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tennessoui · 13 days ago

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freudian slip au: vacation blues (3k)

@promise-from-the-force-itself requested a snippet of the freudian slip au aka be careful not to choke on your admirations on ao3 (the au where anakin is the kenobi nanny and falls in love with his boss, obi-wan kenobi, who refuses to sleep with him until he's no longer his employer) as a fic-for-donation trade on my ko-fi! this is set pre-obikin getting together, so it's mostly just 3k of 19yo anakin being horny, cockblocked, and saying a horny innuendo the wrong thing to his hot boss who is hanging by a thin moral thread trying to resist temptation even when the resort staff messed up your room reservation so temptation has to sleep with you in your bed every night for like two weeks.

“I despise weddings,” Mr. Kenobi says, not for the first time, leaning back in the white plush poolchair next to Anakin and disdainfully pushing his sunglasses further up the bridge of his nose.

“I think that’s a bachelorette party,” Anakin replies as helpfully as he can manage when he’s trying his hardest not to glance sideways at his boss who is also most probably the grand love of his sad little life and who is, most annoyingly, shirtless and sunning himself in the Scarif mid-morning light.

When he’d accepted Mr. Kenobi’s invitation to travel with him and Korkie on their summer vacation to a famous Scarif beachside resort, he’d forgotten to factor in exactly how much time he’d have to spend with Obi-Wan Kenobi, shirtless and muscular and hairy just within his line of vision.

And with Korkie having been enrolled in the week-long child day camp that the resort boasts as being one of the best in Scariff, it’s hard to even remember why Anakin’s here if he’s not even really watching Korkie for Obi-Wan. For free.

Or, technically, he’s getting paid for this.

Paid to suntan and swim in the shallow pools of the resort, in the crystal clear blue waters of the beach just outside the resort’s gates. Paid to eat his weight in fancy oysters and sip frozen cocktails sitting at the underwater bar on one end of the resort’s pool. Paid to shyly offer up his bare back to Mr. Kenobi’s hands so he can slather sunscreen onto his unprotected skin, as if that’s something Anakin’s capable of building up an immunity against.

It’s not fair. At this point, he thinks there’s a good chance he’s going to end up being the first nineteen year old to ever die from sexual frustration.

“Been paying attention to them, have we?” Mr. Kenobi asks archly, sunglasses slipping down his sunscreen-greased nose as he raises an eyebrow at Anakin.

Anakin stares harder at the group of women on the far end of the pool. It’s either that or give into the urge to count the moles dotting Mr. Kenobi’s shoulders. The one he’d seen yesterday just to the left of his heart and right next to his nipple had been devastating. Any other blow so early in the trip will surely put Anakin at critical levels of system failure.

Especially seeing as how due to a mix-up of rooms and reservations, as well as an inundation of bachelorette parties, Mr. Kenobi and Anakin are sleeping together.

In the same bed.

Not—like, sleeping together, sleeping together.

Purely professional.

They really have kept it incredibly professional, which is more a miracle on Anakin’s side than probably even a consideration for Mr. Kenobi.

That first night they’d arrived, jet-lagged out of their minds from the thirteen hour flight from Coruscant, Korkie already grumpily asleep in his father’s arms and Anakin handling his own bags because he’d felt too awkward to let one of the bellhops take them from him, had been a test in his self-control. When they’d entered the rooms—rooms—in the resort only to find that, apparently, the reservation had been improperly recorded and there was only one king-sized bed in the main ensuite for Obi-Wan and a child-sized bed for Korkie, Anakin had been the first to insist that the fancy couch stretching across half the sitting room—because this hotel room had multiple rooms—didn’t look so uncomfortable.

And when it was, because rich people can, apparently, do many things except make a comfortable couch, Anakin had been the first to suggest that he bunk down with the resident seven year old.

“Nonsense, he’s always kicked something awful,” Mr. Kenobi had said, running an exhausted looking hand over his beard while the other one carefully adjusted his sleeping son. “Satine scheduled an early delivery by two weeks. Told the doctors she thought her ribs couldn’t take it anymore.”

Anakin, almost desperate at that point and definitely on the verge of panic, had been about to suggest that, well, one of the sunbathing chairs by their private pond outside looked particularly comfortable. He’d sleep there—

But before he could say anything at all, Mr. Kenobi had said with the sort of finality that Anakin is sure has ended countless board meetings and starred in countless interns’ jerk-off fantasies, “You’ll share with me tonight. We’ll see if we can’t get something sorted tomorrow morning.”

And then they hadn’t. And then the next night, they still hadn’t. And now it’s their fourth day into the vacation, and Anakin is running on very little sleep and a level of fruitless horniness he hasn’t felt since the first few weeks of being employed by Mr. Kenobi.

Except then, there’d been a four year old running about in need of his attention and protection, and Mr. Kenobi had spent a lot more time comparatively not near Anakin. It’s like the exact opposite right now, and it means that Anakin wants to die.

“You’re red,” Mr. Kenobi observes, turning back to look down at the book in his hand. “Surely not because of the bridesmaids?”

His tone is just cutting enough that Anakin, who is, it has to be said, running on little sleep and a lot of sexual frustration, snaps, “You’re hot.”

His mouth clicks shut a moment later, but the words are already out and, if the way Mr. Kenobi’s hand stills in between flipping pages, being misconstrued. His boss turns his head and peers at him over the rim of his sunglasses.

It’s devastating, really, because Obi-Wan Kenobi—hand-to-heart—is actually the hottest thing Anakin’s probably ever seen in his entire life. Definitely hotter than any of the other people currently lounging poolside, and really, that’s saying something.

But that doesn’t mean Anakin has permission to just say that. To his boss. Korkie’s dad.

“I meant, like. It’s hot. When you get hot, you get red. Or—one, a person, like—you. You as a person gets red. When they—you get hot. So of course I’m—red. Independent of the bridesmaids.”

Anakin is quite sure if he was red before then he must be scarlet now. He thinks he can really, honestly feel the heat radiating from his face.

Really, Anakin can probably sue someone. Make a formal complaint or something. About all the—shirtlessness he’s had to put up with over the past few days. Shirtlessness and bedsharing. It’s highly inappropriate behavior. Anakin’s here to do his job, which is minding Korkie. Mr. Kenobi is, at best, a dangerous distraction and at worst, a no-good cocktease.

Or is it the other way around?

Anakin isn’t sure, and clearly he’s been getting too much sun. Because he’s all red and hot and his skin feels too tight.

“Actually, I’m gonna take a break in the room,” he decides, pushing himself up from the plush poolchair and faking a long, languid stretch to hammer home how very unbothered Anakin is with the whole situation.

When he glances back at Mr. Kenobi, the man’s eyes are once more fixed firmly on his book.

Of course they are.

“Alright,” Mr. Kenobi tells him, sounding actually unbothered in a way Anakin is incredibly envious about. His voice is level, cool as a fucking cucumber. “Oh, and Anakin,” he adds when Anakin is five steps away from their chairs and that much closer to the relative safety of Not Right Here Right Now For The Love of God Please, “if you could make sure to pick Korkie up from the Kids Club this afternoon and mind him for the evening. I’ve plans to get drinks with the owner tonight.”

Anakin scratches at the back of his neck. Knowing Mr. Kenobi, his plans could be getting drinks with the owner of a yacht at the marina, the owner of the resort, or the owner of the fucking island. “Well, yeah,” he says. “‘S what you brought me here for, isn’t it?”

Mr. Kenobi looks up at him, sunglasses hiding his expression. Anakin manages, through sheer force of will alone, to keep his eyes appropriately on his boss’s face. Even though his chest is right there. And his thighs, which are barely covered by the swimshorts. And his ankles, which are surprisingly delicate and incredibly endearing which is how Anakin really knows he’s in love. Or, well, obviously he’d known before this week exactly how in love with Obi-Wan Kenobi he is, but it definitely proves just how far gone he is that he finds the man’s ankles fucking…endearing.

“Quite,” Mr. Kenobi says, returning his attention to the book in his hands. He uncrosses his legs and then recrosses them. “I just thought a reminder wouldn’t be…uncalled for. Given potential…distractions posed by the…other resort guests.”

Sometimes Mr. Kenobi says stuff that makes Anakin think maybe he’s not as smart as he looks. Like when he implies that Anakin is going to spend the rest of the afternoon drooling over women in tiny bikinis and plastic penis crowns, when it can’t be more obvious that Anakin’s escaping inside to jerk off for the seventh time so far this week. Probably over something really embarrassing too, like the scent of Obi-Wan’s aftershave on his pillow or the memory of his stupid fucking ankles.

“Roger that, Captain,” he manages to say before he turns tail and flees.

—------------

For being his only support system at the moment, Padmé is being both unsupportive and terribly unsympathetic.

Anakin paces the length of the ensuite room, feet hardly making a sound as they trek the plush rug that the indecently huge bed rests on. His phone is tucked in between his shoulder and ear so that he can have his hands free to gesticulate. Not that it seems to be helping.

It’s nearly midnight. Obi-Wan isn’t back yet, but Korkie’s been asleep in his room for the last several hours. He’d gone down easy, which makes sense. As far as Anakin can figure, the main point of paying what is surely an exorbitant price to send your kid to the Kid Club at the resort is to exhaust them so much that they’re ready to fall asleep before it’s even dark outside and you have the whole evening to yourself.

But still, just in case, Anakin has the doors cracked so he can hear if the little monster stirs. So far, all he’s heard is a gratuitous amount of kicking.

At first he’d tried to fall asleep when the hours ticked into proper night and he’d read as much of his book as he’s allotted himself for the day, but he’d felt wide awake the moment his head hit the pillow.

When would Mr. Kenobi return? What was the other man doing? Was drinks with the owner really just a euphemism for something else he was doing with the owner? Who has drinks this late? Isn’t Mr. Kenobi old?

Isn’t it past his bedtime?

“I don’t understand,” Padmé admits, stifling her yawn. “Why can’t you just go to your room and shut the door if you’re afraid of your boss waking you up when he comes in?”

Anakin turns and paces his line back towards the sliding glass doors leading out to the private patio. “Because we’re sleeping together!”

Padmé, for once, seems stunned into silence. But not for long. “Wha—”

“I mean, professionally,” Anakin says, pinching at the bridge of his nose and fighting the urge to hang up so he can just duct-tape his mouth closed. Forever.

“Alright,” Padmé decides. This is accompanied by shifting on her side of the line as she presumably stands as well to begin pacing through her house. “I think you need to remind me what exactly it is you do for the Kenobis again.”

Anakin splutters. “I’m Korkie’s nanny!”

“And what do you do for his father?”

“Mind Korkie!” Anakin snaps, voice far too loud for the stillness of the night around them. “Get your mind out of the gutter, Padmé, Christ! He’s my boss!”

“Right,” Padmé says. And then, unrepentant, “Look, Ani, darling, I have to go. It’s far too late in the night for me to listen to this kind of delusion. Go sleep with your boss. Tell me about it later.”

“It isn’t like that—” Anakin starts to protest in defense of Obi-Wan Kenobi’s morals more than his own, given that it would absolutely be like that if Anakin had his way. “Whatever,” he says when he realizes she’s already disconnected the call. He falls back into the soft hug of the mattress. It offers little comfort.

But sleep must eventually come to him, because he drifts back into consciousness an indeterminable amount of time later to feel the linen sheets being dragged over his body.

He makes a noise, half questioning and altogether too trusting, even as he refuses to roll onto his back, staying instead on his side. A hand, broad and callused and familiar, falls to rest on his shoulder as the bed shifts. Someone climbs in it, careful not to jostle him too much.

“Korks?” Anakin mutters, even though he knows that’s not right—can’t be right. The touch is too sure, the hand too big.

It’s Obi-Wan who replies, because of course it is. Who else would Anakin ever willingly share a bed with? “Mm, I think you’ll find that I kick less.”

The touch on his shoulder does not fall away. The fingers slip further down his arm, tracing along the line of his bicep instead.

Anakin is suddenly, irreversibly awake, as if he’s just injected caffeine straight into his bloodstream. Obi-Wan is touching him. It’s late at night, and the man is at his back. Closer than he ever has been before.

“The way you talk, you’d think you don’t have any bad habits in bed,” Anakin whispers.

The words drag a rough sort of chuckle out of Obi-Wan that Anakin finds devastating. The hand rests on his elbow. Obi-Wan’s forearm is touching Anakin’s naked side. If the heat radiating from just behind him is any sort of indicator, then the man must have discarded the shirt he’s usually worn to bed over the past several nights.

“Mm,” Mr. Kenobi drawls, and Anakin knows he must be drunk. Tipsy at least. He’s only really ever seen him like that a handful of times, but his voice always goes syrupy slow. He likes to touch, trace his fingers over whatever happens to be close by as if the sensation is heightened after several whisky cocktails.

He’s touching Anakin right now.

“I’ve been told I like to bite,” Mr. Kenobi murmurs. His breath hits the back of Anakin’s neck and it makes him shiver. It makes him ache, cock chubbing up at such a fast pace that he’s sort of afraid of passing out.

He grabs onto the distraction that is Obi-Wan’s response with both hands, holding himself carefully still so he doesn’t give into the temptation to roll his hips back. To see just how far away from him Mr. Kenobi has chosen to rest his body.

“You’ve bitten people in your sleep?” He asks, because that sounds ridiculous.

“In my sleep?” Mr. Kenobi repeats, and his hand moves. His hand drops from his arm, lands on his stomach instead, longer fingers just skirting the dip of his exposed belly button. “No.”

It takes all of Anakin’s concentration to not buck his hips up into the touch. It’d be like taking advantage of the man, if he were to roll over and beg him to touch him more, touch him lower, get him off. He’s drunk. They’re both tired. Korkie’s just in the next room, and Anakin would bet a sizable chunk of Obi-Wan’s fortune that the man hadn’t thought to close any of the doors but the first upon entering their room.

“Mr. Kenobi,” Anakin whispers into the darkness. He doesn’t even know what he wants to say, what he’s planning on doing, how he’s going to finish that sentence. Please more? Please keep talking? Please tell me what you like in bed because apparently we’re not talking about sleeping habits?

But before he can wet his lips and decide—commit—Mr. Kenobi is letting out a sigh, like Anakin has just reminded him of a pressing meeting that he has on his calendar.

His hand moves again, though this time it falls away from him completely as the mattress shifts once more and Obi-Wan rolls away.

Anakin blinks into nothing, holding himself perfectly still just in case lightning decides to strike twice. Meanwhile, he tries to talk his dick down from spontaneously imploding. It’ll be much too telling to go to the toilets now, and a shower is definitely out of the question.

The best case scenario would be Mr. Kenobi rolling back into his space and finishing what he started, of course.

But a handful of moments later, his boss begins to snore the song of the drunken men who have had the misfortune to fall asleep on their backs.

Like his stupid ankles, Anakin still somehow finds this incredibly endearing.

Though, he decides sometime after the night has ticked over into the very early hours of the morning and Anakin still hasn’t managed to convince his body to unclench and fall asleep, he’s going to riot in the morning if the hotel reception staff can’t find a trundle bed for him to sleep on for the remainder of the trip.

Hell, he’d put up with Korkie’s knobbly knees instead of…of whatever this is.

He might even risk the bachelorette party.

#obikin #the freudian slip au #you just know obi-wan spent half his time with the owner of the resort #(bail organa probably)#complaining about the riff raff that gets let into this place now #and bail is like what ever do you mean they're all paying customers #and obi-wan can't be like well my barely of age employee nanny who i paid to come on this family vacation #is NOT looking at me all the time even though i am shirtless and right next to him #because of all these bachelorette party groups around instead!!#so he's like. 'youre right. nvm. but !!! the reception staff messed up our room reservation so i've been having to share a bed #with my nanny!'#and bail is like oh no im so sorry to hear that old friend. i will personally find a fold-away bed to bring to your room tomorrow #if we can't find another room for him to stay in #and obi-wan is like. 'oh. no dont do that actually. never mind. another round of drinks?'

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kit-williams · 10 months ago

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Anrir Husbandry

Husbandry tags: @egrets-not-regrets @liar-anubiass-blog @barn-anon @bleedingichorhearts @gallifreyianrosearkytiorsusan

@ms--lobotomy @nekotaetae @sleepyfan-blog @c-u-c-koo-4-40k @the-raven-lady

@bispecsual

Edit: forgot to thank @justahuman1757 for help with some of the translations and other help

Song on repeat: Cradles by Sub Urban (also most of the remixes for this SLAP)

tw: smut, yandere, obsessive behavior, manipulation

Anrir cooed at the little human in his arms finishing up singing them back to sleep знішчыць.... знішчыць... His voice carried low and softly. It was naptime... they needed to sleep as it was good for them of course they didn't seem to realize that. His long back hair was tied back into a slightly messy bun as his nearly completely black eyes dart around the pastel colored room just looking for anything wrong. His Dragă wanted to work with children in childcare and perhaps it took a couple of years to get here since he had first found her.

She was so much happier since he had first found her... happy about their bond... no more worry in her eyes... no more stress making her hands tremble or her loosing sleep... no more worrying about her next meal or if her car were to break... no more crying... well no more senseless crying. He puts the child down looking around at the sleeping forms but he cant help but grin as this really was all possible because of him, Anrir purrs softly at the satisfaction of how well he has done his job... and how he has covered his trail...

5 years prior

Anrir was a drifter... he drifted around as he had yet to find his own bonded, which given how some legions seemed to be more inclined to get a bond; with Night Lords being one of the ones with very few "feral" Astartes it was only a matter of time before Anrir would find his. But Anrir in all definitions was a feral Astartes having been unbonded since he arrived forty years ago. However, it was fine as Anrir hadn't spent that time just moping about he spent a majority of his time politicking and reuniting with other Terran Night Lords long dead and of course reuniting with those who were under his knife when they were aspirants and scouts which he affectionately called them his kids.

He was also using this time to take a break, a forced break, from running his warband; not that he could run it right now anyway. But he would mull over plans for when he returned back to his time period... if he did was another thought. His eyes moved up to the sky as he could smell the water gathering in the air. Which meant that the group he was with would start a debate on if they were going to settle down or continue on despite the weather. He did not care too much and decided to wander off to look around at where they were.

He walked out of the tree covering that the group was skulking through as he looked at the abandoned parking lot he had walked out into. It was rotting away neglected and abandoned as the painted lines were faded and practically gone, the pavement was cracked with plants growing through cracks; with the asphalt under his feet turning to gravel as plants come to reclaim this section of human infrastructure. And Anrir... he savored this reclamation of nature and decay of it all. Compared to the prison pit he was born into on the other side of the globe; he had already made his pilgrimage to the eventual site of his birth... a town full of people whose existence was never known as a great chasm of the guilty was there.

But that dark pit in the ground was not there now... there were no babies being born in that dark hellhole... his neck tattoo had a phantom itch as he is reminded why it was put on his neck... as he is reminded that at some point he was truly innocent... he is reminded of the hand gently petting his head... the soft voice cooing at him telling him how brave he was being... as he remembers having tears in his eyes as the ink is shoved into his skin... he gently starts to suffocate the memories of a child long gone and a woman paradoxically long dead and yet had yet to be born. His eyes flick to the far side of the quiet parking lot as a car just sits in the dark. The only other thing in this lot, far from the flickering road light... he could hear the annoying buzz of the light as it flickered... the flick... flick... flick... as it finally goes out. He moves with soft steps towards the vehicle as the summer insects scream their sonorous songs it was almost overstimulating for some of his brothers with how alive this planet felt with no foe to focus down on. Anrir felt his gums itch like he craved an oral inhalant and the way the hair on the back of his neck rose as he wandered closer not giving into the craving.

Anrir had seen many homeless humans both back in his own time and here. His eyes looked through the windows of the car seeing how it was lived in, he could hear the soft breathing akin to how someone was asleep... the slow beat of a heart was barely audible to him as the insects continued to scream their songs. There was nothing special about what he saw as it was a baseline female just buried under an assortment of clothes, a towel, a jacket, and some blanket... a bucket with a strainer lid to collect the impending rain... he chuckled at the cleverness but he understood the need to just survive. He turned to walk back to the others but something rooted him in place. He could practically taste the misery mixing with the rain. His throat tightened as it silently moved in foreign ways but he knew what he was trying to do... to mimic the noises they make at humans.

He lets out a dark chuckle as they were right... it really was something that he would know when it happened. Worry soon festered in his gut as his eyes roamed over her vehicle and while he hardly knew about how it worked he could see the signs of disrepair. His nose wrinkled for a moment as he unclipped his helmet from his hip, slipping it over his head as the rain finally let loose. He listened to the rain slap against the metal roof of the car, the way she moved inside her comfortable cocoon for a moment, and the way water was gathering in the bucket... Anrir had to do something.

You did your best to ignore the Night Lord that was hanging around. Affectionate bastards you were told as you remember those videos of just them being friendly. You shiver at the memory of that one gang member who thought he was so big... being homeless you quickly learned how sleeping near warbands meant that you had to ignore certain things... certain sounds especially at night. Astartes always scared you... you couldn't point to any incident that had happened involving them just that you got bad feelings from them... a certain type of dread. So it wasn't exactly like a fear of dogs but the way they looked and acted they were so human... why were they here... you make yourself look smaller as the Night Lord with what looked like a metal spider on his back sat next to you.

You hear him coo and trill at you trying to get your attention, his head tilting slightly as you could hear the slightly distorted trill to his voice from his helmet, and you did your best to ignore him. Eventually he did leave you alone and you had hoped that would be the last you saw him. But, every day for the next week he kept finding you... he would click and coo at you beckoning you closer with those armored claws of his. It was the last day in the week that you broke and approached him as you chose to fill your car with gas over eating and he had shown up with food. You feel tears gather with each bite as he trills down at you and you feel him hold you close... you hear his purr... you've seen this display online it was a bonding display. You do your best to not choak on the hot food as you can feel tears gather in the corner of your eyes, really the last thing you want is an Astartes bonding to you.

You feel the Astartis petting your head as you eat, trilling at you and you're certain if he wasn't in armor he would be purring. When you look up at him miserably he coos at you trying to sooth the clear distress you were in. His hands flexing each time you try to pull away from him, "You don't want me to be your bonded buddy," You finally speak up and that just breaks something in you and you feel those heavy tears roll down your cheeks even as you try to use the heel of your palm to rub your eyes clean they still fall, "I can't give you anything." Your voice cracks as you admit that.

Anrir sat there silently as you tried to reject the bond… he could feel it fraying at the edges like a lighter had been taken to it. But Anrir was calm even as his entire existence seemed to reel on its axis as you try to push it away. Your voice cracking gave way to the tears that ran down your face, his black eyes darting over your face as baselines crying was familiar to him given what he was but it felt so different… so wrong. Why are you letting her cry Anrir? A soft voice in the back of his mind seems to say. He could feel it fray more and more… but Anrir was aware that when a bond frays… it never attaches back normally. There was also a small high for him as would this be how he tasted death? Not after millennia of being alive just some mortal woman would be the death of him? He would have laughed if it actually broke but he pulled her against him and you did not make the effort to pull away… and so the bond repairs wrong. He did not need anything from you except you.

How you lean against him trying to hide away. So he was okay if you couldn’t give him anything now. He didn’t expect you to give him anything in the first place… but a wicked thought plants itself in his mind. Perhaps it was old fashioned… after all he watched the radical social changes in a mere 40 years and yet like always the Astartes remained unchanged. But… why couldn’t he provide for you? Anrir was a capable Astartes and he did not survive this long by chance but memories flicker by of how generous others were towards their humans. He grinned darkly as he could recognize the signs now… oh… he had intensely bonded to you… he had read the manuals and grimoires both in person and on the noosphere… he had helped write some of those too… so he knew what to look for in terms of side effects and was filing away mental notes about his deviances. And as much as he wanted to act on those feelings Anrir was patient, he was an Apothacarion after all, and his Dragă needed to be taken care of. He purrs and chirps at her to calm her down and gets her to finish her meal.

Thrones, credits, souls, cash… it was annoying dealing with baselines as most societies revolved around needing a good or currency for things and this was not their reality or time period where refusing an Astartes was suicidal. He noted his lack of desire to skin the man yelling at his Dragă to get him to stop “loitering”. But he, like most Astartes, relied on each other and the complex network and ecosystem they built like a parasite on the infrastructure of what was already there or was it the other way around? The Iron Warriors and Imperial Fists would say they laid out efficient infrastructure… but he found resources; since it was no longer allowed to simply take humans as serfs anymore and just have them live in a base full time… not that the Night Lords had one yet. It would be a few more years till the base was operational and that would be a mustering point for most Night Lords in the area. But Anrir noted how jumpy his precious Dragă got at the idea of getting help from Salamanders or staying in a shelter; he was fine with her choice. He wrinkled his nose as her car was falling apart and he couldn’t fit in it and him being a Night Lord did not help his goal of getting money. However, Anrir had a long reputation having worked in the Consortium with Bile too being a prominent figure in his legion’s hierarchy, no matter how much he tried to stay out of the politicking, so when the Alpharii approached him he wasn’t too surprised.

There were treaties and edicts that any Astartes had to agree to if they wanted to stay near the humans. Besides the obvious of not killing any humans; which before Anrir was bonded was a surprisingly hard ask, but they were not allowed to mettle with them. Technology was to be kept away from them at all costs, no extending their life spans, no augmetics beyond simple necessary prosthetics, and a few others. It all made sense as it was clear they were not ready at all for the horrors of the wider galaxy… no they would not play a hand into accidentally smothering humanity in the cradle because they helped them reach the stars earlier than they were ready for. But just like how human killers existed… and Night Lord trafficker Hunts happened… there was always some bending and breaking of these rules.

The Alpharii couldn’t help mettle in the affairs of the baselines, it was their legion’s expertise, they were information brokers and information hiders… they modified records to hide the sudden birth of a child from a woman and a Astartes… to all the way of covering up when forbidden technology falls into the hands of baselines and there needs to be a raid. They had their fingers in many pies as the saying goes… and Anrir could not play the moral high ground for their request. They weren’t supposed to extend the baselines lives… there was the crude method of giving them a transfusion of Astartes blood and hope they survive all the way to getting the chemicals and components needed for rejuvenation treatments. The latter took time to get what they needed as they could only synthesis so much being limited to what was only on this one planet; and it was hard to keep the Iron Hands from getting eager in “helping” them be able to colonize the Sol system.

But… Anrir looked down at the old corrupt man. Such greedy creatures humans could be and Anrir could never be like his kin who were able to see themselves as being above humanity… Anrir was far too aware of his own humanity and also his own lack of humanity too. “How do I know it will work?” The old man interrupts Anrir’s explanation of what he will be doing in transplanting his heart, “You could be some… con artist.” He says with malice in his frail voice.

Anrir never liked nobles… and he was always surprised at how… self important they could be. His smooth voice answers the question before one of the Alpharii can speak, “My reputation,” He had asked the Alpharii before this and he was not bonded to any of them… he was very much a pawn that the Alpharii weren’t ready to loose yet, “your… companions wouldn’t have gotten me if they doubted my skills. The heart is made for you so there is no chance of rejection.” He says truthfully as it was child's play growing the organ for him.

Anrir voxes one of the Alpharii, “As for my payment for this?” He hisses letting his displeasure bleed through as how dare he speak to Anrir in such a way.

“Everything is set up in ways that won’t tip off the government officials to the sudden influx of wealth. And conveniently set up so that if you choose to help us again…”

Anrir waved his armored hand over his shoulder as his medical mechadendrites unfolded like a spider on his back, “Yes yes you lot have me for several surgeries,” He goes through the process of setting everything for fine movements and working on humans, “But please be aware should anything go wrong in the payments that I can be quite spiteful.” He threatens and enjoys the place of power he is able to come from given how specialists are in such short supplies here and he is certain there is only one other Consortium member on the planet… he knows his expertise is invaluable he is certain he is on many lists to be kept alive.

“Of course Anrir.” Is all one says and that was good enough as Anrir headed into the prepared room.

You were happy that Anrir returned as he did keep you safe and maybe you were feeling those good vibes that people always say they get around Astartes. But now? You looked at what was holding out to you with apprehension. You’re sure that it was a thousand dollars in his hand and you felt hesitant to take it from him as no one just gives people money and not expecting something back… your spine crawls at a memory… He just sighs looking at you passively and perhaps a little annoyed, “Dragă. Go get your car looked at and get it fixed.” He says and you take the money from him as your AC had died and you’re certain that also meant your heating was gone… “Unless,” Your eyes returned to his face as your eyes picked up the bit of white at the roots of his sideburns, “You want to get a bigger vehicle?”

“But I can’t-” You start.

“Don’t worry about money for a second Dragă.” He says putting his hands on your shoulders.

You squirm under his gaze as you considered rejecting it as Anrir gave you such feelings that there was something else he was after… then again you never felt truly comfortable around Astartes… always a lingering sense of dread but… “Maybe… maybe we get something you can fit in as well. Wouldn’t that be nice?” You say softly as you’re certain those cars are far beyond what you can afford and from what you heard basically never break down.

You hold your breath for a moment as Anrir cups your face, you could hear him trill at you, as he grinned down at you with a smile that you’re certain the devil himself would envy, “What a thoughtful Dragă.” Was all he cooed at you.

After that, with much fussing from him, he made you use the money to stay in a motel for a week and you don’t remember when the last time you ate so much food. Anrir in the meanwhile took care of things. You were torn on letting him do such as wasn’t this the reason you had a fallout with your family? Your hands shake at the memories… he ruined your life. Yet while you’re certain Anrir is doing the same thing… it feels different. Anrir only suggested what you use the money for never using it to tell you what to do… Anrir confused you but you took comfort in the thought that he wanted something from you that he could get at your absolute lowest… everyone says bonds are precious things so maybe you should trust him more.

Anrir makes sure he always has enough money on him as he was making sure that there was a positive association in your mind that he was able to provide for you. The fuss you made when he got the car customized so that you could live out of it as long as you wanted, he hopped it wouldn’t be much longer, but it was your choice and all he could do was nudge his Dragă. The excitement he felt rush up his spine when he heard you say “Anrir” in a specific tone… a tone he associated with his Dragă needing something… Dragă needed him to provide. Sometimes you were like a skittish animal only staying for the exchange but sometimes you lingered like an animal and he could get what he wanted from you too. He felt that dopamine rush as you tolerated his touches, the joy he felt when you let him cup your face, how loudly he purred as you let him nuzzle you, petting your head, or rubbing your back. He could still see the hesitation in your eyes… he could tell you weren’t as (warp blind) (bond blind) as other humans were and Anrir is fine with that in fact it made this all the more enjoyable for him.

Winter always comes too soon and once again Anrir brings up places you can stay over the colder months and as hard as you try you still can’t get rid of the feelings that if you acquiesce he will want something. Anrir himself is disappointed that you wont ask him for much more; he does use winter to get something he does want. He finally gets to hold you for as long as he wants, usually your whole sleep cycle. He’s slept in far worse spots and just being a little cramped is hardly anywhere near the list of worst rests he has had. He purrs loudly as you’re glued to his side or his chest at night. Cooing to you as you drift off each night with a full belly in his arms. Its hard not to drift off with how he purrs and the rhythmic beating of his twin hearts… this feels like it’s going to be an easy winter for once so of course you get sick as a dog.

“Poor Dragă.” Anrir’s voice breaks you through your sick haze as the chills don’t help but Anrir being so warm helps. “I know you won’t like this suggestion but as a health specialist I do recommend that perhaps it is time for you to live inside more regularly again?” You can barely hear the quiet engine over the Heater going, Anrir not allowing you to fuss about anything right now once more saying he had it under control, “Arata mizerabil... (Miserable looking…)” He says in Nostroman letting his tongue click as you bury yourself closer to his chest, feeling those ports dig into your skin, “At least something temporary, yes?” He says sounding a little worried, “Wouldn’t that be nice? A temporary place to stay till you find what you want to do?”

“Daycare.” You croak out.

“Hmm?” Anrir looks down at you cocking his head to the side surprised you answered him.

“I want to take care of kids. I like taking care of kids. Don’t know why… so I want to start a daycare.” You say but you soon get weepy, “But who is going to let me do that. Look at me! I’m living in my car running away from my family and I can’t -” You stop your distressed rant as you cough and your nose plugs up again making it hard for you to breath and you can’t help but squirm in Anrir’s grip.

“Shh Dragă, I’ll take care of you.” Anrir says softly a uncharacteristic gentleness in his voice you weren’t expecting from a Night Lord, “You don’t need to worry anymore, Dragă.” Again it’s a soft and warmth to his voice you didn’t know he could have, “Do you trust me?” He asks in a tone you have trouble reading.

Bonds are supposed to be good things… that’s what everyone says… you have a companion for life… and you can tell that they get so much out of what we give them as they were clearly made for something far more violent. But… did you trust Anrir. No… you did not trust him as that feeling never goes away… “What do you want Anrir?” You finally say after a minute of silence.

“You, Dragă.” Anrir says quickly breathlessly.

Again you lay there silently thinking… you didn’t know what he wanted… was it really just being with you? You’ve been with him for months at this point and you couldn’t figure out what he wanted. You did research on bonds from what little you could find and everything kept coming back to just wanting to keep their bonded alive and safe. You were scared to let someone in your safe little world but you were so tired of keeping everything so tight to your chest. Maybe it was because you were sick but you nod and let out a heavy sigh softly saying, “I trust you Anrir.”

His reaction was immediate as he pressed his cheek to yours and you could feel the purring in your teeth as it was so loud, your finger bones felt like they were vibrating, but you didn’t feel the quick kisses that he leaves on your skin. You whimper at the sudden affection. It was anrir’s quirk as he was odd with his affection as whenever you would seek him out for affection he would smother you in his affection but you were okay with it because it was on your terms… your gut wouldn’t stop at the feeling that sometimes it was on his terms luring you in… He presses a kiss to your forehead trilling, his accent thick, “I don’t want you to worry any more my Dragă. I will take care of everything.” His black eyes seem to glitter in delight as he makes his declaration. And you just let go of that tension a bit more.

You don’t know how Anrir found this place, it had a horribly short lease but you knew that it was just to get you out of the weather… you’re certain this place wasn’t built for Astartes in mind so usually that meant they weren’t allowed. You guessed that the landlord looked the other way if said Astartes was paying in cash. It was small and cramped... but it was warm and you could store more than just a bit of food. You were sitting in the tub as Anrir sat on the side shirtless as his hands were massaging shampoo into your hair. You didn't need help with your hair but that didn't stop you from leaning into his hands as he helped you feel clean.

Anrir chuckled at your gentle groaning and moaning as it was clear you were enjoying yourself. He enjoyed helping you feel this way helping you clean and take care of you in this small way... he shivered as he was cleaning his Dragă... he wrapped his Dragă in a nice fluffy towel... he carried his Dragă to the bedroom and savored the laugh that left your mouth as he just tossed you onto the bed with a bounce.

You just laid there, eyes closed, enjoying yourself... sure there was only one bed which was fine as you had spent most of the winter snuggling up to Anrir in the car, it was not the most comfortable mattress in the world... the apartment was quiet...no it was never quiet not with the thin walls... but Anrir was quiet. You became aware of how you were just laying naked on the bed... alarms were going off in your head as you feel his smooth hands run over your knees, feeling his thumbs push into the side as he spreads your legs open slowly. This wasn't normal... and yet this felt like what everything was building up too... but you were always told that bonds were selfless things, right?

Your skin trembles as his hands move over your drying flesh, your breathing shivers, you can feel the bed shift as Anrir climbs onto it. Your throat bobs as you swallow the nervous energy but your eyes open as you feel the bare skin of his legs as he had divested himself of his pants. Anrir's silent still as he presses his scarred lips against your cheek, his body leaning over yours as he settles between your legs, and you feel his hand move to your chin to slowly turn you to meet him. His lips dragging against your flesh as the scarred flesh presses against your own lips. You were close enough that you could tell that his eyes were not fully black... you could see the dark blue of his iris darting with micromovements as he took in your face. But, you could see the predator in his eyes... but it was something more the term hyper-predator comes to mind because what monsters would someone like Anrir need to hunt?

Anrir presses his mouth to yours more and you close your eyes allowing the kiss to deepen. Anrir had been nothing but good to you... but you worry... would he use this against you? You desperately hope that he wouldn't. "Mina..." His voice rumbles like thunder as his hands drag across your flesh in a way that feels dominant and possessive. You can't stop the shuddering moan that leaves your mouth as his mouth moves against the front of your neck, licking the way your throat moves in its swallowing motion. "Toate ale mele… (All mine...)" He says whispering to you in a language that you don't know, "Fiecare parte din tine… toată a mea… trupul și sufletul tău. (Every part of you... all mine... your body and your soul.)" He says again as Anrir presses his cock against your entrance. His mouth continuing its worship of your neck and chin as you open your eyes slightly and just watch Anrir with lidded eyes. He cups your face as his tongue presses hard on your lower lip before pushing his tongue back into your mouth just kissing you hard.

You knew you had fringe thoughts about Astartes... Anrir was just proving to you one thing... that they were far too human to ignore. Far too human and far too predatory... you could never get that feel good emotion from Anrir... from any Astartes really. They were all predators... they were man made monsters made to fight monsters that you didn't know would exist beyond the silver screen of Hollywood or the writings of horror writers. He pulls his mouth away trilling at you and pausing when he sees the look on your face. You were looking at a predator looking at prey a malicious looking thing that tried to play the part of a friendly thing... a wolf playing the role of a dog. "Anrir."

"Yes Dragă." He says as a hand cups your face.

"What do you want?" You again ask... because... you don't think he's lying about the bond but this wasn't normal? You felt everything rushing anxiously to a point.

"You, Dragă." He says devotedly.

You were tired... so tired of being on your own for years before Anrir came. Oh how much Anrir had helped beyond just the money he gave you and the food... just being here... even if it was wrong... even if... you were so tired. You pull Anrir into a kiss as you didn't want to think anymore! You didn't want to worry any more... you whimper as Anrir just purrs loudly as you decide to let Anrir take care of it... take care of you... just for today you tell yourself as you melt into the embrace.

You feel the slight discomforting sensation of your walls spreading open as his cock slowly pushes in. When it becomes too much your hand or foot pushes against his chest which makes him stop till your brow stops furrowing and you for him to continue. This continues until his hips are flush with yours and Anrir hisses in delight, "Atât de strâns atât de bine cu mine… draga mea… a mea. (So tight so good to me... my dear... mine.)" You once more don't understand him but you decide to not worry about it as he starts moving. Your thighs burn slightly at the stretch to have them spread open wide for Anrir to thrust into you. Your eyes close as you focus on the feeling and enjoy that he doesn't ask you to look at him but that doesn't stop him from talking, "Mă simți fată frumoasă? (Do you feel me pretty girl?)" He trills in that unknown tongue, "Te concentrezi pe penisul meu din interiorul tău? (Are you focused on my cock inside of you?)" He asks something else perhaps not realizing or caring that you don't understand him.

He picks up the pace as he pants down at you and you just yowl and moan in pleasure. Porn making everything feel so fake when real sex sounds so unsexy at times but you had no need to make things sound sexy or be perfect. You could hear Anrir chuckle at an unflattering noise you make as he slams his hips into yours again making you repeat it. Eventually things feel tighter and more anxious as Anrir tilts you slightly so his cock pushes into you at a downward angle and you just laugh at the unflattering squeak and squawk that you make. Anrir laughs with you at all those weird and all those distinctively you vocalizations but you just don't care as no one is telling you that you're being unappealing... you throw your head back and arch up as you earned the right to not worry. You moan loudly moaning his name as you feel so good! You earned this reward! You deserve this... you deserve to just let go... you orgasm with little fan fair... just a simple gasp.

You feel so good... everything feels so good as Anrir continues to chase his release, the feeling of a bed against your back, the fuzzy climbdown from an orgasm, the oily drop of sweat from Anrir that lands on your shoulder, and the comforting stutter from him that stutter causes you to open your eyes to watch his brow furrow and you watch how surprisingly expressive he gets as he cums.

The apartment is mostly quiet... as quiet as you can get with thin walls... you lay there with him not thinking about anything... not thinking as you feel his cock softening against your inner thigh. He lets out a loud breath as he lays back in bed in his spot as you meanwhile are pushing away the worry about the consequences of sleeping with Anrir. You cuddle against his side, his arm wrapping around you, you feel the cum ooze out of you ... you're still tired of thinking... you're so tired of it... so tired of worrying why and what Anrir was doing for money... You put your head against his chest over his hearts ignoring the discomfort of the ports against your face... you just listen to the way his hearts beat.

Present day

You were in a much better spot than when you were a couple of years ago... you actually came into money, no it wasn't a rich distant relative dying but it was another person you had camped with when you were homeless. They had actually won the lottery and were being smart with it, which you think was more so their Ultramarine had helped in making smart choices. Though you had your suspicions... the Alpharii... a few seem to come by every few months some to coo at the kids, eager to find a bonded, and some to talk with Anrir as you watched them take containers from your home. But being given money you sudden just kept finding yourself with more money and it was stupid how much money you got after investing some of it... you didn't want to question it and Anrir was very good at distracting you.

Oh speaking of Anrir... he got you so many gifts. He would still give you random bouts of cash but he was finally acting more and more like how a bonded Astartis is supposed to act. You also were seeing how talented he was with his hands as besides his occupation you discovered his macabre hobby that all Night Lords seem to have... bone scrimshawing and taxidermy. You could point out all the time that he acted like a normal bonded Astartis and yet at the same time... how many gestures were more. You got outfits, jewelry, wines, your current house, and hell even your job you know he had a hand in financing... it spiraled out of control with his gifts that your friends noticed and asked who your 'sugar daddy' was or rather if he had any friends.

You smile warmly and wave goodbye as the last child finally gets picked up. You head back inside letting out a soft exhale and start picking up the room not getting very far into cleaning up when Anrir wraps his arms around you and purrs into your shoulder... purring into where he tattooed you years ago. You feel him give a playful tug onto the choker collar that he made for you, expensive thing and you know he liked you wearing it. You were lucky that no one asked you what Anrir was... everyone just assumed he was a Raven Guard...

"I can smell your worry Dragă." He says nipping your earlobe.

"I'm just tired Anrir."

"Then lets go home." He kisses your cheek.

"But I have stuff to pick up-"

"And this is why we hire others to clean," He says gentle cocking his head to the side, "You're worried about something." Anrir takes the toy from your hands as you pick at the seams.

You let out a heavy sigh bringing your thumb to your lips, "I'm just scared everything is about to go wrong." Anrir takes your hand to stop you from biting your nails.

"And if it does... I will take care of it." Anrir says with such certainty and authority that makes you believe him.

The breath in your chest you let out with a heavy sigh, "Okay." You nod.

He tugs on your choker bringing you close for a kiss as he trills softly, "I will always take care of you my frumoasă dragă (beautiful darling)." And you chose to believe it.

#space marine husbandry sentience #warhammer 40k #oc: Anrir #darling: Draga #carnal bond #intense bond #yandere bond #tw: smut #tw yandere #tw: obsessive behavior #I have been working on this for so long #the smut was debatable on adding it #but the longer this took to get out the more I was like #“Fuck it”#because momrad hasn't been able to write a lot #and so its like here's some smut guys #also Raven being super ovulating right now and just being unwell for my guy so yeah another thing to convince me to keep the smut in it #also sorry about the POV switching between Draga and Anrir #I enjoy letting people see what both of them think and feel and I know its probably messy but just... yeah #no beta we die like horus #no beta we die like sanguinius #no beta we die like ferrus #no beta we die like the emperor #these tags are a mess #these tags are getting silly #im just so happy that im finally done with this and can move onto other projects

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