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ddejavvu · 9 months

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Betrayal - Obi-Wan Kenobi x Reader

Summary: months into the war and it's not as exhilarating as you'd hoped - not for your battalion, anyway. when the air conditioning in your compound blows, an old friend brings his tech genius of a padawan to fix it for you. while anakin is working, you convince his master to spar for old times' sake, and simple adrenaline gives way to a landslide of long-buried feelings neither of you should have for each other.

Contents/Warnings: smut, minors dni, fem!reader, jedi!reader, reader is a general, sweat kink (? they are really sweaty and i talk about it a lot), oral (m+f receiving), semi-public sex (risk of being caught), sparring, lightsaber use, throatfucking, messy kisses, scratching/marking, lotsa spit, obligatory 'had you said the word' (sorry satine i had to steal his line)

WC: 16.9K / navigation / inbox

A/N: sorry this took me so long to finish! i didn't have time to write for like two months but it's done now and i hope you enjoy it <3 this is set a couple months/a year into the clone wars, but i have chosen to fuck with their ages a little bit. in this, anakin is like 12-14-ish, even though he was older in AOTC when the war began.

feedback is greatly appreciated! comment, reblog, talk in the tags, send me a message, tell me what you think!

Neglecting the option of taking a padawan under your wing is what stuck you on this humid, blazing, hellish planet, and you almost regret it. You’d wanted more freedom in your duties, didn’t want a youngling clinging to your leg begging for help with their rudimentary saber drills, so instead you swapped it for what you thought would be constant battle, exhilarating speeder chases, and the glory of proving yourself. Unbecoming of a Jedi to wish for, yes, but you’ve never claimed to be Council-worthy.

Now your butt is sticking to the chair you’re planted in, overlooking a very empty, very desolate, very boring outpost. It’s so hot that you think you’ve melted into the chair and fused with its fabric. Standing might tear your skin away from your flesh, leaving an imprint of you behind in your seat.

“General,” One of your clone troopers calls, sticking his head through the doorway to your station, “Nothing on my scanners.”

“Nor on mine,” You drawl lazily, “We’re scheduled to be inspected today. Any word from the crew?”

“None.” He laments, “I just hope they bring a droid that can fix the cooler.”

The base you’re stationed to isn’t always this disgusting. The structure is wired with an air conditioning system to keep the inside much cooler than the outside, but after a rather unfortunate incident with a freshly manufactured astromech droid with some crossed wirings, both lay broken and singed in the maintenance bay. Your clones don’t know how to tinker with droids or heating systems, and you’d probably wind up just as ash-covered if you tried.

“Alert me when they land,” You order the trooper, leaning your forehead against the cool metal of the scanner screen before you, “I want to have time to change into an outfit I haven’t soaked through with sweat.”

The scanner grows warm against your flushed skin far too soon. Everything is hot, and sticky, and gross, and you find yourself yearning for the cold showers you used to despise at the temple. Perhaps you yearn for the temple in general, for the familial atmosphere shared among overconfident Padawans and exasperated Masters. You think specifically of Obi-Wan Kenobi, a man you’d trained with, now Master to his apprentice Skywalker.

You haven’t seen the pair in years, but you remember Anakin’s blonde mop of hair, as well as his penchant for chaos. Watching Obi-Wan’s eyes fill with horror at whatever shenanigans his Padawan had gotten into that day was part of what helped you make the decision to decline one yourself, though you hold no distaste for the boy. He was simply young and untrained in the ways of the Jedi, and you were not a patient enough person to gracefully navigate that predicament then. You’re not sure you are now, either.

Even though you know you’re better suited on your own, you wonder if you’d have been more fulfilled with a Padawan learner of your own. Surely anything could be better than this, wasting away- rotting on a planet hot enough to boil your blood if you stepped outside without proper protection.

Your base is secluded and temperature-controlled, even if the contraption that the Republic had fashioned under pressure of time to keep you isolated is rather crude. It’s, in essence, a large dome, seals in place to ensure that vessels can land and takeoff without destroying the temperature control. It’s cooler within the dome than it is outside of it, but the hurriedly-designed system can only do too much, and you greatly depend on the air conditioning to do its job. Now that it’s not, you’re irritated from the heat, and you wish that the inspection team would just hurry up already. The patience you’d had drilled into you from your early years as a Youngling is nowhere to be found under the pressure of a heat wave, and your foot taps impatiently against the floor while you itch for some action.

You think it’s rather pathetic that you yearn for excitement so badly that you’re anxiously awaiting the inspection team. Their job takes barely an hour, a scan of your equipment and a survey of your troops. They’ll walk in and out without so much as a pleasantry, but you long for something new, something more, something exciting.

The call over your comms comes over an hour later, a time in which you remain at your post but begrudge it all the while. “General,” Your trooper barks, voice staticky and rough over the channel, “We’ve got visitors. Inspection team’s here. Initiating landing procedure.”

“Copy that,” You bolt out of your seat, barely remembering to lean over the microphone to reply, “Thank you.”

Finally.

Finally, someone new to talk to, even if they have the same face as everyone else you’ve spoken to on this long, dreary assignment. You’re friendly with your troopers, of course, but that itch for more is back in your brain, igniting you with vigor you don’t normally possess as you rush to greet the inspection team.

However, when you reach the landing bay, and the ship’s hydraulics hiss, clone troopers aren’t the only ones to disembark. Jedi robes make their appearance, shrouding the very man you’d just thought about, as well as the child by his side.

Obi-Wan wears the years that have passed since you last saw him, but time has treated him well. His hair is longer now, gone is that stiff Padawan buzz. His braid is missing as well, giving way to luscious strawberry blonde strands that he’s slicked back so that they drag against the back and sides of his neck. Longer hair looks good on him, just as it had when he was fifteen and had refused a haircut for months in a typical, if rather tame, display of teenage rebellion. Anakin is also significantly older than you’d kept track of, but he can’t be older than fourteen if his lanky limbs and awkward demeanor are any evidence.

Obi-Wan smiles at you, and you nearly forget to shove down that shameful part of you that wants to take more out of him than he can give you. Even as Padawans you’d always gravitated towards the man opposite you, sneaking out to roam the gardens after hours together or sharing sly glances across mission briefings. But he’s an honorable Jedi Master - a member of the Council itself, so you’ve heard - and you wrestle down your repressed feelings to grin at him.

“General Y/L/N,” He greets with a smile so charming you lament that the Jedi Order interrupted his chances of being a model.

“Master Kenobi,” You greet, but you know he’ll chide you for the honorific if you use it more than once, “I wasn’t aware you’d be on the inspection team.”

“We’re not. Technically.” Obi-Wan admits, arm coming to press against Anakin’s back and nudge him forwards, “We got word that your air conditioning system is out, as well as one of your new astromechs. Anakin here is still an excellent mechanic, I thought we’d come out to offer you some reprieve from the heat.”

Anakin looks embarrassed by the attention that’s fallen upon him, in typical pubescent fashion, and you take pity on the timid teenager, casting your glance back at his Master, “Maker, thank you. We’re melting out here.”

“I can imagine,” Obi-Wan laughs, and you turn again to Anakin who’s anxiously awaiting your orders.

“Anakin, if you could fix our air conditioning, that would be wonderful. Honestly, I’m not even sure I want the droid fixed, it’s what got us into this mess in the first place. But they’re both over there,” You point to the shorted out panels, “And my troopers will offer you any supplies you need, like tools or wiring or refreshments.”

“Thank you.” Anakin nods, hands clasped behind his back obediently even if he looks mortified to be the center of attention once more, “I’ll have things up and running as soon as possible.”

“I’m leaving you here,” Obi-Wan warns the boy, pointing an accusatory finger at him, “I don’t often leave you alone with machinery and tools, Anakin, for reasons we’re both aware of. Promise me you will not do anything reckless?”

“I promise,” Anakin mutters reluctantly, and you avert your eyes so he has some semblance of privacy.

“I mean it, Anakin. This is no time to experiment with your technical prowess. You simply fix their system and you wait for me back on the ship, understand?”

“Master,” Anakin pleads, “I understand.”

“Very well. Get to your duties,” Obi-Wan dismisses the boy, turning to you only after he sees his Padawan crouch by the singed panel.

“He shouldn’t take long. He most likely will try to tinker with the astromech, though.” Obi-Wan smiles sympathetically, “He’s not one to leave a droid unusable.”

“I remember he had a particular talent for mechanics,” You muse, starting off towards the main base intent on leading Obi-Wan to your rec room, “If I recall correctly, he figured out how to inconspicuously rewire his communicator to give you an ‘unavailable’ signal if he didn’t like what you were asking him to do.”

Obi-Wan scoffs as he lets you lead through the doorway, “Yes, my Padawan has always had very selective hearing. I’m sure you don’t mind not having one of your own.”

“That’s one of the reasons I justify my choice,” You chuckle, letting the door shut behind you as you make your way through the halls. The base that the Republic had granted you is spacious, even decked out with training facilities and rec rooms interspersed throughout your rows of quarters, but it’s unbearably hot and you’re tired of being cooped up inside of it.

“This isn’t bad for a base,” Obi-Wan muses, robes swishing behind him as he strides beside you, “But I hope Anakin fixes that cooling system soon.”

“Try being stationed here permanently,” You scoff, tugging at the sweat-soaked neckline of your tunic, “I have long since abandoned my robes.”

“Do you have somewhere I could set this?” Obi-Wan asks, fingers catching the front of his cloak as he slings it off. It falls gracefully from his shoulders, and he holds the garment up as he laments still having to wear the rest of his robes.

“You can leave it in my quarters,” You veer sharply to the right, letting him catch up, “They’re just down this hallway.”

There’s unmarked doors on either side of the corridor, and you’re still impressed that each clone trooper knows where their bed is at night. Your door has a plaque beside its frame that reads ‘General’s Quarters,’ and you’re not confident that you could navigate the halls without it. You type in your access code, and the door slides open with a hiss.

“Just set it on the bed,” You gesture towards your mattress, “If we have some time, I thought,” You reach into the closet, pulling out your seldom-used lightsaber, “We could spar.”

Obi-Wan laughs, discarding his cloak onto your bed as his eyes crinkle happily at the corners, “You’re lacking a bit of excitement here, aren’t you, Y/N? There’s no way you’d duel me willingly after I took you down the last time.”

You’d sparred together since you’d been handed a saber for the first time. Sure, your initial weapons were wooden, then training blades designed to be duller than their more advanced counterparts, before you’d finally been granted allowance to manufacture one of your own. But there were no more dedicated sparring partners than the two of you, and you can tell the man opposite you is fond of the reminder you’ve given him, even if he is trying to tease you.

“You did not take me down,” You gawp, “I mean- yes, I was on the floor, but I wasn’t done! You didn’t win!”

“Mm, yes. I didn’t win because no one did.” Obi-Wan sends you a sly grin, “Anakin interrupted us, don’t you remember? We never got to finish.”

“Then a rematch,” You insist, gesturing towards the open doorway, “Once and for all we’ll prove who the better duelist is.”

“Oh, I’m sure you’ll win. After all, I can tell you spend every waking moment practicing and making sure you lose none of your fighting abilities,” Obi-Wan’s hand darts out to switch on your holotable, revealing an in-progress game of chess. You’re losing.

“I’ve only been using that as of late,” You snap, defensive, “It’s insufferable to train without proper ventilation. And only when I’m not on duty. I don’t spend all of my time sitting and playing chess.”

“Losing at chess.” Obi-Wan arches an eyebrow, finally stepping out of your quarters so that you can shut it once more, “Come, Y/N, show me to your training grounds.”

The training room is just as hot as everywhere else on the base. You walk through the doors and humid air greets you, something that wrinkles Obi-Wan’s nose and rustles his mustache.

“God, I hope your Padawan knows what he’s doing,” You groan, rolling up the sleeves of your own tunic but jumping excitedly into action despite the heat. You ignite your saber, slightly embarrassed by the thrill that the weapon gives you as it thrums to life. You haven’t felt this in a long time, at least, not paired with the thrill of battle. It’s significantly less awe-inspiring to ignite a saber against a training droid you know wouldn’t be able to singe your tunics if you stood stock still. Obi-Wan brings his to life as well; blue and green lights bathe your faces.

“I’ll go easy on you.” He smiles infuriatingly, cocking his head slightly to one side, “Ready?”

“Ready.” You jolt right, a fakeout before you dart left instead. He catches on rather quickly, though, and his blade clashes against yours as you aim for his leg.

“Nice start,” Obi-Wan admits, “But you can’t rely on misdirection for your entire fight. You’ll have to overpower me.”

“I could easily overpower you,” You swing left, breaking the contact of your two sabers, then jabbing so that he has to move his foot out of the way to avoid the plasma. He stumbles, barely catching himself against his back foot, but it gives you time enough to bring your blade up and around to nick at his shoulder, a hole now slashed into his tunic.

“Okay,” He stands straight, eyeing the tear in his clothing warily, “I won’t go easy on you.”

“Never underestimate your opponent,” You tease proudly, saber still ignited, “That’s one for me, Obi-Wan.”

“That doesn’t count,” He scoffs, standing at the ready, “I told you I’d go easy on you. Now I’m serious.”

“All I’m hearing is excuses,” You gloat, feet light as you step around him, “You lead this time, Kenobi.”

He does. He swings downwards, and you block your face with your own blade to stop him. He nearly jabs at your gut before you can prevent it, and you feel the heat from his blade as your own comes to block his.

You fling his weapon away with yours, and he lets you. After such a long period of no action (and shamefully little meditation) your abilities with the Force have grown slightly weaker, as have your regulatory skills. You can still sense what he’s going to do when he squares his shoulders, but you’re almost not fast enough to interpret those senses, and you barely make it to block him from swinging his blade in a fiery circle that would clip the edge of your arm.

“You’re rusty,” He taunts, his own Force abilities stronger than ever as his presence seeps through the cracks in your mind. You try to force him out, but it takes effort, and it’s effort you can’t expend elsewhere. It means that you can’t foresee his intent to aim for your face, and his blade hums inches away from your cheek as he holds it there.

You freeze; you’re caught.

We’re even,” You grunt, sweat beading at your forehead, “But we’re not finished.”

“Hang on,” He disengages his saber, letting the apparatus clatter to the ground as he tugs at one of the outer layers of his robes, “I’m going to shed a few things.”

“Stripping will not help your cause.” You tease, “I’m not distracted by sex appeal.”

Clearly, he isn’t expecting your jab, and he lets his mouth fall open as he slings off one of his garments, an incredulous laugh filling his throat.

“Y/N. You’ve obtained a foul mouth somewhere along your career. It certainly wasn’t in the temple.”

“It’s the clones,” You groan, “Try being stationed with a troop of grown men who went through puberty in record time. They’ve got the appetite of an adult with the filter of a teenage boy.”

“They’ve never tried anything with you,” Obi-Wan narrows his eyes questioningly, and you try to avoid looking at the sweat glistening against his tanned neck as he strips to his base layer.

“No, they’re respectful.” You assure him, “Just crass.”

“Yes, well,” Obi-Wan frowns distastefully, “They haven’t had Jedi training. I suppose I’m not surprised.”

He stands there for a moment with only his undershirt covering his chest, then decides that it’s still too warm, tugging at its hem to raise it over his head.

You feel your insides ignite with a fire you haven’t felt in a long time when his bare chest is exposed, skin marred and riddled with coarse, wiry hair. His stomach is flat but not as tight as you remember in your youth, softer now. You can tell there’s an impressive layer of muscle beneath the milky white skin, though, even if it’s not outwardly visible. He uses his tunic to wipe the sweat off of his face so you’re granted a moment to ogle him, your mouth watering as you try to conceal your thoughts.

“Okay. Enough with this child’s play.” You shake your head, letting Obi-Wan have just enough time to toss aside his tunic before you plant your feet against the mat. Obi-Wan stands at the ready, both of your sabers ignited, “I want a real match. A long one, now that we’re warmed up. Best two out of three, Kenobi. Winner takes all.”

“Winner gets to stand in front of the air conditioning vent when Anakin gets it up and running,” Obi-Wan suggests, sweat trailing down his neck and over his chest. You avert your eyes, lest the fraile state of mind you’re in betrays you.

“Fine.” You shrug, reaching for the hem of your vest. It’s tactical, good for keeping with you on duty, but it’s etching lines of sweat into your back now. You sling it off, letting it land in a heap similar to Obi-Wan’s robes, and exposing the tank top you have on beneath it. “I know just the one I’ll pick. In my room, there’s one just above the bed. Maybe I’ll let it hit my back while I win at holochess.”

“I think the heat might be getting to you,” Obi-Wan cracks, a slight heave to his chest as he tries regulating his breathing. It’s hard when you’re as hot as you are to get enough oxygen, and you’re doing the same. It’s awfully difficult not to indulge in the view of his bare chest rapidly rising and falling, and you feel a tug below your gut as a vision flashes through your mind. It’s of what else could make him pant in such a way, and you can’t afford to entertain the thought, not around him. “I’m not sure which outcome is more delusional; that you’ll win this duel, or that you’ll win at holochess.”

“You’re wasting time,” You croon, charging with your blade poised for battle so that you have no more time to fantasize, “I think you’re scared.”

“Do I feel afraid?” Obi-Wan laughs, blocking your attack with little effort and redoubling to launch one of his own. The clatter of your sabers almost drowns out his words, “Reach out, Y/L/N, all you’ll feel is confidence.”

“I’m not sure I could feel you if I tried,” You lament, chest heaving as you block one of his swings, “Not while my mind is occupied with our duel. I am rusty, you were right.”

“Practice more,” He chides, “Less chess, more meditation.”

“One is a lot more boring than the other!” You groan, barely managing to get your arm up in time to take a shot at his own, “And the less boring one is chess, so that’s really saying something.”

“It may be boring but it is beneficial,” Obi-Wan lectures you, and you wonder if he thinks you’re still a Padawan. You fight with heaving breaths and monumental effort, the heat sucking your energy out through the sweat that drips down your skin. He turns and his back is glistening, which is really not a sight that helps you to stay focused.

“Now I’m starting to see why Anakin tinkered with his communicator,” You call, as Obi-Wan whirls around your left side, “You’re very dull as a Jedi Master!”

You have to throw yourself onto the floor to avoid a swing at your head, your right shoulder aching as you do so. But you scramble away from him, righting yourself and miraculously avoiding the blade of your saber coming into contact with the training mat.

You stumble to your knees, driving the forward momentum you have against Obi-Wan as he tries blocking you. You nearly get a nick out of his pants, but he pushes you backwards with the threat of his blade, and you fall with your back to the mat.

Your stomach drops when a blue blade hums hot and bright near your throat, its tip directed at your jugular. It doesn’t matter that it’s on its training setting; it’s inescapable and daunting when it’s an inch from your skin. You’re done for.

“I may be dull,” Obi-Wan pants, beard glistening as sweat streams down his neck. His chest heaves as he speaks, bare and open for your eyes, and his pink tongue pokes out of the corner of his mouth to dart along his lips, “But I am victorious. Does this remind you a little bit of the last time we fought?”

It does. He’d been standing over you then as he is now, and you’d had to fortify your mind back then not to let slip vulgar thoughts about being on the floor below him. His thighs, meaty with muscle and strong from training, are hidden behind loose pants, but their crotch has tightened slightly, a chub to what should be a relaxed surface.

A pang of arousal shoots down your spine, and suddenly the lightsaber near your throat isn’t the most daunting thing in the room. It’s Obi-Wan.

He swallows, his adam’s apple bobbing as you lay beneath him.

“Your thoughts betray you,” He observes, and you feel his invasive presence in your mind, sucking out the private thoughts coursing through your brain. They’re of panting breaths, heaving chests, wandering hands, and meshing tongues; passionate embraces, intimate attachments. Things no Jedi should fantasize about, not under the code. Things that should bring shame to you, and maybe they do, and maybe you like it.

“Your body betrays you,” You’re able to muster, swallowing the saliva pooling in your mouth as you glance pointedly at his bulge. It’s only grown since you’d last glanced at it; evidently your visions did something to him too.

He sees, or perhaps, feels what you see, freezes, then clicks his saber off. The blade retracts with a hiss and there is a distinct vacuum of sound where its humming once was. He breaks the unnerving silence with a clatter as he tosses it aside, feet still firmly planted on either side of your hips.

“It’s natural.” He weakly supplies, a poor defense, “It’s adrenaline-fueled, nothing more.”

“Really? So when you duel sith lords, when you chop the heads off of battle droids, you walk away with a stiff dick?” You carefully observe his body language, feet poised like he might bolt if you make any sudden moves. He’s flighty, and you have to make your next moves carefully.”

“Y/N,” He begins, his voice weak, “I wish you wouldn’t use such foul language.”

“Is it the language that bothers you?” You push your elbows against the mat, hoisting yourself up at an obtuse angle to meet his eye better, “Or is it the truth it carries? Obi-Wan, you were right. It’s natural. And it is not something to be ashamed of.”

“It is against the Code,” He reasons, his voice still fighting to sound resolute. He offers no other reasoning, and you know it’s because he has none.

“It’s not.” You insist, “The Code is ancient and rigid. And celibacy is not required, only a level head.”

“That’s the problem,” He chuckles weakly, “I don’t have a level head when it comes to you, Y/N.”

“You seem as though you do.” You press cautiously, careful not to push your luck, “I’ve never felt anything unprofessional about your feelings towards me.”

“That’s because I haven’t been around you in a long time,” He admits, “Not consistently. I was better at controlling it- no, hiding it when we were Padawans. I had to do it every day, it was natural to me. But I am out of practice now, and I have been since you were stationed here. I barely have the ability to hide how I feel about you, Y/N. And- and it is not something the Council would approve of.”

You sit up now, fully straightened. You’re still between his legs, but you’d need to rise to your knees for your face to be level with his bulge. You plan to.

“The Council is not here. Nor can they see us, or hear us, or feel us. They will not know what we do, Obi-Wan.”

“I will know.” He breathes, his voice growing weaker each time he tries raising it against you, “Y/N, I will never forget a thing we do together on this base. If we… If you touch me, I will remember every brush of your skin against mine for eternity. If you- kiss me, I will never be able to put the thought of your lips on mine out of my head. And I would not know how to live without it for the rest of my life.”

Your heart sinks in your stomach like a stone in water. He’s loyal to the Order, he always has been. But you’d been so blinded by isolation, so convinced by your own delusions, that you’d assumed his loyalty to you would be stronger. But it’s not, and you can’t earnestly be angry with him for it.

You swallow what little saliva has accumulated around your tongue to give yourself something to do, then rise to your feet.

“It sounds like you should walk away.” You mutter regretfully. His eyes hold the same feelings, strikingly painful. He nods, almost imperceptibly, but before he can follow your orders, you continue.

“But will you forgive yourself if you do?”

You feel it, his swell of emotions. Every single one is unbridled, yearning, heartache, fondness, want; all of them unleashed from the man whose mind is usually a fortress. They’re washing over you like waves, invading your brain and turning your thoughts their colors.

“No. I couldn’t,” He admits, “But-” and there’s always a but, “The Council would never forgive me if I didn’t.”

“They won’t know.” You insist, but it’s lost on him, “Obi-Wan, please make a decision. Who is more important, you or the Council?” Then in a more timid, soft voice, as his soft eyes bore into you and beg for mercy, you give him the opposite, “Who is more important… me or the Council?”

He kisses you. There is no warning, no shift in his Force signature, only his hands on your face and his lips on your own. There is strength in his touch, his hands firm where they pull your cheeks ever-so-slightly towards his face as if he’s trying to mash them into his own. His beard is rough and grating against your face, but it’s not unpleasant, especially when it brings with it his lips. His lips, which are much softer than you’d have imagined them, merely frame your own. The kiss is sweet but chaste, and the only indication you have that he wants more is the way that he holds you against him. Otherwise you’d mistake his courtesy for disinterest, and you tilt your head slightly sideways to encourage more enthusiasm from him.

When your lips reconnect he sighs, a breath from his nose that fans over your top lip. He’s letting you lead, letting you dictate whether you want to keep kissing him or whether you’ll suddenly switch positions; it’s like he’s afraid that you’ll rip off a mask and reveal yourself to be Master Windu, scolding him for his reckless passion. But of course you don’t, and you lick gently against the plush of his bottom lip instead.

He hums at the feeling of your tongue against his mouth, but he’s suddenly pushing against your cheeks instead of pulling.

“Are you absolutely sure,” He starts, but can’t seem to resist the temptation to steal another kiss from your spit-slicked lips, “That you- mm, that you want this? Because I cannot-” He breaks off with a weary, pleading, defeated look in his beautiful eyes, “I cannot turn back if we go further. If we proceed… I will not be able to forget what we do. If you’re not interested… please tell me now, so that I may save myself from loving you for an eternity that you do not wish to share with me.”

You scoff, moving in for another kiss at his lips. He doesn’t reciprocate, only pushing you back so that you can respond.

“I just spent five minutes,” You pant, desperate to reconnect your lips, “Bargaining with you to get you to forget about your nerves. And you don’t think I want this?”

You try surging forwards again but he holds you back, eyes still begging for your words.

“Please. I need to hear you say it.” He seems almost self-conscious, worried you’re not interested in him the same way he’s interested in you. But you have been since you can remember, and you’re more than willing to work around the unconventional aspects of your relationship if it means you can have him, even just for today.

“I want you,” You breathe, the exhale hitting his lips, “Please- Obi-Wan, I want you. I want you no matter what the Code says. No matter what the Council says; I want you.”

He looks like he could cry. He is devoted to the Order, far more than you have seen most Jedi, and to hear you choose him over the Code must mean a great deal. He pours passion into the kiss you share, chest filling with oxygen that he gulps just to be able to keep his mouth on yours for longer. He consumes you, fingers pulling at your cheeks and tugging you closer still, like he thinks you might fuse if he tries hard enough.

He groans into your mouth, his tongue more exploratory now that you’ve pledged your devotion to him. He’s not afraid of taking now, of getting his hopes up only to be thrown down, and he swipes the wet muscle in a hot stripe over your own tongue. He rolls it against your lower lip, so wonderful to kiss for someone with such lacking experience.

“No one is coming,” You breathe, exhaling against his mouth as your hands wander to his waistband, “No one- no one can see us.”

“I want you in your quarters.” He protests, grabbing your wrists when your hand sinks to his bulge and ghosts over it. He jolts at the unexpected contact, but holds you back, “I want to lay you down, Y/N, I want to indulge in every part of you. Worship you.”

“I will let you,” You moan, tilting your forehead against his and mouthing at his lips in a sloppy kiss, “You may have me any way you want, Obi-Wan. But here, I- I want to have you. I need to have you now,”

“Impatient,” He notes, sounding suspiciously close to lecturing you. But he lets your wrists go, and you sink to your knees instantly. He hears them hit the training mat, knows they must ache, but he can’t find any part of him available to worry about it, not now that your hands are prying greedily at the waistband of his trousers.

He’s a near stranger to physical pleasure, at least in recent years. He’s a grown man, he has urges, but he also has responsibilities, and the constant pressure of an ambitious (read: reckless) young Padawan under his supervision mixed with a quickly-rising rank within the Jedi Order leave him with little time nor interest to indulge in his barest desires. Your hand gently squeezing his clothed bulge as you wrestle with his pants nearly knocks him off of his feet, and he’s not sure he’ll be able to handle having your warm mouth envelop it.

Finally you tug loose the drawstring within his pants, and yank them down his thighs. They’re seldom bare, you see from the milky white tone of the skin there, but they are muscled and thick like he does not neglect them.

You can’t help yourself when you lean forwards, tongue already protruding from your mouth to lick a fat, wet stripe around one of his thighs. It’s sturdy beneath your tongue that dips into the crease between his skin and the parts of it that are covered by his briefs. His muscles tense like you’ve struck him with a fatal blow, and an open-mouthed groan escapes his lips.

His skin tastes of the sweat that’s currently moistening every inch of your bodies, salty and tantalizing. There’s no escaping it in the brutal heat, but it makes him all the more sexy, his skin glistening before you even get a chance to smear it in your saliva.

You’re guilty of impatience as he accuses, and you can’t resist mouthing at his covered bulge. He’s half-hard, but when your lips purse around the outline of his cock in his briefs he twitches, and you feel him stiffen against the restraints of his underwear on your tongue.

His knees give out with no warning, and he barely has the foresight to grab desperately at a bench press behind him for stability. He falls quickly to its surface, perching on the edge of it while you desperately chase his cock. You fit your mouth again over his briefs and drool against the fabric, surely soaking it through with your saliva. His cock, though restrained, is heavy and thick on your tongue, making your mouth water and produce enough drool to soak through his entire ensemble. His hands clutch the bench beneath him with white knuckles, and he grits his teeth to stop himself from shouting as you suck at his clothed cock.

“Oh, Y/N,” He pants, voice strained as you get lost in your task and forget that you need to actually pull his briefs down. He reaches for your head, gently nudging you away with his knuckles against your temple.

“Darling, please, I can’t- I won’t last for very long. Please, have me properly.”

He grips at the waistband of his underwear, tugging them down hurriedly and letting his cock spring free. It’s of decent length, but slightly thicker than average, its base shrouded by a patch of curled hair at his groin. It’s a similar caramel color to the rest of his hair, and his sweat has accumulated particularly within its wiry constraints, leaving him musky. The smell might bother you if it were anyone else, if you were anywhere else, but here and now, on your knees for Obi-Wan in the training room, it’s the most disgustingly tantalizing thing you’ve ever smelled in your entire life.

That’s why you bury your face into it, the hair tickling at your skin. His hips jolt as you inhale deeply near the base of his cock, groaning and letting your tongue fall to drag against just the shaft of his erect dick. He’s painfully hard, embarrassingly seconds to orgasm, and your spit now glistening on his length doesn’t help. Or it helps too much; either way, he’s close to cumming and you haven’t even had a chance to put him in your mouth.

“Darling,” He begs, pushing at your forehead once more, speaking through an eternal shortage of breath, “Please, I- it all feels too good. I can’t take it. I won’t last long.”

“That’s okay,” You pant, your breath falling over his cock as it practically pulses with pleasure, “We’re here for a good time, not a long time.”

“Terrible,” He manages to chuckle weakly, but any further chiding he has planned for your cheekiness is cut short when he stops breathing. He actually forgets how when your wet mouth closes around the head of his cock, your tongue licking flat over its head and covering most of its surface area. It’s so much sensation so fast that Obi-Wan has to clench his hands around the bench not to cum right then and there, and he feels pinpricks of pain over his skin that he realizes are from his fingernails digging against his palms. When you draw your head back off of his cock with a slick sound, then move in again to take more of his length into your mouth, his lungs suddenly remember their function, and heave within his chest.

His groans are filthy and they only pool more slick wetness between your thighs as you kneel for him. You don’t care about the ache in your knees, nor the pain in your neck from the slightly awkward angle you’re indulging in him at. All that matters is his cock, heavy and thick on your tongue, sweat and precum alike flooding your taste buds.

His restraint is put to the test. He’s a member of the Jedi Council, for Force’s sake, and he should have a little more control over himself than this. But it takes almost all of his energy not to buck his hips forwards and plunge the length of his cock down your throat, and it means that he’s not able to devote as much restraint to delaying his orgasm as he’d like.

He’s twitching in your mouth, and even with your faded Force abilities, mental muscles weakened by disuse, you can feel the tension coursing through his veins, hot and wild. You don’t need to look at his strained, white-knuckled grip on the edge of the bench to know that he’s devoting all of his energy to restraining himself, and you take pride in being able to undo Jedi Master Obi-Wan Kenobi with merely your mouth. You indulge in his painful hardness, tongue smoothly caressing the underside of his length as you bob your head back and forth around him. Each time you draw back you flick your tongue up and over the ruddy, leaking head of his cock, something that makes that fiery tension in his body glow even hotter.

“I’m going to-” He warns you, voice petering out weakly as he tries controlling himself, “I can’t- I can’t help it, I’m going to cum.”

“Cum,” You speak in unison, your word coming out muffled as you speak it against his cock. You smooth your hands up his thighs, feeling his muscles impossibly tight beneath your fingers. You stroke them soothingly, encouraging him to unclench his jaw that’s wired so tightly that you’re sure his teeth are on the verge of cracking, “Cum, Obi-Wan, please.”

Even if you hadn’t asked him so kindly, he’s sure he wouldn’t have been able to withhold any longer. Not with your pretty eyes gazing up at him from between his legs, lashes latticing the tender emotions swirling in your gaze. Your fingers slide calmly, sweetly over the expanse of his thighs, and the mere thought of you digging your nails harshly into them and leaving marks is what elicits the final twitch of his dick on your tongue.

Evidently, you’re more in tune with his thoughts than he’d expected. You’d caught the quick image that had flashed through his mind, now completely unguarded to you, and you curl your fingers quicker than he can comprehend, carving searing marks into his thighs that will show up red for at least a week. Paired with the movement of your fingers, you suck hard at his cock, plunging your face forwards to nestle against the base once more. His tip hits the back of your throat with force and it makes you gag, and Obi-Wan isn’t sure what sensation is more overwhelming: the vivid burning at his thighs, the way the tip of his dick nestles so securely into the warm, wet sleeve of your throat, or the way that you’re breathing in his sweat-marred scent like it’s the purest oxygen you’ve ever had in your lungs. All he knows is that together, they’re his undoing, and he lets out a rugged cry; he can’t control himself any longer when pleasure roars through him with a fury he’s almost frightened of.

He’s always calm, collected, in control. But now he’s grabbing your face with shaking hands as he pumps warm spurts of cum down your throat, holding your jaw steady so that you can’t back away, not that you want to. He holds you in place while his thighs begin to tremble, your tongue continuously smoothing over the underside of his cock while it twitches in your mouth. He keeps himself fully nestled into the back of your throat while he cums, and if he had energy to be embarrassed about cumming as much as he was, he’d be apologizing. But he can’t, not when you’re swallowing him so eagerly, throat convulsing around the head of his cock and only milking more out of him. There’s obscene groans coming from his mouth, the kind that bring heat to your own core, and you think you could get off to the sound a thousand times over if you recorded him now. They’re deep, throaty, and desperate as he holds your face around his cock, gagging you on his dick as his orgasm takes control of him.

A part of your training that hasn’t left you yet was your extensive disaster training, in which you were taught how to extend the time for which you could hold your breath. That comes in especially handy when Obi-Wan’s hands cradle your jaw, keeping you snugly choking around his dick. You have to fight not to draw back at the strange sensation of your throat being plugged while his cum splatters against the back of it,, and you use all of your strength to keep yourself from panicking at the lack of airflow. You’re only slightly ashamed to admit that you’d willingly die like this, a fucktoy for his cock.

Once his orgasm has worked its way through him he seems to remember you can’t breathe, all of the tension having leaked out of his muscles. He inhales with a start, pushing against your cheeks and tugging his cock out of your mouth, “Oh, Y/N, darling- Y/N, are you-?”

At the sight of your spit-soaked lips, tongue desperately running over them to collect any of the sweat that had accumulated there from being pressed against his pelvis, he lunges forwards to meet his lips with your own. He can taste the slight savory hint of his own release, your tongues meshing wetly and messily. He’s hunching now, even though you’ve straightened up on your knees, and he feels you clumsily palm at his dick, tucking him back away into his briefs. It makes his lips go slack with a gasp even though he’s just finished, and he’s more than eager to take you by the wrists and help you to your feet. You toss his undershirt at him with careless speed, and he nearly gets lost in its beige expanse from the way that his arms shake as he pulls it over his head.

“My quarters,” Your voice is thick and ragged, still recovering from your prior lack of oxygen, “We can- it’s soundproof, no one will know.”

“Yes,” He breathes, legs shaking slightly as he gathers the rest of the clothes he’d shed while sparring with you, “Um- we can... Anakin still hasn’t gotten the air conditioning running.”

“Uh-uh,” You shake your head, feeling nothing from the vent to your left, “Hurry, let’s go before-”

“General,” The door slides open, and you both startle, much less in tune with the force presences of those around you than you’d like to admit. One of your troopers sticks his head through the door, “The kid needs a multitool.”

You blink once, registering a slight soreness at the back of your throat, “Get him a multitool, then.”

You’re sure he can see your haggard appearance, and all apart from the glossy look of your lips looks like you’ve been sparring. Which you have, technically. You just hope Obi-Wan’s trousers don’t look like they’ve only just been hitched up around his waist again, or his shirt barely pulled down over his chest.

“I lost mine, general,” The trooper admits sheepishly. There was an abundance of the supplies that were offered to you before you’d been shipped out to this battle station, and more had been stocked for a long time in one of the supply closets, but your troopers are bored more often than not, and you shudder to think of all of the times they’ve used them as target practice by standing them on the balcony and opening fire. Apparently, you need to request some more from the next inspection team, as well as impress upon your troops the difference between an abundance of resources and useless clutter begging for a blaster wound.

“I have one in my quarters,” You sigh wearily, “Let’s see to it that we don’t misuse our equipment anymore, soldier.”

“Yes, General,” He nods vigorously, stepping out of your way to offer you the open door.

“Obi-Wan,” You turn apologetically, “We’ll have to continue our sparring match after I retrieve the multitool for your padawan. You’re welcome to follow us, though I’m not sure it’s any cooler out there than it is in here.”

“I’d like to stash my clothes somewhere, if you don’t mind,” Obi-Wan holds up the outer garments he’d shed, “I think it gives you somewhat of an unfair advantage if I’m liable to trip over my own tunics.”

You grant him a good-natured laugh as you pass your trooper in the doorway, and all in all, you think that the two of you have done a fantastic job at pretending his dick wasn’t in your mouth only minutes ago.

Your trooper makes the wise decision to stand outside of your quarters when you enter them, although any initial disappointment you’d felt at his poorly-timed request has well worn off by now. That’s all he’s guilty of, anyways; you find their antics amusing despite their destructive nature. It’s not his fault that you’re canoodling with the Jedi master, so you forgive him his abhorrent timing. You beeline for a locker in your closet, punching in the numeric code and letting the squeaky hinges reveal your small weapons store. It’s a multipurpose space, blasters on a rack that’s affixed to the back, a mount for your saber, and a drawer of various other mechanical supplies down below. You throw it open, and Obi-Wan watches you dig for the multitool where he stands by your bed, his tunics laid on your bedspread.

You realize all too late that one of your other mechanical supplies is in full view of the Jedi master standing behind you, black in color for subtlety but unmistakable in shape. It’s phallic and has a second prong that shoots off of the base to vibrate against your clit, something you only use when you're absolutely certain no one can hear. Besides, the sound could very well be mistaken for one of your troopers shaving their scruff, so you have ample opportunity. You snatch the multitool out of the drawer and slam it shut, making your trooper’s shoulders twitch in a quickly concealed wince. You’re thankful that only Obi-Wan was a temporary witness to your lack of organizational skills.

“Here,” You rush to hand it off, forcefully locking the cabinet and thrusting the tool towards the trooper, “Take it- uh, keep it, I’ll put in a request for more supplies tonight.”

“Thanks, General,” He nods warily at you, and you pity the way he’s taken your context clues and misarranged them to view your behavior as standoffish and exasperated with him, “My apologies again.”

“No worries,” You try not to snap at him, unnerved by the abnormal lack of mental pressure from Obi-Wan behind you. He used to tease you abundantly in your youth, prying at your mental shields and slipping snide remarks through the cracks while you fought to keep a straight face, but now that he’s laid his eyes on possibly the most embarrassing item you own, he’s completely still, completely silent.

“Goodbye.” You shut the door with a hydraulic hiss, and stand facing it until Obi-Wan speaks, pretending to fuss with the control panel.

“It seems you overlooked another multitool in that drawer,” His voice finally reaches over the silence, carefully bundled so that the underlying mirth is something you can only guess at, “Now I wonder if your battalion is really the cause of your foul mouth.”

“Shut up!” You whirl on him with cheeks blazing on opposite sides of your face like Tatooine’s twin suns, “Don’t tease me-”

“I’m not teasing you!” He insists, voice sounding aghast, like it’s out of the question, like he’s offended by the accusation, taking your arms into his grip when you look like you might shove him. His face is split into a smile - not a grin, which is reassuring - but a warm smile, even if there is amusement twinkling in his eyes.

“Yes you are,” You scoff, and you have half a mind to pull away when one of his hands releases your arm and anchors itself against your face instead. It’s warm, rough from wear but impossibly gentle. You fight leaning into it for as long as you can, pride still bruised, but he leans in to press his lips against your forehead in a chaste kiss.

Typical.

You’d gagged on his dick ten minutes ago, and he’s kissing your forehead.

“Darling,” He hums sympathetically, tucking your face against his chest so snugly that you think it was engineered for the curves and bumps of your skin. You relish the hug he traps you in, the tender hold even though you’re interested in something more carnal, feral, hungry. His voice is strong and soothing as he speaks, and the vibrations thrum through his chest and against your face “You had my cock in your mouth not ten minutes ago. I’m not going to make fun of you for having a toy.”

Oh. Perhaps he hadn’t forgotten.

“Such a foul mouth,” You admonish him, tucking your grin away between the haphazardly-righted folds of his tabard.

He pinches at your side, fingers greedily prying at the soft flesh of your belly through layers of clothing you wish weren’t between your skin and his, “Yes, well, it’s because I’ve had yours all over me.”

His hand, similarly bold to his mouth, flattens out along the curve of your side, tucking into the space above your hip bones. The other stays in place against your cheek, finger running idly across the underside of your jawline. You don’t know whether the shiver that shudders down your spine is due to the ticklish nature of his touch, or the sensual area he’s chosen, but he feels your spine thrum, and he presses further into you like it was an invitation.

“Darling,” He starts, back to that well-practiced hesitancy, “If you still want to…”

“I do,” You nod, feeling sweat drip down the back of your neck and soak into the fabric of your tank top, “Do you think we have time?”

“Anakin can occupy himself with scrap metal and multitools for hours,” Obi-Wan recollects with a smile on his face that isn’t committed to fondness or resignation. You’re sure he’s proud of his padawan’s abilities, but not of the havoc he wreaks with them.

“Hmm, that might be cutting it close,” You pretend to debate it, gnawing at the inside of your cheek, and he lets out a laugh as warm as the runoff heat from his saber with none of the bite of its blade.

“You’d occupy yourself with me for hours?” He teases, but when you nod, it’s earnest.

“I’d occupy myself with you for the rest of my life, Obi-Wan.”

The breath that he draws in when you begin speaking is the last one he draws for a while. Instead he holds it there, letting it burn and sear at his lungs while he wonders if any words he could produce with it would contain even a fraction of the yearning he feels roll over him in a nauseating wave. Very little has ever made him want the life of a civilian - his home is between the opulent walls of the Jedi temple, but any walls he shared with you would be infinitely more grandiose if only for your place within them.

“Had you said the word,” He elects to speak the truth, even if it isn’t even a chip away at the trove of feelings he keeps locked tightly away in his mind for you, “I would have left the Jedi Order.”

Would have.

You know why he won’t now, and you’re not upset with him for the reasons. You understand them, even if you don’t relate to them.

“But Anakin…”

“I know,” You nod against his chest, fingers taking hold of his undershirt’s fabric edge and fastening there, “You made a promise to your master. And to him. And he needs your help. I wouldn’t ask you to leave.”

“Would you have? When we were younger,” He idly strokes down the length of your spine, arm wrapping comfortably around your waist.

“Maybe…” You admit, “Maybe if I’d known your trip to Naboo would bring about such change. Maybe if I’d known I only had a few years left with you as we were. But I didn’t. So I never asked. And I never will.”

He doesn’t react verbally or physically after your confession, but the silence that ensues isn’t an awkward one. Instead, he maintains his hold on you, and you feel a gentle wave of affection flow from him through the Force. Affection, appreciation, love, which you feel so broadly through the Force, but rarely so devoted to you yourself rather than the galaxy in its entirety. You’re no stranger to the feeling, but it’s different channeled privately between two people than it is as a way of life.

“Let us pretend,” Obi-Wan finally musters, his voice thicker than usual, though if you were not so in tune with him you wouldn’t have perceived it, “For the next few fleeting moments, that we are still young. That we don’t have responsibilities other than those to ourselves, and to each other.”

Though your youth may have escaped you, your mind weary with resignation and Obi-Wan’s eyes darkened with the perpetual exhaustion of adulthood, his touch does not feel tired or incapable. It feels strong, firm, and mindful where it slips from your chin to your waist. His other hand sandwiches you between them, and you’re tilting your chin up to kiss him before he gives any indication that he’ll do the same. But he does, his boldness almost reset from the interruption you’d suffered. Like you need to coax him out of his shell again, like he’s worried you’ve somehow changed your mind.

You take the back of his neck in your hand, finding it slick and tacky with sour-smelling sweat, and pull him down so that his lips smash messily to your own. It’s a move he’s not expecting, and a startled groan escapes his lips as proof. You drink it, sucking it down your throat and pulling him towards the bed with the same backwards momentum. He’s nimble even if he’s unprepared, probably to do with his extensive agility training. You’re more than ready to fall back onto your bed when your calves butt against the frame but he lowers you down gently, with ease, drawing back from your kiss despite your fervent protests to watch you look up at him.

“Obi-Wan,” You beg, your voice weary, “Why are you hesitating?”

“I’m not hesitating,” He answers, and you feel it to be truthful, “I’m admiring you, darling. I’m not unsure, I’m more sure than I’ve ever been in my life.”

“Prove it,” You plead, already pulling at the hem of your tank top. You peel its sweat-soaked binding off of your skin, showcasing the equally stained garment beneath it that keeps your chest closer to your neck than your stomach, “Please, Obi-Wan, take me like you want me. Not like you feel bad for having me.”

“I do not feel bad for having you,” He promises, mouth barely parting from yours to utter the words. His lips are pink-tinted, glistening with spit, probably a mixture of his and yours. He pants slightly, cheeks similarly ruddy, “Perhaps later I will. When I stand in front of the Council and tell them we conducted routine maintenance. When I lie, when I guard my memories of you from them. But I’m not occupied with that now, darling. Only with you, I swear it.”

“Oh, well, that’s good to know,” You hum, kissing an inch lower than his mouth, the apex of his chin that’s marred by the scruff of his beard. It’s prickly and rough beneath your lips, and when you draw back they glisten with transferred sweat, “I’m glad you’re not thinking of Master Yoda while dipping a knee between my thighs.”

“Oh,” Obi-Wan ducks his head, advances on pause as he plants his forehead against your shoulder, “That’s awful. Really, truly vile.”

You laugh, and despite his disgusted bravado, so does he. His chest shakes against yours and you relish the sound, hand still planted firmly on the back of his neck. You briefly consider breaking out your rusty Yoda impression, ‘kiss me, you must’, but decide against it, instead choosing to press his head closer to your torso, letting his forehead lay flush and sweaty against your shoulder. It puts the scruff of his beard on the curve of your tits, and you feel it burn your skin as he kisses along it lightly.

His mouth is soft, and his beard is its abrasive opposite. They trail in tandem along the slope of your breasts, first the soft lips and then the burn of the beard, until he’s lit a fiery trail across your skin to the padded edge of your bra. When his lips meet fabric instead of skin he noses beneath it, surely smelling a morning’s worth of sweat accumulated beneath the weight of your chest. You’re self conscious, for only a flash, then he takes a deep drag of air, inhaling until his chest seems fit to burst.

“I’m sorry,” You find yourself humming, regardless of his clear interest, “I wish a shower would help. Even the cold water doesn’t prevent sweating.”

“I don’t want you to shower,” He muses, pushing his face between your breasts to kiss at the skin between them. He mouths gently, tongue sliding over your skin with little form and too much spit that blends well with your sweat, “Sex is not sterile, darling. Soap and water defeat the purpose.”

You’re not sure whether it’s his insistence on the natural state of your body or the way that his knee gently prods against your center, but whatever it is, your fingers itch and you fling them up to cup the underside of your chest.

“Take it off,” You beg, and Obi-Wan shows no hesitation in complying, his hands sliding beneath your back, rough and weathered from work. They’re gentle as they slide over the clasp of your bra, and you push yourself up onto your elbows on the mattress so that he can maneuver the stretchy fabric easier.

“Does it hook or button?” He nudges his nose against yours to ask, and your stomach flops at the question. Both the fact that he doesn’t have enough experience to know, and the way that he feels comfortable enough admitting that to you by asking so earnestly only make you want him more, and you’re barely able to mumble ‘clasp’ before pressing your lips to his own once more.

“Three,” You add later, against his lips, when he unhooks one and still doesn’t have the garment undone, “There’s three.”

He takes your orders with unfailing patience, a trait you’d admired even in your youth. While you’d been more prone to hotheaded outbursts, he’d take you by the arm and speak for the both of you, usually resulting in far less severe of a punishment than you’d have gotten if you’d spoken your mind. Then the two of you would share sneaky, fleeting glances at each other while scrubbing the floors of the refectory, trying not to laugh loud enough for the Knight unwillingly supervising your punishment to hear.

You’re pulled out of your reverie when he finally unhooks the garment and slips it off of your shoulders, meaning you have to draw back from where you’d tucked your face over his shoulder, giving him a view of his work. As your faces pass each other he offers you the same grin he’d worn all those years ago, his pretty eyes alight with the love you feel seeping from his fingertips. You see a glimpse of the boy he was through the man he’s become, and both are equally endearing to you. The first, because you’d grown with him, like ferns tangled together in sticky, clinging tendrils. The second, because he wears his accomplishments on his face, crows feet at the corners of his eyes from laughing at his padawan’s wayward antics, and frown lines for scowling at the same incidences only moments prior. He’d laughed at you in your youth, and frowned just the same at your more uncouth ideas for adventure, and now those expressions are etched into his face, like layers of makeup no longer dissolvable with remover. He’ll wear them forever, and you want to see him display them even in his old age.

He watches the way that your body moves when he peels the sweat-soaked garment away from your chest. He watches your breasts succumb to gravity’s harsh pull, sloping sideways and downwards rather than maintaining their tight compress towards your chin. He watches them sag, watches them fall to their natural state and declares, “You’re beautiful, darling.”

He takes them in his hands, their mass in his palms as he rolls his thumb over the skin of your nipples. They’d usually pebble in the cold but now they’re pulling taut beneath his touch, and when he brushes his thumb over their peak you stifle a gasp.

“Beautiful,” He repeats, and leans down to meet one with his mouth. He gravitates towards the right one first, and the embrace of his hot mouth against your skin tempts your back to arch. His tongue presses flat against your nipple, then drags up its surface, and his lips kiss over the stripe of saliva he’d left behind.

His beard rubs against your skin and it’s not rawing, not yet, but you know it will be the more he mouths at your breast. He’s licking, sucking, pulling, but never biting, teeth merely grazing your flesh rather than indulging in it. His tongue does that instead, flattening out over your raised flesh and dragging hot, wet stripes over the bud of your perked nipple.

“Obi- Obi-Wan,” You gasp, dragging desperate, heaving breaths into your lungs as your hands fly to his lengthened hair. You’d ruffled it many times when it was short and spiked, but now you’re able to get purchase in the strawberry-blonde locks, curling your fingers around the soft, sweat-darkened strands and pulling.

You don’t pull hard, but it’s unexpected, and you feel the momentary pinch of Obi-Wan’s teeth around your breast. It floods heat to your already-pulsing core more than you’d have thought possible, considering the sweltering temperatures you’ve been in the whole time, but the soft groan that then ripples through your skin from the depths of his throat only makes you more desperate. All of a sudden the long-suffering heat is tepid by comparison, and you yank at the material of his undershirt so hard you nearly rip the fabric.

“Off,” You pant, “Please, take it- get it off, Obi-Wan.”

In a fluid, crouched movement Obi-Wan tears his undershirt off with one hand at its hem, his muscles flexing as he swings the arm up and over his head. He discards the shirt carelessly beneath him and it droops to the floor, no longer covering the bare skin of his chest that you’d admired earlier.

You have half a mind to do to him what he’s been doing to you, to sink your teeth into the flesh of his chest and suckle on his sweat-soaked skin. But he dips his face back to mouth at your tit once more, so you settle for running your hands greedily, desperately over the layer of soft skin that blocks his muscled chest from view. When he was younger, what seems like an eternity but must only be five years, his build was more defined. You’d gotten plenty of eyefuls of his bare, heaving chest during a particularly intense sparring match, or down by one of the large pools that were definitely supposed to be used more for reflection and tranquility rather than the chaos you’d wreaked upon them. But years of planning someone else’s schedule before his own has meant that he’s softened out around the middle, muscles still prominent when you dig your fingers into his skin, just not starkly visible anymore.

Age does that to a person; pushes them harder than ever before to achieve a less-defined result than they’re used to, but you find that you want to grind down onto the thin layer of pudge he’s accumulated just as much as you’d have wanted to drag yourself over his defined abs. The thought of doing both, either, anything makes you dizzy with desire that you express by scratching your sharpened nails down his skin, feeling his muscles shudder beneath your fingers.

“Darling,” He groans, choking on the word like it’s gagged him, “I- I think we ought to- are you ready?”

You marvel at his sincerity, at the idea that he’s not aware of the throbbing, slick mess that your core has become. You’d been ready twenty minutes ago, sprawled out on the floor beneath him, and you’ve only gotten more eager since then. His concern makes you want him more, and you use your grip on his soft hair to tug him upwards to meet your lips in a kiss.

“I’m ready,” You breathe, laying the words out in a hazy moan over his tongue, “I’m ready, Obi-Wan, please- please take me.”

A groan melts from his mouth like molten butter, dripping over your tongue and down your throat. He pants, lets you suck his tongue into your mouth in a long, eager drag, then mumbles clumsily, “I want you. I want- I want to have you, darling, I want to take you.” His hips roll experimentally against your own, the tight pressure of his clothed cock digging into your panties as he nearly loses the function in the muscles that are holding him up above you.

He lets out another moan as you drag your hips up to meet his premature thrusts, and this time it’s a weaker sound, more strangled and mottled. It’s satisfying, knowing that you’ve reduced the ever-stoic, prized Jedi negotiator Obi-Wan Kenobi to a heaving mass of sweat and desire. His undershorts are rucked up around his meaty thighs, but he hasn’t yanked them off to free his stiff cock yet, so for a moment, all you do is grind against each other.

The layers of clothing between you, one covering you and two covering him, provide frustrating boundaries but much-needed friction, and the scrape of his rough undershorts dragging against your thin panties makes your fingers curl into his back once more. You suspect that when he wakes tomorrow, your marks will still be there, and you take pride in knowing that he’ll have a very hard time forgetting you.

“Obi-” You really do intend to say his full name, but your breath leaves your lungs too quickly for it, and you revert back to the nickname he’d loathed as a teenager. Too juvenile, he’d protested greatly at the clipped diminutive, but he leans into it now. He licks the word right off of your tongue, his own plunging past your lips and dragging over your teeth in a messy, imprecise fashion. You get the sense that this is not about sex to him, it’s not about mechanics or equations or the perfect formula. It’s about you, and him, and you and him together. He doesn’t kiss you like a storybook prince because he kisses you like Obi-Wan, and Obi-Wan wants to lick the spit out of your mouth and suck on your tongue. Obi-Wan wants to feel, not think, for once in his life, so he does.

“Obi-” You falter again, hands traveling from his muscled back to his hips. Your fingers dip beneath the waistband of his undershorts, then his briefs where they lay against the same stretch of skin, “Off. Off, please- Obi-Wan, off, take ‘em- off.”

He grunts his approval into your mouth, obscene squelching sounds coming from where his spit pools between your teeth and your tongue. He reaches down with a blind, clumsy hand to tug at his waistband, but when it doesn’t provide immediate results, he finds himself getting frustrated. It’s an unfamiliar feeling, not the frustration itself but his inability to control it, and he feels his brow crease in irritation as he reluctantly parts from your mouth to focus on the task at hand. All he needs is a little extra leverage to slide his shorts off of his waist, briefs bunched together, and as soon as they’re out of his way he’s reaching for your own underwear.

You crane your neck downwards to watch him, and the glimmering mess of saliva in your mouth practically doubles in volume at the sight of his red-tipped, rock-hard cock. It’s curved slightly up towards his stomach in its desperation, and there’s precum oozing from its tip, foaming and all too appealing. You want to suck him off again, to really choke yourself on it this time and never draw back for air, but there’s no time when he tugs swiftly at the elastic band of your panties, tearing them easily away from you. They drag beneath your thighs but he merely pulls harder, until they spring free and bunch up around your knees.

“Up,” Obi-Wan taps at your left thigh, and you struggle to bend your knees amidst their relentless trembling. He helps you, strength having stuck with him even when composure has abandoned its post. You get your left thigh up first, exposing your glistening cunt, smeared sticky with your own slick. His breath catches, you feel it stutter to a stop in his chest that you’re groping, and his eyes glimmer in the warm lights above you.

“Darling,” He breathes, taken by the mess of your drooling cunt. He reaches out, touches it carefully, with only the pad of his pointer finger. He ghosts it along the side of your slit, and even the infuriatingly chaste touch is ultra erotic. At the way you writhe beneath a single one of his fingers he brings his thumb up to stroke down your slit, catching wetness on his thumb that his mouth opens to accommodate.

He sucks your release clean off of his thumb, you’re almost certain he scrapes his teeth along his skin just to get it all.

He leans into his own thumb, chases after it like he’s not the one taking it out of his mouth. He hesitates no further in clamoring backwards on the mattress until his knees hit the floor below, and he thanks the Force that the beds you were given are low enough for him to lean over the edge and bury his face in your cunt.

“Obi-Wan, no!” You plead, fingers tangling in his pretty blonde hair, “You’ll- you said- don’t cum yet, please, I- I want it in me!”

“I will cum in you,” He pledges, voice deep and determined as he nudges his nose against your wet cunt, “My darling, I’ll do whatever you ask. But I need you here, now. Please,” He breathes, his exhale shaky and warm as it heats your cunt, “Please, Darling, I want you here.”

“Have me,” You whimper, squirming your hips from side to side to propel yourself down the mattress. Your cunt bumps messily against his face that he doesn’t bother moving, and you buck your hips once, twice against his nose, riding his face, “Please, have me, Obi-Wan, you can have me.”

Your consent is all it takes. His mouth is open and his tongue is out the second you say the word, licking wet, tantalizingly slow stripes up your slit. He doesn’t breach it, doesn’t delve his tongue into your entrance, he laps at the slick smeared on the outside, as well as the wetness that has thoroughly soaked your thighs. Your skin is tacky with it even when he’s replaced it with his spit, and your cunt throbs at the meticulous approach he’s taken to appreciating every drop you give him.

It’s too meticulous.

After another slow, careful, nearly chaste lave of his tongue over the crease between your thigh and your cunt, probably just as soaked with sweat as it is with slick, you retighten your now-loose grip in his hair. You’d let go of the strands when he’d given you what you wanted, but now you want more, and you lead him straight to your core where he’d been lapping at your thighs instead.

“Here,” You beg, pulling his face against your drooling cunt until you’re certain he’s unable to breathe. You feel his nose breach your slit, nudged into your cunt by your insistent tugging on his hair.

“I need you here, inside, please.” You beg, pussy aching with abandon. His slow, careful ministrations had driven you mad, and now you are teetering on the edge of insanity as you nearly howl, “Please!”

His response is white-hot and wet. His tongue prods gently from between his lips as his jaw widens, and he watches your reaction as he fills your cunt with his slick tongue. A gush of your own wetness greets him, and as insistent as he is at meeting your eyes, his own flutter shut at the taste.

“Force,” He breathes, and the exclamation is uncommon from him. The muffled, garbled word sends vibrations straight into your cunt, and after the initial shock of his tongue inside of you, you feel his beard.

It scrapes abrasively against the sensitive, licked-over skin of your inner thighs, and prickles deliciously at the base of your leaking cunt. You feel sharp hairs prod at the curve of your ass, and his mouth moves fluidly, tongue wriggling with surprising prowess through the mess of slick you’ve accumulated in your cunt. It slides wetly along your inner walls that have made way for his tongue, and that will stretch eagerly to accommodate his cock.

His cock, oh, you’d forgotten the thick weight on your tongue, and your jaw aches with the ghost of it. Your cunt aches, too, and when his nose softly bumps your clit you gasp as your hips jolt upwards. He catches your thighs with Jedi agility, his muscles not straining at all to hold you to the mattress. The casual, easy display of strength makes your thighs quiver, and something inside of you tighten like a knot.

He licks you out like he’s drinking ambrosia, the glistening substance smeared over his face and starting up the bridge of his nose. The noises that he makes are hungry and wild as he licks more, sucks more, takes more. He’d moderated himself at first, lapped the sticky spillings of your wet cunt like he was rationing a meal. Now he feasts, tongue losing focus from inside your pussy and rapidly licking over your clit. His lips suction on and his beard burns tantalizingly at your sloppy cunt. You feel stimulation everywhere, the knot below your belly tightening ever-stronger until you feel the beginnings of a fray. It’s a step you take, an incline that you scramble up, and each pedestal you achieve gives way to a higher one. You let yourself climb, climb, climb, against every pulse of his suctioned lips around your sensitive bundle of nerves, and you breach the clouds as Obi-Wan broadens his sucking mouth to half-latch to your clit, his tongue delving back into your drooling cunt. You leap for the final pedestal and a surge of pleasure hits you, soaking wet like a wave that you ride back down to the surface.

You tremble, you whimper, you love. Your thighs shake, the muscles in your stomach stuttering as your hips jolt and jerk. Your mouth produces such feeble sounds, whines and moans and ‘Oh, please, yes’s, and ‘Obi-Wan- kriff!’s. Your fingers in his hair latch tight but cling gentle, holding him to you as you lose control of yourself in the Force. All of the love, all of the passion, all of the attachment, all of the terrible-horrible-no-good-very-bad-un-Jedi-like things that you’re not supposed to feel surge through the Force and hit Obi-Wan like Coruscant’s train, knocking the wind out of him, though he never stops sucking at you.

Obi-Wan licks you through your orgasm, tongue pressing tight and hot and wet to the quiver of your cunt, letting it spasm against his mouth. He sucks up every last drop of slick that you’ll give him, greedily mouthing at your cunt long after it’s begun stinging from oversensitivity. You want his mouth off, and his cock in, although that first part sounds like a heinous thing to wish for. His tongue is perfection, slippery and knowing you well enough to hit just the right spots even though it’s never had you before. You only push his mouth away to beg for his cock, but you’re tempted to let him white out your vision and lick at you until he passes out.

“Obi-!” You gasp, pushing instead of pulling at his golden hair, “Obi-Wan, no- no more! Here, up- here, please, and I want you inside of me.”

He lets you unlatch him from your pulsing cunt, rife with the sting of stimulation. You need only a matter of seconds to come down from your high, but they’re seconds you can’t afford to spend on Obi-Wan’s tongue, or the clock won’t ever start. He licks at a smear of slick over your thigh that he’d missed earlier, and his brain seems to register your begging.

“Alright, darling,” He pants, out of breath from the way he’d spent it all in your cunt. His voice is ragged, drowned in slick and thick with want.

He clamors back onto the mattress, all humbly-forged muscles and greed. He hovers over you, and dips down to claim your mouth the way he had your cunt: with broad, sweeping swipes of his tongue. He licks your slick across your tongue, letting you taste yourself on him.

“I’m here,” He soothes, his voice a notch deeper than usual and his words malformed due to the open ring of his mouth. He licks against your tongue once more, sloppy and hot, as his hips grind down against your thigh. He knows you need time but he doesn’t have long, and he grinds against your hip until you’re ready. You feel his stiff cock digging into your flesh, and it sends pulses of energy to your recovering cunt that make it beg to be filled. He’s not composed the way that he normally is, but he’s managing to hold himself together through grunts and groans into your mouth. If you don’t act fast, he’s going to splatter your stomach with cum, which wouldn’t be distasteful by any means, but you’d rather him paint your insides with it.

“You are intoxicating,” Obi-Wan proclaims, speaking directly into your mouth, an addict that can’t wean off of his drug, “I don’t know how I am supposed to pretend like this never happened.”

“Don’t,” You beg breathlessly, “Don’t forget me. Keep quiet around others, and- and when you are alone,” You reach down to take his cock into your hands, heavy and thick and waiting, “When you lay in bed at night, when you touch yourself-” He lets out something teetering on the edge of a whimper as you stroke your hand along his flushed length, an angry red coloring the tip that exposes how much self-control he’s composing, “-touch yourself, and- and think of me. Think of my hands, of my mouth, of my cunt. Think of me, Obi-Wan.”

“I will,” He vows, his voice holding like a frayed rope with one thread remaining, strained and pulling and clinging together, “Please let me have you. Please,” He braces his forehead against yours, his cock throbbing in your palm, “Please darling, let me in. I want to be inside of you, I want to have you, please.”

You’ve never seen him babble before. Not when he’d been seven years old, bright-eyed and rosy-cheeked, caught with a stray tooka cat in his robes halfway back to the creche. Not when he’d been fifteen and a warrior, his side split open in a gory mess of blood and flesh and lymph and bone. Not at his old master’s funeral, the light from the pyre’s flames dancing upon his stoic features. Obi-Wan Kenobi is a master at composure, but he is breathless now, sacrificing it to the dewy-warm crease where your neck meets your shoulder, and sucking up your sweat-salty scent in return.

You place your free hand on his back, sticky and flushed beneath your touch, and use it to help guide him into you. Your other hand, still wrapped around his cock, lines it up with your entrance and he needs little coaxing from there. He pushes himself into you slowly, courteously, but loses himself to some deep, primal urge that he’s buried beneath layers of meditation and balance.

He comes undone.

His muscles surge and his hips buck in what begins as a steady pace, but transforms into a wild rhythm that pins you against the mattress. He lets out a groan into the sweaty juncture of your neck, something that sounds like it could be from a beast and not a man. You feel the scrape of his beard against the seldom-touched skin there and you’re sure it’s growing raw, but you couldn’t care less. He’s not holding your hips up - his hands are plastered to your side and holding you there with a force carefully and pointedly short of bruising - but you angle your pelvis up anyway, allowing him to hit that much deeper inside of you. The tip of his cock never hurts where it connects briefly each thrust with your cervix, but you feel it intimately, every vein and ridge and curve that his body has to offer.

You’re grateful for the sound-proof walls of the military compound because you realize after a moment that you’re making noise just the same as he is. It’s softer, quieter, but it’s there, the underlying harmony to his leading grunts and groans.

All the while he is soft and gentle, because what he wants is not sex, it is you. Perhaps if he were a lesser man, he’d squeeze you, or bend you, or break you, all to take you the way he wants. But it is the soul inside of you that he’s after, and he takes great care with the vessel it’s enclosed in. He holds you, but he does not squeeze you. He kisses you, but he does not bite you. He moves with you, not against you. Your hips surge upwards to meet the thrusts of his cock and he latches his mouth to yours desperately, pleadingly. Your breathing is short and staccato through your nose, fanning against his top lip as he mashes it messily to your own, and you’re much easier to bring to a climax the second time around, sensitivity still roiling in your blood from your previous orgasm.

“Obi-Wan,” You beg, the words spilling languidly into his mouth, as you move in tandem, in, out, in, out, forwards, backwards, everything, nothing.

“Obi- I’m gonna- ooh, I’m gonna cum,” You cry, overwhelmed by the consistent drag of his cock against the walls of your soaked cunt. You’re slick again, gushing enough to replenish however much Obi-Wan had licked out of you. It squelches as he drives his dick into your pussy, foamy from the repetitive motions that are only creating it at faster intervals.

“Please- please do,” He moans, his dick twitching inside of you, “Force, I- ah, there’s nothing I want more than to feel that, darling. Please- please cum, please-”

“Kiss me,” You plead, even though he’s never stopped, if the way that his mouth moves against yours can still be considered a kiss. It’s far from any conventional peck on the lips, mostly tongue and drool that seeps down the side of your mouth and into your neck, mixing with the sweat already lingering there from your workout.

He tries kissing you more neatly, his lips tightening and suctioning around your own, but the closer you both get to your impending orgasms, the sloppier his thrusts are, and the more slack his mouth goes, smothering your own instead of truly kissing it while his tongue continues its dogged pursuit of your own. It’s no matter; his spit leaks uncontrollably into your mouth and you relish the taste. You don’t need perfection, you need him.

You can’t help your wandering hand from snaking down to his waist, curving just below his cock to cradle his balls against your palm. They’re heavy and warm as you take them into your hand, and doing so elicits a gasp from the man chasing his release inside of you, his hips stuttering in their pursuit of the wet warmth of your cunt. You squeeze them, not harshly, just a gentle compression, and Obi-Wan melts. A whimper escapes his lips, still slack and pressed to your own, and though his thrusts momentarily slow, they resume at double the pace. He’s rapidly bucking his hips now, barely containing himself enough to lift one hand off of your side and bring it to your chest. He fits his palm over one of your breasts, your stiff, sensitive nipple caving against his palm. You gasp at the prickling sensation and your fingernails momentarily dig into his back, but when his dick twitches once more inside of you, desperate, fit-to-burst, you drag them down his back in searing red lines.

If you hadn’t been able to feel Obi-Wan cum inside of you, you’d have known it was happening from the cry he releases alone. It’s abrupt, like his orgasm catches him off-guard even though he’s been pursuing it. But you can feel it, you can feel his warm cum ooze out of the head of his cock, momentarily stationary as it’s snug against your cervix. You feel it gush from his dick, filling any and all available space in your pulsating cunt before flooding outwards, dripping down your ass and thighs in an obscene display that soaks right into your bedsheets. Obi-Wan rides out his climax at a pace rapid enough to coax your second one out of you, and you welcome the now-familiar sensation of cumming around Obi-Wan. It’s mind-numbing, your ears ring for a faint moment, and your cunt rapidly clenches and unclenches around his cock that’s all too happy to continue occupying the space.

He grunts, moans, and groans as his sloppy thrusts finally slow, and your cunt appreciates the reduced pace. You’re well and truly spent, difficult to achieve for someone who’d gone through endurance training since childhood, and you’re not surprised that Obi-Wan, too, needs a break. He lowers himself to your chest with a slow, shaky exhale, eyes closed and face glistening with sweat just as your own does.

His beard grates roughly against your skin, shifted with every ragged breath that he draws in. His hair spills over the breast that his mouth isn’t nestled beside, and you stare down at his face, marveling how beautiful his barely-fluttering lashes and heaving chest are.

Before he opens his eyes he angles it towards you, so that the first thing he sees is your flushed, sweaty, open-mouthed expression. He’s in the perfect position to kiss the side of your breast, and it tingles with the phantom sensation of his palm flat against your perked nipple barely minutes before. His beard scrapes your skin like it has since you first kissed him, and you wonder if you’ll ever be able to live happily without the scratch of it against your cheeks, or thighs, for that matter. The skin between your legs is still raw, stinging with the friction of Obi-Wan’s coarse hair against your flesh..

“You look beautiful, darling,” He hums, his voice grated raw from fatigue. His breath fans hot over your chest, but he pushes himself up on his tired biceps to hover over you. His weight against you had been comforting, but his gaze is even more so, and you let him loom over you.

His chest, peppered with auburn curls so fine they glisten in the poor lighting of your quarters, rises and falls deeply in front of you. You have half a mind to bury your face in it; you might if his face wasn’t impossibly more captivating.

His eyes search yours, for what you’re not sure, but you realize that his breathing gets more shallow until his chest stills completely. He only releases his breath when you reach up to thumb gently at his sternum, loosening his lungs again.

“Do you regret it?”

You suppose you didn’t have to ruin the moment so harshly, but you want to know the truth. You want to know if this was worth it, or if you’re going on the list of regrets that Obi-Wan pours over obsessively.

He takes a moment to answer, but you suspect it’s because he’s been caught off guard by your question. He shakes his head, dipping his face down to kiss the swell of your cheek.

“No, I don’t.” He mumbles against the dewy skin of your face, hiding his words there in self-preservation. You kiss the fleeting scruff of his beard as he pulls away, and your eyes find the blue of his instantly.

“You needed convincing at first,” You recall warily, something sinking in your chest now that you’re not puppettered by lust, “Are you certain it was the right thing to do?”

“Not at all,” He admits, “In fact, I think it was wrong of me. But I’ve done it anyways, and I am happy for that.”

“Why wrong?” You ghost your knuckles against his cheek, and he leans into it like he used to do when you’d clean scrapes and cuts he’d acquire while sparring.

“I am more attached to you now than ever,” He offers simply, but it doesn’t seem like it pains him to confess. He seems lighter now, less embroiled in his own anxiety. “And I’m not certain I can keep my personal feelings- well, personal. I don’t know that I could think rationally about you. That’s not desirable to the Order, or to the war effort.”

You bite your tongue, teeth digging softly into its muscle.

“All the same,” He continues, “Jedi are not without attachments. Younglings form friendships in the creche, and their minders love them. Padawans love their Masters, and vice versa. Masters engage in relations,” He acknowledges, then his brows tick up and he considers, “Ki Adi Mundi has four wives. Perhaps I’m not the most blasphemous Jedi they’ve ever seen.”

A laugh comes tumbling from your lips before you can stop it, and Obi-Wan’s face softens into a grin of his own.

“Five,” You correct him, “He has five wives.”

“Force, he’s a heretic,” Obi-Wan exclaims, but it’s all for show; he holds no ill opinions of the council member.

“I’m happy for his wives,” You hum, the sound just short of a giggle, “But I prefer your beard over his.”

“Oh, but he’s got a better mustache than me,” Obi-Wan settles on his side facing you, a smile etched permanently into his features as he plays along with the banter you’ve started. He relishes its lighthearted nature compared to the hesitance of moments prior, “Maybe I should grow it out and curl it like his.”

Before you can offer him another round in exchange for a promise to never shape his facial hair around Master Mundi’s, the walls of your compound give a creaky grinding sound, then a rumble, and air whooshes through the vents you’ve come to loathe for their uselessness in the recent past.

“He did it!” You gawk, sitting up excitedly, nearly forgetting that you’re topless, “Oh Force, Anakin’s a wizard! He really is, he’s a mechanical wizard, and I’m going to buy him a speeder for this.”

“Do not,” Obi-Wan groans, sitting up beside you and tugging you easily to fit your back against his chest, “The last thing that boy needs is the ability to go faster.”

“He did it,” You sigh happily, leaning back and pressing your lips to Obi-Wan’s. He reciprocates easily now, unlike before when he’d run himself ragged with doubts.

“That means we’ll be off soon,” Obi-Wan reminds you gently, and you deflate slightly in his hold, “But I don’t think comming each other should be any issue.”

“Every night?” You suggest, kissing at the prickly cleft of his chin.

“That’s- ambitious.” He chuckles, but it’s not meant to tease, “Every night, darling.”

“You can send me dirty videos,” You gush, scrambling to free yourself from Obi-Wan’s hold when he tries locking his fingers onto your sides, nipping sharply at your shoulder.

“I will not!” He insists, voice firm but chest trembling with barely-withheld laughter, “Force, if I pressed the wrong button…”

“Perhaps Master Mundi could share it with one of his wives,” You laugh, scrambling back into your underclothes and heading for the fresher to clean yourself up, “Hurry up and get dressed, Obi-Wan, one of my troopers is probably on their way to tell us the good news!”

Your suspicions are confirmed only moments later, thankfully, after you’ve both had time to right your appearances. You look flushed and sweaty, if anything, but the cool air hasn’t managed to flood the entire compound yet, and you’ve been exercising, so it’s excusable. No one but you two needs to know that exercising didn’t mean sparring for longer than ten minutes.

“Anakin, you’re fantastic,” You call, rushing through the empty hangar where he’s standing near the ramp of the ship, “You’ve saved us all. I’m fairly certain my troops would have resorted to fratricide if we’d had to melt here for any longer.”

The padawan gives you a valiant effort at a polite chuckle, and you press on, “For the record, I told your master I’d get you a speeder for helping us today, but he said no.”

“Y/N,” Obi-Wan starts, exasperated, but catches himself on the use of your first name. Perhaps it feels different now, coming out of his mouth much more measured than it had only twenty minutes prior. He doesn’t speak further.

Anakin’s eyes briefly glint at the fantasy of his own speeder, but he controls himself quickly. He’s a credit to his master, who manages to look convincingly like he hadn’t just broken a very long streak of celibacy. Still, you appreciate that war hasn’t managed to suck the most basic of excitements out of the child, and you reach up to pat his cheek in a gesture distinctly un-Jedi like.

“Take care of yourself, and don’t let Obi-Wan bore you with a million lectures on economics, or politics, or the two combined.”

Anakin nods, but bites his lower lip to refrain from smirking, saving himself a lecture on sass later on. You hear Obi-Wan exhale huffily behind you, and you turn your attention to him when Anakin retreats onto the ship.

“I’d appreciate it if you didn’t add to my apprentice’s willfulness,” He grouses, but the corner of his mouth twitches upwards in fondness for you both, “He’s got enough of that on his own.”

“Take care of yourself,” You ignore his teasing, your voice tender and sweet, slightly more than it had been for Anakin, “I know they don’t send you out much, because he’s only fourteen, but- but please take care of yourself, Obi-Wan.”

Perhaps if Anakin hadn’t been lingering on the ramp of the ship, perhaps if there weren’t five clone troopers stationed in the hangar, perhaps if you were the only two people in the world, like it had felt less than an hour ago, Obi-Wan would have kissed you. But he doesn’t, all he does is nod,

“We will,” He vows, and you nod, satisfied.

“I mean it,” You continue, more threatening than your earlier sentiment, “Comm me.” And you think back to the request you’d made earlier, breathlessly, the words fanning out against his sweaty skin, “And… think of me.”

You know he’s recalling the same moment in time when his cheeks tinge pink.

“I will,” He promises, singular this time, confirming your suspicions that his mind is flashing with visions of your flushed skin beneath his hands, “And please take care of yourself, too, General.”

Something hard and aching tugs at the back of your throat at the honorific, such a far cry from the intimacy you’d shared. But now you are General Y/L/N, and he is Master Kenobi, and that is the way things must be in the presence of others.

“Master Kenobi,” You bow, bending at the waist and noting the soft tug of soreness there.

“General Y/L/N,” Obi-Wan mimics your gesture, hands folded neatly into the sleeves of his robes.

He turns. He pivots on his feet and strides up the ramp of the ship they’d taken, Anakin waiting until he’s passed through the doorway to follow behind him. The door hisses shut, concealing them both, and the mechanical whiz-kid has the engines powered up in no time. You watch their ship take flight and navigate the narrow entrance to your hangar with ease, waiting until they’ve passed each temperature-isolating layer of defense that enshroud your compound and disappear into the planet’s heat-hazy atmosphere to turn away.

“General,” One of your troopers lingers behind you, “Is everything alright?”

“Yes,” You put on a convincing show, smiling serenely, “I’d just forgotten how much of a challenge sparring with Master Kenobi is. I’m fatigued; I think I’ll retire to my quarters for some rest.”

“General,” He nods, stating your title like a vow of loyalty, standing at attention as the hangar doors finally shut you in.

You walk the familiar path to your sparse quarters absentmindedly, feeling that same twinge of achiness each time you take a step. Only once your door hisses shut do you release the prim tension in your shoulders, slumping and slouching like you’d just escaped the throes of battle.

There is a shirt on your bed.

It’s white, though it’s been worn thoroughly, so the color is muddied ever so slightly with the tan tinge of sweat. It’s rumpled, from a hasty removal. It’s laid over your poor excuse for a blanket, cream-colored against the starkly contrasting black fabric. It’s impossible to miss, which means it had to have been placed there deliberately; it wasn’t forgotten.

It’s Obi-Wan’s.

You overcome your momentary stun and pad towards the bed, reaching for the shirt with a hesitant hand. You take it, feel it ever-so-slightly damp with lingering perspiration, and your stomach flips.

It’s Obi-Wan’s; it’s yours.

The shirt winds up snug around your pillow, tucked beneath the Republic-issue linen. It’s invisible to the outside eye, but when your nose is pressed gauchely into the pillowcase you can smell Obi-Wan through it, a mix of natural and artificial scents.

The musk of cologne and the acrid smell of sweat. Composure and lust. What is right and what is wrong.

You and Obi-Wan.

feedback is greatly appreciated! comment, reblog, talk in the tags, send me a message, tell me what you think!

#obi-wan kenobi x reader #obi-wan kenobi smut #obi-wan kenobi fanfiction #obi-wan kenobi imagine #obi-wan kenobi fluff #obi-wan kenobi oneshot #obi-wan kenobi one-shot #obi-wan kenobi one shot #obi-wan kenobi headcanon #obi-wan kenobi headcanons #obi-wan kenobi hcs #obi-wan kenobi hc #obi-wan kenobi fan fiction #obi-wan kenobi fanfic #obi-wan kenobi blurb #obi-wan kenobi drabble #obi-wan kenobi dialogue #obi-wan kenobi x y/n #obi-wan kenobi x you

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smolvenger · 1 year

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The Ceremony (Loki x fem! Reader Oneshot)

Summary: You and your dear prince, Loki of Asgard, are finally getting married. But in order for the marriage to be legitimate, your wedding night and consummation must be witnessed...

Word Count: 5K

Warnings: 18+ SMUT Y'ALL ! SMUT! SMUT IN THE LAST THIRD! Voyeurism, loss of virginity, fem receiving oral, p in v sex, dirty talk, loss of innocence kink and some possessiveness kink. But lots of fluff, especially romantic, wedding fluff. Loki is a good protective fiancee/husband. I did wee research on Norse weddings but it's not about the accuracy, it's about the vibes.

A/N: This was written especially for @lokisprettygirl/ @lokisprettygirl22 (if I tag the wrong person, I apologize!) Follower Count Celebration as a submission! Wanted to try something I always wanted to write and get a new piece out there! Enjoy!

Comments, reblogs, dms, and asks about my work are always appreciated!

Taglist: @evelyn-kingsley @jennyggggrrr @five-miles-over (with one small bit inspired by the weddings headcanons! :) ) @fictive-sl0th @ladycamillewrites @villainousshakespeare @holdmytesseract @eleniblue @twhxhck @lokisgoodgirl @lovelysizzlingbluebird @raqnarokr @holymultiplefandomsbatman @michelleleewise @wolfsmom1 @cheekyscamp @mochie85 @muddyorbsblr

A03//My Ko-Fi//My Etsy Shop//Masterlist//Wattpad

“The Wedding Night must be witnessed by the court in order for the marriage to be valid,” Heimdall announced.

There was a silence over the table where all of you sat. Your jaw dropped and the look on the face of your intended prince Loki, became pure white. The other faces at the table all remained composed. Though Thor looked down a little, blushing.

Your dear Prince Loki asked you to marry him in his mother’s garden. You kissed him and said yes as you both cried happy tears and embraced. You were not born to royalty like he. You understood that there were certain parts of etiquette that had to be upheld. Traditions that would be honored. And everything you learned so far made sense and didn’t seem too bad or out of place. Bow to the AllFather as king. Use “please” and “thank you.” Watch your words. Show respect to the Allmother Frigga. All of that was common sense.

But this…this was different.

You had never lain with a man before. You and Loki shared heated kisses and embraces, but they were always interrupted before it could go further. Sif would walk in and clear her throat. Frigga would call to talk to her son. And then hearing on the insistence of a future princess being chaste, you thought it was pure dumb luck. After the engagement, both of you agreed to wait. So, there would be absolutely no reason for anyone to object to the marriage.

But the times you imagined what your first time would be like, you never imagined it being watched by others!

“There are…ways around it, but it is how it is done…and Y/N, your parents assured us you are…untouched, yes?” Heimdall asked, despite the slight embarrassment in his tone.

“Yes…yes I am,” you confirmed.

Loki glanced at you, then he stretched out a hand to hold yours on the table.

“We…we don’t have to do it. No one should force Y/N to do it!” he argued.

“First, we must guarantee a possible heir should Thor never have one.”

Thor flared his nostrils.

“Second and more important, we need certainty of the marriage’s consummation. It could risk annulment if not-then you both will not even be considered married.”

Loki moved his chair to be closer to you and wrapped a protective arm around you. You could feel him tighten up. Like he was going to whip out his daggers and fight Heimdall there and then.

“Could I have a say in this? A choice?” you voiced out.

The idea….of people all watching then turned in your head. It was a little nerve wracking. But something else was stirring inside you. Finally making love to the most desirable man in the nine realms as people watched became suddenly…titillating. You felt your lower innards already begin to anticipate it. It was no longer dread…it was excitement.

Loki gripped your hand and arm. Both of you shared a look and then you stared out at them. Faces all turned to you. Odin was quiet and crossed his arms. Frigga only folded her hands, but her eyes were soft. Her mouth half-open as if to speak, yet she didn’t. Thor’s eyes became giant, blue plates on his face, and he listened with intensity. Now they had to listen to you- their future princess.

“I say…we should do it. We will have the bedding ceremony. It’s tradition and might as well follow it. And that way, no one will question Loki being my husband, as he is in my heart already,” you announced.

Loki relaxed- you felt the muscles from his arm and the hold on his hand soften. He even blinked rapidly and began a slow smile.

“I have my consent for the bedding ceremony,” you announced.

Loki looked at them with a nod.

“If she is fine by it, then so am I.” he agreed.

Done and done. Heimdall nodded with a small smile-it was settled with only a minor conflict. The table then moved on to discuss other things about the wedding. One minute you were discussing the consummation, and next there was discussion of what color the bridesmaids would wear, and which roast meat to serve at the feast! When they got up and left, Loki practically pulled you aside. He touched your shoulders, his brow furrowed in concern.

“Y/N. Let me know. You don’t have to please them-you don’t have to let them force you to do anything you don’t want to. Please tell me- you can always tell me your secrets, darling. Y/N- are fine with the consummation ceremony?”

“Why do you ask?” you pressed.

Loki cupped your cheek with both hands. His voice grew intense.

“I swore to you to defend you. And this includes my own palace- I won’t let any of them humiliate you! I’ll kill them if they do!” he declared.

You leaned into his touch, kissing his hand. You gave him a smile. You reached up to touch his hand, rubbing your thumb over his knuckles.

“Loki…I…I am fine by it. I am…you need not worry. I think it will be nerve wracking, yes. I am not out of my wits to admit it. But it’s also…tantalizing. I like the idea of people watching us when we do it,” you replied.

You heard him let out a long exhale. Then he wrapped his arms around you to keep you close. You both looked up at each other. You could sense the adoration in his eyes. He was protective-because he cared about you. And that made you even prouder to call him yours.

“My dear lady…and soon my wife…if this is not under any pressure, and your decision…then it is yours and ours,” he said.

You gave him a kiss on the cheek. He flashed a smile that could make Jotun itself melt.

“Then…only a week?” you asked.

“Only a week.” He confirmed.

“But Loki, when I lie with you the first time…Will it hurt?”

He smiles.

“Maybe not…unless you beg me to hurt you…”

❛ ━━━━━━･❪ ❁ ❫ ･━━━━━━ ❜

Seven days flew by. Before you knew it, the wedding arrived.

It was a beautiful, opulent wedding. Flowers decorated the place in every corner. There was going to be an altar, or a hörgr, placed on the throne room on a table. Even that was decorated. There were green ribbons tied around each column and table. After all, you were still marrying a prince! The guests were all bedecked in their finest clothes. Long silk gowns and velvet draping the floors. To make sure there was no doubt that this was a royal wedding.

Your bridesmaids did their best to calm you in the other room before it began. One squeezed your hand. The other smoothed out the skirt of your dress. Assuring you it would be alright.

It made your mind wander. You were about to lie with Prince Loki for the first time in front of others. It made your heartbeat faster. But no... that was for later. Now you only had to stand by at an altar and make vows before the AllFather. That was all. Nothing complicated.

“I heard that prince Loki himself is nervous! Pacing about the halls in his cape! All because he wants to be good for you! He’s the same as you are now!” one gossiped.

“Really?” you asked.

“Yes, really! Everyone gets nervous on their wedding day, Y/N!”

You did notice a little crumb on your dress from when all of you had snacks of bread, cheese, and grapes to keep you satiated before the meal. You laughed and wiped it off.

Your own gown was a white one- to represent innocence. Virtue. Though now that you were about to become a princess it sparkled everywhere in the long, full skirt. It was as if you were made of diamonds. But there was a touch of sensuality to it. The sleeves fell off your shoulders and revealed your neckline and collarbones. You had to smile at the big of cleavage it did show. To give Loki especially what he had to look forward to. Tonight, and all his nights.

Then it was announced for the marriage ceremony to begin. Your own parents went over to stand by you to give you away. to stand in the front row. To see you, their dear little girl, on her big day.

Servants held out lit candles for everyone. Thor's own seemed tiny in his big hands. Only Loki and Heimdall, who was performing the ceremony, did not hold any. Loki, bedecked in his armor, a smaller version of his helmet (he was worried if he kissed you, the larger helmet would knock down and whack you on the head before everyone watching), and green cape, turned to Thor.

"Brother, do not fret. I'll do the fretting for you!" Thor assured like a puppy wagging its tail. Thor couldn’t whisper if he tried, but his tone of voice was soft.

"How do I look?" Loki asked, rechecking to make sure his armor was clean for the hundredth time.

"Like a groom!” Thor assured him.

"Good..."

Thor patted a large hand on his shoulder. Then at the presence of so many flowers, the god of thunder sneezed a sneeze that could rattle bones into his arm.

The guests all took their places, standing around the great throne room. They began to murmur like an audience to a new play. Then a few lutes, woodwinds, and a harp began playing. It was finally time.

Down went wedding party. Walking slowly to savor the occasion. They stood in their places before the altar. The guests all smiled brightly.

But none as much as Loki when you walked out.

You walked down. You wore a veil over your face and saw it through that filter of white. But thin enough you could distinguish everything. It glittered like snow in the moonlight. You sensed that the guests smiled at you. Your mother and father escorted you down there. You saw the court shifting their faces. Just to get a glimpse of you walking by.

But you saw Loki at the altar through it. And feelings overflowed your chest to see him. Despite the trembling in his hands, when you walked out, he instantly relaxed. Both of you locked eyes. You saw a small ghost of a laugh that made his shoulders drop. The gold among his green and black robes seemed to glow even more.

You noticed Thor in his long, red cape and silver breastplate next to his brother. Odin in his own armor and Frigga with her hair done up and standing bedecked in a gold dress and an elaborate necklace beaming at you. Odin looked a little bored, but what did you care? You were marrying the love of your life! You would deal with your father-in-law’s nonsense later.

As you approached it, you handed your bouquet of flowers to a bridesmaid. Loki was standing taller when you got closer. His cheeks were red. You felt him warm up as you approached him. Then he took the veil and, with his powerful hands, lifted it from your face.

All the eyes were on you and your own bread was curdling in your stomach. But as you looked into his eyes, you felt it was all worth it. You had never seen Loki beam so happily in ages. Your father gave you a kiss on the forehead from over the veil. He placed your hand on Loki's. He then looked at the prince. Loki gave your father a wink and then both of you turned to face Heimdall.

You felt the god’s fingers between yours as he held it. You were entering this union together. IT was all you felt. It was like the world was just a buzz. The ringing of bells heard only in the distance. You turned your head to admire his handsome profile, and he looked back at you. For only a second, it was as if the two of you were alone in the realm. Then with an exhale, you both turned towards the altar.

"Dear people of Asgard, we are here to witness the matrimonial rite of Prince Loki, God of Mischief and Y/N. Now-make your vows to each other,” Heimdall intoned with his own powerful baritone, he raised a hand.

You both turned to each other, holding hands before the altar. Loki looked at you with his beautiful, blue eyes, and though they were wedding vows, they seemed to come naturally as if they were words just appearing in his mouth.

"I, Loki, do swear before the AllFather and AllMother, take you to be my wife, my friend, my lover, and my companion. From this day until only death parts us. Before our family and friends, I pledge you my fidelity, refusing all others as long as we live. My softest words and tenderest embraces. The protection of my crown, my magic, my sword, and my body. In battle and in peace. In sickness and in health. In joy and in sorrow. I shall respect and love you boundlessly, no matter what may happen to me or what you may do. I shall support and cherish you each morning, day and night. From this hour, as long as we both live."

The words from him sounded so lovely, you felt a small tear in the corner of your eye. But your smile never dropped.

With a steady voice, you said your own vows back at him. There was an exchange of swords between your families and Loki’s-to symbolize the protection you would give each other. Heimdall’s then brought two rings, conjured by magic. You each slipped a ring on the finger of the other. Perfectly fitting gold bands, golden as his helmet, as light, as warmth. Both of you peeked down at the pretty bands and how they matched each other. For both of you knew, two souls so in love they merged and melded as one.

“AllFather and AllMother, protect and bless them, guide them in their new union…” all began to pray.

There were a few final prayers and a hymn. Incense was lit in honor of Freya, the goddess of love, along with an offer of flowers. Then Heimdall turned you both to face the palace. Heimdall was a serious man, but you heard his voice declaring with joy from behind you.

"The AllFather and Allmother Now, before all the gods, the people of Asgard, and -I now declare you both-Prince and Princess of Asgard. Husband and wife. Now...seal your vows with a kiss before all."

Loki turned his face to you. You felt his hands go to your waist pulling you closer. He kissed you there in front of everyone. You felt his tongue push forward. and you let a small sound at the feeling of it. Definitely a more sensual kiss than the normal chaste pecks he would give you in his family’s presence. You could taste cinnamon on his tongue and feel the slight brush of his long eyelashes against your face from how close he was. Then he let go.

Everyone raised their candles and cried "All praise the AllFather and Allmother. The Prince and Princess of Asgard!"

Then they blew out their candles and applauded. You and Loki held hands as music soared. Both of you walked arm in arm. Glancing at each other like excited children and then each other. Flowers petals were even thrown in your direction as you both made you way down there. Down to the feast.

The meal was brief. At least, it felt brief for you. Talking and attending to so many people who came over to wish you both congratulations. Loki even made a toast, calling himself the luckiest man in the nine realms to be yours. There was more food than you could name. You enjoyed the foods served that you loved. Loki insisted that you have a break from talking to guests to eat your own food at your own wedding. You ate until you were full, but not surplus to where you would get sick. Good night, if you had to have your wedding night before witnesses, you were not going to vomit.

But the time was passing. Loki looked over at you. He noticed a servant take away your plate.

“My love…are you ready now….for the…the other ceremony?” he asked.

Your heart picked as if you were running, though you sat still. Then you nodded. You brought his hands to yours and kissed it.

“Yes, husband, I am,” you assured him.

Loki looked at Heimdall. He rose and all the happy chatter from the meal fell silent.

“Now…it is time for the bedding ceremony…” Heimdall announced.

You were led into two separate chambers. Your bridesmaids dressed you out of your gown into a white robe. It was made of lace that was so light on your skin, it was a little cold. But it was beautiful, and you touched the pattern of the fabric of your sleeves to feel it. They escorted you out through the halls. You felt your blood course through you, but you did your best to put on a brace face. But there was some stifled and suppressed giggling from all of them- even you out of your own mixed excitement and nervousness.

You were led back out to the throne room. Now there were torches alight, but it was still dark. The night’s darkness had shone and spread her ink through, and one needed a lit candle to get around. There was a crowd of courtiers, all of whom were wedding guests. But most striking of all- a bed was moved to be there in that room.

It was a canopy bed with light, white drapes. enough room for the two of you to sleep-or rather, to not sleep. Thin as a summer breeze and just as delicate. Right before the altar and there, the two thrones. The bed itself was surrounded by flowers around it, lovely white roses and a few green ones, complimenting the green sheets and green pillows. Such a bed could only be conjured there by magic, created by magic.

Loki was then given to you. He had his own silk green robe on. His raven curls dangled over his shoulders. You saw a peek of his delicious chest from the V of the robe and licked your lips. He walked up to you. He wrapped his arms in an embrace and then whispered into your ear.

“Are you ready, my dove? Are you ready?” he repeated.

“Yes…yes I am,” you answered.

There were the musicians- the harps, woodwinds, and you heard drums too. They began to play from the corner. The court gathered more lit candles-it was dark. But with music, the candles, the flowers, and the pretty bed, it did make it…romantic, oddly. It could be much worse. Much worse would be a rough, awkward tumbling before your parents.

Loki cupped your face. He looked at you- raw without all your finery. Seeing every bit of you. His eyes did have lust as they wandered to the skin that peeked from your lace, but there was more…he was quiet. His thumb traced over your lips.

“What is it?” you asked him,

You’re so…so…beautiful…so wonderful…” he murmured.

He gave you a kiss on the forehead. Then He then turned to all of them. He raised his arms out, a signature gesture with that smile that oozed charm and mischief. Such a man. No wonder it was easy to love him. And easier to marry him. Now you only had to lie with him and now that seemed easiest of all. His own voice made desire soak through you and you felt your legs squirm, a wetness growing between you as he said the words.

“Now, all of you wish to watch? Then watch. Witness just how much I love this woman. I adore her. I want her. And now that she is my wife, see how much love and pleasure I can give her in one moment…” He boasted.

He returned to you and began to kiss you. But deeper. It was a loud, wet kiss with more tongue. You could taste the feast on him, his breath. He groaned and he kept doing it, his hands wandering up your back, feeling how only one layer separated your skin from his. He removed his lips and voiced.

“And now…now your innocence is mine too…”

He pressed against you. You felt your own body against him, naturally. His hands went down to the tie of your robe. You began to take shallow breaths, your chest heaving. Loki’s eyes fluttered to see just some of how it moved with your breasts and his smile grew devilish. He only took one step away.

“All of this tucked away from me…not anymore now…let me take you in, my dear…”

He pulled on the knot once and it was undone. He then put his hands to your shoulders and gently slid the robe off. Dramatically revealing your shoulders, your breasts, your stomach. It pooled down to your feet in a puddle of lace, revealing all of you before the court.

The eyes were watching each inch of your skin. You raise an arm to cover yourself out of habit, feeling naked on the inside as well as the outside, but Loki gently removed your arms, smiling over your breasts, stomach, hips.

“You’re exquisite, Y/N…the softness…your shape…everything. And now they all will see you…and they’ll kneel before you as they do to me, it’s only what you deserve, my little princess. Let them see you…let me see you,” he whispered.

With a sigh he kissed you again, pressing his tongue further. He put his hands behind your head. You felt him get hard beneath the thin layer of his emerald silk robe. You wrapped your arms around him, you felt yourself moaning. You were pooling more to where you wondered if a bit of your desire would creep down your thigh. You felt their eyes on you-not in judgement. Maybe like Loki said- in appreciation. Seeing you as a piece of art to be admired. Seeing you as Loki saw you. A goddess in your own right, your own way.

He then picked you up- wrapping his arms around you and you put your legs around him. You let out a little gasp and he only chuckled lightly at you. You felt your own folds opening right before his body and you shuddered, and he did too- that most delicate, private part of you now felt against him. Made public. But in a display that was more for him than for them.

He then set you down onto the bed. Positioned to where you were lying down.

“I can’t believe you’re my husband now…that I’m married to a god…” you said softly to him.

He spread your legs with his long, beautiful hands. You peeked and discovered his own cock was getting hard under his robe.

“I may be a god, but I can show you what it is to be worshipped-my hands, tongue, and cock are your acolytes now…” he replied.

He began to untie his own robe to give him freedom.

“And they make offerings, like this…”

He dove onto the bed. He lifted your legs and plunged his tongue inside your entrance. You felt him lick up your walls-gently exploring. The feeling of him tasting, sucking on each small bit of you. You begin to gasp and moan. The crowd whispered lightly.

“L-Loki….it…it feels so good…where…keep…yes-oh!” you began to moan as he tasted you.

You felt his nose and his breath there, cold against your wet pussy. He gave a peck to each part as he climbed up. Up to where the most precious bud of all was found. He began to lick your clit, slowly. But you felt a tingle all around you. You let out another moan for not only the throne room but for the whole palace to see.

“Oh! Norns-yes…please!” you voiced.

You tried to reach your hands down to feel hm, his hair, his shoulders. To never lose touch of your husband. He paused. You could feel him smile against your opening-his own altar.

“Yes-I want you- let them. Let all of them know who it is who gives you pleasure. Let them all know who it is who you belong to now. Let them all know, and anyone who tries to spoil my marriage, that no man can fuck you like I can…no man can pleasure you like me…”

You let out another moan in response. You could feel the eyes of the crowd widening. Maybe they too were a little aroused by this display. This was a ceremony- sacred and necessary. But this time it was…different. Your own pleasure was there at the center. You made another sound that would have made the AllMother herself blush. Loki’s voice rumbled through your body.

He removed his mouth. He then moved to stand up on the floor, towering over you.

You felt as if you were staring to fly when he tasted you, but you never left the ground. But you had no wings that were open. You had your legs.

He then finally undid the knot of his robe. You realized how wet you were. You ached for him. You were writhing, sighing out. You still felt your folds dripping both with desire and the teasing of his tongue.

“Loki…please….I ache for you-I want you, I’m so ready for you-fuck me into this bed and make me yours!” you mewled.

He smirked. He let his robe fall free of the knot.

“A beautiful little innocent begging for me….hm, I have both in one. A princess and a concubine. How lucy am I… How would that beautiful voice scream when I thrust inside her…”

You ached for release. You felt a throbbing inside you. How long would this take? Would you have to touch yourself before he was done?

“Here…take me…take your husband…make me-one with you. Continue this ceremony! You begged.

There were prayers given up by the crowd. Soft but present.

“Gods protect them. Gods bless them. Gods give them peace.”

There was no denial that Loki himself was a god from his body. Out came his chest-perfectly chiseled pecs and abdominals. Strong biceps and broad shoulders contrasting and complimenting his deliciously small waist. A trail of dark hair leading down to where his hard cock was against his stomach. It was leaking already-he wanted you as much as you wanted him. Maybe more.

With another devilish smile, he then leaned down and got on the bed.

“Now are you ready, sweet little dove, to take me-your god, your husband- are you ready to be my wife?”

You nodded with a whimper.

He crawled on top of you, taking a look over your body. Beautiful and all for him for the rest of his days. And norns, he was going to take care of it. He kept your legs open, then began to sheath himself inside you.

“Gods protect them. Gods bless them. Gods give them peace,” chanted the crowd.

Finally, finally he first entered inside. There was only a little pain-but you let out a shout.

“Oh! Oh-you’re! You’re so…so big! I’m so full!” you cried wantonly.

You could hear the smile in his voice.

“A large cock and a beautiful wife…what more could I want now? Yes- cry out. Tell them how much you love this cock. How much pleasure it gives you, my dear…”

He began to thrust into you. His hips snapping slowly. You were letting out gasps-it felt so good. Better than you could have imagined. You were getting dizzy. You squeezed your eyes shut except to see him. To enjoy the feeling. Each thrust to your insides, to your womb was natural. How he fits you as perfectly as the rings around your finger. A small hymn was being sung by the crowd as the music played. Gentle as a lullaby but instead was not an offering of your virginity to a god of both mischief and desire. But the volume was matched by your whore-like moans and the grunts of Loki on top of you.

The volume of the song increased. So did his pace.

He picked it up. He lifted your leg to be on top of his shoulder. You could practically hear your skin colliding each time. He began to slam you into the bed. It seemed the altar nearby and each candle was shaking from the power of his thrusts.

“Oh! Oh-my-oh-gods, husband! You’re-oh!” you started to cry.

“Yes…yes bit by bit…I’ll-nrgh-claim you-norns-yes, here on this bed…. Have them-damn-have them all watch-yes-watch you become a wife-gods-watch me -yes-that good little princess, good little wife, good little whore, too-norns-here-taking me-taking me well-“

He then placed you to lean against the tall headboard of the bed. So you sat up, slid you up.

“Darling, uhm-what is-“you could voice.

He wrapped your arms against your waist and hit you deeper. And a finger went down to your bud, and you let out another cry.

You felt the bed shake-you heard the flowers shake with you, petals dropping. The singing and praying and music continued, already overwhelming you with the pleasure of your husband’s cock. And all of them watching you become awakened to the joys of the bedroom before all of them. For them to know how much you both loved each other. And with a gasping kiss, he began to fuck you harder, deeper.

“The-the-the beds! It’s going to-to-to break!” you fretted between each deep, fast thrust. You held onto his chest and kept him close.

“Let it break! Let it! Gods-yes, my little wife-fuck! Giving me everything-norns, gods…”

You were gasping, writhing beneath his touch, feeling it all as he pounded. He was repeating your name, his own hymn in his straining voice.

“My wife, now mine, finally mine-hela-every way mine-should-should have you on the throne too-yes-have you on my cock there, have them watch that too-nrgh!” he grunted with each movement.

And you felt something spinning inside you. You were not going to last. It was all overwhelming you. Sweet overstimulation. The drums were beating, it seemed hard, and his thrusts were getting harder. The harps played and you couldn’t make out the words of the hymn.

He was going at it. Rutting at you-showing both the grace of a prince and the power of a lover. Something was bubbling. Like the wings but about to take flight. You were starting to shake inside. It was growing, growing, you were reaching it, reaching the top. You clutched onto him as you were shaking, practically bouncing on it, the moving bed.

“Loki…I think…Loki I think-I think-I thinkIthink-I’m going to…I’m going to…”

“Then cum, princess-cum for your husband-for them-or-would you-nrg-rather I stop-stop letting you enjoy this!” he hissed out.

“N-no! Please! Please don’t stop! Please! Please-don’t stop! Don’t stop don’tstopdon’tstopdontstopson’tstop-“ you were begging.

He was pounding into you at a faster rate than you thought. He fingered your clip, circles matching the speed of his cock. He gave began to repeat your name. Like a growl, and then his voice increasing in volume. You were spinning, thrown out of control, bursting up, and up

“My-My prince! I-“

You felt something in you-then you let out a last voice into a scream.

You felt it burst on you. Your first climax. You felt him give another quick thrust and he came too with a cry. Then he held you, his thrusting slowed. You nestled into him. Your pussy was shaking and quivering harder than you thought it possible.

As the witnesses all watched-the members of the court. Feeling this spectacle. Right here in this bedroom. There was a last verse of the hymn. Then a final repetition of the prayer as you felt his seed spurt inside you.

“Gods protect them. Gods bless them. Gods give them peace.”

Loki then looked up. You brushed his black locks to see his lovely face. He was all flushed, full of bliss. Enjoying the high as you were. You could feel the coolness of his sweat and his own body heaving as he caught his own breath. He pulled out but remained close to you. He whispered into your ears.

“How are you?” he asked.

“I’m…I’m okay,” you replied.

He pressed his forehead against yours.

“I love you so much, Y/N. I’m glad. For this…for you…”

You pressed back. You closed your eyes and smiled.

He went back to the group. He offered you the blanket and wrapped it around your shoulders. Warm and safe.

“Give us some water-a rag! Bring us our robes!” he ordered.

He kissed your forehead and held you close.

“You…You were wonderful, sweet Y/N…that was incredible-you did well…” he said.

The robes were returned and there was a wet rag. He cleaned you both up from between both legs. After putting your robes back on, he looked at them.

“I’d like us both to retire, please. Now. She needs some rest after today-and so do I.”

As you walked out, you both still locked hands-anchoring each other. Finally, you were both alone in his chambers. Once the heavy door was shut and you were surrounded by his favorite dark green walls, you both sighed.

He led you to sit down on the rug and made the fireplace start a pretty flame by just flicking his wrist. He brought a thick blanket wrap around the both of you.

“Here…let’s have our own little celebration-just us…wine?”

“I’d love some wine,” you agreed.

He then used his seidr and conjured two glasses of a dark, garnet colored wine. He gave you a smile.

“Here…let’s have a toast…”

He chinked your glasses.

“To the Princess of Asgard….my wife. And the start of our lives together…”

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lordsukunas · 6 months

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“never back down never what?”

synop. nagi trying to win a plushie at an arcade machine for you.

tags. gn!reader, lots of fluff, established relationship, possibly ooc

note. this is indeed inspired by the l&ds plushies: fleecy + pea pod boat. first time writing for nagi (kunigami is wip), so pls work w/ me. likes n reblogs r always appreciated, n pls leave criticism!! toodles <3

big gray eyes bore into the poor plushie’s skull as nagi’s hand moves the joystick. why is it so stubborn?! these things are supposed to be easy, right?

“seishirou, it’s okay–”

“no.”

he presses the button for what has to be the dozenth time, and the claw lowers itself. it clamps around the sheep’s fluffy cranium, and slowly lifts back up again. c’mon, c’mon, c’mon...

the grip isn’t as good as he thinks it is, though, and right when the claw is near the deposit zone, it falls free from its grip.

“fuck,” nagi mutters, and he rubs at his eyes with the butt of his hand. he has to win this for you, even if it costs him all of his allowance for the month.

you place a gentle hand on his shoulder and offer him a little smile. immediately, determination spreads from his heart and throughout his entire body. if he gets the plushie, you’ll smile even bigger. and nagi really likes watching you smile — it’s pretty.

“you’re gonna end up spending all of your money, babe. we can just come back later.”

“no, i got it.” he fishes more yen out of his pocket and puts it in the coin slot.

the claw machine starts up again, and he navigates the uncooperative claw right back over the sheep. doesn’t it want to go home? it should be tired of sitting there with all the other plushies. he can set it free and give it a brand new parent!

nagi double, triple checks that the claw will securely get the stuffed animal before pressing the button. the claw lowers, okay, grabs the sheep by the head again (a bit more firm this time), okay, goes back up, okay, moves directly over the deposit, okay, and...

the sheep drops down the deposit, and your hand tightens on his shoulder as you squeal. the sheep is finally free from jail!

“you did it!”

pride blooms in his chest. nagi did, in fact, do it. took him a lot of money and way more effort than he would’ve liked, but it’s worth it when you bend down, grab the plush, and beam up at him.

“thank you!!” you push yourself up a bit and press a kiss to his cheek, and his heart stutters. your lips feel amazing on his milky skin, soft and full. “you really didn’t have to keep trying, it would’ve been fine if you gave up.”

hey, wait.

if he wins more plushies, does he get more kisses? does he get to see you squeal and smile and be so full of happiness it could kill a person?

“i, uh... ‘s no big deal.” he rubs the back of his neck, pink tinting the tips of his ears. “you want another one, or...?”

it’s worth a try, right?

your eyes dart over to the pea plushie, and there’s that wanting twinkle in your eyes. but when you look back at him, you shake your head. “no, it’s okay. you’re probably ready to go back home.”

nagi tilts his head. “but i just saw you look at those peas.”

your eyes widen a bit, and you chuckle. “oh, uh... we can always come back, and you already won me one!”

he boops your nose, a slight frown tugging the corners of his lips downward. “don’t lie. i can just win you another one.”

nagi presses a light kiss to the top of your head and digs in his pocket again. i’m definitely gonna be broke after this, he thinks as he pushes the coins into the slot, hearing the now-familiar jingle of the machine.

#﹒writing #blue lock #blue lock fluff #bllk #bllk fluff #nagi fluff #blue lock nagi #bllk nagi #nagi seishiro #seishiro nagi #nagi seishiro x reader #nagi seishiro x you #seishiro nagi x reader #seishiro nagi x you

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maochira · 6 months

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Synopsis: For some reason, your brother thinks you and Ohma are dating. And you decide to take this chance to mess with him.

Tags: gn!Raian's older sibling!reader, reader is about Ohma's age, overprotective lil bro!Raian, mentions/descriptions of jealous Karura, lots of chaos, based on this ask I sent to @yellowelectroslime and the reblogs, @aneenasevla asked for this to be a fic and I am here to serve

Your younger brother has been behaving a little odd lately. Sure, he's always been weirdly overprotective over you while insisting on having a harsh rivalry with you at the same time, but his actions in recent times are... new.

The moment you are in a 10-meter radius of Ohma, Raian becomes tense. It always seems like half of his attention is on you and the other half is on Ohma.

No matter how much you think about it, you're never quite able to figure out a reason that makes sense. Your brother's aggressive and often irrational personality doesn't make it much easier. It's nothing you could address directly either because Raian is never honest about his feelings when it comes to something that concerns you. He'd rather find excuses or act as if you didn't say anything at all.

He has never even admitted how overprotective he is over you, no matter how many of the Kure Clan members have teased him about it and pointed it out.

You promised your brother to accompany him on a mission today. But you were so busy training with Ohma, you lost track of time and Raian ended up going without you. It's not like he needs your help anyway. It just would have been nice to spend time together as siblings - like you used to when you were younger.

You find yourself feeling guilty and knocking at your brother's door to apologize.

"You're just a tiny bit too late, you know?" Raian hisses while he opens the door. Even before he saw who knocked, he knew it could only be you. Who else would come to his room voluntarily?

"I'm sorry", you immediately apologize. "I forgot-"

"Yeah yeah I get it you were too busy making out with your boyfriend." Raian rolls his eyes while leaning against the doorframe. "I got the job done so don't worry about that."

The mention of "boyfriend" made your eyes widen a bit. This is the moment you realize why Raian has been acting so odd lately: He thinks you and Ohma are a couple.

Your reaction seems to prove Raian's suspicion - although he couldn't be more wrong. A condescending grin forms on his lips as he begins to speak again. "You really think I didn't notice what's going on between you and Ohma?"

It takes a lot of effort for you to hold back your own grin. "Oh? What do you think is going on between Ohma and me?"

A short huff escapes Raian. "It's so obvious that you're dating. Why didn't you simply tell me about it?" His expression begins to darken. "Don't you trust me?"

"Raian, come on-"

He quickly interrupts you. "Whatever. I figured it out on my own anyway."

Without giving you the chance to respond Raian shuts the door. You stand there for a few more seconds, wondering what to do now.

Every other person would clear up the misunderstanding. But not you. To you, this is the perfect opportunity to mess with your brother.

The next day when you meet up with Ohma to train, you immediately tell him what happened and that he should pretend to be your boyfriend. While Ohma doesn't completely understand why you want him to do that, he sees this as a chance to hopefully get Karura to understand he's not her boyfriend or future husband.

For the next two weeks, you and Ohma have your fun fake-dating and laughing about Raian's reactions in secret. It's hilarious to see your brother getting angry over something that's not even real.

Karura on the other side is extremely jealous of you. She's passive-aggressive whenever she talks to you and sees you as a rival now. Unfortunately for Ohma, she keeps accusing him of cheating on her and tells you to stay away from him. Occasionally you get death threats from her and just to be extra careful you don't accept any food from her - who knows if she poisoned it?

"Maybe it's time to drop our lie." Ohma suggests as you finish today's training. "I don't want Karura to end up hurting you." While he says it with a slight chuckle, you also know he's serious.

"Eh, I'm way stronger than her so that's not an issue. I know she'd never attack me anyway." You respond with a shrug, although you still agree with Ohma's suggestion. "But yes, we should tell them. I think if we keep this up any longer the other clan members are going to think we're a couple as well."

Ohma nods in agreement and leans his back against the wall. "Alright. It was your idea, so you have to be the one to tell Raian the truth."

Simply imagining a scenario like that causes you to groan in frustration. Ohma is right, it was your idea. And also, Raian is your brother. If Ohma told him the truth things would end up a lot worse than you intended when you started messing with Raian.

After leaving the training grounds you spot Raian on your way home, so you decide right now is the best moment to tell him. As long as you're outside, he hopefully won't yell too loud.

"Yo, lil bro!" You call out and walk into your brother's direction.

"Don't call me that." He hisses and crosses his arms in front of his chest.

He's always hated being called your little brother. To him, it sounds as if you were above him. Raian prefers the term "younger brother" because it only points out the age difference. And besides, he's taller than you, because for some reason the youngest siblings are always the tallest.

"Do you have a moment to talk? There's something important I wanna tell you."

Raian raises an eyebrow, slightly intrigued but not wanting to show it too much. "Shoot."

"Ohma and I aren't dating." You reply rather bluntly.

For a few moments, Raian only stares back at you. He's confused and goes through all the things that would prove you and Ohma being a couple.

Since your brother doesn't say anything in response, you decide to continue.

"When you first told me you knew Ohma was my boyfriend, I was confused but thought it'd be fun for us to pretend to mess with you."

The grin on your face is quickly wiped away when Raian suddenly grabs your collar and steps closer to tower over you. "You son of a bitch! Why would you do that?!"

Being called "son of a bitch" by your brother sure is ironic, but right now isn't the moment to point that out. Instead, you begin to smirk again because there's no way you're letting your little brother have the upper hand right now. It was you who messed with him in the first place, and it should be you who gets the last word in this.

"It was funny. Seeing how my little brother gets all overprotective just because he thought I had a boyfriend. And you always pretend to not care that much about me."

"Shut up!" Raian yells right into your face before letting you go. "I am NOT overprotective! I was just... whatever, that's unimportant by now anyways! Thank god you're not actually dating him."

There's so much more you could respond, but Raian sees Ohma walking by and immediately calls his name, then challenges him to a fight.

You being you, you immediately say you'll join as well.

If you liked this, please remember to reblog with fun tags or any type of feedback! It's the best way to support me and my writing!

#💟 maochira writes #kengan ashura x reader #kengan omega x reader #kengan ashura #kengan omega #kenganverse #raian kure #ohma tokita #karura kure #raian kure x reader #ohma tokita x reader

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darlingofvalyria · 1 year

Text

❝You don't think I can please you?❞

part 05 | we're really in it now, darling

chapter summary:

[ Everything comes ahead at a hedge maze because. . . hedge maze. ]

[ +18 MDNI ] [ 4,517 ] [ series masterlist ] | best friend's brother!aemond targaryen x f!reader, ft. cregan stark x f!reader, aemond x alys rivers

contains— angst, a lil smutty but no full whorishness, ya'll good - i should really put idiots in love as a tag shouldn't i - nsfw: grinding + some sexy, sexy second base lmao - no kingslayers, no rogues, no betas.

a/n— i hope ya'll forgive me. comment, reblog & like at will, mi luvs, mwa!

You don't really know what you were expecting come Sunday. Once you started to 'ehh' 'hmmm' and 'maybe's your way through random moments with Helaena after the radio silence from Aemond— your best friend put her foot down.

"Fuck him," Helaena grumbled. "You've been going to Sunday dinners before he was even born, you are not backing down now."

You snorted. "That's wildly inaccurate."

"Point still stands. Fuck. Him. You deserve my mother's tiramisu cake. He doesn't get to take that from you." Her eyes widen as if trying to instil her determination into your system via eye contact. "You are not going to let him take that from you."

You nodded. That's at least a point to pro you can stand by. Though she can't cook to save her life— Alicent's words, not yours — the woman sure can bake. It became therapeutic for her, she once said. How measuring ingredients and kneading dough to patiently folding cream after another kept her mind quiet and her hands busy.

"My faith strongly does not advise rage shooting, you know?" Alicent once hummed.

"Did you mean 'range' shooting?"

"Oh?" she nodded absentmindedly, smiling. "Yes, that too."

"That's true," you mused. Tiramisu cake was her mother's specialty. Every Sunday, she has all attendees pack up at least one cake per person and you and Hel usually stave off bites throughout the week until the next Sunday comes. "I deserve some tiramisu cake, gods be damned it."

"Plus, if you come with me, we'll get two cakes to take home instead of one." She wagged her finger. "We count as two separate entities with one fridge, it's our greatest privilege."

"Daeron calls it preferential treatment."

"I am her only daughter, of course I get preferential treatment."

"As you should, bestie."

Even when you've stopped struggling with choosing if you were going or not, your mind is never faraway from thinking about Aemond. You wonder if he's finally gotten back with Alys was a bad train of thought, while an even worse train of thought is how soft his lips were and how he holds your hair to pull you close when his tongue glides across your bottom lip.

You blink, shaken from the thought. Bad. Bad brain. Stop it.

And repeat. At this point, it was safer to think about Alys and Aemond.

According to previous cycles, by this point they'd be at the height of their newly blossomed relationship— all sweet kisses and heated looks, unable to stop touching each other much less act a little bit better when they're trying to leave a group function to fuck their brains out — so you wouldn't be surprised to see come Sunday that he arrives with Alys— both of them tall, gorgeous with just enough undertone of smirky, smarmy tension that would make you want to stab your own eye out — pointedly ignoring you or whatever happened between you and him.

It hurt to think about sure, but what else did you think was going to happen?

That call made a space the size of a puddle that turned into a lake, welled deep with unresolved feelings and untouched topics. More questions than answers, drawing lines both of you were too scared to tug and see.

It's big enough to notice, and both stubborn enough not to anything about it.

You tried. Well, you almost did. In the weird hours of the day when your brain and body are more physically disjointed so rationality gives way to adrenaline. Most of the time, this is during working hours. You, checking your phone, running around his profile with your thumb a few times, biting your lip as your mind blanks and your body fights to call him. Or leave a message.

Before your mind and body reconnects and you fling your phone as far away from you as possible.

It's weird. You've never fought with Aemond before. If this was considered fighting. You've been disappointed in him, gotten angry and annoyed with him, but someone always, always offers an olive branch.

Every time you think about that call, you close up, your annoyance flares, and you shove your phone away.

In your amicable defense, this was primarily his problem. You weren't truly dating. He made it clear every choice he was making was en toward the agreed conditions were of making his ex jealous enough to take him back, yada yada yada.

Even if, possibly, you wanted more, he made no actual steps to make it known that he was considering it too.

Funny stares on your lips don't count. The only sabbatical from sexual adventures Aemond got were the breakup round with Alys, and as established before, they got it on pretty frequently.

Another thought bubble about Aemond's lips pops in your head, the mint from his toothpaste and the coffee from his black with no sugar, no milk, the way he seemed to suckle on your sighs—

Gods. Damn. It.

Focus.

That last call?

You're a grown ass woman. You're allowed to do whatever you want with whomever you want, and you're not going to make Aemond Targaryen's steely silence of what— disappointment? Of your choices? Of your choice in Cregan Stark and Cregan Stark Jr? Of what you were doing? Sure he was faithful to the Seven, a good old religious boy raised by his momma, but it doesn't make him a saint. Just because he's clinging to the vestiges of first love thinking it could very well be his last doesn't make him holy, or warrant enough to judge you for getting your little you some good dick.

Life is hard. Good dick is hard to come by!

So. Yeah. Days leading up to Sunday was radio silence and way too many thoughts circling your head like vultures, eating away at logic and rationality, and stubbornly still, you refused to make contact. If it's not out of pride, it's out of hurt.

Because he could apologise, but Aemond wasn't known for his apologies.

But then you remembered the flowers, the tulips, and now you just felt sad. Moping, getting annoyed, and trying to get through work without breaking your phone speeds the week in a blur.

Come Sunday afternoon, Helaena was coming to pick you up from her shift at the vet— the beauty of having a vet bff is the Russian roulette of pictures; you never know if you're about to get cuddly new patients with big, sad eyes and pouty snouts or her newest c-section win without any attempts of a blur — so you could get to her mother's house together, you decided to go for the nines with your outfit.

A sweet summer dress later, some gold gladiator sandals half off from your favourite but largely can't afford shoe boutique that you swear you were always going to wear to make up for the insane price (thank the gods Alicent didn't have a no shoe policy because it takes fifteen minutes to get them on and you cannot be on the floor, on her house, with Aemond around, rolling around like a hot potato on the entry way trying to get a fucking shoe on), dusted and prepped in you're fancier version of makeup, and was just finishing off your hair— using the good mousse whilst blaring Disney epics — when knocking came.

You freeze.

On one hand, it could just be Helaena, forgetting her keys again somewhere as she had done so numerous times before, but there hadn't been a slew of expletives or her impression of a cool, clinical voice saying, ''Tis I, the Stranger, have come for thee soul! Open up I gotta pee, woman!' so you got a pretty good guess on the alternative, sending your heart into a stutter and get smacked with a well deep of yearning.

You miss Aemond. You miss hanging out with him, even just having him on video call whilst you prepped a late dinner and he's working out his thesis defense, too late for either of you, but catching another's eye in the tiny phone and sharing a comforted grin. You miss being called my lady in a language that means so much to him, miss bumping shoulders and smelling his crisp scent of cologne and laundry.

Miss his lips, his very soft, very delicious lips—

"Gods damnit, woman, keep it together," you murmur to yourself. Another series of knocks, ever patient, and you're moved by body not mind as breathless giddiness yanks the door open—

Only to fall flat.

"Oh." You can't hide your disappointment at the curly blond with the smirk for centuries. "Aegon. I didn't know it was you."

"Yes, the expressive disappointment in your eyes could bring a man on the edge to his downfall, I must say," he jokes hoarsely, a little hurt. "Not even a hi Aeg. I've missed you Aeg, or— hey Aeg! You look good enough to eat!"

It's Aegon. Not Aemond. Or Helaena. Helaena and Aemond's older brother, Aegon. Party rocking, cocaine hiding, sweat and someone's lipstick smelling Aegon. You like him despite his whorishness because he's funny, because he's sweet when he wants to be, and he always, always gets you a funny mug when he comes back from wherever he came from.

You blink a couple of times, laughing awkwardly as you give him a quick hug. He still smells the same, with the lightest tint of sun in him from his days at the beach not so long ago no doubt.

"Sorry, sorry. Hi Aeg, I've missed you Aeg, and yes, you do look good enough to eat, Aeg."

He hugs back tighter, smothering you in the denim jacket he's wearing and the curly edge of his white blond hair. He's got a new piercing and smells of new perfume.

"So do you, princess," he says as you step back and he appraises you appreciatively. "Those shoes can step on me any time."

"I will never."

"You will never," he says chirpily, moving back with a teasing grin. "Let me guess, you were waiting for my uglier version to come by and got too overwhelmed by the majesticness of me."

'"Majesticness isn't even a word." You snort. "And Aemond is not your uglier version, you don't look that alike."

He raises an eyebrow as you blink. Fuck. "Dear me oh my, I meant Helaena, babe. When did Aemond get into the mix?"

You shove his shoulder, huffing as you pick up your keys and bag, forcing him to step back as you lock the apartment, trying to give yourself grace from his burning, teasing stare. "As if Helaena didn't tell you." You finally turn to him, lips pursed at his faux innocent pout. "Helaena tells you everything."

"She might have mentioned a thing or two about a thing or two." He bumps your hip as you both get into the elevator. "Imagine my surprise when Lae-lae tells me of a wondrous development between her two favourite people that involved a breakup, some gift-giving shenanigans, and kissing." He gasps dramatically as you groaned. "I leave for what— a month or two and suddenly you and Aemond are making out? Babe, I must say, you're doing the tongue tango with the wrong brother."

"He's not the wrong brother, also the tongue tango? Really?" you snap suddenly. The wrong brother comments always irk you because you understand that it's a sensitive issue to Aemond, as well as Aegon himself.

But it's a bait you realise too late because Aegon Targaryen enjoys hauling truths from people in steps and tricks, uncaring if he takes a stab or two to get there as you meet his gaze against the reflective wall, positively smirking.

"Really now?"

"Why are you even picking me up? I thought you were in Oldtown."

"Already sorted. Hel wanted to make sure you get there in time, she's going to be late... After all your earlier ride backed out didn't he?"

Your mouth pursed, annoyance prickling at your edges as the elevator pulled into the lobby. "I don't want to talk about it, where's your car?"

He whistles, languid and all the time in the world on his shoulders with just the hint of smug. "It's a thirty minute ride, babe, you're going to spill."

You shoot him a withering glare. "Not if I have say in it." For emphasis, you yank his door and slam it. Fuck his new Maserati.

"Mature!"

Thirty minutes is more than ample time for Aegon Targaryen to weed his way into your brain like the worst case of earworm (like a stupid ass commercial jingle that just. Won't. Stop) that by the time you reach his mother's, you were ranting.

"—like I get it, saying I'm going out with another guy to get some good dick after confirming that we're going to your mother's for Sunday as a date is bad, but we're not really dating! He said so himself! He pressed the issue of it not being a real thing! And he didn't attempt any—"

"— any communication at all," Aegon echoes, stretching his legs as he stood. "Not a sorry or anything."

"Anything!" you bolster, slamming his door again that is less about him and more about the aggressiveness. "I know that he's bad at apologising, or facing things that are hard, choosing to stew in it and act all shitty to people, I just... I thought he'd at least tell me. Doesn't that warrant our friendship?"

"Hm. Ever think that's precisely why he struggles with you?"

"What does that even mean?"

"That he cares about you, so he struggles more with expressing himself."

You turn to him, cocking your head. "When did you get so wise, oh Gandalf?"

"A Seven focused rehab facility can do that to you," he muses wistfully. "There was this nun that says verses when she orgasms."

You make a face. "Love the fun fact."

"You're welcome. But back to point, isn't the issue also the fact that you never tried to make contact with him either?"

"Well. Yeah. Because..."

Aegon squints at you sympathetically. "Because you're scared of rocking the boat because of how much you like him?"

"Not, well," you hesitate. "Not like that precisely..."

"How much you're capable of liking him?" Aegon smiles wryly. "You had a crush on him, I remembered that at least. When Hel first introduced you to him, you couldn't stop teasing him until he lit up like a Christmas tree. I knew you liked him since then. You called him pretty half the time, and I started to realise it was less about his reaction but how you actually see him, and speaking as the naturally cherub, pretty boy of the family, I find this highly, highly offensive."

You pinch his cheeks, wounding your arm over his shoulder. Aegon was built like a linebacker with less muscles that aren't postern, with wide shoulders and a strong body that's too easy to lean against.

"You're pretty too, Aeg," you coo. "But he's just..."

"If you say ethereal, I will vomit right in my mother's petunias." He makes a face. "How about this. The problem is that you think Aemond doesn't like you back."

You frown at him. "I know Aemond doesn't like me back."

"Oh, sweetie," Aegon coos, sympathy and pity swirling in his smug, smug smile. "I'm so glad you're pretty."

You pinch his sides until he squirms. "Fuck you, what the hell?"

"What I'm saying is, let's test that, you know? Because that's the only variable you aren't sure with?"

You sigh. "Aeg, even if he does, I'm not going to pounce—"

The door swings open, and there he is, of pretty boy face and good boy posture because his mother raised herself a good, devout boy who doesn't know what a slouch is because he's not an ape— and is he wearing his leather jacket? Of course he's wearing the leather jacket and you know that smell, that spiced cologne with the leather and his natural scent and fuck, Aemond is looking at you, looking at his brother, and the open expression, the shock, that smidge of relief— shutters to an icy politeness.

Aegon because he's Aegon, pulls you closer, his mouth curling into a grin that only says trouble, forcing Aemond to straighten up his already perfect posture in preparation for whatever his brother has in mind and his stare is white-hot on the conjoined appendages between you and his brother— and Aegon lands a wet, smacking kiss on your cheekbone.

"Had to pick up your girl, baby bro, I mean what kind of—" his blue gaze finds his mother descending the stairs, peering out to see on who it was, and you're frozen, waiting for the bomb to drop and simultaneously unprepared for it, "— boyfriend has his brother pick up his girl? Good thing you got a good excuse, huh? Oh, hey mother dearest! Your favourite son has come back!"

As Aegon leaves your side with a cheeky little wink, you bit your lip at the frosty look on his face that makes you feel like an absolute idiot and fills you with rage all in one go. Because Aemond has never looked at you like that, like you were at fault and acting like a child, but that you also want to jut a finger against his chest.

"Did you have a nice talk with him on the drive over?" he says, jaw hard.

"I didn't tell him," you hiss, taking the hem of his leather jacket instead of his hands enough so you can pretend to kiss his cheeks because his mother is right there, eyes wide at that two of you as Aegon gave you a discreet thumbs up.

"Helaena did. Get over yourself, your mother's—"

"Aemond?"

As he freezes and Alicent calls your name, you plaster the best smile you can make as you twine your fingertips with his.

"Smile."

"Hm."

When you leave his side to greet Alicent, you make sure to stomp on his stupid shoes.

As soon as you've finished your mandatory greetings— even with Otto Hightower, Aemond's grandfather, who merely raised his eyebrows at the apparent new status of you and his grandson, Alicent having to blink multiple times, wrangling positives as she kept shooting her son looks while he stood like a block of ice behind you — Aemond takes your hand by his own volition, tangles your fingers too tight, and starts tugging you along like a bouy.

"Are you a child?" you hiss, trying to pry your hand as insistently without outright yanking, Alicent already sending you both concerned looks at a news that she called 'oh, that is wonderful!'

"I am younger than you," he murmurs back, holding you tight.

"Oh, fuck you."

With a defeated huff, you take longer, heavier strides and stomps so you're the one dragging him.

It's all illusion of control built on pettiness because you're still being navigated, it's more just pride at this point, but you don't care, and when he scoffs right back, you felt at least a pinch of a win.

And then he, of course, matches your strides so fucking easily.

"Freaking horse-legged motherfucker," you mumble. You don't know if he catches it, or you're imaging the soft, surprised noise that's both a snort and a laugh.

He winds you around the hallway, an unbreakable trajectory to the backyard, dragging you past an easy eye view from the dramatic, floor to ceiling windows and trespassing straight into the hedge maze because of course they had one of those.

"Really? Here?"

"Do you want to be ogled up by my mother?" he says in a nauseatingly chipper voice. "Is that what you and Aegon are planning with all this, hm?"

You twist out of his grip, walking deeper on your own until your eyes are swallowed by the darkness. When you turn to him, your eyes adjust, only seeing the silver of his hair, so different from his black leather jacket and dark green jumper. You don't see his expression or his sharp gaze.

"Planned this? Seriously? Nothing since coming here had been planned, Aemond," your voice has bite and if your eyes had adjusted faster, or if you could see better, you would see the flinch he makes, "if it had been, this certainly would be the last of my fucking choices. Or do I have to remind you of the fact that we were supposed to go together? Oh right, things change when you drop a call out of fucking nowhere!"

"I—fuck." He moves around, a hand through his hair as exhales in frustration. "I didn't... think you'd want to go with me. That Sunday plans had been cancelled."

"And you didn't think to message? I mean it's not like we're friends in literally every social media." You try not to sound hurt before taking a deep breath, offering your palms up. "I didn't—don't even know what the issue is, Aemond. Were you so offended that I was sexually active that you just had to rudely drop the call and not talk—"

It's maybe the darkness, or intuition but you can bet half yours savings that Aemond Targaryen is blushing.

"It... gods, no it's not... I wasn't offended that you were sexually active," he says softly, evenly. He clears his throat. "I don't... mind that you're... sexually active. I actively... support it. Even." He coughs. Swallows. Curses.

If you don't feel like your heart is pounding in your throat you would have laughed. You had never seen the boy this flustered before that it's affecting his words, because Aemond has always been the most well spoken person you know.

"Is it about Cregan? Do you have something against Cregan?"

His eye flutter close. "No... and yes."

"I don't understand, Aemy," you whisper, defeated.

He sighs. In the dark, you notice a movement. His hands flex. It's a habit he's had since you've known him. It's instinct. The way you reach out, finding a piece of his leather jacket until you find your way to his hands, running your fingers over the bones and ridges, his sinew and skin. There are callouses from his fencing, running your thumb over his knuckles.

He's frozen first before he sighs, melting through the warmth you share with him.

"I have nothing against Stark," he finally says. "It's the fact that you were still having sex with him that I found unfair." He steps closer until you can see his face better, the struggle in him can be told through the furrow in his brows and the press of his pillowy lips, red and wet as if he had bitten through it. "I... understand that we're not really together, but I couldn't... not feel as if it wasn't right. As if I wanted it to be me."

His hands finds your arms, eye closing and gently placing his forehead against your own. At first you panic, your body trying to make your brain decide do you like this or not but it's Aemond, and he's warm, gentle, sweet almost. It's familiar and new at the same time. It's warmth you recognise, skin you will know anywhere, but in a way that you've never felt him before.

You close your eyes and breathe with him.

You know that this is rare. That this Aemond is reserved for people he loves and cares about, but with his forehead against yours, with his hands holding you steady, rubbing a comforting thumb over your skin that felt just as for him as it was for you, breathing you in and exhaling you out. A single breath between two bodies.

"I don't know if I can agree to that, Aemy."

"What?" He pulls back, hurt pulling taunt your favourite pair of lips. "Do you like Cregan more? You don't think I can please you?"

"That's not—"

His hands closes on your face, cupping it in his palms as you stare, wide-eyed at the blue fire lit up in his eye. His breath brushes your lips, making them tingle.

"Push me away if you don't want it," he says before his eye closes and he takes your mouth against his own, swallowing your gasp then pulling you away again, eye glinting.

"Push me away, ñuha riña." His voice is so soft, words crisp while your body thrummed in a single, frantic heartbeat. When you don't move, too shock, thoughts tangled, he smirks.

With his teeth, he captures your bottom lip, grazing it. When he feels you shudder, eyes fluttering, he chuckles meanly.

"Push me away as if you don't want me." He tilts your chin up as he looks down on you, eye confident in its lust. His thumb brushes your bottom lip. "As if you don't feel everything I do."

"Fuck you," you manage to exhale as you grab the back of his head and devour him just as you did at the restaurant. He groans, using his other hand to feel your side, pass your one breast, giving it a firm squeeze that makes you gasp, tongue clashing, legs tangling as you push and push and he pulls you to him, his back hitting the prickly hedge. It's teeth and tongue, breaths twisted in one air as you used each other like lifelines, like enemies in a swords match.

It's feverish and passion, infuriating want that gives. Because when you dominate the kiss, tangling his tongue with your own, yanking him down and down as if you want him to reach every part of you inside, he bends and follows. And when he pulls you, tangles your hair and takes every gasp and breath, you surrender.

He groans when you suck on his bottom lip, pulling away just enough to spit out, "You taste so much better than my dreams." His mouth moves down and down, leaving a path of heat as he suckles at your neck, practically ripping the buttons of the top of your dress as he slides down and grunts in pain.

"A-Aemy?" Your eyes flutter. "Your back, shit—"

"Fuck that." He tugs you down until you land with an oomph! on his lap, your chest at his eye level before he drags them back to your gaze. "Tell me to stop."

You shake your head, tangling your fingers in his hair. "No."

"Good."

Your back arches, supported in his hold, as he starts sucking the skin lower and lower, another hand massaging your tit that pools hot down your core until his hand, warm and solid, sinew and bone, and Aemond Aemond Aemond, slides between your bra and cups your breast and his hand is so big, and it feels so good that you start grinding on the hard length you feel right at your—

An ear-splitting shriek freezes the both of you. You and Aemond pull back, hand still on your tit.

"Wha—"

"Ew, ew, ew! Mom said you were fighting! FIGHTING DOES NOT EQUATE FUCKING IN THE MAZE, YOU FUCKING CLICHES!"

TAGGED: @snowprincesa1 @gemini-mama @fan-goddess @snh96 @valeskafics @opheliaas-stuff @tempo-rary-fix @fantasticpeaceharmony @diannnnsss @iamavailablesstuff @spinachtz @at-a-rax-ia @bespinnn @tsujifreya @moonlightfoxx @kemillyfreitas @joyouart @bananzaa @honey-on-mars @alexa4040 @cinnamonbambii @wintrr13 @wxb-slingrr @astroswift @queenofshinigamis @helaenaluvr @kaetastic @jxdegodfrey @laniii-on-your-left @watercolorskyy @microwaveallthedemons @kazuyatokue @herfantastyworldd @averyyreads @urmomsgirlfriend1 @bellstwd @jiminie-08 @ttkttt @nockerin @backyardfolklore @random-ocity @hc-geralt-23 @vendettasblog @cicaspair418 @malynn @anehkael @schadenfreude-and-sarcasm

#aemond targaryen #aemond targaryen x reader #ewan mitchell #aemond fanfiction #aemond targaryen x you #aemond targaryen fanfiction #aemond angst #aemond x reader #hotd angst #aemond x you #hotd fanfiction #elle writes !! ꒱ ↷˗ˏˋ🍒#tshbft ༊*·˚ೄྀ࿐ ˊˎ

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ihavethedreamies · 5 months

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Birthday Surprise | Baekhyun

Byun Baekhyun - EXO

Rating: M (18+) MDNI

Word Count: ~3.5k

Pairing: Baekhyun x AFAB!Reader

Genre: Reader-Insert, Fluff, Smut, Cute, Sweet

!!This is smut…if that much isn't clear you should probably leave now!! MDNI!

Warnings: She/Her Pronouns used, Kissing, Bit of Swearing, Oral (F! Receiving), Fingering, Wall Sex, Unprotected Sex (Don't!)

Author's Note: This a story requested by/written for my friend @sadfragilegirl! I hadn't written something to post for EXO yet. It’s a little early for her actual birthday, but she didn't mind, so here is this as well~

I am cross-posting this on Archive. Please reblog! If you know anyone that would like this or future fics but they aren't on here my name and icon are exactly the same on the other site. Happy reading!

Sighing again, you found your eyes drifting to your phone again. Tapping the screen, there were still no new notifications. You understood with the time difference and his busy schedule that your boyfriend didn't always have a second to spare and reply. You didn't take it personally; it just was hard when you missed him as much as you did. The first week of a tour was always the hardest, but then it would get easier. After time passed though, the harder and harder it would get again. At least with Baekhyun's solo career, he was gone for a shorter time than with the whole group. You also never kept close track of his tours, only what he would tell you. It was too difficult to watch the fancams others would post, because they got to be there and not you. You had to work yourself though and couldn't go with him.

Another sigh left your lips and you reluctantly went back to watching the show on the TV. You didn't even remember what you had put on initially, but it had changed. Your phone dinged and you nearly gave yourself whiplash looking at it, but your shoulders slumped. Your food was there. Grumbling, you got up from the couch, shuffling in your slippers to the door. When you opened the door, there was the food you ordered and you grabbed the bag, but there was something else too. A box was set next to your food, and it looked like it might have been there before. It was white with a red ribbon and a red envelope stuck to it. Picking it up with your other hand, it wasn't very heavy, you headed back inside. You hadn't ordered anything…

Setting the bag of food down on the dining table, you plucked the envelope off the box, a bit of the paper tearing from where it was taped on. Your name was on it, but that was it, no address, yours or otherwise. Pondering what the heck it could be, you gently tore the envelope open, pulling the card out. Your eyes widened, then stung a bit as tears sprung to your eyes. You recognized the handwriting immediately.

Hello, Sweetheart, I'm sorry I haven't been able to talk with you the way we both want, or as often. It's harder for me to leave you at home whenever I do, even more than it is for you, believe it or not. Everything I saw wherever I went that reminded me of you, I bought. I know your birthday is tomorrow, but you'll have to wait for the presents when you see me. I did prepare a surprise though. There is a dress in the box, please wear it and a driver will come to pick you up tomorrow night at 7 pm. I miss you, and happy early birthday. ~Love, Baekhyun

You sniffed, trying to hold the tears back, feeling foolish. Why did you want to cry so hard? You wondered though what the heck he had planned. Did he set up a party or something for you so you wouldn't notice his absence as much? Finally going to the box that came with the card, you opened it and removed the tissue paper inside to see the dress. A huff of surprise left your mouth, that did not look cheap. Flipping the tag over to see the brand, you were then for sure. It was a beautiful, light blue, bouffant-style dress, the fabric had a dull sparkle throughout and was made from a smooth silk. Of course it was just your size.

"Oh, Baek…" You sniffed again, holding the dress up to yourself, wondering what shoes you were going to wear.

"Are you (Y/N)?" The sharply dressed man standing by a very nice black car asked you. You nodded, and he opened the door for you. You smoothed your dress down when you got in, adjusting it as you sat to keep it looking nice. It hit you right at the knees and you paired it with a simple set of gold kitten-heels. You had curled and put your hair up and added some gold jewelry to finish off the look. The driver got back in the car and began to head in the direction of the fancy part of town. You fiddled with the strap of your bag, watching the buildings and lights pass. Maybe ten minutes later, the car pulled into the entrance of an extremely fancy hotel. You had guessed it was a party, but maybe it would be a meal in the restaurant?

"Have a Happy Birthday, Miss (Y/N)." The driver smiled, opening the door for you and you shyly thanked him, once again adjusting your dress as you entered the lobby.

"Are you Miss (Y/N)?" one of the hoteliers asked as the automatic doors slid closed behind you.

"Yes."

"Please, follow me." She smiled, motioning for you to do so, leading you to the elevators. You got in and she pulled a card out of the pocket of her vest, sliding it into the reader of the elevator, then pressed the button for the roof.

"Have a Happy Birthday, Miss (Y/N)." She smiled once again, and the elevator doors closed, heading straight up. You were feeling a bit overwhelmed with the glitz and glam of the night already. You knew that your boyfriend was an international celebrity and had been for years, granting him plenty of clout and capital, but this…

The elevator doors opened, a polished hallway leading to a set of glass doors, and presumable, the rooftop venue. You couldn't see anything pass the doors, not even lights, just those in the distance of nearby buildings. Tilting your head a bit in confusion, you walked forward, heels clicking on the floor. When you got to the door, you for some reason felt your heart surge. Resting your hand on the handle, you took a deep breath and opened the door, stepping out into the night breeze.

"Surprise!" You startled, only somewhat unprepared. The lights had come on, the pop of confetti poppers and loud cheering welcomed you. It was hard to hide your smile, seeing all of your and Baekhyun's friends.

"(Y/N)!" An extremely loud voice heralded the action before you registered it, then found yourself engulfed by a Chanyeol. You let out an 'oof' as he hugged you, you rocked back on your feet from the force of his hug.

"Let her go!" Kyungsoo huffed, hitting the other one on the back, who recoiled in an overdramatic fashion. You shot the smaller man a grateful look, but then they both looked behind them. You couldn't see over them, but when they moved-

"Baekhyun!" You beamed, tears once again hitting your eyes and he caught you when you dashed forward.

"Hi, sweetheart." He hugged you close and you heard various voices coo at the reunion, "Happy Birthday." He kissed your forehead when you finally pulled away, then scoffed.

"Hey, you'll ruin your mascara." He swiped his thumb over your cheek and you sniffed.

"I…I knew you had probably planned a party or something, but I didn't know you would be here too!" Your smile brought out his own and you hugged him again as he chuckled.

"Ah, what?!" He shouted suddenly and if you hadn't known him for as long as you did, the volume would have startled you. He turned to look behind him aggressively only to have Minseok whisper something in his ear after hitting him to get his attention.

"Oh, right." He calmed down and Baekhyun pulled away from you some.

"I did not time everything right, so we're going to eat now, then do the rest." Your boyfriend smiled, leading you over to the table set up in front of all the others.

"The rest?" you asked, sitting down in the seat he pulled out for you. He joined you and everyone else was sitting at their own respective tables. He pointed to the side at a table piled with gifts and you gaped.

"You guys!" You spoke loud enough, lacing fake annoyance in your tone and your guests laughed.

"Kyungsoo picked out the menu." Baekhyun told you, servers coming out with the food. It was all of your favorites and tasted amazing. When everyone was done with the meal and plates were cleared, another group of servers came out with a beautiful two-tier cake. The rested it gentle on the table in front of you and lit the candles before excusing themselves with a bow.

"Make a wish, sweetheart." Baekhyun wrapped his arm around your shoulder, kissing the crown of your head and you pressed your hands together, eyes closed. Let it be that I can stay happy with him, forever. You blew out the candles and everyone clapped and cheered and then the real part of the party began. Another set of chairs were at the gift table, so you moved over.

"Half of these are from you!" You sent a look to your boyfriend who chuckled a bit.

"So? Just start!" He brushed it off and you started. You got a lot of things like skincare, makeup, and other such toiletries. There were some stuffed animals, a few sets of earrings, a few nice perfumes and a tennis bracelet. Like you said, half of it literally was from him, several different countries were the origin of many. One of the boxes you opened, you slammed closed immediately, face heating. You sent him a side-glare and he seemed to realize what you had opened.

"Oh, uh, you can do that one later." He grabbed it from you, setting it on the pile and hoping no one noticed that it was purposefully hidden.

"It works with a phone app, from anywhere…" He whispered in your ear and you wanted to interrogate him further but decided to do it later. After the presents were opened and the cake cut, you finally got to eat it. Trying not to make a mess with the frosting, you enjoyed the champagne that was brought out as well. People were already dancing in the large open area in the middle of the rooftop venue, and when another nice, slow song started, Baekhyun grabbed your hand.

"I thought it would be weird if we danced to one of my songs." He whispered to you as he brought you to the dance floor. It was the second slow song, but you understood why he did that. While he literally danced for a living, you were not nearly as graceful nor practiced as him. You set your hand in his, the other on his shoulder, his other hand resting on your waist.

"Just, follow the rhythm." He coached as you danced, several of your other friends dancing with their significant others. You smiled as you passed Jongdae with his wife, somewhat envying what they had. That was something to think about later though.

"I think you got something on your-" Baekhyun brought your attention back to him and he smirked before quickly kissing the corner of your mouth and you scoffed.

"Geez." You couldn't help but smile, resting your head on his shoulder as you swayed. When the song faded to a close, you reluctantly pulled away from him, but his hand stayed linked with yours.

"Yeol!" He shouted, catching his friend's attention. He flashed an 'ok' gesture and Chanyeol sent a thumbs up back and you frowned a bit. What were they planning?

"Come with me." He looked like a kid in a candy store, a wide grin spread over his pretty face and you followed after him as he led you inside. Chanyeol had started something on the little stage set up for the band, everyone's attention focused there.

"I was going to wait till after, but I can't." Baekhyun told you, pulling you with him through the only door of the rooftop shelter other than the one outside or the elevator. It was a small staging room it seemed, there was mostly just extra tables and chairs. When you turned toward him to ask him what he was talking about, his lips captured yours, and your words slipped into a whine. Your back hit the wall by the door, hands flying up to his shoulders and up the nape of his neck into his hair. One of his arms wrapped around you, hand on the small of your back, the other on the wall to steady you both. You were glad you chose a lip stain rather than lipstick since none of it transferred over to him. You sighed and his tongue slipped into your mouth, his leg coming between yours, pressing his thigh against your covered mound. You moaned, letting him pull back from the kiss reluctantly. His lips kissed the corner of your mouth again, then down to your jaw, and further to your shoulder. The off-shoulder sleeves left plenty of skin open, so he took the chance and sank his teeth in slightly. You tried to hold back your moan, not sure how soundproof the room was, grinding down on his thigh between yours. It had been way to long, and the little points of contact through the night were not nearly enough.

"How am I going to get out of here?" You scolded lightly as he moved across your collarbone, having most likely already left three or four marks.

"You can use my coat." He offered quickly, barely pulling his lips off your skin to speak, also removing said item. Baekhyun rolled his sleeves up, lips finding yours again. When his task was done, you giggled as he lightly smoothed his hand up your thigh. His finger hooked over the hem of your panties, snapping the elastic. You squeaked slightly when he pressed into you, pinning you into the wall further, teeth nibbling your ear lobe, licking over the golden hoops you had in.

"You're already wet?" He gave a huff of smugness and you just hummed, exhaling in bliss when his fingers ran through your soaked folds.

"Baek-!" You were going to try and rationalize your state, but it was a moot point because your breath left when he sank his finger inside you. You were tighter than usual, not even having been able to get off yourself, you needed Baekhyun. The remote vibrator he bought you made more sense then. By the time he added his second finger, spreading them to get you ready, there were probably three more marks on your upper chest. Your little mewls were obviously getting to him, but the night was for you, not him. He stopped his fingers and you wanted to protest, but he was sinking to his knees.

"Oh." You whispered, letting him gently pull your panties down and over your feet, tucking them in his back pocket. You would have scolded him, but all words left as he buried his tongue inside your wanting pussy.

"Baek!" You shuddered, slumping further into the wall, hands on his shoulders to stabilize yourself. He tried not to laugh at your squeal as he hiked one of your thighs up and onto his shoulder to get you open more for him. His tongue left your core, flicking at your clit, two fingers finding home inside you again. Your walls fluttered around the digits and he could tell you were close. With one more crook of his fingers, and kiss to your clit, you came and he helped you ride it, eagerly lapping at your essence flowing down his hand. By the time the waves of your orgasm faded, you were shaking and he smirked, standing while licking off his fingers. You noticed his hardened cock straining against his dress pants, fingers finding the zipper.

"Wait-"

"Can't. Do it better later." You insisted and he wasn't going to argue. Just as soon as you freed him, the head of his cock was at your entrance and he pushed in. Your gummy walls pulsed around him; the stretch stung from you going to so long without him. The same leg he had over his shoulder he held up over his elbow and you were so glad you were flexible. His thrusts were shallow and hard, trying to get to the crest for both of you fast so he could get you back to the hotel room and fuck you properly.

"Shit, Baekhyun." Your breath came out in pants, trying to stay quiet, but it was hard. Your peak was getting close again, your tight core around his cock felt like heaven, so he was close too.

"Come on, sweetheart. Cum for me." His sweet voice in your ear was all it took and he had to still as you came. He let go as well, the squeeze too good. Catching your breath, you startled when someone knocked on the door hard. Baekhyun must have taken it as a signal for something, because he got himself fixed up and let you have his suit jacket to cover your shoulders. In the low light he could see the rising deep red and purple welts, a few with light teeth marks.

"Okay, lets go."

"What-?"

"Yeol got everyone distracted, so now you don't feel good, so we're leaving!" He grinned like a goof and you scoffed, shuffling after him to the elevator. Chanyeol seemed to be guarding the door, back to you, and you giggled as the lift doors closed. Your boyfriend looked at you, his hair a bit messy and you both laughed. He still had your panties in his pocket… When the elevator got to the floor for the room he booked, you slipped out, slinking past a group of what looked like college guys walking down the hall. You held his jacket over you tighter, following Baekhyun as he led you. When he had gotten you into the hotel suite, your giggles turned into a full laugh, and he couldn’t help but join.

"Come on, sweetheart. The bed is all ready…"

After unwrapping you like you were a present, he sat behind you on the bed, leading you to rest your back to his chest.

"What are we doing?" You asked, letting his hands on your hips guide you. He sat on his knees, having you straddle his lap and he sank lower as you settled on him, cock filling you back up. Sighing at the feeling of him inside you again, he kissed over your shoulders again, sucking another mark at the base of your ear. Resting your head on his shoulder, his hands guided you to grind down onto him, the angle had the head of his cock right in the best spot, rubbing and pressing you into a tizzy. You wondered why it felt so much more intense than normal, more intimate.

"You looked so beautiful tonight. I knew the dress was perfect." His voice, low and soft in your ear seemed to vibrate over you and your hips stuttered through the rhythm you both had set. Baekhyun leaned back a bit more, you followed since you were resting on him, and the shift let him slide in even deeper and you gasped at the rapidly rising pleasure.

"I loved hearing you laugh in person, being able to hold you." One of his hands slid up over your stomach, cupping your breast.

"Feel your soft skin, kiss you, taste you…" You whimpered, his hips shifting to meet yours, thrusting up to meet your rolling hips.

"Wanna see you…" You whined and he hummed, smirking.

"Okay, sweetheart." While you were not pleased that he pulled out, you were quickly filled back up when your back hit the bed. His hands wrapped around yours when they went to cup his jaw, mouth meeting yours again. Linking your fingers, he pinned your hands up by your head with his, pulling back just enough so your lips still brush slightly. You wrapped your legs tighter around his waist, and he snapped his hips hard, picking the pace up immediately. You couldn't hold back your moans, writhing in pleasure under him, the bed frame groaning from the force. You wanted to touch him too, but his hands on yours prevented it. He smirked against your lips, switching to using his one hand to hold both your wrists in place. The free hand gripped your thigh, shifting your leg up higher so he could get even deeper inside of you. It was hard for you to get out anything intelligible other than his name and your orgasm was rising faster than you anticipated.

"God, you're so beautiful. I love you so much, (Y/N)." His pace was stuttering, the vice of your core sending him closer to the edge as well.

"Love you too~" You managed to get out and your voice crested into a high moan as you fell over the edge. He groaned himself, spilling inside, filling you with warmth and swallowing your noises with a sealing kiss.

"Happy Birthday, sweetheart." Baekhyun smiled warmly and you giggled tiredly.

"You really didn't have to do so much…" You pouted playfully and he hummed, shaking his head.

"I did. I love you, and whenever I'm gone for so long, so far away, you're all I think about. I honestly wish I would have done more.”

Master-Master List

#ihavethedreamies #kpop #kpop fluff #kpop smut #kpop x reader #kpop fanfic #x reader #exo x reader #exo fanfic #exo #exo fluff #exo smut #exo baekhyun #baekhyun x reader #baekhyun smut #baekhyun fluff #byun baekhyun

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astermath · 1 year

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nemesis; part two.

pairing: carmen berzatto x fem!reader

summary: with carmen reworking the restaurant, you’d think his mind would be far too occupied to even think about anything else. yet he can’t shake the guilt from what he’d put you through a month prior. after some talks in therapy, he decides to take a leap of faith and see if he can talk it out with you. he not only wants to convince you that he can be better, but he's got an offer for you too. one you truly can't refuse.

♡ landing page ♡

word count: 4.9K

tags: carmen being unsure about his feelings but trying to be better episode 3265742, letting reader in a little more, APOLOGIES!!!, cursing ig, carm goes to therapy yippee, syd being the absolute realest, regular font below!

notes: sorry this took literally forever omg, I lost my carmen muse for a bit but we are SO back baby. I missed him so much and so sorry if some things don't follow the canon completely (I've been watching season 2 on and off bc I've been so busy lol BUT my fics never follow the canon completely anyways),, hope u guys enjoy and let me know if you'd like a part three ;))

lmk if you'd like to be added to the tag list for further carmen berzatto related content! comments and reblogs are highly appreciated!

Carmen’s life hadn’t known a moment of mental rest in ages. If you asked him when he last sat down with his thoughts or acknowledged his mental anguish, he probably would have said he couldn’t remember the last time. If ever.

With plans to completely revamp The Beef and everything that came with it, now his feelings should be the last thing on his mind. Renovation plans, unforeseen costs and a completely new menu, sure, he could worry his ass off about those, but feelings? Absolutely not. Good thing he was usually so good at suppressing those anyways.

So why was it that he couldn’t shake the thought of what he did to you?

Why, every time he had a moment to himself, would he be overtaken by this intense feeling of guilt? He didn’t even have to be alone, just a second of quiet and the image of you crying in distress would intrude on his thoughts.

It was getting to a point where he’d told his sister, Natalie, about it. Well, not all of it, he wasn’t even sure if he knew all of it. Just that he knows he hurt you, and that coming to terms with what he projected onto you might be a good first step in understanding himself better.

Or maybe it was something more along the lines of “I gotta talk my shit to some people”. Probably that.

To his surprise, it was actually helping. Besides the group therapy sessions where he’d talk about Mikey, the business and his future, he was talking to other people in his life too. Even told Sydney about you, kind of on accident. The words just seemed to… Flow out. It was probably the exhaustion doing its thing.

“I guess I just felt like,” he kept his eyes on the floor he was sweeping, “she was doing it all to fuck with me. I don’t even know where I got the sick idea that she had some obsession over me, but it— it drove me at the same time. It’s like her being on my heels at every aspect of culinary school just made me want to try even harder.”

“Maybe you painted her in that light because you knew it was a good way to keep pushing yourself.” Sydney spoke almost absentmindedly, sweeping the other side of the room. She listened to everything he said in the meantime, and though what he was telling her was a bit worrying, she was glad they got to have talks like this. Carmen often doesn’t like to bring up his past like that.

“Huh,” he paused sweeping for a moment, “yeah… yeah, maybe. Or maybe it was something else.”

Sydney wasn’t even sure he knew what he was referring to. It sounded like something entirely different, like a crush, but what kind of person treats their crushes like that?

Probably an overworked, pressured, overachieving culinary student with a dangerous need for validation. But she wasn’t about to tell him that.

“So yeah, I visited her restaurant, and… It just felt the exact same as back in New York, you know? Like she was rubbing it in my face again, and— and I know that sounds insane, or conceited, but I just can’t let it go. It’s like the thought of her is stuck to my brain like a stubborn piece of gum.” He wanted to smack himself for that stupid analogy, but what was said was said.

“So how’d you handle it?” Sydney’s head perked up, some of her braids now draping over her shoulders.

“Handle what?” Carmen became more and more uneasy the more he talked about you. Like his chest was tight, it was uncomfortable, but not in the way he was when the health inspection came by, it was different. Weirder. Unfamiliar. He didn’t like it, because he didn’t understand it.

“The talk with her.” She emptied the last bit of dust into the trash bag.

“Oh,” his mind took him back to the parking lot a month ago. The way he could almost taste the tears of your skin from how close he stood, he could hear the shakiness of your breath and the profound desperation in your voice when you apologized to him, when you really had no reason to.

If it was still so clear in his mind, then what must it be like for you?

“Carmen?” Sydney snapped him out of his oncoming train of thought.

“Yeah? Sorry, I— Uh, I don’t know it was…” He runs a hand through his hair, suddenly finding it in his best interest to look anywhere else but her face. “Bad. It was— It was bad.” He looks a bit shameful when he meets her eyes. “I fucked up. I like, went all New York boss on her. And then I just… Left.”

His colleague just stares at him for a moment. She knew what he was like when he snapped like that, but that was with his staff, people he liked. So how badly did he snap on you, a person he’d been resenting for years?

“I’m gonna go take out this trash, and uh… Head home.” She lifts the grey plastic bag she was holding. “But uh, Carm?”

“Yeah?”

“You got issues, man.” She has a bit of an awkward smile on her face, but he knows she means it. He knows she’s right. She usually is.

He nods, silently, letting her words sink in. He did have issues, everyone knew that, but most people didn’t just say it. That’s why he liked Sydney, she was so real, so honest. She was so good for the business, for the kitchen. And maybe her saying that to him was all part of grounding him in the reality of it all. Of his issues, just that they existed.

“Heard.” he says. His voice comes out raspier than he expected, like he’s struggling to say it.

“Goodnight, chef.”

“Night.”

He’d thought about what Sydney said the entire night. He does have issues, he knows that, he’s just mad at himself for letting everything get this far before seeking help. It scares him. Because it reminds him too much of Mikey. Or what he heard about him when things got bad.

He doesn’t want to make the same mistakes his brother did. Lock people out of his life just because it seems easier, because it’s better to minimize the damage than to figure out why you’re doing damage at all. And yes it’s uncomfortable, yes it’s scary, terrifying even. But he keeps being reminded of how it must feel for you.

It’s something he’d never considered before. He always thought he had you all figured out, all fake smiles and backhanded compliments to distract him. It never occurred to him to just… Ask. It was always just easier to assume. It fit his view of you and it kept him going, even if it was at the expense of ever getting to know you at all.

He’s hoping he can change that with a few text messages and a long, probably uncomfortable, talk over coffee. Just hoping, trying, that’s really all he can do. He’s well aware of how bad he is at communicating, but he has to give it a shot. For you, at least.

He stares at his phone screen for far longer than is necessary, continuously rereading the messages he’d typed. His eyes keep flicking to your contact, making sure he sent it to the right person. The only thing you two had texted about before was a time and place for him to try your new restaurant. His heart aches at the exclamation points and emojis you’d sent; you were so excited, and he drove all that excitement straight into the ground.

He closes his eyes and shuts off the phone. His chest hurts, like he’s been holding his breath the entire time. Maybe he has. You could have that effect on him, making it harder to breathe. He always wondered why he had such nervous reactions around you specifically. He always figured it had to do with your one sided rivalry, but it feels… Different. More complex.

Your eyes are finally peeled off your computer screen when numerous phone notifications alarm you. Truth be told, you’ve been trying your best to keep yourself occupied as much as possible. That usually helps when you get waves of emotions like this, keeping busy, distracting your mind from overthinking.

Ever since your last encounter with Carmen, you’ve been so on edge. Always trying to do something, anything, so you wouldn’t have to think about what happened, why he acted like that to you. Because you know if you did, you’d just start blaming yourself again, and you’d be back to square one.

Your eyebrows raise at the name of the contact. You were sure he’d blocked you, or at least deleted your number after last time. He was avoidant like that, and frankly, you weren’t sure if you wanted him to talk to you again after that anyways. Maybe it was just to drive the point home, make you feel even more worthless.

Still, you were curious. Even if it was just to cuss you out even more, at least you knew what to expect, right?

[carmen]: hey, I really want to talk to you about what happened last time.

[carmen]: well

[carmen]: I want to apologise

[carmen]: but I can’t do that like this

[carmen]: I’d much rather do it in person

[carmen]: if you’d let me

[carmen]: meet me at odette’s tomorrow around 10? coffee’s on me, I just want to talk

[carmen]: please

The last message was sent minutes later than the rest, while you were reading them. He was desperate for an answer, and though you wanted to hear him out, to talk to him, something in you felt off about the whole thing. Like he was just doing this to clear off his own guilt, only to then ditch you just like he ditched you after culinary school. Because you’re rivals, apparently. That’s what you do.

But then there’s something else in you too. The part that’s still nostalgic about New York with him. About the glances back and forth when you were timed on preparing certain things, about the way he’d stare at you when you got feedback, the ignorant bliss you lived in. When you still believed he might have liked you just a little.

That part of you takes the upper hand when you reply and take his offer. Your heart is in your throat, nerves overtaking you already and you weren’t even with him yet. He had that effect on you sometimes, making it harder to breathe.

You wondered what that meant.

Carmen sits alone at a booth, all the way at the back of the café he’d chosen. It’s rather quiet, as most Mondays are, yet at the same time, it’s so loud. Loud in the way he hears the clinking of every spoon against porcelain cups, the crinkling of a napkin and the not so subtle ticking of the clock above the entrance. 10:06. You were late.

Suddenly he's filled with more regret than he's ever felt before. He's not ready to see you again, only to be reminded of how he made you cry, and of his own tumultuous emotions and shortcomings that lead to this moment. It's surprising how fast the emotions he associates with you changed; he's not angry anymore, he's scared, guilty, nervous. He wants to see you so bad and yet he feels like you'd be better off never talking to him again.

It's too late to make a run for it when you finally walk through the door. Hair a little damp from the rain, just a bit disheveled from what he could only assume to be rushing over to the café. And that same angelic smile you offer to the barista that greets you, the same one you'd offer him every morning, whether he looked at you or not.

He had no choice but to look now.

Your smile falters into something more nervous, a little melancholic, when your eyes meet his across the café. Though you knew he was going to be there, something in you feels surprised to see him again. Maybe it’s because he isn’t yelling at you or throwing insults at your head this time. Or maybe because he’s actually looking you in the eye. Since when did he get so good at that?

You sit down across him, taking off your coat and putting your bag besides you.

“Hey.” You smile again, much more awkward this time.

“Hey.” He returns the same thin lipped smile.

It’s quiet for a few seconds. Carmen swears the whole café has gone silent in that moment, leaving the two of you to listen to the sound of your own breathing and heartrate picking up. You’re not sure where to look, not being used to being in such an intimate setting with him.

“Do you want a coffee?”

“Sorry I was late.”

You both talk over each other, and the urge to chuckle about it overtakes you. Carmen can’t help but smile as well. You seem nervous, and somehow that puts him a little more at ease. Like he’s not the only one who’s in their head about it.

“Sorry, I, uhm, yeah— I would like a coffee.” You scramble over your words. “Please.”

“Sure,” he nods, “and no worries.”

“Hm?”

“That you were late. I haven’t been here that long either.” He lied. He’d been there half an hour early, cursing himself for letting him sit along with his thoughts for that long and psyching himself out into almost leaving.

You both order and another heavy silence sits between you two. You both know why you’re there, what needs to be talked about. Yet neither of you know how to bring it up.

You’ve lived most of your lives believing this version of each other you had in your minds. Because it kept you grounded. Because it was easier. He never let you in and for the longest time, you were at peace with that. You could have a slightly distant view of who he was, your classmate, your rival. And he could do the same. Keep you out, pretend you were there to keep him on his toes, to always try to outdo him.

Those facades of each other don’t work anymore. The real world has forced you to reconcile with each other, whether you liked it or not.

Your coffee gets brought to your table, and both of you feel this urgency to say something, anything, at least.

“The pastries here are good too, if you want to get one.” He finally broke the awkward silence. He can start with talking about food, something he knows. If all else fails, resort back to that.

“I haven’t tried a pastry besides my own in a long time. Maybe I could learn a thing or two here.” You admit. He knows that feeling. He’s not nearly as adventurous with his food choices as he wants to be, but as a busy chef on the brink of a new entrepreneurship, it’s usually beef sandwiches and frozen meals.

“I think yours were better though.” He takes a sip of his coffee.

“Huh?” You look up, realizing you were avoiding eye contact by staring into your cup.

“The danish I tried at your place. It was fire.”

“Oh. Right. Thank you, we make everything from scratch.”

“I could tell.” He takes another sip. “I guess I— I kinda forgot to tell you that. In the heat of it all.” He huffs to himself. “Food was so good it made me upset.”

“Upset?” His word use frustrates you. Upset is when they forget to give you your sauce with your order. What happened back there was not upset. That was rage. Wrath. You raise an eyebrow and he realizes he said something wrong.

“Well, more than upset. Listen, I— We need to talk about what happened.” His blue eyes peer into your own. They’re almost distracting enough to avoid you noticing his fidgeting hands.

“I’m listening.” You lean back slightly in your seat. You’d played nice with Carmen all your life, given him every chance to return it. Now it was his turn to try.

"Right." Of course he has to talk. It's his fault, isn't it? He's the one who snapped-- why did he even imply you'd have to explain yourself? He runs a hand through his hair, and there he goes again, eyes darting across the café to find something to focus on as he sought out the right words. You'd almost find it endearing, how bad he is at this, if it wasn't so important to you.

"You don't do this often, do you?"

"What, like-- meeting up for coffee?"

"Talking about stuff. Your feelings and shit." You hid your slightly amused smile behind your coffee cup before taking a small sip.

"Oh. Yeah, no, I-- I don't. Not until recently." He takes a deep breath. Just like they had told him to. “I’ve been going to this therapy thing my sister recommended. S’not much, but… It’s a start. Talked about the restaurant, my brother—“

“Your brother?” Your eyebrows raise slightly.

“Yeah, my— my brother. Mikey.” He looks a bit surprised. He’s come to the shattering realization that he’s never told you anything about his personal life, ever. You don’t even know about one of the most important people in his life, his main drive. You’ve known each other for so long yet you know so little. “I never told you about him?”

“You never told me anything.” You answer curtly. “We never really… Talked, you know?”

“Yeah— yeah, you’re right. I just thought… Wow.” He smiles, more out of shock than anything. He feels so stupid. How immature is it to be feuding this much with a person who doesn’t know anything about you?

“I guess I really don’t know much about you either.” His fingers rake through his messy curls again. “Makes me feel like even more of an idiot for going off on you like that. Like I had you all figured out.”

“Yeah, that was uh... That was something." The mood shifts a little. His smile fades as soon as he sees the melancholy in your eyes return. Of course it wouldn't be that easy for you to forgive him, to feel better about all this. "You know, I never knew you thought of me like that." A small smile graces your features. Somehow it's sadder than the expression you had before.

"I mean, I knew you didn't like me. I was pretty much at peace with the fact that you were never going to like me, either. But I never thought you hated me that much." You sniffle, trying your hardest to blink away any oncoming tears. "Like your life, your entire career, would have been easier without me there at all."

His heart aches at the sight of you, all teary eyed and trying to be brave. You're much braver than him. Sadness is a much harder thing to express than anger. He's starting to figure that out more and more.

"I don't hate you." He starts. He sees the confusion contort your features, and he knows he's not making any sense. "I mean I did-- I did hate you. Or, maybe not you, just... The fucked up idea I had of you. And-- and that was on me, that was my own fault." He feels an urge to touch you; to rub your back, hold your hand, anything to comfort you. It's tearing him apart to know that he's the cause of all this.

"But why?" A single tear rolls down your cheek, leaving a wet streak on your skin in its wake. "Why did you think that about me? I-- I get that we had a little rivalry going but jesus Carmen, did you really think I spent my whole culinary school career trying to outdo you?"

"To be honest... Yeah." He feels ashamed. So ashamed. He hopes the waitress doesn't walk by and listen to any of this, see you crying, and make you feel even worse. "Cooking was always just... My thing. If I was good for anything, it would be that. So seeing you do so well at something I'd started to base my whole existence around, it made me jealous, so fucking jealous." He meets your eyes, even if it's hard. You have to know he's being sincere.

"And it's-- it's unfair, it's so unfair to you, I know, and I'm really fuckin' sorry. I'm trying to work on myself, on everything, and I hope I can prove that to you." His face has that red tint you recognize whenever he's nervous or stressed. You can tell this is taking a lot from him.

"Is that really all? You were just jealous?" Your voice is quieter, fragile almost.

"I don't know. I wanna think it's that simple but I really don't know. There's a lot I don't understand about me, or you, or us. My mind doesn't know how to react when I see you anymore I think, now that things are different." He takes a deep breath, like saying that took a physical toll on him. "You have this-- this weird effect on me, and I don't know how to cope with it. I think it was just easier to be mad at you than to be anything else."

Anger is easier to express than sadness. The easiest out of all emotions, actually. Sometimes a little too easy.

You look to the side, wiping your cheek with the back of your hand. You huff out something close to a laugh, and though he’s caught off guard by it, he doesn’t mind it. Even if you’re laughing at him, at least that means you’re not crying.

“You’ve got issues Berzatto. You know that?”

“Yeah. I’ve been told.” He smiles, and it’s heartfelt this time. Not nervous, or sad, or awkward. He’s happy to see you a little more at ease.

“It’s just really crazy to me.” You trace your finger over the edge of your coffee cup as you talk. “I spent so much time in culinary school looking up to you. And then I find out you were always just trying to keep up with me.”

Carmen’s eyebrows raise a little at your words. “Looked up to me?”

“Yeah, like… Your drive, your passion, it’s so impressive. Always looking to improve, to do better, it just— it inspired me to do better too. As cheesy as that may sound.” You smiled. “S’why I opened up in Chicago, you know.”

“Really? Huh.” He leaned back in his seat.

“Because I wanted to work with you. Or for you. Either would have been fine with me.” You sigh. “I like owning my own place, but… I don’t know, for some reason I always imagined us working together.” You smiled. “Is that stupid?”

“No,” he replied quickly, “no not at all, I— I totally get that.” He’s quiet for a few seconds, and you can practically hear the gears turning in his head when he stares at you for a moment.

“I mean you’re a remarkable chef, really, like— insanely remarkable, and, well, we’re revamping the restaurant completely right now. We need people— more people, new people, and so, I was wondering— or I’ve been thinking—“ He stops himself from losing his breath from all his rambling, before he freaks you out even more than he already has.

“I want you to come work for us at the Bear.” He puts his hands together, as if he’s about to beg. “Please.”

You can almost hear yourself blinking out of confusion. There’s suddenly no more loud silences, no, the café seems dead quiet for once. All you can do is stare at him, wait for a laugh, because clearly this was a joke right? There’s no way Carmen Berzatto, chef supreme, arch nemesis of yours, would want you anywhere near him, let alone work in his own establishment.

“I’m sorry?”

He feels stupid already. You had every reason to say no. He’d been the biggest asshole in the world to you, he’d kept his distance all his life, and now he expects you to be his employee. Or, well, colleague, more so.

“I’m uh— we’re redoing the restaurant entirely. New equipment, new staff, new everything.” He swallows; the thought of everything that needed to be done arises for a moment. “We need people that work hard, who know what they’re doing and who are passionate about it. And I barely know anyone who’s better at what you do than yourself.” He pauses, waiting for you to stop him. But you don’t.

“So I’m asking if you’d work for me. With me. It won’t be anything like old days, if anything I— I need to learn from you.” He scoffs at himself. “Could take a thing or two about how to communicate with my staff.”

You smile, and he genuinely thinks you’re about to start laughing at him. You chuckle, but it’s not mean, it’s honest. Cute.

“You know, you have great timing.” You grin.

“I do?” the smile on his face reflects the hope he feels.

“One of my chefs wants to take over the place for me. Well, has been wanting to. I haven’t had an exact reason to say yes to her yet.” You shrugged. “Guess I do now.”

“…Is that you saying yes?”

“It’s definitely not me saying no.” Your eyes meet his, and there’s something between you both that’s different now. It’s not like there’s a switch that’s been flipped. It‘s more like this conversation was the turning page of a new chapter.

“I’ll think about it. I want to see it first. Maybe talk to some of your staff.” Carmen’s chest strains a little when he thinks about you interacting with Richie. Then he’s reassured when he thinks about you interacting with Sydney or Marcus. You’d fit in well, you have great feeling for people.

“Yeah— yeah, I get that. Totally. I can arrange that. Uhm, we’re renovating right now, actually, it’s all really kinda wild, but if you wanna stop by, chat with Syd, or Nat, or talk about the plans, let me know. I’m sure they’d love to talk to you.” He’s not lying, you seem like you’d get along well with them. Especially Sydney. Your thinking processes are very similar to each other. And to his.

Carmen gets the bill, even though you try to pay for it.

“It’s just a coffee, just let me get this one.”

You let him have this one, simply because you can’t argue with him after the conversation you just had. You’re in too good of a mood after his proposition too.

He walks you to your car, hands in his pockets when you reach it. It’s cold outside, and his breath comes out in visible puffs of air. His nose is a little red, but you think it looks cute.

“Thanks for coming, by the way,” he starts, “I know you didn’t have to. Like— after how I acted to you. But— But I really do appreciate that you’re givin' me a chance here.” He’d always been confused about how positive and faithful you were in people. He never thought he’d be grateful for those exact features too.

“No worries, I… I had a good time. I’m glad we talked.” The keys jingle as you fidget with them. Among them is a keychain in the shape of a cherry, he recognizes it. It reminds him of how little you’ve both changed. And how much.

“Yeah.” He sighs. Relieved, almost. “Me too. But I’ll let you leave, might wanna tell your chef the good news.”

“Good news?” You quirk an eyebrow.

“That you’re selling them the business.”

“I haven’t decided yet, Carm.” You scoff. But he can tell you have, you look too excited about it all to not have your mind made up yet. It excites him too. Scares him a bit as well, but what’s a new chapter without a bit of tension?

“Right. Sorry.” He huffs. “Just text me when you wanna head over to see the place. It’s uh… It’s a work in progress, but it’s getting somewhere.”

“I believe you. I’m looking forward to it.” You lean back against your car a little.

“Yeah. Me too.”

“See y’around?” You unlock it and walk up to the driver’s side.

“Course. Uh, don’t be a stranger.”

You grin, leaning down to get into the vehicle. “Never with you, Berzatto.”

He watches you drive off, standing in the cold for far longer than any sensible person has any business standing there. But he feels good. He feels warm.

He thinks about what you said to him before you left. You were right, you were never a stranger to him. You were always like a constant in his life; whether you were actually present or not. And even if he didn’t know that much about you, which he was insistent on changing, you were never a stranger.

Never with him.

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daisynik7 · 1 year

Text

Give You Blue

Chapter 5: Dreams

Pairing: Eren x f!reader, Reiner x f!reader (past relationship)

Rating: Explicit (for mature content)

cw: switching POVs (reader is in 2nd person, Eren is in 3rd), implications of a panic attack and anxiety, language, angst, mature content, sexually explicit content

Word Count: ~3.9k

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Give You Blue Masterlist | ao3 | Give You Blue Taglist

Summary: Your friendship with Eren is taken to the next level. You have a sweet dream that turns into a nightmare. Eren tells his parents that he is considering changing his major. Author’s Note: What do we think of this chapter? I know it’s a bit of a slow burn, so I appreciate you sticking with this! Likes, comments, and/or reblogs are always appreciated. If you want to be tagged in the next chapter(s), please let me know! Divider created by @/mikeykuns.

You press firmly on the strings of the guitar, stretching your pinky as far as you can to reach whatever note Eren instructed you to. With a gentle strum, you play the chord. Well, sort of. It definitely doesn’t sound the way it did when he showed you. You drop your head, sighing. “Okay, it’s official. I suck at guitar.”

Eren sits crossed legged in front of you. “You don’t. Try again,” he encourages, a small smile on his face.

“I can’t get my hands to bend the right way!” You hold your palm out in front of him, twisting your fingers in all types of misshapen claw formations. “Admit it. I suck.”

“You don’t suck.”

“It’s okay, I’ve accepted it! And as my mentor, you should too. Say it.”

“I will not,” he refuses, folding his arms over his chest, smirking.

“C’mon, Eren! Look,” You play the broken chord again, louder this time, trying to prove a point. “See?! Say it!”

He chuckles, responding quietly, “Okay, maybe you do suck at this. Just a little bit,” pinching a small space of air between his thumb and index finger.

You set the guitar back on its stand, laughing. “Ha! I knew it. This tells me that I should leave this to the professionals.” You grin at him, hugging your knees to your chest as you sit across from him on the carpeted floor.

Ever since the game-night Eren hosted a few weeks ago, the two of you have grown closer. More often now, you find yourself in his room, chatting about life, listening to each other vent, watching a movie, or indulging in his wonderful guitar skills. He even attempted to teach you the stringed instrument; the key word being attempted. Being with him makes you almost forget the misery that you suffered at the beginning of this semester. Almost.

Reiner remains relentless in his efforts to contact you. While you’ve managed to avoid any personal confrontations ever since the last one outside your dorm, he hasn’t stopped reaching out through text. A few times throughout the week, he’ll call you, leaving a short message that’s along the lines of, “Hey, it’s me again. Call me when you’re ready to talk.” You never pick up, nor respond, and still, he tries.

You wish you were unfazed by it, but parts of you cling to the past. Deep down, it pains you to ignore him. Sometimes, you see him as Reiner, your best friend, the kid you grew up with. Protecting you on the playground, confiding in you during his lowest moments, picking you up during yours. And as much as you want to preserve those memories of him like a delicate treasure, one bad breakup is enough to shatter it. To make you realize that maybe the two of you should have stayed friends all along, and nothing more.

Surprisingly, you’ve been able to talk about this easily with Eren. Annie has always been your main confidant throughout, but her less than gentle approach sometimes leaves you defeated, as if you’re wrong for having these conflicted feelings for your ex. As much as you’d like to be completely, one hundred percent over him, it isn’t that simple. And with Eren, he understands that. Having no stakes in it, or knowing who Reiner is, he listens to your inner turmoil without judgment. He makes you feel normal.

He's been opening up to you, too, sharing his on-going struggles with his pre-med major and the impossible expectations of his father. He maintains that pleasant smile on his face, despite being crushed by whatever weight that’s been forced on him from an early age. A victim of suffering he’s been subjected to inherit, without any say. It’s his father’s burden that was passed on to him, to continue whatever legacy he thinks will help the world. Dr. Jaeger is always looking out for the greater good of society, never about his own family.

It’s been nice confiding in each other, not having to hold back for the sake of each other’s feelings. When you were with Reiner, you always had to be extra cautious around him, wanting to avoid saying anything that might hurt him. In Eren’s case, he’s never been able to be honest with his father. While he has his mother, he can’t always be completely honest with her, not wanting to cause any rift amongst his parents.

Eren is actually considering changing his major. He’s been in contact with Erwin Smith, getting an idea of what the process would look like. The senior has been more than helpful, alleviating any concerns he might have about the transition, even setting up a time to meet with his father, who works as a teacher at a nearby elementary school. Still, he’s apprehensive to make the final step, as expected. It’s a big decision, one that changes the course of his future. It might cause drama between him and his family. No matter what he ends up deciding, you’ve made it clear that you’ll support him through and through.

You check your phone for the time. “It’s getting late. I should probably head back to my room now before Annie gets worried.”

He chuckles, rubbing the back of his neck. “Yeah, wouldn’t want her getting an ideas about us.”

“Oh, believe me, she already has. She’s convinced we’re dating,” you say, standing up.

He follows, stepping towards the door, fingers at the handle. “How scandalous! I can picture the headlines now: Anxiety-ridden RA whisks beautiful resident off her feet to run away into the sunset together.”

You beam at him. “Now that’s a story I’d love to read.”

He smiles back. “Me too.”

Recently, there’s been a shift in energy between you two. There’s no denying it: you are attracted to him, both to his magnetic personality and his charming looks. But there’s this everlasting guilt in the pit of your stomach, preventing you from pursuing anything romantic with him. Simply imagining it brings you shame, like it’s inappropriate to think about. Obviously, you and Reiner are over, maybe for good. And you’re almost certain he’s been with other women since, at least, that’s what your self-conscious mind theorizes. So what’s stopping you? Is it fear? Fear of working hard at another relationship, only for it to crumble before your feet, like it did with your ex? You can’t take any more heartache. It’s easier to avoid it all together.

As you’ve said before, the easier road isn’t always better. And the optimistic, love-sick fool in you believes there’s a chance at a happy ending, this time with Eren instead of Reiner. It’s new, foreign territory, a journey filled with the unknown. Is it worth the risk?

For now, you keep these thoughts buried in the back of your mind. You value your friendship with Eren, enough to not ruin it. Besides, you’re unsure how he feels about you. Maybe you’re better off as friends and nothing more, just as it should have been with Reiner. And while this hurts to realize, it’s better for everyone in the long run. There’s no room for heartbreak if you don’t give your heart to anyone. It’s that simple, right?

He holds open the door for you, leaning against the frame. “Sweet dreams.”

“You always say that,” you giggle.

“Well, that’s because I mean it. I really hope you have some seriously sweet dreams tonight.”

You step out into the hall slowly. “Thanks, Mr. RA. I wish the same for you, too. Goodnight.” With a final wave, you head into your room, cheeks pleasantly warm with a bright smile on your face.

~~~

“You’re beautiful.”

Eren lays beside you in bed, cupping your face in his hand, thumb brushing delicately along your cheekbone. He leans closer, lips brushing yours into a gentle kiss. A rush of heat radiates to every inch of your skin, electricity buzzing through your veins. “I want you to feel good,” he whispers, mouth grazing your ear, fingers sliding down your throat and to your chest, resting his palm over your heart. You hold your breath as he touches you, nervous to be vulnerable with him.

Sensing this trepidation, he pulls away to look at you, tipping your chin towards him to meet his gaze. With a comforting smile, he says, “It’s okay. You’re safe with me.”

And you believe him. At his words, you’re at ease, letting his hands caress your body, stripping you naked. He scatters kisses on your neck, trailing down your stomach, slowly making his way between your thighs. Peering up at you, he asks, “Can I taste you?”

You nod, eager to feel his tongue on you.

He latches his lip on your arousal, licking and slurping at your clit. Your fingers are bunched in his hair, feeling his head thrash side-to-side against your pussy.

“Fuck, Eren. Feels so good,” you moan, indulging in the pleasure.

At the mention of his name, he suddenly stops. When he raises his head to look at you, it’s Reiner. He crawls up to face you, nose-to-nose, sneering. “How could you do this to me, Coco? Cheating on me with your fucking RA? You fucking bitch.”

You stare at him, wide-eyed and in shock, limbs rigid at your sides, unable to move. You’re trapped beneath him, the air growing thin, making it difficult to breath. As you suffocate, he grabs your face in a rough grasp, seething the words, “Cheater, cheater, cheater” over and over again…

You wake up with sweat beading on your forehead, blanket twisted around your limbs. Guilt weighs heavily on your chest as you take deep breaths to calm down. It was a dream, thankfully. Reiner’s never called you a bitch before. It was the worst version of him your mind could think of in the form of a nightmare.

Sitting up in bed, wiping the perspiration from your face, you recall Eren’s uncanny farewell to you hours earlier. It definitely started as a sweet dream; the idea of you and Eren being intimate with each other has you flustered. All the times you’ve been alone with him in his room, elbows grazing, hands brushing, the shared looks that last seconds longer than they need to. It’s a leap of faith, to cross that line. And fear is what holds you back. Fear of failure, of falling in love to only stumble out of it again. Fear and guilt. It’s silly to feel guilty about it, especially since you’re the one who got your heart broken. But nightmare Reiner calling you a bitch and a cheater haunts you.

You lay back down in bed, fitting your head comfortably in your pillow. It takes a while longer for you to fall asleep; eventually, you do. And deep down, you’re disappointed when you don’t have another dream about Eren.

~~~

Eren sits in an alcove on his favorite beach, watching the sunset on the horizon. He managed to catch this beautiful sight before he has to meet his parents for dinner. It’s their semi-annual visit; his father managed to squeeze him in on his very busy schedule. Lucky him.

He takes this time to lose himself, pretend that it’s just him and the sea, basking in the day’s last moments of sunshine. It’s too pretty to indulge in all alone. Suddenly, he has the urge to share this with someone else. Without thinking, he scrolls through his contacts, finding the one person he wants to talk to. The resident from Room 104. His friend.

It takes two rings until she answers. “Hey, are you okay?”

He smiles to himself, amused at her immediate concern. He realizes now that he’s never actually called her before. They’ve texted plenty, exchanged funny tweets, greeted each other good mornings and goodnights. But to hear her in his ear, as if she’s sitting beside him, feels right. “Yeah, I’m fine. I just called to say hi.”

There’s a beat before she responds with a simple, “Hi.” He can practically hear the rounded cheeks on her face. His chest swells, happy he decided to dial her number. “Where are you right now?” she asks.

“I’m watching the sunset on the beach,” he replies, wiggling his toes into the sand.

“Really?”

“Yeah. It’s beautiful here. It puts my mind at ease.” He wants to add that her soothing voice has the same effect; he decides to keep that to himself.

She hums. “Sounds like paradise. Where is this, exactly?”

“It’s my super-secret spot. No one knows about it, not even Armin or Mikasa. You have to be really special to know about it.”

She laughs. “I guess I’ll have to charm it out of you, then.”

Too late. He unsure exactly when it started, but lately, Eren has been seeing her in a different light. From the first time they met, even though snot and tears as she cried over her ex because of a cupcake, he was drawn to her. In a weird way, he felt a connection; she’s going through her own struggles like he is. Everyone around him is having a fabulous time, nailing their classes, partying like there’s no tomorrow. And he never resented his friends for enjoying their college experience. He felt left out. Different.

And maybe it’s true: misery really does love company. However, being with her is far from miserable. Although they confess to one another their strife in life, it’s cathartic, like a cumbersome burden gradually easing away. When they’re not complaining about annoying exes or overbearing parents, they’re sharing new memories together, learning more about each other, solidifying that bond. That connection.

He likes her, enjoys being around her. Sacrifices precious study time to teach her guitar, though she really does suck at it. He forgets about the unending quizzes and tests he has to constantly prepare for because he’d rather sit on his carpeted floor, snacking on Pocky Sticks or eating Chinese takeout with a movie playing on his laptop. He’d choose her over textbooks any day because being with her is like an escape. A breath of fresh air when he’s otherwise suffocating from the pressure.

Before he realizes, he’s saying, “I’ll show you this one day. You’ll love it.”

“Does that mean I’m special?” she teases. He pictures her on the other line, smiling with the phone pressed to her ear, lying in bed. All cozy in the sheets, probably in some dainty pajamas. The hem of her shirt riding up, exposing that cute belly. Maybe she isn’t wearing a bra, nipples peaked through the fabric…

He’s officially lost it. Face hot with shame, he rattles his head, as if doing so will eliminate the naughty thoughts occupying his mind. Swallowing hard, he answers, “You are special. Very, very special…” It comes out awkwardly. His cheeks are sweltering with both guilt and embarrassment now. What’s going on with him?

Luckily, she seems to think he’s still normal, replying, “You’re special too, Mr. RA. Thank you for being such a good friend to me.”

Friend. He has to remind himself that they’re just that, and nothing more. If only she knew the effect he has on him. Would she give him a chance?

His phone vibrates in his hand, and he knows it’s his mom texting him that they’re on the way. It’s his cue to head back into town. He reluctantly says goodbye, nothing else incriminating coming out of his mouth. With one last glance at the ocean, he turns around towards his car, dreading what’s to come.

~~~

Less than an hour later, Eren and his parents are sitting around a table at an Italian restaurant downtown. The waiter serves their drinks, iced water for Eren, two glasses of red wine for his parents. His mom is holding over most of the conversation, catching Eren up on all of the family news. He doesn’t care, but he likes listening to her talk. It’s relaxing for him, allows him to not think about anything else. That is, until his father starts speaking.

“Eren, Zeke’s been telling me you haven’t been performing well in Organic Chemistry. Is that true?”

What a fucking snitch. It doesn’t surprise him; Zeke’s always knocking Eren down a peg so he can look taller in the eyes of their father. And while he says he means well, he actually doesn’t. However, this is a good opportunity to segue into what he actually wants to discuss. “Yeah, dad. That’s true. Ochem is really kicking my ass right now.”

Dr. Jaeger takes a swig of his wine. “Do you need a tutor? I’ll give you money to hire one.”

Eren tips his water into his mouth, gulping slowly. He’s getting nervous, second guessing himself if he should really say what’s been on his mind for the past couple weeks. Before he chickens out, he decides to go for it. “Actually, I’m considering changing my major.”

The silence is loud, even with the other patrons clinking their dishes and chatting away. His mother stares at him, eyes wide and mouth parted open. His father swirls the alcohol in his hand, staring at the liquid whirling around the glass. It lasts for at least a full minute, or at least, that’s what it seems like to Eren. He’s tempted to add, “Just kidding!” to make this painfully uncomfortable quiet disappear.

Finally, his father speaks. “If this is your idea of a joke, it’s not very funny, Eren.”

“I’m not kidding.”

He leans forward, inspecting his son’s face carefully. “What would you change it to?”

Eren taps his foot nervously beneath the table, responding, “Education. I want to be a teacher.”

His father barks a cruel laugh, startling your mother and the neighboring table, who stares, intrigued. “Teacher? You want to be a teacher? Eren, this is ludicrous. I’m not going to waste my money on your tuition for you to become a teacher.”

“What’s wrong with being a teacher?!” Eren snaps.

“I’m paying for you to become a doctor. Teachers don’t make any money.”

Eren mumbles, “Not everything in life is about money.”

“That’s a very naïve mindset. How will you support a family without a decent income?”

“There are plenty of teachers who can afford to raise a family, so I don’t see how that’s relevant.” And besides, making more money doesn’t automatically mean you’re a better parent. Prime example is Dr. Jaeger himself, but Eren knows better than to throw that back to him.

His dad shakes his head, massaging his temples as if he’s got a bad headache. “You need to hire a tutor, Eren. The courses are difficult, but getting a tutor will help.”

“It’s not just that, dad. I’m not happy. I don’t want to be a doctor.”

His mom chimes in. “Honey, are you sure you’ve given this enough thought? This is a big decision.”

He nods. “I have. It’s been on my mind for a while now. And I know in my heart this is what I want.”

She gives him a small grin, glancing at her husband, who’s reeling in his seat. “Grisha, it’s going to be okay.”

“Carla, this is his future. He’s ruining his life.”

Eren scoffs. “Dad, is it really that bad?”

He glares at him. “You were supposed to take over my practice.”

“You have Zeke.”

He continues to rattle his head, freaking out. “If you change your major, I will not pay for the rest of your tuition.”

It’s a threat. Eren’s prepared for the worst. “I’ll get a job, take out loans. If you don’t want to support me, fine. But that’s not going to change my mind.”

It’s silent again for what seems like forever. Suddenly, Dr. Jaeger stands up, tossing his napkin from his lap onto the table. “I can’t listen to this anymore. Carla, we’re leaving.”

“Grisha.”

He stares at Eren dead in the eyes. “You were supposed to be special. I had very high hopes for you, Eren. Now, you’re just a disappointment.”

It’s words. That’s all it is. Eren has to remind himself that. Sticks and stones, right? But the disdain on his father’s face, the contempt dripping in his frown, all of that combined with what comes out of his mouth so easily, without a hitch in his breath. It breaks his heart. He is not prepared to hear this. While it doesn’t completely surprise him, it still hurts. He fights the tears, gulping down the sorrow building in his throat. Drinking the remaining water in his empty cup as his father storms off, his mother chasing after him, pleading with him to come back. Eren waits a couple of minutes, hoping they return, that his dad apologizes and takes back what he said. It doesn’t happen. His phone vibrates and reveals a text from his mom.

Mom: I’m sorry honey

Mom: We’re driving back home now

Mom: I will talk to your father and I will call you later

In the worst timing possible, the food they ordered minutes before disaster is served. Eren asks the waiter to package everything up, no longer hungry. After he pays the check, he drives back to campus, grip tight on the wheel, listening to whatever music is on his playlist at full volume. Trying to drown his father’s words replaying over and over in his head. You were supposed to be special. I had very high hopes for you. You’re just a disappointment.

He parks the car in his usual spot, sulking in the driver’s seat for a little while longer until he exits, carrying the heavy bag of pasta towards his room. It’s a Friday night, and of course, the dorms are empty because everyone is out partying, not being a disappointment to their parents. He approaches his door, leaning forward to press his forehead against, feeling like he’s at the bottom of the barrel, trying to claw his way out somehow. He can’t call his mom because she’s probably too busy dealing with the aftermath. So, he dials the only other person he knows will listen. The only other person he can rely on.

She picks up his call quickly, after one ring. “Eren?”

He thinks he can hear her faintly down the hall from inside her bedroom. His feet shuffle towards Room 104, dragging the to-go bag of food along with him. “Hi,” he greets, sullen.

“Are you okay? Where are you?” She sounds concerned, and in this fucked up state he’s in, it’s what he needs. Someone who cares.

“No, I’m not,” he sniffles, tears rolling down his cheeks. “It was a mistake. I should have never said anything.”

“Where are you?” she repeats, more frantic this time. From outside, he can hear her bed squeak as she hops off it. The swish of a jacket. The jingle of keys. Seconds later, she opens the door, finding him already standing there, begging for comfort.

And it’s not weird when she hugs him, wrapped around his torso, her face nestled into his chest. She fits into him like a puzzle piece, a missing one he never knew he needed. This is the closest they’ve been, probably the most they’ve ever touched. Yet something about this is familiar. Maybe it’s the warmth radiating from her affectionate embrace. Or the way he instinctually bows his head to nuzzle his nose at the top of her head. This is what he’s yearned for, dreamed of. Someone who looks at him like he’s worth something, even when other’s see a failure. Someone who holds him tightly with every fiber of her being to make sure he knows he’s loved. It’s in the way she presses her ear to his chest, listening to his heartbeat. How her hand massages small circles onto his back, chanting, “It’s okay, Eren. It’s going to be okay.”

And with her in his arms, he actually believes it.

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st6rly · 1 year

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bury me deep (where my words won’t reach you)

synopsis: it should’ve been me; it is me (or in other words, sudden confessions) | wc — 1.9k

[ !! ] — masterlist.

characters: ayato & kazuha x gn! reader (separate)

categories: fluff, slight angst if you use a magnifying glass, a little suggestive in kazuha’s part, modern au, scenarios

warnings: my inability to write kissing scenes 👎👎 also it’s just past 2:30am so this is not proofread my bad so if there are any proper, warnings please let me know

notes: an old fic that i edited bc omg ?? my grammar was horrible :(( pls do not spam like my posts! reblogs are always welcome however.

for @kamiyatos bc ayato (hope you don’t mind the tag 😓)

AYATO.

“Ah, so this is where you ran off to.”

You sighed. Dim lights filtered through the doorway as Ayato looked at your position on the floor with a smile.

“Nice place you’ve got,” he chuckled, closing the door slightly behind him and taking a seat next to you.

A sweet silence passed between you; muffled music from the gym and the cheering voices of students echoed through the hallway. You turned to gaze at him, resting a hand on your knee with your head leaning against the wall. It’s funny when you think about how much your tired eyes contrasted with his relaxed posture.

“Why'd you come looking for me?”

Ayato opened an eye, looking at you from the corner of it with a twitch of his lips before he said, “It's my duty as a part of the student council that everyone is enjoying themselves at these types of events. Even if it’s just a little bit.”

A stifled laugh turned into a dry cough as you gave him a lazy smirk in return, amused by his words.

“Does that duty not stretch to you yourself? Weren’t you voted the king of the dance this year? It’s strange for you to not be interacting with your loving fans.”

“Who cares about them? They don’t know me.” He sighed and muttered under his breath, “Not like you do.”

“Even so, you’d usually go and talk about the benefits of the event with the rest of stuco,” you shrugged. “It’s your night, you should be having fun.” He turned to face you more, running a hand through his hair.

“Would you believe me if I said that this,” he waved a hand between the two of you, “was my idea of fun?”

“No, I would not believe that hiding in the janitor’s closet is your idea of ‘fun’.” You uncurled your legs from the way they were previously scrunched up. “Then again, you are weird so it wouldn’t surprise me if that were true.” It’s faint, almost lost to the noise from the gym, but you could hear how a chuckle bubbled out of his throat and made out the way his shoulders shook with the sound.

“Even if the person I were to be hiding with is my best friend?”

“Especially if that person is your best friend.”

You shifted in your spot, the formal wear you had on stiff and unwilling to let you sit comfortably.

“God, I hate wearing stuff like this,” you muttered, glaring at him when he laughed at your misfortune. “Shut up. Don’t act as if you’re any more comfortable than I am.”

“If it makes you feel better, aside from the whole uncomfortable part,” he said as he looked you up and down, eyes softened, “I think you look great.”

You chuckled weakly. With a sigh, you closed your eyes and rested your head on the wall of the cramped space again.

“I highly doubt I look as great as you’re saying right now.” You heard a faint scoff come from him.

“Nonsense. You look amazing as always.”

Ayato speaks of nonsense just as it builds up in his chest, There was a longing, a crave even, for him to clasp his hand overtop yours; he fiddled with the buttons on his coat instead.

“I see you every day yet I’ve never wanted to kiss you more than right now,” he blurted out with a hushed voice, startling even himself with what spilled from his lips. A moment’s pause passed as he took in what he just said, unaware of the heat that crawled up your neck. He casted a weary glance towards you.

“My apologies, Y/n. My outburst was uncalled for and I'm sorry if what I said made you uncomfortable.” He covered his face with one hand. “I understand if this changes things and I completely accept if you only see me as a friend or if you don’t want to be friends any-”

The ramble was snuffed out as he was suddenly met with your lips pressed against his. You pulled him by the collar, eyes closed as you hastily swept him into a brief kiss. Ayato sat there dazed as you moved away, eyes casted away from him.

He hesitated, movements slowed as he rested a hand on the back of your neck and rubbed small circles on your cheek with his thumb. He smiled, and dove back in; breath fanned across your skin as he devoured the dizzying feelings and melted into the contact. A small amount of satisfaction filled your chest when you parted again, smiling as a red hue decorated his face while his eyes looked at you so dearly.

“In all fairness,” You rubbed the back of your neck and muttered inaudible words before continuing, “I’ve been wanting to do that for a long time now, too.” You managed to whisper out, resting your forehead against his shoulder. A warmth covered your hands as you still gripped his collar with one, and raising your eyes you saw a kind smile sent your way.

“Kissing my childhood best friend in a janitor's closet, now that,” Ayato laughed, bold and bright, “that is more than enough fun.” Using the wall to brace himself, he gently raised you both off the ground.

“How would you like to go somewhere a little less cramped?”

“What are you, my prince charming?” You teased, hand held tightly in his and grinning bigger that the snort he let out,

“If anything, you’re the real saviour here. My ticket for leaving this event.” He bumped his shoulder against yours. “My precious knight in shining armour.” You lightly shoved him back.

“I love you,” you murmured, a dopey smile on your face. Ayato couldn’t tease you for it even if he wanted to because he probably looked the same, just as lovesick.

“I love you more.” It was softly said with such truth and sealed with a squeeze of his hand.

KAZUHA.

Soft chuckles could be heard through the library as the librarian sighed and sent a shush your way. Looking over his shoulder at the page, you couldn’t help but choke up on laughter as Kazuha recited the lines of poetry with a straight face. Tried too at least. Even as an admirer of poetry himself, romantic stanzas and free verses’ chalk full of metaphors about hearts fluttering like butterflies always sent chuckles the vibrated down his spine. Though he couldn’t deny how warm reading them out loud made him feel, imagining your wistful smile as he tells you his latest idea of love.

“That last poem reminds me of a book I've read before,” you mused, head tilted as you relaxed against the bookshelf. He sat down next to you with his lips curled into a grin.

“Oh really? What was it about?” You scratch the back of your neck, thinking for a moment.

“It was a classic teen romance novel. New kid in the school meets the main love interest, and the main love interest falls head over heels for the new kid.” You turned to face him. “The new kid plays hard to get but falls just as hard. Average love story.” You shrugged, a lopsided grin on your face. “Wasn’t my favourite read but definitely wasn’t the worst.”

“What's the title? I’d like to give it a try and see what all this fuss is about,” He asked, laughing at how you blinked blankly before shaking your head.

“I can't remember, sorry. It’s been a while since I’ve read it and besides, it really isn’t worth a whole reading session.” Kazuha cocked his head to the side, a curious glint in his eyes.

“And why not?”

“They kept dancing around each other a little too much for my liking. I mean, I love a good slow burn but damn.”

“I guess you aren’t the target audience then.”

You nodded your head and slumped against his shoulder, hair tickling the side of his neck.

“Definitely not,” you groaned. “Mainly because it reminds me of how lonely I am and how I won’t live out a romance like that.”

“What makes you say that?” Kazuha watched as your expression turned sour, lips pursed and brow furrowing slightly. His fingers twitched, wanting to cup your face and smother away that look to see you laugh and smile again.

“Romance in the middle of school seems…” you trailed off, an exasperated laugh breaking your sentence, “it looks hard. I don’t know how people do it. There’s already so much to do and a relationship on top of that.” You shook your head. “Full respect to students who can keep a healthy relationship going.”

He hummed to himself, taking in your words.

“That makes sense,” he mumbled and tried not to look so troubled by it. He sat up and you looked at him worriedly.

“Did I say something wrong? your tone is off,” you pointed out.

“No! I mean, no. Everything is fine. Don’t worry about it.” A bout of nervousness rushed through him as he coughed and smiled. He could tell you didn’t buy it; the sceptical look on your face said it all before you lunged at him, rolling you both onto the floor with you on top of him.

“Hey-” before he could even ask, he broke out in laughter as you began to dig fingers just below his ribs.

“W-wait!” He struggled to regain his bearings when you stopped, face flushed as he stared up at you. “What… what was that for?”

“I don't want to force you to tell me anything, but frowning doesn’t suit you.” you chuckled. Kazuha could help the small pout on his lips as he sat up onto his arms, slightly distracted with the way the light from the window hit your eyes.

“I love you so much,” he mumbled, shoulders shaking in both laughter and slight heartbreak, knowing that what you said earlier was right. “God, I wish I could kiss you.”

He stilled as your smile grew bigger; he hadn’t noticed the way your laughing had seized earlier or the hitch of your breath when he said those words.

“Say that again.” he gulped at the serious look on your face despite the grin you wore, heat creeping up his neck and ears turning pick as you moved closer.

“I wish I could kiss yo-”

His eyes widened as you connected your lips with his, a hand on his chin and noses nearly touching, before sinking into the feeling. It stirred up butterflies that darted around his chest, heart rapidly beating as you both pulled away. Kazuha raised a hand and hovered it over his mouth, as a new smile bloomed on his face. You found yourself joining in on his giggles again.

“What happened to not liking school romances?” He joked through the chuckles. His breath caught in his throat as you clutched his tie in your hand with a smirk.

“I think it’s going quite well right now but,” you leaned in closer, eyes trailing over his face, “I'll need to check again to make sure that’s not a fluke.”

He flushed under your stare.

“You remind me of a character from the book I was talking about earlier.”

“Oh? Which one?” He whispered. Your grin was dangerous.

“Definitely the new kid from that story.” You tugged him to look up. “Because i’ve been wanting this ever since we first started hanging out.”

#genshin x reader #genshin impact x reader #astronetwrk #ayato x reader #kazuha x reader #genshin fluff #ayato fluff #kazuha fluff #genshin x gender neutral reader #genshin impact scenarios #genshin impact imagines #genshin impact headcanons #genshin scenarios #kazuha x gender neutral reader #kazuha x you #ayato x you #! notepad.txt

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marvelouslizzie · 2 years

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unconventional methods - chapter 2

Summary: Bucky Barnes struggles with his feelings towards Bunny, leading him to make a big mistake. Now he must make it right. It means doing something he is uncomfortable with.

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Female Reader (SHIELD Agent Bucky Barnes x Adult Content Creator Reader)

Word Count: 6.7K

Warnings: 18+ NSFW MINORS DNI, texting, overthinking, self-doubt, misunderstandings, pet names, video call, mutual masturbation, slight dirty talk if you squint, metal arm use, use of a dildo, teasing, small dose of sub/dom dynamic, no mention of y/n.

A/N: Thank you so much to everyone who showed interest in the first chapter. I really didn't expect this story to get the attention it did. Means a lot to me. If you didn't read the first chapter, you definitely should before reading this one.

unconventional methods - chapter 1

marvelous lizzie's masterlist

This story will end with chapter three, which will most likely come out the following Sunday (12th March)

Once again >> indicates incoming messages and <<; indicates outgoing messages.

Once again a big thank you to @notafunkiller and @es1dit for everything. Extra thanks to @notafunkiller for the beta-read and for helping me to improve the story. You two are the best!

All work is mine, please do not repost or translate without my permission.

Every like, comment and reblog is highly appreciated. Don’t hesitate to message me or send me a question or comment regarding the stories I write. I would love to talk about it and no, it would never bother me as long as it’s not a hate comment. They are never welcome.

Read more tag starts after the first paragraph of the story.

Gifs belong to @fysebastianstan I wanted to add them through Tumblr gifs but couldn't find them that way. I hope it's alright to use them and if not, I can remove them if requested.

<<< Previous Chapter

After that magical night, Bucky found himself overthinking again. He was definitely struggling with the feelings he had for her. They were sexual, but that was not all. He had been in only sexual relationships before the war. It was like an agreement: purely sexual and for fun. Some girls wanted a bit more experience before finding the love of their lives, and it was totally fine, but this… this definitely wasn’t the same. He was feeling possessive over her and the feeling was so strange, especially considering they did not even meet face to face.

Of course, he knew he wasn’t the only person she was sharing this side of herself with. Posting adult content was literally her job. There was no doubt other men would like to get closer to her and she would probably talk to them a little, see how she feels and if things fall into place, they would get to see this side of her and she would get aroused just for them. A rare sight. Anybody would be lucky to witness that.

He still couldn’t believe she was into him. It was probably more of the idea of him, not the real him since she didn’t know who he actually is, right? He knew his dick wasn’t a disappointment, his body was fine, but definitely could be better. There was always space for improvement. She did not see the metal arm or his face. She only heard his voice, saw some parts of his body, and created a different version of Bucky. Not even Bucky, James. Some 33-year-old dude named James who was partially good-looking. In her mind, he must be someone else, completely different from reality.

That was what she should be for him too, right? Some random super attractive girl on the internet who was willing to talk to him? Nothing more. Yet he couldn’t force himself to feel nothing but sexual attraction toward her. He tried to focus on work, but he couldn’t. Mission reports were always boring anyway. How were they supposed to distract him?

>> Hey handsome, I hope you’re having a good day.

Her texting him doesn’t help, either. It’s just making it harder for him to stay away. He needed to distance himself, get a new perspective and maybe, maybe have a chance to realize he was being ridiculous. But she was so hard to resist her, especially when she was just wishing him a good day like this, with no expectation or pressure.

<< Hey, Bunny. It’s boring, but I’ll survive. I hope you are having a good day.

>> Oh, I’m having a great day. Especially after last night…

Bucky closed his eyes and took a deep breath when he read the message. He just wished she wouldn’t bring it up. It was great, he can’t deny it, but he knew… he fucking knew it was nothing special for her, and remembering that just broke his heart a little more. She shouldn’t have to act like it meant something to her. The idea of her faking something was just unbearable.

<< You know you don’t have to…

>> I don’t have to what?

<< I’m grateful that you made me feel special. It felt great, but I know I’m not special or anything and you don’t have to act like I am. It’s fine.

Her responses came in so quickly, he had a bit of a hard time following them.

>> What the fuck, James?

>> What the actual fuck?

>> Do you think I am doing this with everyone?

>> Is that how low you think of me?

>> You think I open my messages, talk to the ones that seem okay, and send them special photos in my spare time?

>> Why would I fucking do that? What am I gaining? Loyal followers? More paying customers? People don’t wanna pay shit for things they can get for free. I know that better than anyone. It’s my job!

>> You think I pick the ones that are good-looking, and just have fun? If that were the case you wouldn’t even have a chance! Do you know why? You don’t even have a profile picture! I didn’t even know your name for days! I don’t even know if you are single or married or divorced!

>> If you think I’m treating loyal customers like this or something you are wrong. God, I feel so stupid because I thought you were different. Why would you be any different than the others? Just because you respected my boundaries, just because you didn’t ask for private photos, and just because you reminded me of those gentlemen from 40s movies, it doesn’t mean you are not after the same thing they are.

>> You have no idea what I am risking just by talking with you. God, I’m so stupid.

>> You got what you want and now you are done with the small talk. I get it. I’m backing off. Sorry for disturbing you.

<< Bunny, bunny, bunny!

<< No, please, stop! That’s not what I meant.

<< Please, give me a chance to explain myself.

<< Please.

<< That’s not what this was, believe me.

>> Explain what? How this is nothing special for you? It was just a bit of fun time with the girl you were following online? I don’t want to hear it.

>> You don’t have to explain anything to me. You don’t owe me an explanation, I’m just a random girl who shares adult content. Obviously, I have no soul or feelings.

<< I’m the one who has feelings for you, okay?! I didn’t think you would find me interesting or special because I don’t feel like I am.

<< I am sorry. I think I was just projecting. That’s what my therapist would say.

<< I just didn’t wanna make you uncomfortable with my feelings. I thought they would be totally unrequited.

>> You have feelings for me?

>> You better not be lying to get out of trouble, James!

<< I’m not, I swear. Just give me a chance, okay?

>> Fine. You get one chance. Tonight. You explain yourself on a video call or I’m not talking to you anymore.

<< Whatever you want, doll. Whatever you want. Just don’t step out of my life.

***

The day did not seem to pass fast enough. It felt like time was standing still just to torture Bucky more. The work was much more boring than usual: a lot of paperwork, signatures, and chasing the right people. Not that he was chasing anyone. He was sitting and pitying himself while waiting for Natasha to show up. He just wanted to get up and leave, but apparently, it wasn’t possible. When Natasha finally stepped inside, Bucky groaned out of frustration.

“Oh, fucking finally, Romanoff.”

Natasha didn’t even look at him.

“I was busy. What do you need?”

“A couple of signatures.” She leaned in and started to sign the papers as quickly as possible. She was never reading what she was signing because who had time to read a 25-page-long mission report? Apparently, Bucky Barnes because he had to write it from the scratch. Like his day wasn’t horrible enough... “I wish we could just go on missions, and that would be it.”

“Oh, that’s the dream, Barnes. That’s the dream.” She finally put her pen down. “I’ve been writing the mission reports for months. It’s your turn now, stop complaining.”

“I know, I know.” He accepted the defeat much easier than he normally would.

“Are you alright?”

Bucky looked up at her from his seat. Was he alright? Definitely not. He could feel a heavy knot inside his chest, burning his lungs and stomach while he was waiting for tonight. Of course, he wasn’t going to say that to Romanoff.

“I’m fine.”

“Doesn’t look like you are. Whatever it is, stop overthinking.”

“Easier said than done,” he murmured.

“Look, I know it’s not an on-off switch, but you gotta try a little bit harder. Shift your focus on something else or just face whatever makes you this… uneasy.”

“I’m gonna face it. Shifting my focus is not helping.”

Natasha gave him a suspicious look. She had no idea what this was about, but she had a feeling it might be because of the pretty girl she suggested to him. Or was it just wishful thinking? No, wishful thinking wasn’t something she did often. She was always a big realist and something was definitely up with Barnes.

“Good.” She simply answered. She knew him well enough to guess pressuring him to talk wouldn’t work on him. “We have a meeting tomorrow.”

Bucky groaned in frustration because he was just done with the mission report and now SHIELD was ready to send them in another mission again.

“We need a break.”

“This one is pretty urgent. Apparently, it’s been an undercover operation for a while now and they finally got the info they need. We’ll need to leave right after the meeting.”

“An undercover operation, huh? Interesting.”

“Be here at 9. Fury wants us all present, it’s really important.”

“Fine, fine. I’ll be there.”

***

Bucky had no idea when the video call was gonna happen, but he was already feeling too self-conscious. His face was known to most people all over the world since he was accused of killing the king of Wakanda. Then working for SHIELD became a big deal. He wasn’t sure how Bunny would react when she realized he was the Winter Soldier. He wasn’t ready for that.

>> Are you there? I’m available for that video chat.

<< I am.

>> OK. I’m calling you.

He quickly turned his laptop on, hoping he would keep the camera off for the conversation. Maybe just hearing his voice would be enough for her.

“James?” Her voice was so soft and silky. Hearing her saying his name like that made him shiver a little.

“Yes, doll?”

“Why is your camera off?” Of course, she wasn’t gonna let it go. What was he even thinking?

“I am not…” He actually didn’t know what to say. “I don’t feel comfortable…”

“You don’t feel comfortable with me? Is that what you’re saying?” She definitely sounded offended.

“No, it’s not like that. I don't feel comfortable... and you might not feel comfortable either."

“Why?”

“It’s hard to explain.” He was hoping she would just let it go.

“Try me.” She didn’t.

“Please, doll… Let’s just talk.” He was practically begging at this point.

“Jamie, if you don’t turn the camera on, I’m leaving. We can’t continue like this.” She sounded so determined, it was scary. And her calling him Jamie? A part of him melted. He had noticed how her calling him Jamie influenced him in this way. Maybe because his mom called him Jamie when he was little. Bucky came later when he was a teenager. Before that, he was Jamie at home.

“Don’t. Please, don’t.”

“Don’t what? Call you Jamie?” The defensive tone of her voice was breaking his heart.

“Don’t leave.” He quickly turned the camera on, afraid she might just leave. Then he heard her gasp. Fuck, she’s scared, he thought. “I told you it might be uncomfortable.”

She quickly pulled herself together.

“Yeah, it’s so uncomfortable looking at that pretty face.” She managed to say, trying to hide her surprise. “Or those blue eyes. Do you ever look in the mirror Bu-bunny?”

“Bunny?” He repeated confused. “You are the bunny, not me, doll.”

“If you say so.” She shrugged, licking her lips nervously. “I can’t believe you have been hiding this face all this time.” she tried to focus on him. “Why did you even think I would be uncomfortable?”

“Don’t you know… who I am?” he sounded nervous again, thinking he might have to explain his past. It’s always tedious. How can you say you were a brainwashed assassin in a less threatening way? You can’t. That was the problem.

“I know you were the Winter Soldier if that’s what you are asking.”

Oh.

“That explains the reaction.”

“No, it was because of your pretty face. Not because of your past. I’m in no position to judge you for your past. Whatever you did, you had no control over it. That’s pretty obvious.”

“How can you be so sure?” His question came instantly.

“Maybe I can tell you how and why one day, but not today.” She sounded a bit uncomfortable, so Bucky didn’t want to push her.

“Whenever you want, Bunny. I will always be here to listen.”

“Can I see your arm?” The change of topic came too suddenly. Her question caught Bucky off guard.

“Huh?”

“Your metal arm. It’s vibranium, right?” She was talking about the arm he has been trying to hide so hard. Does she really want to see that arm?

“Yes, it is.” He tried to sound as normal as possible.

“Can I see it?” She repeated eagerly.

Without saying anything, Bucky curled up his sleeve to reveal a part of his arm, still feeling a bit uncomfortable.

“Wow.” She looked stunned. “It looks… so pretty. The gold details. Wow.”

Her expression was something that can’t be faked. She was so genuinely surprised and interested. It gave Bucky the confidence he needed.

“Wanna see the rest?”

Bunny nodded excitedly, making Bucky smile. He took his henley off pretty quickly, and his metal arm, broad chest, and dog tags were on full display.

“Now I know why you only had one arm in every picture you sent me. Smart move, Sergeant Barnes.” Her eyes were still on his body, focusing on his arm. Bucky couldn’t remember the last time he felt this desired. Oh, god she definitely knows who I am, he thought. Getting called by his rank did things to him. He could feel the blood rushing to the other places. It’s not the time, it’s not the time, he tried to remind himself, yet a low groan escaped his lips before he could control it.

“So am I gonna see the rest, Sergeant?”

He gave her a confused look. When he asked that question he meant the rest of his arm, but apparently Bunny had different ideas.

“You mean…”

“The rest of your body, yes.”

“I thought we were gonna talk.” He tried to hide how much he was actually enjoying this change.

“We were, but I changed my mind.” Bucky smiled once again. Maybe I still got it, he thought.

“Because of the arm?”

“Because of you and yes, the arm too since it’s a part of you.”

“I never thought…” He couldn’t get to finish that thought.

“Your arm would be a turn-on? Well, it is. You should get used to that.”

“That’s gonna take a while,” Bucky admitted, then he looked back at the screen. “You gotta share more to see more, Bunny.”

“You are a fast learner, Sergeant. I like that.”

“I told you, you can always count on that.”

Bunny took her shirt off, instead of answering him. Bucky’s expression changed pretty quickly when he noticed she had no bra on. God, he needed to touch her, feel her and make her feel good, but he has no idea if that was even possible. His eyes focused on her nipples. How could they look this delicious over a video call? He wanted to latch on them, suck until she was a crying mess under him.

“You okay, Sarge?”

“God, Bunny, if you call me Sarge or Sergeant one more time, I will come inside my pants.”

“Noted,” she said with a teasing voice. “We wouldn’t want that, would we? I wanna see you first. Then we can make that happen.”

“I wanna see you, too. Coming hard while I tell you dirty things that turn you on.”

“Wow, the old man has a dirty mouth. Who would’ve thought?”

“Are you teasing me?” He asked with a small smile on his lips.

“I am challenging you.” Bucky gave her a suspicious look.

“To do what?”

“To talk dirty for real, James. You are ‘all talk and no action’ sometimes.”

“Oh, is that what we are doing now?” He already sounded challenged by her words. “I should’ve known you wouldn’t like a gentleman.”

“I do like a gentleman, outside the bed. In the bed, they are boring.”

“Okay, okay.” He nodded, trying to decide what to do next. “Good to know. Now, take your clothes off. I wanna see that body.”

“Is that an order, Sarge?”

“Yes, it is, Bunny.”

“And what if I don’t follow it?” Her voice was so fucking cute, Bucky did not know how she managed to be like this.

“Then you will be punished accordingly.” He didn’t even think before answering.

“Over the phone?”

“No. I will punish you in person. I will find wherever you live and I will punish you for not following a clear order.” The words spilled out of his mouth without much thought. The second he was done, he realized what he said. God, if she had got scared, she would have had every right to do so.

“That sounds more like a promise.” Her answer was unexpected and didn’t seem wary. Was she not scared of him? At all?

“It can be, but you wouldn’t wanna get punished.”

“Hmm…” She thought for a second. “Tell me, what do you want? A good girl or a bad one?”

“I want you, Bunny. Whichever you are.” His answer must be unexpected because Bunny’s expression changed for a second. She looked emotional and vulnerable, but she quickly pulled herself together.

“I am a little bit of both.”

“Then both it is.”

Bunny quickly took her remaining clothes off instead of responding, giving him a look. “Your turn.”

Bucky did the same.

“Now what do you want me to do?” She asked eagerly.

“Touch yourself for me.” She could feel how aroused he was just by hearing his voice. The full view of his erection was helping, too.

“Touch yourself first.” She sounded so demanding and Bucky couldn’t find the strength to refuse. His flesh hand wrapped around his already painful erection. “With the metal one, Sarge.”

Bucky quickly looked back at her, with confusion written all over his face.

“I promise, I am not a groupie or anything. I just think it would look so hot.”

“A groupie?”

“Google it if you don’t know what it means. I am not gonna embarrass myself by explaining.” Bucky laughed a little.

“I know what it means, Bunny. I just wasn’t sure why I would think you're a groupie.”

“Oh…” She looked at the camera for a second. “You really don’t know, do you?”

“Know what?” He was completely lost.

“That you have fans.”

The look he had was unforgettable: completely lost.

“I have fans?” He repeated mindlessly.

“Nobody told you that, huh?”

“Nope. I have fans?”

“You do.” Bunny giggled. He was really an adorable old man. “People who defend you online. I will explain more later, okay?”

“Okay.” He still sounded confused, but he let it go. The sight in front of him was more interesting than a group of people defending him.

“Metal hand, around your cock.” She reminded him.

“Right.” She watched him wrap his vibranium fingers around his erection. It was truly a sight.

“Now, your turn.”

“What do you want me to do?” She quickly asked.

“Do you have a dildo around?”

Bunny was silent for a second. “Yes?” Her tone was hesitant.

“Do you have a favorite?”

She tried not to smile. “Of course.”

“Take that one.” He sounded so confident. It was a huge turn-on.

“Wait a second.” She left the frame for a while, and Bucky could hear her walking around, looking through her stuff. Finally, she came back with it.

“You like it big,” Bucky stated after seeing the dildo. It was probably as big as his own dick. No wonder she was so into the pictures he sent.

“Is that a problem?” Her question was genuine. “I can get a smaller one.”

“Why would I want that?” He had no idea. “I want you to enjoy this. That’s why I asked for your favorite.”

Bunny’s concern vanished quickly.

“Now what, Sarge?”

“Now we both start to play with ourselves.”

“Sounds good.” Bucky watched her brushing her fingers against her clit while letting out delicious, low moans. It was nothing too pornographic, and he could feel more blood rushing to his lower side. He started to work on himself pretty slowly with his vibranium hand since it was new to him. He never used his metal fingers before so he was trying to be careful.

“Use lube.”

“Huh?” Bucky looked like a fish out of water.

“Use lube, it will make it better.” Her fingers were still working on her clit and lips as she spoke. “Or whatever you have. A cream works too, I guess.”

“I have lube, doll. How do you think my dick survived you for this long?”

She giggled again, and all Bucky wanted to do was kiss her hard. Her lips, her nipples, her wet pussy. Anything… he just needed to taste her.

“You don’t even need lube, do you?” he asked, trying to distract himself.

“Nope.” She moved her finger away from her pussy, just to show him how wet she is, and the response she got was a loud moan.

“Fuck.” He took a deep breath. “Fuck, fuck, fuck.” It was such a raw reaction, and Bunny loved every second of it. “All for me?”

“All for you, Sarge.”

His fingers started to work faster, and thanks to the lube, it was much better than he expected. He was surprised at how the metal felt against his cock. Definitely didn’t feel like flesh, but it was good. Really good since he could actually move his metal hand faster.

“Can I put this in me?” She asked Bucky for permission to finally use the dildo, and god, he had to stop for a second, not to come instantly.

“Yes. Yes, you can.” He breathed out, struggling to form sentences at this point, but he managed it.

She pushed the dildo inside her effortlessly and let out a loud moan as she moved it in further. Bucky took a deep breath, trying to calm himself down. There is no way you are not gonna come before her. He was talking to himself. Just calm down.

"Ride that dildo, Bunny. Imagine it's me."

“You want this to be over soon, huh?” Her teasing tone helped him relax. He liked that he wasn’t alone in this.

“You gotta meet me in the middle, Bunny. Otherwise, it’s gonna be embarrassing.”

She didn’t tease or challenge him this time. She just listened to his order and started to ride the dildo as she would ride him. Her movements, the noises she made… She was making things even harder. He felt like he lost control of his fingers. He wanted to slow down, try to come with her, but his metal hand wasn’t listening to him.

“F-fuck.” He breathed out. “I’m- I’m gonna come.” He sounded so pained like he was disappointing her.

“I’m gonna come, too.” Her response was quick. “Sstop holding yourself back.” She was panting, involuntarily showing him how close she actually was.

“Shit. Pinch your nipple for me if you like that.” His metal hand was moving fast on his cock, it was oozing with precum already.

“I do.” She was out of breath already. “I do.” Pinching her nipple was enough to push her over the edge. “Oh, fuck…” When the first wave of her orgasm hit her, he could see how strong it was. “Fuck, Bucky…” The moment she said his name, he knew he was gone. There was no way he could hold back. “This feels so good. So fucking good.”

“God, Bunny.” He let out a loud moan as his come hit the laptop screen. He gasped as he continued to move his hand until he felt painfully overstimulated.

He had no idea how long the silence between them lasted.

“James?” He heard her silky voice before opening his eyes back up.

“I’m here, Bunny.” She smiled in response. She could see he was still there, but she wasn’t gonna say that.

“That was amazing.” Bunny looked so blissed out.

“Tell me about it.” He shook his head like he couldn’t believe how strong that orgasm was.

He heard Bunny taking another deep breath while looking back at him.

“Look, I know this is not the time…” Bunny sounded more serious than before. The tone got his attention back to her.

“Tell me.” He suddenly sounded so demanding.

“The timing is horrible.”

“I don’t care.” He smiled, trying to assure her.

“I won’t be around for a while.” His face dropped when he heard her words. “That’s why I wanted to talk to you tonight. I won’t be online or posting new content.”

"Is something wrong?" He sounded so worried, so panicked. As crazy as it might have been, he didn't want to lose her, especially after this.

“No, no, no.” She quickly assured him. “It's something I have to do. I was working on something for a long time and now it might come to an end. Which is a good thing since that's what I was trying to achieve. I just need to deal with it, then I will be back and I'll explain everything, okay?” Bucky nodded. “Just know that I'll be busy, but I'll come back, okay? No need to worry about me.”

“I will always worry about you.” That was the truth. Even if he knew she was fine, not hearing from her would worry him. “Thank you for telling me.”

***

The next morning, Bucky woke up feeling much better than he ever felt since he was a free man. Last night, things exceeded his expectations. He noticed how much he was overthinking everything, how he never thought she'd be so okay with who he was. He never thought she would be still attracted to him after seeing him. He wasn’t delusional enough to think he had an ugly face. The problem was the things that face was associated with and, yes, he was still convinced she was way out of his league. But she didn’t seem to care, and that was all that mattered to him.

He quickly got ready. His morning routine was simple, so he could just leave in half an hour: a quick shower, a simple breakfast, and putting on appropriate clothes were enough. After he was done with the essentials, he found a bit of time to send Bunny a good morning message. She might not be able to respond, since she told him she was gonna be busy these days, but he still felt like doing it. And after last night, he had no intention to refrain from following his wishes. Not anymore.

But when he opened the app, he was simply shocked, horrified even… Because Bunny was gone. Completely gone. Her account was deactivated, and only their old messages were still there.

The panic scattered throughout his body like rapid fire, spreading from his chest and burning everything on its path. He had no idea what to do. He didn't have her number or any social media accounts if she had any. He didn’t even know where she lived. Yes, sure, Bunny told him she was going to be away for a while and wouldn't be able to share anything, but deleting her whole account? That was completely unexpected and alarming. He rubbed his face with both of his hands, trying to figure out a way to make sure she was fine.

Slowly, the overthinking returned and took complete control of him. What if she just played it cool yesterday but wanted to vanish after learning who he actually was? The Winter Soldier was a terrifying figure, he would have not blamed her if that had been the case, yet he would have felt betrayed and disappointed. He tried to think of a moment or a small detail that showed she was just trying to act her way out of a dangerous situation, but nothing came to his mind. She was surprised, of course, but after that initial shock, she was back to her normal self. She even wanted to see him more intimately. Was it because she didn’t feel safe anymore? Could she possibly act so flawlessly and show no fear while trying to get away? A part of him didn't believe that couldn’t be true. She was one of the most authentic people he met, even though they did not actually meet in person. That was why he was pulled towards her this much. Another part of him thought this is basically her job. She had to look convincing enough, but looking and acting were completely two different things, and Bucky wasn’t sure of anything anymore. He was so focused on trying to find a logical explanation for everything that he almost didn't hear his phone ring.

When Bucky grabbed back his phone, he saw the name Sam Wilson on the screen. He didn’t feel like answering, but Sam was stubborn as usual. He called him back again in a second, and Bucky had no choice but to answer at the end.

“Hey, Buck. You ready buddy? I’m on my way and I can give you a lift.”

Bucky made an unintelligible sound, not knowing how to answer. He already forgot about the meeting and the time.

“Please, tell me you are ready. The meeting is in half an hour.”

“I am.” He finally managed to say something back. His own voice sounded robotic and the words were forced, but he had to go through this day to find a way to reach Bunny. Maybe he could ask for Fury’s help to locate her. It would take a lot of convincing, but he would do it for her. To make sure she was safe and sound. To do that, he had to go to this briefing.

“Okay, I’ll be there in 5.”

***

As Bucky and Sam finally arrived at the SHIELD headquarters, Bucky muttered a simple thank you. They didn't talk much during the ride, which wasn’t unusual, yet Sam suspected something was wrong. Bucky was usually calm and collected. He wouldn't engage in small talk or chat about random topics, but this time he seemed nervous. Sam wanted to ask what was wrong, but after all the time they spent together, he knew it was better to just wait for a sign. That was always more effective. Bucky would recoil into his shell like a freaking turtle if you made a move too soon, and that was the last thing they needed.

As for Bucky, he couldn't stop wondering about all the possibilities in the world and what he should do next. He would have to talk to Fury privately, ask for help, and get out of this mission. After that, he would go on whatever mission they decided to throw his way. No problem. None at all. Just let me be sure she is fine.

While still thinking about the plan in his mind, Bucky found an empty spot in the meeting room and sank down. He was checking his phone regularly to see if there was anything from Bunny or if maybe her profile would be back up, but no. There was nothing at all, and his worry was growing every second. He had no idea how he was supposed to go through this meeting at all.

“Ladies and gentlemen, we are about to end one of the biggest undercover operations in the history of SHIELD.” Fury’s voice got the attention of everyone in the room. “We are going to hit HYDRA where it hurts the most. Innocents will be saved by cutting HYDRA’s biggest financial income. It doesn't get any better than this.” Fury talking about HYDRA got Bucky out of his own head for a second. “This operation has been going on for quite some time and there’s no one better than Agent Elvisa to explain the details before we get to action.” Fury turned his eyes to the side, moving his hand up to introduce the mysterious agent. What Bucky didn't expect was to see Bunny, in flesh and blood, right in front of him. She was wearing a generic SHIELD uniform, her hair neatly tied up in a ponytail, looking composed.

“Thank you, Director Fury.” Hearing her silky voice made Bucky realize he wasn’t dreaming. His eyes widened when he realized he was really standing there, looking perfect in that ugly outfit. He could feel a hole forming in his stomach while Agent Elvisa started to explain the details. She was actively trying to avoid meeting his eyes while talking, showing some statistics and the essential, but Bucky couldn’t hear anything. His ears were ringing.

Since Bunny kept avoiding the eye contact with him, Bucky’s glance turned over to Natasha. She was the one who suggested her, after all. Did she know about this? The woman who he thought was a complete stranger was actually a SHIELD agent. There was no way Natasha did not know this. Was this all an elaborate prank? Maybe orchestrated by Natasha. That would make perfect sense.

Bucky understood that HYDRA was making a lot of money from their human trafficking network, and SHIELD was about to destroy it. He would have loved to focus more on the details since this would have been a personal case for him in another context. He was one of their victims after all. Yet his palms were sweating as he thought about confronting her. Even when he tried hard to understand, his brain didn’t compute any of the information she was giving. It was too loud, too uncomfortable. He felt thirsty and nauseous at the same time.

After the meeting was over, Bucky jolted out of his seat to catch her. He needed a second to talk to her, privately, to understand what the fuck was going on. He thought he deserved that much explanation before going on another mission after everything that happened between them.

She was talking to someone, but Bucky didn’t pay attention to their conversation. He stopped right next to her, invading all of her personal space without considering how it might look from the outside.

“We need to talk.” His voice was so harsh, it made her flinch. She looked up and met his eyes for the first time, and he could clearly see she was uncomfortable.

“She was…” The man she was talking to tried to interject, but Bucky was having none of it.

“I’m talking to Agent Elvisa.” God, the way he said her name was stone-cold. It sounded like he wanted to spit her name out. He subtly grabbed her arm. “We need to talk. Right now.”

***

Bucky’s hand didn’t leave her arm until they were tucked inside the closest empty office. He was trying to control himself, but it was so hard when a million questions were running through his head. Yet, he managed to choose one to ask.

“Why?” His eyes were like two daggers.

“Why what?” She managed to say back, a little terrified.

“Why did you do this to me?” The way Bucky asked the question broke her heart. She could hear the disappointment, the pain and betrayal in his voice. “I just need to know why you did this to me.”

“What are you talking about? What did I do to you?” She looked completely clueless, and it hurt Bucky even more. “Look I know…” She tried to explain, but he didn’t let her.

“Was this a joke? Did Natasha put you up to this?” He talked so fast and harshly. “Or was this a bet between co-workers?” She was silent. Completely silent. Trying to understand what he was talking about.

“You think I played with you?” She asked the question like she couldn’t believe him.

“Didn’t you, Agent Elvisa?” Again, her code name sounded so harsh on his lips. She wasn’t Bunny anymore.

“Playing with you was never my intention.”

“But you did it anyway.” God, he sounded so broken, on the verge of a breakdown.

“I didn’t even know I was talking to you until last night, Bucky.” She was getting emotional, but Bucky wasn’t in the state to notice it. “I could never…”

“You could never what? Make a fool of me? Break my heart? What did you think would happen when you decided to show up and give a presentation in that freaking room?” He raised his hand to point toward the general direction of the meeting room.

“I didn’t know you would be here!” She finally snapped and started to yell back. “I didn’t know I was talking to you until last night! Did you even listen to me back there?”

Bucky looked all lost, trying to understand why that would matter right now.

“I was on an undercover mission all this time. It had nothing to do with you! You think I made a fake account and started creating content just to mess with you? Why would I do that?”

“I… I don’t know.” He didn’t know anything. All he came up with was a list of possibilities.

“I have been doing this for months! I’m trying to catch those bastards, trying to look convincing enough and make them pay for what they did!” She stopped for a second, trying to collect herself. She didn’t want to cry. Not right then. “You think you are so important that I would create a whole ass account instead of just coming and asking you out?”

Her question silenced him for a second, making him wonder what the last sentence meant.

“What did you just say?”

Right at that moment, someone knocked on the door and stuck their head inside.

“Sergeant Barnes, we have to leave in 10 minutes.”

He didn’t even look their way. “I’m in the middle of something!” It was so harsh yet attractive.

“I know, but Director Fury…”

“Just tell him I need 5 more minutes.” The determination in his tone shook the agent and he left without saying anything in return. As soon as Bucky heard the door close, he repeated his question.

“What did you just say?”

“I don’t know what kind of sick game is going on, but I’m assuming you know I have a crush on you. Maybe Nat told you. I.. don’t know, but I would never do something like this. Not to you, not to anyone. I’d just ask you out and get rejected with pride.”

“You had a crush on me?” He couldn’t believe what she was saying.

“You… didn’t know?”

“No.” They both looked so confused.

“I assumed that you did.” She awkwardly looked around.

“Nope.”

The door was opened without a knock this time and both of them turned their heads simultaneously.

“Buck-” Sam couldn’t even finish his sentence. The double death glare startled him.

“For god's sake! I just need 5 minutes of privacy before I go there and fight. Is that too much to ask?”

“Okay, man, calm down. I’ll tell Fury.” He quickly looked at Bunny and then at Bucky before closing the door behind him. Both Bucky and Bunny turned their eyes to each other.

“Okay, look… I didn’t play with you.” She started to explain. “No one put me up on a mission to mess with you. I don’t know if this is a twisted game of fate or something else, but I didn’t know you would be involved in this operation, okay?”

“It’s Romanoff’s doing.” He finally put two plus two together, and she nodded slowly. It made sense to her, too. Then they heard Fury talking outside, and they knew that the time was running out.

“We don’t have time for this.” She stated while running her hand through her hair. “Just know that I was going to explain everything after the operation. That’s why I said what I said yesterday.”

Before he could answer her, the door opened once again. No knocking, no hesitation. Bucky was about to yell at them not to interrupt once again, but Fury was standing on the door sill, looking uneasy.

“Barnes, we have no time for…” His eyes darted between both of them. “...whatever this is. We have to leave before it’s too late.”

“Fine.” He finally responded after a short while. “I’m coming, but this conversation is not over, Agent Elvisa.”

“I’ll be waiting, Sergeant Barnes.”

Next Chapter >>>

***

taglist (I tried to tag everyone who showed interest in chapter two. If you would rather not be included please let me know.)

@geminiflanagansblog @sadg1rlsei @lia-winther @nanikio @barnesboo1967 @chinaza444 @kaitlin013106 @ryanmxrie @steverogers-wife @weaselbeedisneygeek @tilltheendofthelinepal9950 @happyxdayxbitch @marvelogic @wintasssoldier @buckybarnessimpp @marvelsbitchh @alright-i-guesss @almosttoopizza @rabbitrabbit12321 @cookielovesbook-akie @whalien52bbgrl @cjand10 @scifinerd1818 @dellalyra @capswife @netherqueen23 @beware-my-thorns @freegardenbanananeck @iamstevessmile @raven1234321 @divadinag @noisesinthedark @amanda-says @ozwriterchick @sleyeveryday @arsonfrogger @lfaewrites @alana4610 @amberpanda99 @splendidreads @acatwriteshere

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mollywog · 5 months

Text

Roommate

Part 1 | Part 2

This is all I had planned, but I might be convinced to write a small addition (in which Peeta has the strangest week)

Thank you all for reading!! I’ve been kicking my feet over the commentary in the notes and reblogs!! 🩶🩶🩶

Her sister’s scream wakes her. Katniss blinks into the sudden brightness before checking her phone: 5 am, well past last call. “How was your date?”

“Jesus Christ Katniss! You scared me! Have you been there all night?!”

“Well I couldn’t stay at my place, could I? Didn’t want to risk being there if you went home with Peeta last night… Which you obviously did.”

Prim stays at their childhood home between semesters of med school. Even with their mother working the night shift, It was a safe bet that Prim wouldn’t try to bring someone back here if she could help it. Then Peeta had text at 9 pm to ask if he should expect her that night, and it was as good as hanging a sock on the door. That’s when it really hit her. She’d sent a single word response before putting her phone on do-not-disturb and waiting in Prim’s room for the awful night to be over.

“Ah-ha!” Prim points triumphantly, “So you admit it! It bothered you, didn’t it?”

“Yeah! I fucking hated it! Are you happy?”

“But why Katniss?” she affects a too innocent air, “I thought you would be happy if Peeta met someone you approved of.”

Katniss stares up at the ceiling and exhales, “because I like Peeta, alright?”

“Just like?”

“Don’t push your luck.”

“Fine,” Prim says, dropping to sit next to her, “and yes: I am a little happy. So, now that you’ve finally admitted it, what are you going to do?”

“I don’t know… Move probably?”

“Don’t be so dramatic.”

Katniss scowls at her sister.

Prim huffs, “I was at Rue’s, by the way. We went to the Hob to dance last night and then I slept off the buzz at her place. You’re lucky I had to come back early to get ready for work. You would have been sitting here in misery till well after brunch.”

“He still agreed to go on a date with you.” Katniss hadn’t wanted to believe Prim’s assertion, so on Wednesday she’d asked Peeta if he’d wanted to go to happy hour with her at the end of the week. He’d said he was meeting a friend for drinks, and that was all the confirmation she’d needed. It hurt, but she’d convinced herself it only bothered her because he hadn’t trusted her enough to be honest.

Prim rolled her eyes, “I was fucking with you. I asked him to meet up to talk about your birthday. Told him not to mention it to you or you’d try to tag along and it would ruin the surprise. He’s not an idiot. He’d never hurt his chances with you by even feinting interest in me.”

“Please.”

“Are you kidding me? He’s not even trying to hide his feelings. I don’t know how you can breathe in that apartment with all the pent up sexual tension.”

She probably should never trust Prim again, but Katniss allows herself a small bit of hope that what she’s saying is true, “You’re the worst.”

“Yeah, yeah. Rue agrees, if that helps. She said I was the asshole and that I owe you an apology... But she didn’t think it would work either, so jokes on her.”

Katniss snorts.

“But seriously; I may have gone a little overboard, but the next person won’t be doing it for your benefit. Now, get out of here and do something about it.”

On Ao3

#roommates #part 3 #last part #maybe?#ficlet #everlark fanfiction #fake fic ask game

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miscling · 4 months

Text

About Miscling! (updated!)

This is a horny blog for horny blog things. Please don't interact if you're a minor/under 18, go away, shoo. if you follow me, make sure to have some indication of your age in your bio or pinned

😵‍💫🥰😵‍💫

hi! i have a lot of different names, but for now you can call me misc! I am a girl, toy, doll, kitty, ditz, and mama. i love talking to people and getting lots of asks. send me things like ask meme questions, fantasies, confessions, or just ask me how i’m doing! i especially love getting tasks to do, and have an ask-task list you can use to give me things to do! i love being an obedient good girl, and especially love getting lots of praise. i’m an exhibitionist, submissive, and easily controlled by people who make me feel safe.

since this is a hornyblog, i like to follow other hornyblogs. i’m a trans woman who has a cunt, and i’m also autistic and have adhd, so i reblog stuff about that sort of thing too. i make porn and erotica for fun, which i post here. you can expect posts about edging, hypno kink, bondage, bdsm, fetishwear, tickling, masochism, petplay (i'm a kitty), hucows/lactation, monsterfucking, CNC, mindbreaking, dollification, dronification, and mommy/daughter fauxcest. i’m a subby bottom, even though i’m mommy to a few. i don’t domme, but i will tease other subs i think are cute once i get to know them.

i am poly, queer, kinky, and trans, and i’m in the UK. i’m very interested in talking to others who are the same. if you’re queer and trans, let’s be friends! i am mostly t4t, and like real life play, i’m not so much into roleplay, and i’m not looking for exclusive ownership. i like to play with lots of people and have lots and lots of fun!

i don’t really think of myself as a person so much as i think of myself as a fae-coded creature, a pet of some sort, and toy for others to enjoy. real people don’t wish they weren’t people, after all.

if you’ve read my pinned, like it! then you should send me an ask telling me what your favourite kink is and why!

Below the readmore: Tags and Links, Limits, and my Ask Task List!

Tags and links:

About Miscling contains every post that's about me.

You can find pics of me in Miscling Appears. (it's okay to go on a reblogging and liking spree through them) i make original posts under Miscling Rambles and posts about my lactation journey in Miscling Lactates i also make polls, which you can find in my Miscling Polls tag. you can hear my voice in the Miscling Speaks tag and over at my soundgasm page!

You can send me tasks with my ask tasks meme! I will take tasks from literally anyone ^^ you can see tasks I've done here! If you like or follow my blog, think about sending me a task as a little gift!

I learned to edge last year and was broken by a poll I ran to get permission to cum here then here and here. i hope to never cum again without being forced. i can't be forced to cum over the internet. i kept an edging diary for a while and the last time i came was 1feb24.

I love to write, and I especially like to write about kink. Read bits about my play with Miscling Plays and stories I wrote with Miscling Writes.

Use my ask box liberally, anon or not. i'll answer near anything and you can use my ask meme tag and miscling answers to find questions to ask me (scroll the tag and use any meme you like, but copy in the questions or link the meme!)

I have a lovense wishlist (long distance remote vibrators)

I have an amazon wishlist (lingerie and random kink things)

I have a cashapp link (if you just want to tip me directly)

I have a ko-fi link! (please don't reference anything nsfw on kofi if you use this)

I'm trying to tag my kinks so i can find them when i want them, this is no guarantee that i'll tag things though. mommysub for posts about being a mommysub, goddess thoughts for religionplay where i'm a subby goddess, Bind Miscling for bondage, hit me for masochism, moo for hucow things, lee mood for tickling, oh my circuits for robot/drone things, maid day for maids, tidy up tuesday for my maid day, monsterling for monsterfucking posts, hypno gif, spiral, hypno txt, and hypnaudio, for hypno play, and hypnoslut for general hypno posts, preyling for primal play, latexcellent for rubberwear, and as i figure out others i'll add them...

Also, I have some limits:

i have a nest partner, i won't let anything come between us

i do not like misogyny, transphobia, racism, or bigotry. This applies to kink too.

i don't like possessive language, only people i trust can own me

please don't try to make me cum or ask/tell me to

don't call me a bitch or a puppy. i like puppy petplayers a lot, but i am a kitty petplayer.

i don't like being treated as inferior, i might be submissive, but i should still matter and be treated with care and respect

sissy blogs dni, i am a woman, do not reblog my pics to your sissy blog, i will block you if i spot you.

Finally:

i am a toy for others to enjoy!

(Most tasks recieved and completed in one day: 18) (Most tasks recieved on a special occasion: 48)

ASK TASKS: OPEN

use my ask box to send me tasks to do! i'd love to entertain and perform for you all! i am a good and obedient girl, and i enjoy getting tasks to do!

choose one or more task emoji and send them to me! include instructions if you send complicated tasks

tasks can come from anyone, even anons!

i'll do tasks as soon as i can! basic tasks i'll do on my own, but i'll need help for the slightly more complicated ones so they might be a little while!

Mutuals can DM me, and if i'm available we'll play ^^

BASIC TASK LIST!

🗜️ make me wear nipple clamps for 5 minutes! 📦 make me wear 10 pegs on my cunt for 10 minutes! 🤚 make me slap my cunt 10 times! ⚡ choose a part of me and make me use my TENS unit there for 10 mins. 😺/🐮 petplay! make me put on my animal ears based on which one you send! 🤐 make me gag myself for half an hour! (tell me what kind of gag to use and if I have it I'll use it, otherwise I'll pick) 🧣 make me put on my collar if i'm not already wearing it! 👗 make me get undressed and be naked for the next 30 mins! ✏️ make me write what you tell me on my body where you tell me! 💖 make me draw a little heart on myself where you tell me! 🗣️ ask me anything, name a kink or give me a topic to write about (kinky or otherwise) and make me infodump about it. 🔊 send me a post or a write something for me to record saying, and i'll post the recording. 🫴 make me edge for 10 minutes (Send me instructions, porn, a post to edge to, or a mantra to repeat while I do it, you can use my mantra tag for ideas or my spiral tag.) 🕳️ make me plug my cunt for 30 minutes! 👅 make me stick my tongue out for 10 minutes! 💋 make me go practice deepthroating for 10 minutess! 🚼 make me go put on a diaper for at least an hour and use it next time i need the bathroom! 🍇 make me go get a snack and a drink! ❌ make me go take a break outside for 5 mins! 😴 make me go lay down in bed for 15 mins, no screens allowed.

SLIGHTLY MORE COMPLICATED TASK LIST!

👋 i'll ask my nestie to tickle me for 5 mins! (check my toybox) 🖐️ i'll ask my nestie to slap me 10 times! choose my face or tits 🏓 i'll ask my nestie to hit me 10 times! choose my ass or thighs (check my toybox) 👣 i'll ask my nestie to put elastic bands around my feet and snap the band against my soles 10 times. (nestie enjoys doing this to me) ⛓️ i'll get myself tied up and restrained for 30 mins! 🥊 No hands! make me put on my hand mitts for 15 minutes!

Or...

⁉️ Give me a task not listed! (You can find the contents of my toybox here for ideas) (I reserve the right to safeword, but I'm very open and obedient, so shoot your shot)

#about miscling #misc pinned post

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sihtricfedaraaahvicius · 1 year

Text

Note: requested by an anon! thank you so much for your patience, I hope it's worth the wait. also shout out to @neonhairspray for letting me use her name in this fic ;)

extra note: the taglist seems to not work properly lately, I am aware of this, as it is happening to me as well. I am also not getting many notifications, not just tags, but also for reblogs and comments. I am very sorry if it seems like I am ignoring you, trust me, I am not!

Warnings: 18+! angst, brief smut, little bit of fluff. mention of pregnancy.

pairing: Modern!Sihtric x you (f)

summary: A regular hook up with Sihtric didn't go as usual.

wordcount: 3,5k

Masterlist

'Tell me what the fuck I did to you to deserve this!'

'Thanks, sweetheart,' Sihtric smiled and kissed your forehead, 'that was really nice, as always,' he chuckled, 'I'll call you, okay?'

'Yeah,' you smiled, still shaking on your legs as you walked him to your front door, 'thank you too,' you said, 'see you around.'

'See you,' Sihtric winked and got in his car.

You closed the door and went back upstairs to shower, after which you'd get some sleep, as it was late at night already.

And that's just how it always went. Sihtric texted you, or you texted him, you'd meet up at either his place or yours, you'd fuck each other senseless for however long needed, and then you'd both go your own way again. Most people would call what you had with Sihtric "friends with benefits", but it wasn't that. You had only met him because of a mutual friend, during a night out, after which you had landed in his bed.

And after that night you simply kept hooking up, but there was no friendship. In fact, you actually knew nothing about Sihtric, except for where he lives, and that he's hot, as well as a beast in bed. You knew his kinks and the way he likes his dirty talk, but you had no idea what kind of job he had, if he even had one, you didn't know what his personality really was like or if he was sleeping with other people, besides you. You didn't know and you also didn't care. Sihtric, with his short, dark hair with the shaved sides and his insanely muscular body, was just a good fuck. And that's all you both seemed to care about.

You only contacted each other to hook up, and it was only a few days later that Sihtric called you again.

'Fuck,' Sihtric moaned, 'yeah, just like that baby girl,' he breathed and threw his head back in your pillow, 'oh, don't stop you dirty girl,' he laughed as he looked up into your eyes.

You grinned while looking down at him, riding him exactly the way you knew would make him lose his mind. His big, warm hands held your hips, while you rested your hands on his broad chest to support yourself. If you'd been looking for a serious relationship, you'd almost believe Sihtric was made for you, and he thought the same, but he would never say it.

Because there was no relationship, and neither of you ever showed a sign that there would ever be anything of a relationship between the two of you.

'Yeah, you like that, don't you?' you teased, feeling his hands take on a bruising grip on your hips.

'Yeah,' Sihtric smiled as he bit down on his lip, then bucked his hips into you while you were on top, 'yeah, I really fucking like that,' he moaned.

'Fuck me like a good boy,' you breathed, to which Sihtric growled desperately and took you harder, and faster.

Then, with a deep and heavy moan Sihtric spilled inside you, as he fucked you through your own orgasm. And it was only moments later, when he pulled out, that you both found out the condom had been ripped at some point.

'Oh,' you said, with big eyes, 'it… it should be fine.'

'You're on birth control too, right?' Sihtric asked after a few minutes, slightly worried while he put on his shoes.

'Yeah,' you sort of lied.

Well, you didn't really lie, you were on birth control, but you had been a little sloppy with taking the pill lately, knowing you didn't have unprotected sex with him anyway.

'Okay,' Sihtric said and sighed with relief, 'good. I like kids, but I'm absolutely not ready to be a dad yet,' he chuckled, 'dodged a bullet there, huh, sweetheart?'

'Don't worry,' you laughed.

What are the odds, you thought. Sihtric put his shirt back on, raked his tattooed fingers through his short hair and leaned in to kiss your cheek.

'I better get going, no need to walk me to the door,' Sihtric said softly, knowing your legs had gotten quite the workout moments ago, 'thank you for tonight, I really needed it,' he smiled and pecked your cheek again, 'you're always so good to me, baby girl. You know exactly how I like it, you're truly a blessing,' he whispered and gave you a quick wink, 'I'll call you, okay, baby?'

'Yeah, okay,' you smiled and felt yourself blush.

Despite not being close, apart from sex, Sihtric definitely had a cheek-reddening effect on you with his impressive appearance, flirtatious behaviour and his smooth voice.

'See you around,' you said with a grin.

'Definitely, pretty lady,' Sihtric winked again and gave you a sly smile, before he walked out of your bedroom and let himself out of your home.

In his car, on the drive back to his own place, he cursed himself for being too afraid to tell you he actually wants more with you. He wanted to take you out on a proper date, really getting to know you outside of the bedroom. He had been meaning to ask you out for weeks already, but he was terrified to be rejected by you, after months and months of just having sex.

Meanwhile, you downplayed your own feelings for Sihtric when he had left, took a shower again and went to bed.

And as your upcoming few weeks were kinda busy, you had to disappoint Sihtric a few times by answering his call and telling him you weren't in town.

'I promise I'll call you when I'm back home again,' you said on the phone.

'Promise?' Sihtric asked, you could even hear his soft smile by the way he spoke, 'don't keep me waiting much longer, baby girl,' he said with a cheeky tone, 'been thinking of that cute butt of yours a lot lately.'

'Behave!' you laughed, 'and I promise. But, hey, gotta run now, Sihtric, work's calling. I'll see you soon.'

'You better,' Sihtric said before you both ended the call and went about your day.

If only you knew how much Sihtric was longing to see you again, after finally having gathered the courage to ask you out next time he'd see you.

And if only Sihtric knew that you would never call him again.

5 years later.

Two weeks after that last booty call you found out you were pregnant and, remembering Sihtric told you he was not ready to be a father, you panicked. You considered your options. You didn't have the heart to get an abortion, but you were also terrified to face Sihtric again, in fear of you and your child being rejected by him. In your full state of panic you blocked Sihtric's number. And when he showed up at your door a few weeks later, only because he was seriously worried about the woman he had fallen in love with who seemed to have vanished, you had kept yourself hidden in your kitchen until you heard him slam his car door shut and drive off.

Then, you did the worst thing you could possibly do; you moved away, about two towns over, without ever telling Sihtric. And next spring you gave birth to his child, without his knowledge.

Being a single mother was hard, and multiple times you thought about reaching out to Sihtric, but years had passed already and you knew he would probably not take this news well. You eventually got a job at a cute little coffee shop while your, now 4 year old, son stayed with an aunt of yours during the day. She'd bring your son, Ragnar, to the coffee shop every day just before your shift was over, so you could take him home.

And today was just like any other day. You only had twenty minutes left of your shift when you were asked to bring an order 'that hot guy with the sunglasses who's seated at the window,' as your colleague and best friend, Sandra, described the customer.

You did what you were asked and placed the large cup of coffee on the table of the hot guy, who was wearing a black beanie and had his eyes hidden behind his black sunglasses. He was very well built, his broad shoulders clearly visible underneath the black denim jacket he was wearing, under which he wore a dark hoodie. You saw he had a good, well kept goatee, and from the slight glimpse you got of him you had to admit; Sandra was right. He was kinda hot from what you could see.

'Enjoy your coffee,' you smiled and turned to walk away.

You didn't know that the hot guy had been staring at you from behind his shades for minutes already, ever since you caught his eye.

'Do I know you, lady?' he suddenly asked.

You froze, your back still turned to him. You had almost dropped the empty cup you held when you heard the sound of his voice. The smooth, soft, low voice you could never forget, because you had heard it so close to your ear uncountable times. But it surely couldn't be him…

You cleared your throat and gave the man a quick smile as you faced him.

'I doubt it,' you said politely and turned on your heels again.

'Baby girl?' the man said and jumped up, his chair making an awfully loud noise as it scraped over the floor with force.

You froze again, feeling your knees starting to shake underneath you and you turned to face him again, staring at him with wide eyes.

'S… Sihtric?' you barely whispered.

'So it is you,' Sihtric smiled softly and took off his sunglasses, revealing the scar on his cheekbone you recognised right away.

He took one big step and towered over you, gazing down into your eyes. He took your chin in his hand and kissed your cheek, like he used to when he'd meet up with you, years ago.

'How… how have you been?' Sihtric asked, quietly, but you could clearly hear a faint tremble in his voice while his mismatched eyes darted all over your face, 'you- you just disappeared,' he said, 'w-why?Why did you never call again or... or-''

'Sihtric,' you breathed, your cheeks heated up and your hands trembled, 'I… I'm sorry, but I'm at work… I can't talk right now-'

'Mommy!' Ragnar ran in and your aunt followed behind him.

You looked startled, then quickly used your son distracting Sihtric as your way to get out of the situation.

'Mommy?' Sihtric mumbled and he furrowed his brow as he looked at the child running towards you, 'hey, no, wait!' Sihtric said and grabbed your arm as you tried to sneak away, 'you have a son?' he asked, his eyes were suddenly huge and vulnurable, 'did… did you leave because you met someone? Why- why didn't you tell me?'

'Sihtric, please,' you said, 'it's… I have to go.'

You tried to pull out of his grip but, instead of letting go, Sihtric only held onto your firmer.

'No, please,' he begged, not wanting to lose you again, 'I need to know-'

'Sihtric, let go of me, please,' you hissed, trying to be quiet, but at this point everyone in the coffee shop was already staring at the two of you.

'Baby girl, please,' Sihtric pleaded, 'what… I need to know what happened between us.'

'It's…' you stammered, desperately wanting to tell him the truth, but you couldn't, 'I have to go,' you said, panicked, and you broke out of his grip.

'No, wait!' Sihtric raised his voice, but it was already too late.

Your shift was over and you had already thrown your apron on the counter, you pushed past your aunt and made haste to walk out of the coffee shop, with your son. With Sihtric's son. And tears crept up as you picked up Ragnar to cross the street, leaving Sihtric behind once again without any explanation, something you hoped you would never have to do again, as it had caused you to live with a broken heart ever since.

And once again, it had all been your own doing, because you couldn't face him.

Later that evening, Sandra texted you after having witnessed the strange encounter at work.

Sandra: are you okay? What happened at work?

Sandra: did you know that guy? Did he bother you? He asked for your number after you had left, but I didn't give it… he seemed really hurt. Confused even, it was kind of scary… after you left he paced back and forth for a while in the shop, talking quietly to himself as he looked really distressed

Sandra: eventually he walked out, I think he was crying? We were really concerned about you

Sandra: the hot guys are always weirdos huh?

You: I'm okay, thank you

You: but yeah… I know him. it's a long story really. And he has my number, actually…

You: promise you won't tell anyone what I'm going to tell you now?

Sandra: of course, you know your secrets are safe with me

And so you finally told someone, for the first time in your life, about the father of your son and what you had done to him.

Your friend was shocked and tried to convince you to meet up with Sihtric, but you just couldn't. Without pressuring you, she urged you to think about Ragnar too, how he deserved to know who his father was. And she reminded you that Sihtric deserved to know he had a son. You knew Sandra was right and agreed to think about it, but now, you just wanted to sleep. Because you hoped to wake up from this nightmare.

Meanwhile, Sihtric was home again too, after he had randomly gone for a drive and happened to end up at the one place you were at. And as he was completely devastated by how you had run from him, again, he went over the events as he laid in bed, with his eyes closed, fighting his tears. He tried to understand your behaviour. He tried to understand why you had left in the first place. He tried to remember what had happened the last time he had seen you, even though it had been so long ago.

And when he suddenly woke up in the middle of the night, it all clicked.

Your shift the next day went terribly slow. You had barely slept so, naturally, you were exhausted. To make things worse, your friend wasn't working today, so you had no one you could talk to about your current issue.

Hours and hours later, when your shift was over, you took off your apron and grabbed your jacket. You had asked your aunt if Ragnar could stay for dinner with her, as you needed a moment to yourself after work. But then, when you walked out of the coffee shop, you realised you would not have a quiet evening.

'Sihtric?' you gasped and froze when you saw him, waiting for you outside the shop, 'what- why are you here-'

'Please,' Sihtric said, as calm as he could while he stepped closer, 'please, talk to me.'

You stared up into his questioning eyes, and became overwhelmed with emotions. Part of you wanted to grab his face and kiss him as if it was the last thing you'd ever do, part of you wanted to tell him the truth about his son, and another part of you wanted to run away and hide. And you tried the latter. You almost sprinted away from Sihtric, around the corner, hoping you could run home. But Sihtric was fast, and even stronger than you remembered, so without any struggle he grabbed your arm and pulled you into a darkened alley, where he slammed you against the wall.

'Talk to me!' Sihtric growled.

A tone you had never heard from him before, and you didn't know if you were terrified or aroused right now. Probably a sick mixture of both, you thought, as he had trapped you between his body and the cold wall that pressed against your back.

'Who's child was that boy?' he asked, angered and confused, 'the one I saw yesterday, in the coffee shop, who called you mommy?'

'Please,' you trembled, 'don't make me do this,' you whispered.

'Who is the father of that child?!'

'You are!' you shouted, and Sihtric stumbled a small step back when you shoved him, allowing his back to collide with the wall, finding support so he wouldn't fall down to his knees.

You stared at each other, with both hurt and anger in your eyes.

'You are his father, Sihtric,' you said with a sudden sob, and started to cry, 'you are.'

You explained to him, as best as you could through your tears, what had happened since the last time you had slept together. How you got pregnant, how you remembered Sihtric said he didn't want to be a father yet, and how you had panicked and just ran.

'And I know it will never justify that I hid this from you,' you sniffled, 'but I was terrified. I was so afraid to be rejected by you that I just ran, to protect myself and my… o-our child.'

'What's his name?'

'R-Ragnar,' you whispered.

Sihtric was quiet, until his tears started to roll down his cheeks and he moved his hands over his half shaved head, gripping at his dark curls, and then he let out a pained grunt as he punched his fists into the brick wall behind him.

'How could you do this to me?!' he shouted, 'how could you fucking do this!'

You knew you were the one who had made all the mistakes here, and you never wanted to argue with Sihtric in the first place, so you weren't going to try and defend yourself. You kept quiet as he let out his feelings, it was the least you could do.

'My child!' Sihtric shouted, his voice hoarse, 'you kept my child from me? For almost five fucking years!'

He huffed and let out a loud sob as he exhaled. His breath was shaky, as were his hands and his voice when he continued.

'What did I do to you?' he asked.

'Nothing,' you whispered, 'you did nothing-'

'Tell me!' Sihtric snarled, 'tell me what the fuck I did to you to deserve this! When did I hurt you?! When did I ever not treat you with respect?! When did I make you feel like you had the right to run away while you carried my child? My child?!' he shouted in your face.

'I… I have no answers,' you whispered as you wept silently, 'I have no excuse. Sihtric, you never did anything wrong. I'm… I'm sorry. I'm sorry I did this.'

'No, you're not,' Sihtric scoffed and wiped his tears, 'you're not sorry,' he looked at you with disgust, 'I… I don't even care if you were.'

And with those words, Sihtric left, and you fell down to your knees in the alley, crying, as you once again lost the love of your life.

When you arrived at work the next day, a complete mess, Sandra ran up to you.

'Girl!' she said as she grabbed your arms, 'that hot dad left you a note,' she pushed the piece of paper in your hand, 'he left seconds ago, you better go after him and fix this!'

Before you had time to read the note, Sandra shoved you outside of the coffee shop, pushing you in the direction Sihtric had just walked in when he left. As your feet started to carry you around the corner, your trembling hands opened the folded piece of paper.

Sweetheart,

I am sorry for the way I snapped yesterday. It was just a lot to take in, I'm sorry. I wish I had handled it differently, and I am sorry you always felt you could never contact me to tell me the truth. I hoped I'd find you at work today, but you weren't there, so I wrote this quick note. If you ever change your mind about us, about me, know that I would love to meet Ragnar. Know that I am ready to be a father. And know that I never had the guts to tell you how I felt when we were still seeing each other, years ago. But know that my feelings have never changed for you ever since. I never told you, but I was falling in love…

I am in love with you.

I'm sorry.

x Sihtric

You pushed the note in your pocket as you ran through the street, until you ended up at a T-intersection. You looked left, but no sign of Sihtric there. Then you looked to the right, and when you suddenly saw his undeniable figure walk towards a parking lot, you ran as fast as you could.

'Sihtric!' you shouted, out of breath as you ran across the street, 'Sihtric! Wait! Please!'

Sihtric turned, and the sadness in his eyes seemed to make place for slight hope as he saw you running towards him.

'Sihtric, I love you,' you cried as you fell in his arms and crashed your lips onto his.

It took him a while to understand what was happening, but soon enough, he grabbed your face and kissed you back as if his life was depending on it. And you both didn't break the kiss until your lungs forced you to.

'I- I love you,' you sobbed, 'I know we barely know each other, but have always loved you somehow, and I need you in my life. Ragnar needs you in his life too. We need you in our life. I'm sorry, for everything.''

'I have always loved you too,' Sihtric sniffled, 'and, gods, the only thing I want is to be with you, baby girl,' he whispered and kissed you again, 'and with our… our son,' he smiled, 'there is nothing I want more than to have a family, with you. But first,' he cupped your cheeks, 'I really want to buy you a drink, if you have time right now.'

taglist: @clairacassidy @finanmoghra @uunotheangel @hb8301 @bathedinheat @neonhairspray @anaeve @bubblyabs @travelingmypassion @sylasthegrim @bubbles-for-all-of-us @andakth @bel-bottoms @willowbrookesblog @lady-targaryens-world @skyofficialxx @diosademuerte @elle4404 @alexagirlie @sweetxime @solango @gemini-mama @cheyennep3107 @little-diable @jennifer0305 @drwstarkeyy @mrsarnasdelicious @verenahx @urmomsgirlfriend1

#sihtric x reader #sihtric x you #sihtric kjartansson #the last kingdom #tlk #sihtric #sihtric fic #the last kingdom fic #modern!sihtric

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wwinterwitch · 2 years

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questions — joel miller x fem!reader

summary: after a night at the bar, joel walks you home and you finally confess what has been on your mind since the night everything fell apart pairing: joel miller x fem!reader word count: 3.9k warnings and tags: doesn't really follow canon but sill minor spoilers for ep. 6 i guess?, angst with a good ending, alcohol consumption, reader is drunk, joel being joel, miscommunication, sharing feelings go wrong, i'm not used to write angsty fics i'm sorry if this sucks author's note: omg omg happy finale day!! i wrote this listening to question...? by taylor swift so that's what inspired this concept, also this was supposed to be a tiny little blurb idk how we got to almost 4k words but okay i guess

a reblog and/or comment on my posts really help me out as a content creator so thank you in advance if you take the time to do either!

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Before tonight you were fine.

You barely even thought about him in that way. You barely remember the way his skin feels against yours, or the way a simple kiss from him would leave you begging for more. It was like all those nights you two would stay up talking about whatever, his arms around you and your back pressed against his chest, never existed.

Training your heart not to long for him and your brain to keep him out of your thoughts was no easy job at first. It was almost impossible for your body not to want him close. Not being able to talk to him about whatever was on your mind and knowing he no longer will reach out to share even his most profound secrets was absolute torture. Walking next to him all day without being able to reach out for his hand or stop for a quick second just to hold him close to you was a living nightmare that you couldn't wake up from.

Because how could he be so easy to forget? Joel Miller. The first and only person you've fallen in love with. That special someone that opened up a door to a whole new world that you never realized you were dying to discover until he was standing in front of you, his extended hand being an open invitation to walk all these unfamiliar roads and witness the beauty of it all together.

It was new and scary and beautiful. You were addicted to loving him before you even realized exactly what it was. From the moment you were able to put a name to this new feeling he taught you, you vowed to be his for as long as he'll have you- but what a shame it was to realize that the ending to a seemingly long story was already written at the very back of the page.

Perhaps your love blinded you enough to believe he had fallen just as hard, only to realize he was still standing at the edge of the precipice, staring down as you fell into the darkness of the abyss. Perhaps it's the fact that death is all around that makes it impossible for anything to be born. Why would you be able to live a fairytale in the middle of a horror show? What could possibly make you so special?

At least he doesn't seem to be affected by the fact that you two drifted apart. It's not like he's the best at sharing his feelings to other people, his ever-frowning gaze always present in his face no matter the circumstance, but you were still hoping that maybe he cared enough to show you he's hurting even just a little bit.

That should be comforting, right? To know he's perfectly fine and that you never cross his mind in that way. He doesn't have the need to apologize or make it right. He doesn't regret what happened and it never plays back in his head as he curses at himself for not doing things differently. You and your...relationship? are that easy to forget.

No. It's not comforting at all. If anything, it makes everything worse.

You can still remember the night you told him you loved him. A moment in your painfully short history together that you wish you could erase. A disappointing ending to what could've been an absolute masterpiece.

Ellie was already asleep and the two of you were keeping watch. He insisted you should get some sleep but you wanted to stay with him. He wasn't a fan of showing you any type of affection since Ellie joined the two of you, so the nights are the only chance you have to be closer. It was like the moon and stars were your best of friends at that point, because they meant he could finally be yours.

The confession slipped from your lips in a quiet whisper. A simple and timid "I think I'm falling in love with you" was all you offered. It's not hard to remember the way your hands would slightly tremble, or the rapid beating of your heart. It's as unforgettable as the confidence you were feeling because despite being so nervous, you were certain that he'll say it back.

He never did. He didn't say it back that night, or the morning after, or any other morning that followed.

It was embarrassing to look back on it now that you know what happened next. You were snuggled up next to him, one of his arms wrapped around your shoulders. His eyes were fixated on the fireplace that helped to make the chilling air of the night a little more tolerable.

Staring at his handsome complexion without his permission was probably one of your favorite things to do. He had confided in you a couple of times that he couldn't understand why you enjoy it so much. That he's not this breathtaking sight that deserves to be contemplated in the way you do.

Truth is, he's the most hypnotizing sight of all. You didn't care about the roughness of his features or the years visible in the corner of his eyes, hair and beard. He's gorgeous and unique and yours. You could stare at him for hours and never get tired of it.

Like many times before, he caught you staring at him. And just like those times before, he made a gesture that should tell you he disliked that habit of yours, only to be betrayed by the smirk timidly forming on his lips not so long after.

It was then, with his eyes staring back at yours, that the verbal proclamation of your love for him invaded the quietness of the night.

And that's when his smirk magically disappeared. His eyes became dark with something you couldn't quite decipher at the time, still staring back at you but not really. It was clear he wasn't there with you anymore, too lost in his own thoughts to truly acknowledge your presence anymore.

Before you could even think of saying something else, he surprised you with an almost robotic "I think you should get some sleep".

Feeling more heartbroken and confused than ever, you did exactly that. You got up and joined Ellie, cuddling up in your sleeping bag with your back facing him. It's still a mystery to you how you were able to cry yourself to sleep that night without making a sound. How you were able to control the hurricane of emotions after telling the love of your life how you feel and him not caring about it in the slightest.

And suddenly, being in love was still new and scary but it had turned into something horrible.

You had to spend every second of every day with him after that, pretending nothing ever happened. He never brought it up either, so you decided to ignore it to avoid making a fool of yourself again. His reaction was enough to let you know he never really loved you, so you ran with it and tried to continue knowing whatever you two had or could have was no more.

But it was still difficult at times. Ellie kept asking you questions regarding you and Joel even weeks after the incident. She's not stupid. She could see you two weren't exactly friends, no matter how hard Joel tried to convince her otherwise. She's also not someone who settles for made up excuses or half truths, which made her push the subject until she got a good enough answer. That's why she continued coming to you for answers, because she knew he'll never talk about it.

It was only when you explicitly confirmed you two weren't just friends before quickly telling her it was completely over that she eventually let it be. After that, she also started to pretend nothing happened.

Jackson became pretty much the light at the end of a pitch back tunnel you thought was never-ending. You were excited to meet new people and have new things to do during the day, knowing it'll help to keep you busy, forcing Joel out of your head.

It was so exciting in fact, that it helped to make it seem as if the quick "she's the one I've been traveling with" that Joel used to introduce you to his brother wasn't that terrible.

Tommy, who much to your luck was nothing like his big brother, made sure to show you around and introduce you to a few people. He got you a house so you and Ellie could settle in and helped you find a job at the local library, officially starting your new life that didn't revolve around Joel.

In time, you found your place in the commune (as you and Ellie love to call it to tease Tommy). Joel was slowly becoming just a bad chapter in a much bigger story that you started to write for yourself, and you're loving the new plot that's unfolding across the blank pages.

However, all of that progress came crashing down tonight. Tommy's birthday was being celebrated at the local bar and there was no way you would ever miss it. Not only has he become a very good friend, but you also needed the distraction.

The familiar faces, the food and drinks made you forget about Joel's presence for most of the night and you barely made the effort to acknowledge his presence. Without being able to prevent it, your eyes accidentally met for a few seconds. It was almost sickening that everything about that half-a-second-look was so much like a movie. You were laughing at something a friend had said before you finished your third drink of the night, casually scanning the room to catch Joel already looking your way.

He smiled and you barely smiled back before focusing on the conversation with your friends again as if nothing happened. The alcohol might have motivated you enough to just not care anymore. To show him you really couldn't care any less to try to be nice after he was such an asshole when you were completely vulnerable before him.

The idea of not caring seemed tempting. Thinking the alcohol was helping, you continued drinking until you forgot about pretty much everything- which didn't take that long considering your alcohol resistance wasn't that good after a long time without drinking. You don't care about Joel, or the hours passing by, or the fact that you're probably making a complete fool of yourself giggling and dancing with a few friends that are probably as drunk as you are, if not more.

All the hype from being intoxicated started to wear off after a while, becoming more and more sleepy until you were practically dragging your feet towards the exit, putting on your coat and hat to prepare for the cold night outside.

"Looks like you had a good time," you hear Tommy comment in a mocking tone, sending a sympathetic smile your way.

"I did! Thanks for inviting me. And happy birthday to you again!" you exclaim cheerfully. "I hope I didn't make a fool of myself tonight."

"Oh, you definitely did," he mocked, chuckling lightly. "But hey, those dance moves you were pulling off back there? Best birthday gift I'll ever receive."

You looked positively embarrassed after his comment, but managed to laugh it off. "I guess that's good."

"It is," he immediately reassures you. "Let's get you home now, okay?"

"Oh, you don't have to go with me. You can't leave your own birthday party. It's okay, I got it."

"I want to make sure you get home safe. It's fine."

"Tommy, please. You should stay and have fun."

"I won't have fun if I'm worrying about you all night."

"I can take her," you suddenly hear Joel's voice behind you, which immediately made you roll your eyes because you really didn't want him around. He noticed the gesture but didn't seem to care about it in the slightest, putting on his jacket. "I was heading out anyway."

Tommy couldn't have known you really didn't want to be around his older brother, completely unaware of your history with him. Perhaps if you told him, he'll insist on going with you or find someone else that could walk you home. But you never told him what happened, so you're stuck with Joel. "Okay, great. I'll see you guys tomorrow. Thank you for coming," he says, allowing the two of you to leave.

The first few minutes outside in the snow have got to be the most awkward minutes of your entire life.

You tried not to stumble despite still being a bit drunk, not wanting to embarrass yourself in front of him. You're mad that he's here with you and you can't stand being alone with him.

"Did you have fun tonight?"

Oh, and of course he had to open his mouth. Because when has Joel ever done what you want him to do? It seems like he'll always do exactly the opposite of what you expect from him.

"Yes," was all you said.

"Just yes?" he tried again.

"Yes."

You heard him sigh. "So, no talking?"

"I'd really like that, actually."

The tone of your voice would've been enough to make him shut up for the entire walk. Even he seemed to be a little taken aback by the honesty of your answer because you could feel him staring at you for longer than usual before he focused on his boots as they left marks on the snow.

He didn't ask what was wrong because deep down he must've known. He can't not know. And in that drunken state you allowed yourself to be pity as you wished that he thinks about it every single day. That it tortures him. That he despises himself for breaking your heart and not doing something to make it right. That he looks back on it and hopes that he could go back.

But does he? Does he actually think about it every single day? Does he regret what happened? And if he does, why is he not trying to say he's sorry? Does he even want to say something at all?

It was almost as if the alcohol betrayed you. Or maybe it was your head that just allowed every barrier you have built these past few weeks to crumble down. Not caring turned into caring way too much and it was like you couldn't stop thinking about a hundred questions without being able to find a single answer to any of them.

Joel turns to look at you once again when he notices you stopped walking. Your head is spinning as more and more questions fill up your mind and you get frustrated because you know there's only one person who has all the answers.

Should you say something? Should you make a fool of yourself once again? It shouldn't be you. Why is he not doing something? How come you're the one who has to speak up about this? It's not fair.

But it was late, cold and you were just so drunk. And you know that no matter how much you try to move on, you'll never be truly okay until you hear an explanation as to why he broke your heart in such a vicious way. Even if he lies or tries to sugarcoat it, you deserve even the tiniest of explanations.

"Is everything okay?" he eventually asks, which only frustrates you more.

"Do you ever think about that night?" you let out almost immediately after, feeling the way your heart was beating faster than ever. As fast as the time you confessed your love for him.

He was quiet, so you decided to continue. "Do you ever wish you could go back and change the way it ended? Does...does it ever cross your mind or you seriously don't care?"

After those questions, Joel seemed to finally react. "Are we seriously doing this now?"

"If not now, when? You were clearly not going to say anything," you accused him, leaving him completely defenseless because he was very much avoiding ever bringing this up and you just called him out on it. "I just need to know why, Joel."

"I don't- let's get you home, okay?"

"Stop doing that! Stop trying to avoid this!" you exclaimed with obvious exasperation, feeling the corner of your eyes burning due to the tears that would surely roll down your cheeks at any point. "I was in love with you and you weren't decent enough to at least tell me you didn't feel the same way! Don't you think I deserved at least that?"

"We can talk about this tomorrow..."

"No, fuck that. I waited long enough," you quickly interrupted. "I was so patient with you. I gave you your space when you said you weren't sure about us, I respected your decision of being discreet in front of Ellie, I stood up for you countless of times when I shouldn't have. I did so much for you and you can't even look me in the eye and give me an explanation!"

"It's not-"

"You've got to be the biggest asshole I've ever met. And you know what's the worst part of this? That I'm still expecting shit from you. I still hope that you'll say you're sorry for breaking my heart and acting like you never did something wrong. I'm so fucking stupid to believe that you actually-"

"I was afraid!" he practically shouted, hoping that would stop your rambling. It seemed to work, because you were silent as soon as he said that. "There. Are you happy?"

"Don't put this on me," you immediately snap back.

Joel sighs yet again and takes a second to calm down, knowing that if he gets defensive this will end much worse. It's time to accept he fucked up and stop trying to act like he didn't.

"I'm sorry," he finally said. "For this and for what I said that night. I should've been honest with you."

Now it was you the one who was silent, taken aback by his reaction. Usually, he'll try to come on top by creating any type of argument until he's able to get the last word. An actual apology was definitely not something you were expecting.

"I don't like people. I keep my distance and everyone else stay away from me in return. I like distance," he explains. "But then you came along and it was impossible to stay away. No matter how hard I tried, I'd always come back to you. I started to need you and it was scary because I should be keeping my distance."

Silence. Absolute silence. You were surprised to hear him being so honest with you, but you were also feeling a bit nostalgic because deep down you missed being the person Joel would go to when he needed someone to talk to. Even when it was difficult for him to open up, he always tried his best to rely on you whenever he needed it. Needless to say, it made you feel very special.

"When you said you loved me I didn't know what to do. It felt so...definitive. Because I knew that deep down I was falling for you too and if I said something that'd mean I'd never be able to let you go. And it was so scary to think of giving in to that feeling because...because I couldn't allow myself to care again."

You knew exactly what he meant by that. His daughter is not a topic he particularly enjoys bringing up, but you've heard a few things about her. And honestly, you couldn't really blame him for being scared. Despite all these years, losing his kid in the way he did has got to be the worst pain he'll ever experience. Of course he'll want to run away in the opposite direction when he starts seeing the similarities.

It doesn't excuse the fact that he avoided you, but you would never pretend like his feelings weren't valid.

He was scared of loving you because with love comes the inevitable attachment to that person forever. You care so deeply, the mere idea of ever losing that person shatters your world completely. And he knows what that loss feels like. He couldn't experience that again.

"Besides, you know me. You know I'm a mess. I couldn't let you ruin your life by loving me, because I'd just let you down- which I did, so I was right. So instead of saying something, I just said what I thought would help to make you not love me anymore. If I couldn't keep my distance, I had to do something so you'll want to stay away from me."

Once again, Joel was doing exactly the opposite of what you expected. He poured his heart out to you, sounding so honest and vulnerable. You've only heard him being this sincere whenever he would mention Sarah or that one time when you both stayed up talking in depth about your relationship with Ellie.

Tears started to roll down your cheeks as predicted as you stared at him. You don't know whether to hug him or punch him at this point.

"You're such an asshole," was all you could say.

The comment made him chuckle, but it was evident he was holding back his own tears. "I know."

"But that's exactly why I loved you. I know what you've been through, I knew you were a challenge and I was willing to work on it for as long as it would take us. The decision of whether I wanted to love you or not was never yours to make."

"I was trying to save you from having to deal with me."

"What if I didn't want to be saved?"

"Well, I think it's already too late for that," he replied. There was another pause that encouraged him to ask, "Is it? Too late?"

"I don't know," you replied. It was the truth.

"I can work with I don't know."

"What does that mean?" you asked curiously, wiping your tears away.

"It means I'm willing to make it right this time," he replied. "If you let me."

You frowned just a little, failing to hold back the smile that appeared on your face just seconds later. "You know you'll have to really try if you want to fix this, right?"

"I know. It's okay. You're worth it."

So far, so good, you thought.

"This means no more hiding, no more trying to push me away, talking about your feelings..."

"I can handle it."

"Can you?" you asked in a much more serious tone. It sucked not being able to fully trust his word, but you both know you had your reasons not to. "I just don't want to get my hopes up again over nothing."

You watched as Joel took a step closer to you, reaching out to grab one of your hands. He examines your face, making sure you're okay with him touching you before he brings it up to his lips, gently kissing your knuckles. "I promise you this time will be different," he says, and he's looking at you with so much affection, it's impossible not to trust him.

#joel miller x female reader #joel miller x reader #joel miller fic #joel miller #joel miller angst #pedro pascal characters

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