homeless Clone x Plus size! Reader

Warnings:

Fluff, Hurt/Comfort

Smut

18+

Very mild Yandere content. Really only one instance of obsessive/protective behavior. More Hurt/Comfort than anything else.

@professional-yearner

Y/N had just managed to lock down her own studio on the scummier side of Daiu.

It wasn't her first pick, but it was hers. She had been rushing around, trying to get to her apartment in time to sign off for a delivery, or really just to make sure it wasn't stolen, when she had accidently tripped over the sleeping mans leg.

Y/N stumbled, ungracefully managing to regain her footing and looking back at the man, who was now awake.

"Sorry, sorry!" she called and continued towards home.

"That's okay" He replied quietly, observing as she went on her way.

The veteran settled back in for a nap, not quite being able to relax again down on the cold, busy street.

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Y/N saw him again the next day.

Work was long and grueling and she was dead on her feet, stumbling home.

The clone was in the same spot as yesterday and when he saw her, he pulled his leg up to avoid another run in.

Y/N had been daydreaming when the sudden motion caught her attention. She looked up and saw it was the man she tripped over yesterday.

Upon a closer look she realized it was one of the old Republics clone Troopers, battered and beaten down, begging for credits in the street.

Her heart ached for them. They didn't deserve to be thrown aside by the empire. It was because of a trooper that she was even alive today.

Y/N didn't have much, but today had been a good day for tips. There had been a group come in who took particular liking to her... "proportions" in their words.

Y/N wasn't proud, but she grit her teeth and did whatever they wanted when she saw their planned tips for her, completing every unreasonable request and laughing off every comment as best she could.

Reaching into her bag, Y/N pulled out some credits, enough to get a decent meal, and dropped them into the clones helmet.

He looked up at her, nodding his thanks and she moved on.

It went down the same way the next day. Apparently the sleezebags from yesterday had decided they liked her, and came back. They promised to come back every day until she agreed to go out with the leader of their little pack.

As long as the tips kept coming, Y/N could swallow her pride and what little self respect she had.

On the way home, the trooper was in the same place.

Once again she dropped enough into his helmet to buy a meal. Again, he nodded his thanks, but this time there was recognition in his eyes. as if a recurring face wasn't one he saw often. `

She went on her way, and the trooper watched her go. She was a pretty thing, he thought off handedly.

A round, sweet face and luxuriously soft body housed, from what he had seen so far, a kind and generous soul. In another life he might have tried his luck with her.

But he wasn't a gleaming, strong hero anymore. So he let her walk away without saying a word, only hoping to see her tomorrow.

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He saw her tomorrow. And the day after that and the day after that. For what seemed like forever to the trooper, the pretty lady would walk by him at night time, looking exhausted and run ragged, drop some credits into his helmet with a gentle smile then continue on her way.

He never said a word to her but every day he grew more attached, looking for her arrival and sorrowfully watching her leave.

He suddenly came to a startling conclusion one afternoon.

Kriff, he was starting to fall for her. He was too old for this, too destitute, too HOMELESS.

What would she see in him anyway? She was so pretty and young and soft and not scarred up and beaten down like him.

But he had been on the streets along time. He knew good people and bad people. Saw them day in and day out and she was the only one who was familiar, who spared him a second glance, looked and saw more than just gutter trash.

He couldn't help it, he started to imagine. Imagine what might have been had he met her under different circumstances.

The woman was clumsy, she day dreamed a lot. He imagines that he could have swooped in and saved for from an accident, maybe stopped her being hit by a speeder.

He imagines being able to flirt with and woo the lady. A handsome, decorated soldier in shining armor, fresh off of his victory in the war, serving under a great General.

He'd charm and seduce and care and protect his woman.

He'd hold her close, the feeling of her soft belly and thighs an absolute godsend against the plush flesh that once covered his strong and capable body.

The clone would love up on, massage, rub, kiss and caress every inch, every roll, dip and valley the temple of her body had to offer.

He'd watch her squirm, make her pant and mewl under dedicated, strong and gentle hands...

He stopped himself there, noticing that for the first time in a long time, there was a heat and stirring in his lower belly and a familiar twitching between his legs.

The clone sneered, self loathing shooting through him and scaring a few children passing by.

Any arousal at his own thoughts was immediately put out at the reminder of his situation.

He was homeless.

Disgusting and begging like a worm. She was out of his reach and he should just be happy he got to see her at all.

In the end, however, he was still a man. A man whos decade long loneliness was single handedly being fought off by the woman of his dreams, and she didn't even know it!

Caught in his own mind, he didn't see her approach, earlier than usual.

Y/N cleared her throat, trying to get his attention without spooking the veteran.

He looked up, startled and confused.

The clever girl must have read his mind because she began a nervous explanation.

"Uh, my workplace closed early because of an incident with a staff member. I, uh, don't have any credits, but I managed to swipe this from the kitchens, if you'd like?"

She sounded nervous. He hoped it wasn't because of him. He never wanted to scare her.

Y/N pulled a sweet bun out of her bag and the clones mouth watered. He hadn't had anything like that in years.

Gently, he took the food from the woman, avoiding brushing his calloused, dirty fingers against her clean, soft ones.

she once again gave him, what was now, his favorite smile and was just about to leave, when they heard someone shout.

"HEY, Y/N!"

Y/N grimaced. It was the sleezebag that frequented her work.

In a moment of weakness and loneliness she had taken him up his offer to com each other, and now he wont leave her alone.

The clone clocked in on her uncomfortable, nearly panicked expression, his eyes as sharp and observant as they had been years ago.

"I'm sorry about this" she hurriedly blurted out. He said nothing, just stared at her.

Suddenly she ducked down behind him, pressing her front into his back and bowing her head down to lean against one of his shoulders, face hidden.

She didn't notice the look of shock that came cross the clones face.

Recovering, he quickly handed her the ratty blanket he used at night to cover herself with. She didn't seem to notice the smell of the unwashed fabric, too busy trying to not be seen by the owner of the voice.

The Veteran saw who had to be the owner of the voice. A tall, lanky boy with greasy hair and five day patchy stubble. He shoved people out of the way, sneering at him when he met the veterans sharp gaze.

The clone could sense his superiority complex a mile off.

Not seeing anything here worth his time, the man slunk away into the crowd.

Waiting a minute or two to make sure the sleezebag was gone, and to selfishly indulge in the closeness of a woman he had been pining for, the Veteran gently nudged the ball of nerves tucked up on his shoulder.

For the first time, he found his voice for her.

"Its alright, little one. He's gone."

The mans voice was rough from disuse, but Y/N still thought it was comforting nonetheless.

To the clones absolute amazement, the woman didn't move immediately.

"Are you sure?" Her voice sounded so small and tired. He ached to sooth her.

Pulling up some courage he didn't know he had, the clone gently pressed the side of his face against the top of her head, noting how perfectly they seemed to fit together.

How good it felt.

Y/N whined, she brought her hand up to rest under her forehead, laying it palm down on his shoulder piece.

"I hate that guy."

The clone could see why. He went to say something, to reassure her, gently rubbing his cheek against her hair in a light nuzzle.

Suddenly the woman jerked up, her head leaving his shoulder and her body jumping back from his.

The clones blood ran cold. He had crossed the line, now he'd never see her again.

"I-"

"I am so sorry, I didn't mean to. To..." Y/N cut him off, gesturing wildly at him, as he stared in amazement at her.

Was she apologizing, to him?

Y/N finally managed to get herself together enough to articulate what it was she was apologizing for.

"I'm sorry, I shouldn't have gotten all up in your space like that, I just... It was the first thing that came to mind and I... I'll just go" She ducked her head, a furious blush rushing across her face at her babbled apology to the man.

Swiftly, the veteran reached out to his jumpy love, lightly taking her wrist and rubbing his thumb against the soft skin there. It was an unfamiliar gesture now, but it seemed to do the trick.

She let the veteran pull her back down and she just bared her soul to him right there in the street. Breaking down as he slowly and gently pulled her into his side, rubbing her back as she wept.

It turns out the poor, sweet woman had been harrased and stalked by the scumbag for weeks. He would com at all times of the day and come into her workplace any time she was on shift, her boss having given up her schedule in exchange for a few credits.

Y/N hiccupped s she explained that she had tried to get help, but "This was Daiu, that's just how things are here"

He was the reason they closed early. Apparently he had cussed out the wrong staff member and there was an all out fist fight. The boss closed when the property started getting damaged.

Her story made the clones blood boil. All this time he had been imagining them together and happy, while she had been in danger? Unacceptable.

When the woman stopped crying, her eyes red and itchy, she peeled herself away from the safety of the clones warmth.

The veteran mourned the fact that she was distancing herself. He also cursed his armor for preventing him form truly feeling her softness.

Y/N sniffed and rubbed her eyes, mumbling that she was going to go home now, before stumbling off.

The clones eyes followed her. Keen and concerned they watched her round the corner.

Tonight, he was going to be what he never thought he'd be again. He would be the hero, for his sweet Y/N.

The veteran picked up his old helmet, putting it on for the first time in a decade.

Time for one last hunt.

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

Things had been looking up for Y/N.

After the incident with the clone she went home and decided to look for other employment options.

She found an opening in a slightly less shady part of town as a cleaner for a speeder saleroom. A job where her pay didn't depend on the whims of horny incels, and so far, she was loving it.

There were no customers to deal with and she was mostly left alone to do her work.

And, more importantly, her stalker had seemingly disappeared off the face of the planet.

The drawbacks were that she had to start and finish later than what was usually considered safe on Daiu, but she wasn't too concerned. There was always someone out and about and the nightlife in her area ensured that her way home was always lit.

Then there was her friend.

Y/N still didn't know his name, he never offered it, if he had one at all.

He was always there, looking out for her. watching after her with his deep, intelligent and sharp gaze.

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

The first time she saw him in his different spot had been not much longer after she started at her new job.

The weather had just started to turn. Daiu winters could be bitter even in their earliest stages and that night there was a raging wind with the promise of an even worse storm.

Y/N was currently moving at a fast clip, trying to beat the weather home when she saw her friend. stopping she did a double take to make sure it was him, although she hadn't seen any other clone on Daiu before.

He was hunkered down in an alcove between two buildings, protected from the wind in front of him and he rain from above.

Quickly she ducked into the alley, ignoring the stares of the other homeless as she crouched before him.

"Y/N" he said, looking up to her in greeting and concern.

What was she doing down here?

"Hi. Thought that was you"

He tilted his head, his eyes trained on her as she tried to piece together why she was in the alleyway.

"You here because of the weather?" she asked

The veteran nodded. He still wasn't a man of many words, preferring to communicate with her through gestures.

It was difficult enough to get him to call her by her name.

"Okay, stay here, I'll be back"

Y/N cringed at herself.

'Stay here?' As if he'd be stupid enough to wander out into the weather.

Unlike her, it would seem.

The veteran sent her a look that screamed 'Don't be stupid, stay at home', but Y/N missed it.

She stood up and trotted back out into the wind, catching a heavy gust to the face.

The clone watched her leave, admiring how her winter clothes hugged her generous figure.

Too soon, she was out of sight but the veteran was on edge.

Y/N said she was coming back, but it was already dark, the weather was setting in.

Doesn't she realize its dangerous for her out here.

Apparently not.

Y/N rounded the corner to the alleyway a few minutes later with a backpack and a pile of fabric in her arms.

Him and the three other homeless looked up.

She once again crouched down in front of him, handing him what turned out to be a rough, robust and warm looking blanket.

"It's not much, but I noticed that your old one wasn't looking too good a while back so..." She bashfully rubbed the back of her neck, not quite meeting his eye.

The veteran on the other hand, couldn't look away.

'Kriff, she's too good for this place. too good for me.' he thought. She then took off her bag and pulled out some food.

The veteran thought he would cry. No one had taken care of him like this in a long, long time.

He then noticed that her bag wasn't empty, and that there were more blankets under her arm.

She smiled sweetly at him. A rosy, chubby cheeked expression that never failed to warm his heart and make it long like nothing else.

She stood up and walked over to his three 'companions'. Other homeless people seeking shelter in the same alleyway as him.

For the two other men and one woman she had a blanket and some food. They took the offered gifts with various thanks.

"Your too kind child, thank you!" He heard the elderly Pantoran say as he wrapped himself in his new blanket.

"Thank you, sweet thing, but you shouldn't be out this late." The woman said, taking her food with cold, shaking fingers.

The third man looked at her, taking the blanket and food silently.

The veteran was weary. He had bunked with this man before and while not overly dangerous, he was usually in a foul mood, and wanted to be left alone.

The man accepted the items from his sweet Y/N and she had seemingly picked up on his want to be alone so she went to move on when he grabbed her wrist.

The startled sound she made had the veteran jumping himself, ready to kick him of of her if need be.

"You shouldn't be out here, little lady. These streets aint safe." his words were rough and condescending, but his face showed thanks.

Y/N nodded and the man let her go. The veteran relaxed.

He watched as his darling went to exit the alleyway, reaching out to him in a small wave goodbye.

The clone liked to think she was reaching out to take his hand, and to be taken into his arms.

Y/N had just turned the corner when the first crack of thunder rang out. The clone heard the rain start to come down with fury and he was suddenly very concerned for his sweet girl.

He didn't have to worry for long though, she came bolting back around the corner, backpack over her head as she slid to a stop in front of him.

He looked at her, questioningly. Surly she wasn't afraid of the rain, was she?

Y/N shook her backpack out.

"It's, uh, its hailing, not raining." she explained. He saw the golf ball sized spike drop from her back pack. Poor thing nearly got hit.

"Can I, well, can I wait out the storm here, with you?"

The veterans heart was beating a mile a minute.

She came back to him, TO HIM. She sought comfort and protection from him.

He shakily reached out to her, inviting her to come sit down next to him. She did, snuggling up to his side to escape the cold.

The veteran wrapped his arm around her, grateful that he had managed to grab a quick shower at a speeder stop earlier.

The lovely, soft woman snuggled into his side, burying her face in his shoulder under the blanket and muttered out a thanks.

"Your welcome, sweet thing." He muttered back, leaning his head on hers.

His mind was going a mile a minute, his thoughts a whirlwind of love and devotion.

'That's it, pretty, you just burrow in next to me I'll keep you warm. Kriff, you're shivering, lemme just, uh, there we go, all better now.

I'll always help you, sweet Y/N, you can have any part of me you want. I'll hold you through any storm ever, you just say the word, my love.'

They shuffled around a bit to find the best position. She ended up sitting between his legs, her back to his chest and cradled close by both his arms and his thighs.

The clone was glad he had chosen to keep the lower part of his armor on that night. Not only was he actually able to feel his woman's luxurious softness and gentle warmth against his chest and in his arms, but she also couldn't feel the erection that definitely would have been straining against her round ass, branding her with its heat.

That train of thought led him back into his imagination, as the clone wrapped himself and his darling in the large blanket. His arms tightened around her as his head came down to rest on top of hers.

He imagined them in a different place. A cozy, warmly lit bedroom.

It was still hailing and storming but they were safe inside, snuggled together on the bed under a mountain of blankets. Her naked body would be relaxed and pliant, his woman so willing and wanting and trusting as she leaned back into him, mewling as he rubbed his aching need up and down her flushed womanhood.

He'd kiss and smooch at her eyes, cheeks and nose, his hands lightly massaging at the lovely rolls on her side as she sweetly mewled and whined.

He'd shush her and nuzzle into the side of her face as he slowly slipped his cock in, not moving too much, just holding her as she kept his cock warm. The two would bask in each other. Her feeling him in the most intimate and loving of ways. They'd stay like that for hours, listening to the strong winds outside, loving up on each other and he'd hold her close.

The clone could almost cum in his pants at that mental image alone. However he was all too aware of where he was. This was not a soft apartment, and the two were not in a loving embrace.

She was here out of necessity, nothing more.

That didn't stop him from gently nuzzling into her hair as he brought his legs up, cocooning her in his warmth and protection.

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It had been a week since that night.

Y/N woke up in the veterans arms. she must have fallen asleep waiting for it to stop hailing and they somehow managed to shuffle even closer to each other, not an inch of space between them.

She had blushed furiously when he woke, his eyes bleary and tired, before snapping to awareness at how they were intertwined, an uncomfortable tightness in his groin making itself known. He hoped he hadn't rutted against her in his sleep.

Despite the awkward situation, both of them were unwilling to pull away, Y/N finally having to peel herself off him to go get ready for work.

The clone mourned her warmth after she left.

Y/N still blushed at the feeling of the man wrapped around him.

She had definitely felt how strong he was, despite him being homeless. It seemed he never really lost the broad, chunkiness all clones seemed to have during the war.

Her mind would often drift while cleaning. Trying to figure out what he would look like under the armor and thick body suit. Would he be unhealthily thin and sunken, or would he still, somehow have that tank like build.

She remembered learning about how the clones' metabolism was sped up, that they could develop and grow a lot of muscle if they had enough food to do so.

So it would be Y/N's best guess that while he may not have his old strength, he might still be big and soft. Perfect to cuddle on.

She had certainly felt comfortable leaning against him.

Y/N was well aware of this little crush her attachment was turning into.

she wasn't sure if she should acknowledge it or not. On the one hand, he was homeless. On the other hand, that didn't make him any less human, didn't mean he was any less deserving of companionship.

She just couldn't get a good read on him, or if he'd reciprocate, or even react positively to her affection.

then one night, she had been walking home, expecting to see her clone friend with the other homeless in their winter spot. except when she got there, there were police and a body being carted in a bag. She couldn't see any of the other homeless there.

Starting to panic she looked around.

Fuck, she couldn't even call out to him. She didn't have a name to call.

Y/N just kept turning and wondering around, desperately looking for any sign of the white and blue armor.

She was panicking. Her friend could be dead and there was no way to find out. none of the people on the street cared to look at the homeless too much so they wouldn't recognize him, even though he had been a regular in that area for nearly ten years now.

Her breathing was shaking and her eyes were so blurred up with unshed tears that she didn't realize the man she was looking for was approaching her.

The veteran gently placed a hand on her shoulder when she didnt respond to her name, startling Y/N.

Seeing who it was, that her friend was alive, Y/N threw herself around him in relief.

Shocked, the clone hugged her back. Noticing for the first time how small she felt compared to his tall standing frame.

Y/N had had enough.

She had left her friend out on the street for far too long. It could be him in a body bag next.

Sniffling she pulled away slightly, the clone tenderly brushed some hair away that was stuck to her face.

"Please come home with me. You can live there." She asked simply.

The veteran was floored. Never in a million years did he think she would want him to come with her. To live with the love of his life seemed like a faraway dream. He would have sworn that he was asleep and he'd wake up any moment.

But the clone was very much awake. The biting wind making Y/N grimace and shiver was proof.

Tucking his love back into his chest, he whispered a shaky 'Okay' into her hair.

she took his arm and led him down the street and to her apartment complex. It wasn't the nicest of places, but it was far more secure than what he would've expected form this area.

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her home was cozy, like he imagined it would be. it was a small studio/one bed setup, with the bedroom area being lofted an the living space being one big, open plan area with a door that he assumes, led to the fresher.

It wasn't big or luxurious but it was hers, her home.

She made it beautiful.

With her here he couldn't see the ugly building across the street, its neon lights blaring obnoxiously into her kitchen. He couldn't hear the sounds of sirens and yelling from outside the street. He was too caught up with the sense of being in a place that was soft and gentle and comfortable and just so, Y/N.

She was flicking around, picking up bits and pieces and throwing them into random corners to be dealt with later.

As she moved she was babbling out to him. Her voice like a sweet birds.

"I't's not much, but its a roof, four walls and some actually pretty decent locks. Freshers through that door, there's a washer dryer that you can use in there as well.

You'll have to wash and reuse what you've got on until we can figure something out, get you some new clothes. Speaking of figuring out, I only have one bed. ummm, you can sleep on the couch, but its not very nice, fair warning. But, Uhh", she looked embarrassed, red, at what she was about to suggest, "I wouldn't mind sharing the bed, it should be big enough so there would be plenty of space between us and, uh, yeah... I mean, if you want to. If you dont that's fine too"

He knew he should have taken the couch, but he was weak. Years of loneliness had worn him down, and the thought of his love being so close, yet so far, when he had the option to be up in bed, snuggling under the covers with her, pained him.

"If your comfortable with it, I'll sleep in the bed"

she seemed to light up at that. He hadn't turned her down at her somewhat ridiculous idea. then again, she had just brought him home off the streets so maybe it wasn't so ridiculous after all.

"Cool. Yeah, so I'll, um, I'll let you get cleaned up. Here's a towel, and feel free to use anything in there, and just throw your clothes in the wash while in the shower."

she handed him a large fluffy white towel. The veteran couldn't remember the last time he held something so soft, that wasn't his love.

"And don't worry about being too long. For all this place skimps on costs, they are surprisingly generous with their water and heating. So take all the time you need."

The veteran nodded. Somewhat awkwardly. This was all so new to him and he wasn't so sure how he should be acting. But if his discomfort was perceivable, his darling wasn't letting on.

"I'll be in the kitchen. Give a shout if you need anything." With that she left him to his own devices. He entered the fresher and looked around. It was small, but functional. Like the rest of the apartment Y/N had taken it upon herself to make it more homey.

He could get used to this place.

The Clone stripped down, throwing his thin, ragged blacks into the wash and setting it to a short wash/dry cycle. Turning to the shower he turned the hot water on. It was an old water shower/bath combination and he hoped he could use the bath later on, maybe with his love in with him.

Ignoring his cock twitching at the though of them sharing the bath, the veteran observed himself in the mirror as he waited for the water to heat up. It was a reflection he hadn't seen in a longtime.

He was older now, and it showed. His face was lined, his hair greying. His body looked somehow thin and full. Weak and strong. He supposed a constantly changing state of health would do that.

There were times when he was able to get some sort of seasonal help job, working in factories and the like. These were the times when he could eat properly, and that led to his muscle mass being somewhat restored by the manual labour.

Then there were times when he had to beg and scrape for food, desperate for a bite to eat.

The mirror had fogged up now. The clone tested the water and it was boiling hot against his skin. Adjusting the heat so it was a comfortable temperature, the man stepped under the spray.

The sound he made as the water cascaded over his aching body surprised even him. A long, loud and low groan escaped his lips as the spray soothed his muscles and washed away days worth of grime. It felt like bliss to him.

He was going to take his time with this one. Usually the veteran had to get in and out of an icy weak shower in less than two minutes, leaving him barley any time to just roughly scrub his skin with whatever soap he managed to acquire.

But now, he could go slowly. Enjoy himself.

He started by browsing the soaps and shampoos Y/N kept. Smelling the scent of each one. They were all feminine, divine, HER.

He had no issue at all using them. Being able to smell like his love, a constant reminder of her, invisible on his skin, sounded like heaven on earth to the clone.

He started with his hair, lathering a generous amount of the sweet smelling shampoo into his long locks and, seeing no other option, into his beard as well.

He knew they were matted. Maybe he could ask Y/N for some help with brushing and shaving later, looking forward to the possibility of having her hands all over his face and through his hair.

Next, he moved onto his skin. Her body wash had a sweet vanilla smell to it, not too strong. The Veteran saw a clean washcloth on a shelf next to the bath, and reached out for it. He'd clean the water that dripped from his arm later.

The clone shut his eyes in pleasure as he ran the body wash over his skin, rubbing away the sweat dirt and grime. For the first time since he could remember, he didn't smell foul. It seemed like such a luxury to him, and he had to remind himself that he lived here now. His love had said so. He could indulge in this every day.

The thought made him feel bubby inside.

Opening his eyes after rinsing off all the soap, he took a look down at his own body.

He had gained some weight over the last few weeks, having managed to swing a help job at a somewhat shady junk yard. The result was that he was stronger and fuller now, having had constant meals.

This pleased him. Seeing some colour in his skin, seeing some chub around his belly and thighs and arms pleased him.

Idly reaching up to his chest, he groped at his pecs. They weren't as strong as they used to be during the war, but they were far from flat or weak.

The man continued to feel himself up, admiring how he was looking pretty good, despite the circumstances. He went to move his hands lower, run them up and down his torso, when they brushed past his nipples. He sucked in a breath. The man hadn't had the privacy to do this since before the war ended and he was extremely sensitive to any stimulation.

Gently, he circled his nipples with calloused fingers, blood pumping to his cock.

The clone imagined his love in here with him. On her knees, laving his lower belly and the tops of his thighs with little kitten licks and kisses.

The veteran ran his hands up and down his tummy and waist, groping and massaging at his own flesh, trying to convince himself that it was his loves soft hands playing with him, feeling him up.

Finally, he brought a calloused palm up to his mouth and licked a stripe up it. This was not something he had indulged in for a while, and he knew it wouldn't take long.

He had to take the edge off of his pleasure, or he would explode.

Softly, he took his hardening cock in his hand, lightly cupping his balls with the other one, feeling them draw up slightly at his touch.

He slowly started to jerk his cock, smearing pre-come along the shaft as it started to drip from the spongy head.

Already the veteran could feel his pleasure building. The heat in his stomach growing as he saw his darling Y/N, mouth lovingly caressing his need, one soft warm hand tending to him, while the other one played with her glistening pussy, swollen and flushed with her own arousal.

The veteran grunted as he imagined her whining and sighing, content to play with him and bring him to his peak.

Suddenly, he felt a jolt of pleasure run down his spine. He sighed as white, thick pearls of cum dribbled out from his cock, the head hypersensitive to his touch as he worked himself through his orgasm.

It wasn't the most intense one he'd had. But it didn't matter, he could now walk out of the fresher without worrying about scaring his love off because of his unquenchable attraction to her.

The veteran stepped out of the shower after cleaning himself up, running the towel over his face and body before wrapping it around his waist.

He saw that his clothes still had some time left on the dry cycle so he decided that he'd look for a toothbrush to use, he was sure she wouldn't mind.

Finding a spare in the draw the clone cleaned his teeth, contemplating how the hell he was going to fix his hair up. The beard had to go as well. It was itchy and too long for him, his maximum length used to be no more than a few days growth.

He always though he looked good with some stubble.

As for his hair, if it could be brushed out, maybe he'd keep it long. if not, that had to go too.

Spitting out the toothpaste, the veteran heard the dryer beep, signaling that his clothes were done. He wiped his mouth and dropped his towel, using it to mop up any spare water on the floor.

Grabbing his old bodysuit out he took a moment to rub his face into the fabric. it smelt clean, and felt warm and welcoming.

Was everything about Y/N's home like that, or was he just incapable of seeing anything bad where she was concerned?

The man dressed and exited the bathroom, and was met with a delicious smell.

"You didn't take too long, did you?" Y/N chirped at him, putting a lid on something.

"I know its early, but I figured you'd be hungry so I just made some pasta. It's almost ready"

Not knowing what else to do, the clone sat on the couch. There was no table, the space wasn't big enough for that but there was a coffee table that substituted.

After a few minutes of watching Y/N work with a practiced ease, she came over to him, two plates in her hands. Handing one over to him she plopped down on the squishy couch next to him, digging into her food with gusto.

He smirked slightly. She obviously enjoyed her meal, and he found out why.

It was delicious. simple and filling and comforting.

He enjoyed every bite, hiccupping from the speed that he ate. she pushed her plate to the side, taking his with it, then reached up, hovering a hand over his head. He lowered his face and leaned towards her, giving the green light to touch him.

Y/N ran a hand through his hair and he whimpered, it felt so good.

The woman pretended not to hear but her slight hesitation gave her away. She cleared her throat.

"Ah, I think we should do something about your hair. Do you need any help, or would you just prefer to get rid of it and uh, start again"

The thought of having some more of her touching and scratching at his scalp pushed any idea that he might've had of shaving his hair away.

"I'd like to try and save it, if that's okay."

"I'll do my best"

Having a task, a mission in front of her, YN was able to clear her mind, immediately coming up with a list of things she would need.

"yeah, that should be fine. I'll just grab a couple of towels and some other things from the bathroom and we can get started."

The clone watched as his beautiful Y/N trotted off into the bathroom, admiring the way he body jiggled when she walked.

When she came back out again she had her hands full of towels, with various brushes and bottles on top, as well as some hair ties around he wrist.

Dumping the items on the end of the couch, Y/N cleared away the plates quickly, making room for her to work. When she came back she gestured for the clone to stand up, and placed various towels over the couch to protect it from whatever she was about to put in his hair.

He'd be lying if he said he wasn't slightly nervous.

"You can sit back down now, face the window, and I'll sit behind you" she said as she pulled up a stool to the arm rest.

The clone got as comfortable as he could at this angle, sighing when Y/N started to spray something onto the ends of his hair and gently begin to work a comb through it.

"By the way, this is going to sound stupid but, I never got your name." she spoke quietly, soothingly.

The clone backed his head up into her hands, immensely enjoying her care.

"Never took one" he stated simply.

The veteran wished he still had the social grace to answer in more than five words, but he just couldn't do that yet. It was like a muscle that had been frozen for a long time. He would need work to function properly again.

"You've never had a name?" Y/N asked, sounding surprised and sad.

He didn't mean to upset her so he tried to explain.

"I, ahem, never found the right one. Non seemed to fit"

That was good. A full sentence.

"That's, kind of sad. I'm not going to lie. All this time, and you never found any name that fits. At all? No nickname or anything to go by?"

The clone swallowed. she had unknowing touched a nerve.

"My brothers...They tried. Nothing stuck"

"Brothers...?"

"Other clones"

"I see. I'm sorry"

He was glad to be facing away from her. Touched bye the sincerity of her words, his eyes had actually started to fog up.

The veteran sniffed.

"Don't be. it was a long time ago"

Y/N was well aware of what the clones went through after the war. forced to exterminate the people they were bred to protect, than cast out alone into the galaxy without so much as human rights. And to think her poor friend didn't even have a name to call his own. Only the old, battered armor that was neatly piled in the corner of the room.

"You could choose one. It doesn't have to be now but, uh, can I be honest?"

The clone turned his head slightly, a little unsure of where this was going but he grunted his consent anyway.

"I was, scared, earlier. You weren't there, the others weren't there, just the cops and a body bag. I couldn't even call out to you. There wasn't anything for me to call. I don't mean to seem selfish, but please don't make me do that again. It, I don't know. It hurt, I guess. I thought you had died"

Her hands were steady, but her voice broke slightly. She truly did worry for him. The thought warmed his heart, and saddened him at the pain he caused, accidentally or otherwise.

The clone took Y/N's hand, placing a kiss on her palm. he heard her sharp intake of breath as he pressed her hand to his bearded cheek.

"I'm sorry, mesh'la. I never wanted to hurt you."

His sweet Y/N didn't say anything. she had nothing to say, so instead she dropped her head down on top of his, pressing into his hair for a moment before straightening up again, bringing the comb back to his head.

She had made it about halfway up. The tangled matts of his hair were lovingly worked out with patience, and they revealed soft, silky and slightly frizzy hair. Y/N suspected a curl pattern.

"Help me pick one?"

"What?" Y/N responded, confused.

"Help me pick a name. I cant think of any."

"Are you sure, its not too personal?"

"There's no one else I'd have pick one out"

Y/N was touched.

she struggled to think of any that may fit. after some umm'ing and ahh'ing, she threw a few suggestions out at him.

"Hmm, what about...Hail?"

"Hail?" he responded. Less than enthusiastic.

"I guess not. Torrent?"

The clone stiffened at that suggestion. Y/N decided not to bring that idea up again.

"What about you. Any ideas?"

"I think, I want an actual name. Not a thing. I was always called a thing. It's why they didn't give us names..."

If that didn't make Y/N want to cry and fight at the same time...

"Real names. Got it. Uhh, Mathew?"

"Eh"

"Ok, Andrew?"

"Nah"

"Ooh, what about Cody?"

"Absolutely not."

He seemed especially against that suggestion. Another thing Y/N would steer clear of.

"I have one more idea. How do you feel about Gabriel?"

"Gabriel?" He seemed a lot warmer to that suggestion than the others.

"Sure, why not. I think it suits you"

The veteran was a little choked up.

A name. An actual name. One that she chose for him. He liked it. It was, strong, pretty and had a nice ring.

"I think...I could be Gabriel. Yeah. I'll be Gabriel"

"Well then, Gabriel, it's good to finally meet you." Y/N greeted him, the first one to use his new name.

Gabriel felt like he could be a new man, now.

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

Afternoon turned into evening quicker than they thought it would. Y/N had managed to untangle Gabriel's matted locks, brushing them out and running some oil through them while giving him a scalp massage.

He tried to tell her she didn't need to do that, but then Y/N hit a good spot, just behind his ear and he groaned and melted, relishing in his darlings sweet giggle.

She was done with his hair too soon for Gabriel's liking though, so he asked her to help him with his beard.

"I want it gone, if you can" he had instructed. Y/N couldn't blame him. It must've felt uncomfortable.

So, once again going into the bathroom and coming back out, Y/N started to trim Gabriel's beard.

He took in her look of concentration, her steady hand and the fact she seemed very comfortable with her task.

"You've done this before?" He asked as she pulled away for a second, checking the length and finding it short enough for a razor.

"Don't move. I don't wanna nick you. And I do. I... I had brothers, once. Same as you"

He understood her meaning. All to familiar with the feeling of loss and emptiness and of something missing that never goes away.

"What happened?"

Y/N took out a straight razor.

“A home invasion. My family owned a house on the other side of Daiu. It apparently had gotten out that my father had some sort of Stache in his house. Jewels or cash or beskar. Something stupid like that,"

She took the razor to the top of his beard, carefully working in the same direction that it grew. Her hands steady, but her voice was once again breaking.

"My mother and I, we were out at the time. It was just my brothers and father. They tried to defend what little we had but they were gunned down anyway. They should have just let the thieves look. We had nothing of value.

That was 3 years ago now, my mother drank herself to death a few months later. It's been just me, ever since."

Gabriel didn't know what to say. He couldn't have imagined that this precious girl, working so sweetly and gently on his face could have such a bloody history.

"I'm sorry, little one."

Y/N pulled away. Wiping the razor off on a towel and trying to discretely wipe a tear away.

"It's okay. It is very sad, but, it's in the past now."

She went back to work on the other side of his face.

"Besides. It's not all bad. I've met you haven't I?"

"I don't think many would consider that a positive" he answered flatly.

Y/N, who had finished his beard and was now wiping his face, looked Gabriel in his eyes.

"I do" she simply stated. So sure and genuine.

Gabriel couldn't help himself.

She was so close. Her lips looked so soft, and for the first time in over a decade, he went in for a kiss.

It was clumsy and quick, but sweet. However, Y/N was so shocked she didn't respond.

Gabriel pulled away quickly, as if burnt.

'What am I doing?' He thought, disgusted with himself.

He couldn't stay in the same room as her, not right now.

With no pride left to spare he rushed to the bathroom, locking the door and sliding down against it, pulling his knees to his chest.

'I've ruined it. I was so close and I ruined it. She probably doesn't want me like that, she probably wants me gone now.'

His thoughts spiraled out of control as he heaved and panicked alone in the bathroom.

On the other side of the door, Y/N was getting herself together.

She wasn't expecting the kiss, but she was happy to know he felt something for her after all.

That made his rushed exit hurt more. She didn't want him to be scared to love her. So, gathering herself, she went and knocked on the fresher.

She didn't know if it was locked or not but Y/N wanted Gabriel to let her in, willingly.

There was no answer. She knocked again.

"Gabriel? Please open the door. I'm not mad at you, I promise. I was just surprised."

Gabriel heard her sweet call cut through his panic attack. He wanted to move but couldn’t bring himself to.

So he sat there, and answered.

"I...cant. Not yet. Please, Y/N, I'm sorry. I, I was...I'm sorry."

Gabriel could only apologize. His broken voice was small and scared and it broke Y/N.

"Don't apologize Gabriel. There’s nothing to be sorry for. I...I actually liked the kiss. I just, didn't think you’d want, well, me. Not like that”

Her gentle voice was starting to lull Gabriel out of his frozen state. His limbs uncurling and his head leaning back against the door.

it was a few moments before she heard him answer her.

"You... I can still stay here, with you? You still want me?'

He needed to hear it. He needed her to say that she wanted him to stay with her.

"Yes. I want you Gabriel. I want you in my home and my life."

"Say that again, please?"

"I want you to stay here with me, Gabriel. In whatever sense you want. Whatever your willing to give, I'll take."

Gabriel did a double take.

"What are you saying?"

He understood her words, but couldn't process their meanings. She couldn't be saying what he thought she was saying, could she?

He dared to hope a little.

"Open the door, please. Let me in and I'll tell you everything...show you everything, if you want"

Gabriel didn't know if he groaned or sobbed.

"Yes. Yes, please Y/N. Please"

"Open the door, my love"

Y/N had her forehead leaning against the entrance, her hand over the panel. It seemed like an eternity before she felt the tell tale shudder before it slid open, revealing one very distraught clone trooper.

She reached out to cup his face, his eyes reluctant to meet hers for fear she'd see the pain and shame and love in them. Love for her.

"Oh, Gabriel. I could never want you to leave." Y/N wiped a stray tear away.

"For as long as you want, you have a home here with me. I'm my house, in my arms, my bed and my heart, if that's what you want. It’s yours. Just say the word"

Gabriel was crying in earnest now. She, did she love him?

He brought her in close. He plush, warm body like a safety blanket to him. Comforting and real. Gabriel buried his face onto Y/N's shoulder and sobbed.

"I...Y/N. My sweet, beautiful Y/N. I think your the love of my life"

He managed to gasp out, into her sweet smelling hair.

Gabriel felt the comforting action of Y/N's fingers massaging his scalp, and he nearly purred at the gesture.

"I am yours, Gabriel. Have been for quite a while." She pulled back from him. Gabriel tried to crowd into her again, not liking the distance but Y/N had other plans.

"Come to bed with me?"

He almost choked.

"Yes. Yes, please. I need this - you- so badly. Please"

"Sweet gods, you must've been so lonely all those years, you poor man. Come on, come to bed. Let me make love to you, my Gabriel"

Y/N had no idea where this confidence was coming from. She was neither the most confident or the most experienced. But this man, this beautiful man made her want to bring him so much pleasure and love that he never thinks about his hardships again.

Y/N took his hand, and led him up to her lofted bedroom. It wasn't big, but the huge window reached above the ugly neon lights, illuminating the room in a golden glow.

It hit Gabriel's face and Y/N sucked in a gasp.

"What's wrong?" He asked, spooked.

"Nothing, it's just, your so pretty!"

He whimpered.

"That's right, you! Your such a pretty, beautiful man that I'm going to take to bed, okay? You just tell me what you like and don't like, yeah?"

Y/N started to undress him, sliding the top of his undershirt up past his stomach and chest slowly. She felt the muscle and the fat there, playing with the sweet rolls at his sides, running her fingers through the salt and pepper hair on his broad chest, scratching lightly at his skin.

The man was panting by now, longing and pain screwed his face up and Y/N could tell this was an extremely emotional and vulnerable moment for him.

"It's okay to cry, my love. I'll hold you. We don't have to do anything if that makes you feel better" she explained, understandingly.

"No! I want this, I want this so bad it hurts. It all hurts I just...I need to feel it, feel you"

He didn't know how to explain it to her. He wanted her to love him while he cried onto her shoulder.

He wanted to feel her riding him, warm and wet and soft, while he shed tears of grief and love.

He felt so much, he wanted to explode, and he wanted to do it with Y/N, surrounded by her presence and her body.

He felt so safe with her here. It wasn't something he'd felt before, ever.

Y/N, amazing that she was, nodded understandingly.

"Alright, Gabriel. You do that. You cry and grieve as much as you want. I'll love you for as long as it takes." She pulled away, stepping back.

"I'm going to undress now. Then I'm going to go and sit on the bed. I want you to climb on top, into my lap okay? Trust me on this."

How could he not. She had every part of him. Mind, body and soul.

Gabriel tried not to stare. He REALLY tried. But he failed, openly gazing at his love as she stripped down to nothing. Bare and beautiful in the winters evening sun.

She was curvaceous, and lush and luxurious looking, her body straight out of his most beautiful dreams, stretchmarks and all.

She walked past him to the bed. Gabriel thought he'd pass out after seeing her naked ass and thighs jiggle.

She got herself comfortable, stacking pillows behind her and motioned for Gabriel to join her.

Swiftly, he discarded the rest of his clothing, his straining need bouncing out of confinement and twitching at the object of all his desired being right there, right there in front of him. Willing and lovingly enthusiastic.

Y/N reached a hand out to him, guiding him to sit in her lap.

The lotus flower position, he vaguely recalled. His brothers who had been smitten by their bed partners had said it was a religious experiance for them. He didnt understand then.

He does now.

He let Y/N settle him down. Rubbing and massaging and playing his body like they were always meant to end up here.

she messed around with the drawer in her bedside table, pulling out a bottle and squirting some of its contents into her palm.

Gabriel whined when sweet Y/N brought her lube slicked hand down to feel him up.

"Ooh, you're so big, so ready. Your perfect for me. Your such a good, strong man" she sighed out.

Y/N felt so good, even just her hand was so much more incredible than what he could have imagined.

Working his cock tenderly, she smeared pre come from the head around his shaft, and reached down to fondle his balls, when she spoke.

"Are you...when was the last time you were checked? Do you have an implant, or..."

He groaned, having forgotten about that.

"I'm sorry. I'm clean, clones dont get STD's, but I had to have my implant taken out years ago..."

He buried his face back into Y/N's neck, lightly nipping and licking at the skin there, trying to dedicate her taste to his memories.

"Shhh, shhhh. That's okay sweet boy. Your still doing so well. Your so good being honest with me, yeah. I have the implant, so I'm confident in our safety, but if you want, I have condoms we can use."

Gabriel could understand her wanting to ensure both their safety, but the thought of her potentially round with his child, glowing with new life, lit a spark he didnt know he still had.

"That's okay, Y/N I... I dont mind. I actually, well... never mind that now"

Y/N rubbed the clones back soothingly, running her free hand down and squeezing his ass to pull him further into her, while the other one still caressed his weeping, angry cock.

"There’s more, isnt there? You dont have to be frightened or ashamed, I'm right here for you."

"I... I couldn't help it. You were talking about being safe then I just saw you, pregnant with my baby and...you were just so pretty, so perfect and glowy. Y/N please, I'd never force that on you, I mean it"

"Hmm, good boy. It's alright. I'm not mad. Who knows, maybe one day there will be a little me and you running around," the clones shoulders shook, Y/N felt the first of his tears hit her shoulder.

"There you go, that's right, let it out. Maybe one day. But for now, let's just focus on making you feel better. Why dont we start here."

She let go of Gabriel's cock and brought her hand to her opening. It was soaked. Aching and swollen and so ready for his love.

She slicked up Gabriel's cock with some of her own juices, lining his head up with her hole.

"You gotta go slow for me, okay? Be gentle. It’s, been a while"

He nodded in her shoulder, silent tears still streaming down her back.

Gently, so so gently, he started to push in, his breath coming out in ragged puffs against Y/N's back, while she whimpered at the stretch of him filling her.

They performed this slow, sensual dance for what seemed like an eternity.

The gentle push and pull of Gabriel's body as he slipped his cock into Y/N, inch by inch, made time speed up and freeze all at once for both of them.

Finally, he bottomed out. Gabriel had completly buried himself in the woman of his dreams, his balls resting against her ass as she leaned back, adjusting to his full size.

They sat there for a while. Gabriel inside Y/N, his legs wrapped around her hips, his arms encircling her shoulders, pressing her to him.

Eventually, Y/N started to rock him. Not only encouraging him to move his hips, but rocking his upper torso back and forth, guiding him to his completion while providing a soothing gesture for him to lean into.

He came in her, coating Y/N with his love as he groaned and whined and babbled his devotion into Y/N's tear stained shoulder.

Y/N held him through his orgasm. rubbing his shaking shoulders and legs. shushing and humming as his breath jumped and he whimpered out his pleasure.

"Good job. You did so well for me. Shh, shhh. It's okay, you beautiful sweet man. I love you. I love you so much Gabriel"

Y/N kissed her lovers shoulder and neck, pressing her cheek into the top of his head when he pulled away, cupping her face and bringing it in for a nuzzle before pressing his forehead against hers.

It was an incredibly sweet and tender gesture, Y/N thought she was going to melt when he spoke up.

"Did you cum too?" he asked, his voice small and shy.

Y/N shook her head. An understanding smile on her face.

"Not this time, beautiful. This was about you, not me.

Gabriel wouldn't take that for an answer.

Slowly, he slipped his cock out of Y/N, wincing as she hissed.

He gave her a loving kiss before going down on his knees on the floor, bringing the flushed woman to the edge of the bed, determined to make her feel how much he loved her.

Gabriel took her hand in his, entwining their fingers before he gripped the soft fat of her thigh, and dove between her legs.

Y/N jumped a mile in the air. He sucked at her clit and lapped at her pussy like a man starved, kissing and nipping lightly around her flower.

He cleaned up any cum that may have been leaking out of her, not minding the taste, just reveling in the holistic experiance she was allowing him to have.

He may have been clumsy, and a little uncoordinated, but what he lacked in experience, he made up for tenfold in enthusiasm.

Gabriel drank from Y/N like it was the juice from the sweetest and tangiest of fruits, the finest of honeyed wine. His dedication to her, his worship, led to an orgasm in no time at all.

“Gabriel! I, ooo, that’s good. Just like that. I think…Gabriel I’m gonna, I…HMMMMMMNGGG!”

She came with a low groan, her nectar coating his face as he lapped up as much as he could, before wiping his mouth and resurfacing for a kiss.

Y/N didn’t mind the taste of herself on his tongue, and together they cuddled up, snuggling in their after glow.

All too soon though, it became too uncomfortable and sticky for them to stay in bed. They both went to bathe, ending up in the bath and watching a holo on Y/N’s data pad together.

Y/N could tell he wasn’t getting into the show, though. Gabriel was more interested in watching her. Watching her expressions and the way she lit up or screwed her brow together at the plot.

Eventually Y/N got tired of the Holo as well, turning it off and putting it down in the floor next to the bath.

Turning around, careful not to splash too much water over the sides, she wrapped her arms and legs around Gabriel’s torso, sinking into his softness with a sigh of content.

“Your warm and comfy” she breathed out, just about falling asleep on his chest.

Gabriel’s heart swelled with pride. He couldn’t help it. His ego was stroked by the woman currently trying to bury her way into him, trying to get as close as possible to his warmth and safety.

Yeah, he liked that he could make her feel safe, even if there was no danger. He liked to protect and now, he had something he could look after like he’d always wanted.

after what seemed like no time at all though, the water turned cold. Too cold for his love to stay in without catching a cold.

“My love?” He gently whispered into the sleepy woman’s ear.

She whined in response, earning an amused huff from him.

“I think we should get out. It’s too cold for you”

“Nooo. M’not cold, and I’m comfy too”

Y/N clung tighter to his chest, not wanting to peel herself off of him. He didn’t have the strength to try and force her.

So instead, he just slid his hands under her ass and awkwardly stood up, taking her with him.

This seemed to startle the woman, who slid off with a squawk.

“All right, all right. I’m up” she said, annoyance at being disturbed lacing her tone.

“Come, little one. Let’s go to bed.”

Y/N yawned and nodded. Too tired to fight and lured behind him by the promise of a warm bed shared with the large, soft man.

When they got upstairs and climbed under the covers, they snuggled up again, with Y/N on Gabriel’s chest and tummy like a weighted blanket, and him with his arms around her.

It felt cozy, right.

Maybe all those years of suffering meant something after all.

Gabriel felt a warm tingling. Y/N had started kissing whatever skin was closest to her lips, giving gentle little kitten licks and nips along the way.

“Love?” Gabriel questioned, not sure of her intentions.

Y/N yawned and nuzzled back into his soft, hairy chest. Gabriel felt more than heard her reply.

“Nothing, beautiful. I just, I love you”

She was already asleep by the time Gabriel answered, snoring sweetly and gently. Content to rest trustingly in his arms and on his heart.

“I love you too.” He slurred sleepily, joining her in dreams knowing he’d see her there too.

Yeah, it had all been for something after all.

#yandere clones #Yandere kenobi clone #Yandere homeless clone x plus sized reader

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