nekokennedychan-blog - Tumblr blog

nekokennedychan-blog · 2 months

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sticky fingers | c.h./the ghoul

➥ pairing | cooper howard/the ghoul x f!reader ➥ word count | 4.5k ➥ warning(s) | 🔞 smut; mildly dubious consent, dirty talk, degradation kink, fingering, squirting, rough sex, size kink, standing doggystyle, overstimulation, teasing, choking, dacryphilia, cooper howard is his own warning (he nasty y'all), canon compliant - takes place around ep 7, a grab bag mix of the show and the games ➥ summary | “Lil girls should know it’s rude ta steal.” ➥ notes | i love my men like i love my beef jerky 🫠 i wrote this over 16 fevered hours after finishing the finale. hope you enjoy~ minor edits 4/22/24 | x posted to ao3 | feedback is always appreciated ❤️ feel free to send in thots, questions, requests!

It begins, as most things in the Southwest Commonwealth do, with a fight for survival.

City life is tough to be sure, but here on the outskirts of pocket civilizations where there’s nothing but long stretches of desolate wasteland - arid, sunbaked earth and scorched shrubbery - for miles around?

Well, if the ferals, fiends, and super mutants don’t get you in the night, then the desert itself will. During the day the sun burns overhead so nuclear hot, heat glimmers on the horizon in dancing waves.

Unforgiving, relentless as blink-and-you-miss-it mirages are swallowed by ever shifting sands.

It’s easy to get lost.

Even easier to boil alive in your armor if you’re unprepared.

Far too many travelers from the Eastern Commonwealths have met their demise here, where shade is sparse, and water even moreso. The rain - if it does blow in over the mountains - brings rad sickness.

If you’re lucky enough to still be alive, the only reprieve from the heat is in the stooped bones of bombed buildings and ramshackle shacks... where you're just as likely to catch a knife in the back from a chem fried addict as you are relief.

Because here, in the Wastes, danger lurks in sand and shadow alike.

You don’t trek out into the flats half-cocked: a fact all locals know. And if you do decide to? Well, you learn one way or another.

No, only the truly ignorant - or the desperate - dare to tempt man and nature.

Consequently, as you dust off the crumbs from the last half of a Fancy Lads Snack Cake and suck a melted smear of icing from your thumb, you're of the latter half.

You tried holding off for as long as you could. But once the shakes started, you knew you couldn’t put off eating lest you pass out and wake up in a slaver camp.

Well, shit, you think as you rattle a dented canister of purified water. This fucking sucks.

Almost going cross-eyed, your tongue hovers under the rim as you watch the last lazy drop fall free. You catch it with a grimace, smacking your lips. The water tastes metal warm in your sour mouth, barely enough to wet your whistle - let alone your thirst.

You began rationing the last of your supplies days ago, and it’s been a battle against light-headedness ever since. Pretty soon you won’t have the strength to defend yourself, scavving be damned.

Come on. Think - gotta think. What can I scrap for caps?

Not only is Filly more than half a day away, Ma June isn’t one for charity cases. The fact she offered twenty extra caps last time for some burnt books and bent bobby pins was as close as you were ever going to get to a Wasteland miracle.

Sunken cheeks and pleading eyes can only get you so far; everyone’s gotta eat.

"Fuck..." The palms of your hands grind into your eye sockets until you see stars. "FUCK!"

There are two unspoken laws in this otherwise lawless land: steal or starve, live or die. A grim reminder that surrounds you in old bleached bones, empty bullet casings, and scraps of cloth fluttering in the breeze.

Someone always has to be top dog. If you’re lucky, they might be willing to share their spoils.

It’s as you’re considering what pieces of yourself you’re willing to barter that you see them. On the horizon, coming from the west, are two dark blobs.

Stark against the flat plains - a shining beacon of salvation - is a man in a ratty duster and cowboy hat. The saddlebag tossed over his shoulder bounces with his steps while a dog trots beside him, its sable coat rippling with muscle.

Pay dirt.

Making sure to keep low and distant, you stalk them. Watching, waiting for the opportune moment to strike.

When the sun dips low, the sky a swath of pale pink and gold, they make camp at a blown-out Drumlin Diner. Off in the distance, thunder rumbles and sickly clouds gather.

Dark and roiling, acid green; a Radstorm brewing.

Electricity cracks at your skin, stands your hair on end. You scrub your hands over your arms, huddling into yourself for warmth. Meanwhile, the stranger seems to luxuriate in the budding promise of rad rain.

He lounges under an awning, his back pressed against a defunct Nuka Cola fridge. He gazes in the direction of the oncoming weather while mindlessly running his fingers through the dog’s fur as it curls up against his legs.

Occasionally, its ears twitch, and its eyes crack open.

Whenever it glances in your direction, you hold your breath and squeeze your eyes shut but it never gives any other indication that it notices your presence.

A small mercy you’re thankful for.

While you’re a pretty good shot, your body is weak with hunger. Besides, you have quick hands and light feet. There’s no doubt you can stealth your way in and out before he realizes his pack is lighter than he left it.

You’ll only take what you need - not interested in causing any more trouble than is necessary. Some food, maybe something to drink if he can spare it, and something to pawn. Just enough supplies to get you sorted in Filly.

Anyway, he certainly isn’t hurting for it by the look of things.

Any guilt you felt was short-lived when he settled down after dropping his pack inside, walking out with an inhaler of Jet in one hand and a can of Cram in the other.

Watched, greedy, as he cracked it open and picked at the tin of meat with lazy fingers. Salivated as he sucked them clean in between deep pulls of chem.

Soon, you decide, licking your lips as he chews, swallows. Soon.

However when push comes to shove, the stranger proves far more keen than you give him credit for.

The world spins like a hit of Daytripper, a kaleidoscope of color as your skull bounces off the wall with a loud crack. Air rushes from your lungs as something huge - hot and heavy - slams into you from behind.

Pins you against the wall with ease as your ears ring.

Something rattles loose; your teeth too large and your tongue too thick. Warm metal floods your mouth as the side of your face throbs in time with the rabbit fast stutter of your heartbeat.

Pain sparks and your stomach rolls.

"Wha's?" you slur, thoughts dripping like wax. "Wh-at's..."

Meanwhile, a gloved hand lassos around your throat like a collar. Brute fingers squeeze the tender flesh of your jugular until you hear your pulse in your ears. Senses struggling - sluggish to adjust in the encroaching night - as tiny cavities eat at your vision, little pockets of darkness.

“Lil girls should know it’s rude ta steal," a gruff voice mocks. “Betcha thought you was real slick, huh? Tch. You ask me, you’re dumber than shit, Darlin'.”

Trying to regain your bearings, you shake your head only to groan. “I don’t - ‘m not -” It’s difficult to concentrate, a throbbing tempo taking up residence in your temples. The words come slow. “Wha’d you mean?”

He whistles, long and low-pitched, "D’ya have any idea who you're fucking with?"

“N-No…”

“How’s about I show you, then?”

Warm breath puffs over the shell of your ear, a tongue sliding out to trace along the lobe. You jolt, squirming in discomfort as he crowds closer.

“Tasty lil thing like you, wrapped up all nice and pretty just for me." He chuckles. "Why, it must be Christmas.”

What the hell is he talking about?

It’s hard to breathe with his heavy weight suffocating you; the scent of gunpowder and bitter smoke clogging your nostrils with every labored inhale. His lips - ragged - scrape over the nape of your neck.

The grip on your throat squeezes once, twice; leather sticks to your sweaty skin.

You squint your sore eyes, taking in the faint flickers of firelight that spill through the open doorway. The desert chill of night has settled in, creeping through the busted out windows to dig beneath your padded armor.

Thunder rumbles directly overhead as lightning follows in flashes of acid green. It’s only a matter of time before sheets of rain come pouring down; the air sticky with humidity, trembling with energy.

The Radstorm has finally arrived.

You’ll undoubtedly get sick if you leave the shelter of the diner - might even die from it if you can’t afford or find any RadAway. But as the stranger’s chest digs into your shoulders, and the dog curls up in the corner - uncaring of your plight as its nose tucks into the whip-thin tail - you think you’ll take your chances.

Tilting back to glance at him from over your shoulder through damp eyes, you say, “Look--”

Only his hand moves, viper quick, as it slides from the front of your neck to the nape. Strong fingers clamp down like a vice, like scuffing an unruly dog.

He grinds your face into the wall, rough metal shredding your cheek.

You cry out, a soft, pained little thing that echoes through the empty diner.

“Now why’d you gotta go an' make me do that?”

A phantom glimpse told you all you needed to know; broad jaw, thin lips, a hollow nasal ridge, creeping radiation burns and cracked skin. Ghoul.

“Let’s try this again, Sugar.”

His free hand - sans glove - creeps over the curve of your hip to splay along the swell of your belly, fingers tucking up under the hem of your shirt. You shiver at the stroke of roughened skin.

“Don’t take another peep or I might jus' have ta pluck out those pretty eyes of yours.”

Dread pools low in your gut, a leaden ball.

Everything in you screams: RUN, RUN, RUN.

Alarms blare but you freeze. Stare straight ahead at the featureless wall, eyes wide and unseeing. Through the foggy mire of your thoughts - half formed and shapeless - you have enough presence to understand the precarious nature of your position.

Heart hammering, you plead for mercy, “Please, I’m - I’m sorry.”

"Aw, ain't that real sweet?" He remains impassive, unmoved. "The little thief does got some manners after all."

Without warning, the sharp toe of his cowboy boot kicks apart your feet. In the ensuing empty space between your thighs, his leg slots into place. Spurs dig into the tender meat of your ankle, little kisses of pain, as his hips rut forward against your ass.

You choke on your spit, pulse jumping in your throat.

"H-Hey, that's..." You attempt to shove at any part of him you can reach to no avail. Built and broad with compact muscle, it's like trying to move a brick wall. "I said I was sorry, okay!"

He ignores you, burying his face into the space behind your ear. A deep inhale sounds next to your head, the expansion of his chest against your back so firm you're not sure you won't fuse together.

The whiskey rough groan he releases does wicked things, makes your mind wander to places it shouldn't. Full of grit and gravel as his cock twitches against your backside, a burning line of heat.

A shiver ricochets down your spine.

He grunts, says, "Mm, you smell good enough ta eat."

The cap of his knee nudges up against your clit with a sudden jolt, shocks of pleasure electrifying your body. Tears prick the corners of your eyes, and a sob threatens to scrape its way up from the depths of your throat.

You swallow, mouth desert dry. "Come on, let's just forget all about this, yeah?" you reason. "No harm done. I'll even give you whatever I've got left so - so..."

He makes a noise in the back of his throat, the vibration rattling through your chest. "So?" he prompts, plucking at the waistband of your trousers.

"So let me go?"

"Now why would I go an' do an asinine thing like that?" he replies. "If you think you can buy your freedom, think again, Sweetheart."

Rain pings off the metal roof, the smell of pungent ozone and rusting metal wafting in through busted windows and open doors.

“'Sides,” he pauses to turn your attention outside, “I’d hate ta have you yakin’ before the fun’s even started.”

There’s no way to misconstrue his meaning when he punctuates the statement with a teasing rut of his hips. Those rugged fingers tug open the clasp of your trousers, yank until the material goes slack and pools around your ankles.

“Hey, wait--!”

You jolt, hands scrambling for purchase as he slides his leg against your core. The friction of his pants through your thin cotton underwear makes you ache.

Ripping through your bottom lip, blood beading to the surface, you choke on a high-pitched whimper. "I..."

There's no way he can't feel your reaction.

How quickly you're getting wet as he drags you along the length of his thigh while yanking your hips back into the cradle of his pelvis. You meet him in a slow grind that boils your blood and steals the breath from your lungs.

It’s been - shit - far too long since you’ve felt anything other than hunger, thirst; the animal drive to keep pushing forward.

"You like this, don'tcha?"

You hear the dagger-sharp smile hidden in his words.

He croons, "What would your fellow smoothies think, huh? Here you are lettin’ a ghoul get you all hot n bothered - and you’re lovin’ it. Ain't you?"

You throb in response, heat stealing its way into your cheeks as you turn your head away in shame. His dark chuckle lets you know he felt the squeeze of your thighs, the rock and dip of your hips against his knee.

"I - I don't..." you stutter, struggling for a retort. “I’m not--”

A tremble works its way through your body, crushed as you are between the rad warm burn of his body and the wall. Completely at his mercy as you try to figure out where it all went wrong and what you can do to worm your way out of this one.

Terrified of what'll happen if you stay, terrified of what'll happen if you go; stuck in limbo as what was meant to be a simple grab-and-dash devolved into this confusing cluster of shame and lust.

You loathe the embers of desire kindling to life low in your belly.

"You really outta start bein' more honest, Sweetheart."

A large hand dips beneath the worn band of your underwear, and you wait with baited breath. Helpless as calloused fingertips brush over the swell of your mond.

Your inner thighs are uncomfortably sticky with slick, and your eyes burn in humiliation. Your throat trembles around all the words you want to say.

"Didn't anyone teach you lyin' was bad?" he asks rhetorically as his fingers slip down to play with the swollen bud of your clit, tapping lightly.

You keen, low and wounded.

Short nails dig into your palms as you flex your hands for want of something to grab onto.

“I am being honest,” you bite out through grit teeth. Sweat dapples your furrowed brow. “Just lemme go, please.”

"I find that hard ta believe," he replies. "Sorry to say, but you're shit at lyin'. Just look how hungry your lil cunt is for me."

It’s the only warning you get before those long digits plunge deep inside, two becoming three as they stretch you wide. Hollow you out; knuckles massaging your entrance as the tips prod along the sensitive front wall of your cunt.

You clamp down with a strangled moan. “Shit!”

This is a horrible idea - but it’s been forever and a day since you’ve felt anything other than your own touch.

Whether it be the bone-deep loneliness you’ve been shoving down for months or the sudden, inexplicable need for contact, you long for a reminder that you’re still alive.

That you’re not some wrath of the Wasteland filled with sand and blood, doing whatever it takes to survive in a place that would rather see you fail.

“I - I’m not sure.”

He snorts but offers no council or reassurances, using his free hand to yank at the back of your head in impatience. While it might’ve been a fairer fight if you weren’t in such bad shape, there’s no denying that he’s proven himself to be more adept.

Stronger, quicker.

This is going to happen either way.

And that turns you on - even though you feel like it shouldn’t.

If you give in, if he forces you to give in, it’s not really your fault then, is it? You can enjoy it because you have no choice.

Fuck it, you think, closing your eyes and tilting your head to the side in submission.

Like a doll with cut strings, all the fight drains from your body and you’re left sharing space. The ghoul is a furnace of heat behind you, barely any space to breathe he’s crowded so close.

His cock thickens where it digs into the soft fat of your ass, as large and intimidating as the man himself. “Now stay still for me.”

The or else goes unspoken.

Then he’s stepping away, a rush of cold air filling the empty space at your back.

You shiver, tempted to turn around. Maybe make a run for it. The only thing stopping you is the awareness that his threats aren’t so idle. In your experience, it’s far better to befriend the monster than to anger it.

So you comply, waiting an eternity as your senses strain to pick up on anything other than the murmuring hush of rain, the rumble of thunder, as the Radstorm continues to blow its way through.

Though just when you think he might’ve left, ready to chance moving, you hear the clink of a belt buckle clicking open. The scuff of boots across the linoleum before broad hands shove up under your shirt, scarred palms bare as they settle on your hips.

You tense before forcing yourself to relax.

“You ain’t as stupid as I thought,” he says. “Good girl.”

A test.

You breathe a sigh of relief.

“I can listen,” you mumble, keeping calm as his hands explore the plains of your stomach, pluck at the waistband of your panties. “Promise ‘m not gonna do anything else.”

Learned my lesson the first time. Got my skull cracked open for it.

“That’s what I like ta hear.”

Without warning, your panties are being ripped from you, scraps of fabric fluttering useless to the floor. You squawk in indignation but then a heavy hand settles between your shoulder blades.

He presses down, and you follow without complaint, finding yourself bent in half.

And then the fat head of his cock is right there, teasing at your entrance. He plays with your cunt, slipping the shaft between your wet folds. Dragging up the length of you to tap at your swollen clit.

Jerking in his hold, you whine and try to bear down with all your weight. “Please,” you squirm. “Please, c’mon…”

His grip remains firm, bruising as he exhales next to your ear, a pleased little grumble. “Thatta girl. Now tell me, who’s my pretty lil thief?”

Every hard ridge of his body bites into the softness of yours, your stiff nipples dragging against the rough material of your shirt. Zings of pleasure shoot through you; bursting in your bloodstream, fizzy like warm Nuka Cola.

“I-”

“Go on now, Sweetheart: say it.” Fingers dig into your hips so hard your bones ache. “Or I jus' might be tempted ta take a bite outta your pretty lil backside instead.”

He’s bluffing, you think, half delirious, … Right? He wouldn’t--

You swallow, throat clicking, and squirm against him.

Is that a chance you’re willing to take?

No, no it’s not.

“Y-Yours - I’m - I’m your little thief.”

The unexpected flare of satisfaction in his voice is almost your undoing. A hand pets down your flank, swatting the outside of your thigh playfully.

“Good girl.” He demands, “Say it again.”

Sharp hip bones kick forward against your ass as he lines himself up and starts to bully his way inside.

“I’m - YOURS!”

Your soft, gummy walls flutter, squeeze until giving in with a pop under the hard pressure of the fat head. His cock stretches you out, thick and girthy.

Ridges of scar tissue and patches of rough friction pockmark his shaft, massaging tender places as he fills you up, fucking you open.

He feeds you inch after inch… until he can’t.

“Wait!”

Accommodating his girth is a struggle, your cunt filled to the brim by the time he’s halfway inside. No amount of slick could make him fit, so he makes do with harsh little jerks of his hips. Forces himself deeper and deeper until he glides home nice and smooth, sheathing himself to the base with a sigh of satisfaction.

You clamp down hard with a hiccupy whine, walls furtively trying to push him out. “A-Ah!”

“Goddamn,” he huffs, hands kneading your ass, “You’re a tight fit.”

Tears prick your lash line, your hips shifting as you try to stop him from moving. Begging for a moment of reprieve. You’ve never taken something so big and thick, so textured before.

Coupled with the minimal foreplay, it feels like he’s punched his way through your body. Hollowed you out to make a home for himself.

Pussy aching, a low burning tightness creeps over your lower belly as tender flesh pulses uncomfortably around the unforgiving heft of his cock seated deep inside. You swear you feel him poking your belly button.

“Please,” you pant, heat settling into your cheeks. “J-Just wait a sec-ond! I can’t - oh shit.”

“Aw, look at you.” Fingers reach around to brush over your cheeks, gather the tears that’ve slipped free. “Didn’t mean ta make you cry,” he lies.

The sound of him sucking his fingers clean reaches your ears. Your stomach swoops, and your clit throbs. Dazed as you wonder what his mouth would feel like on your pussy.

"Hah - too much, you're - fuck - you're too big."

He snickers. “Can’t be helped, I guess.” Body rippling in a shrug, his hands re-settling on your hips. “But that’s all right - I like it better when they cry.”

Before you can retort, he pulls his hips back.

Your toes curl in your boots, feet squeaking across the linoleum floor as your sweaty forehead grinds into the cool metal of the wall. The texture of his shaft burns as it slides through your swollen folds, dragging against sensitive spots you didn’t even know existed.

You can’t tell if it’s the best you’ve ever felt or the worst, but you nearly sob all the same, nerves alight with liquid fire. Want him as deep inside as he can go; a frenzy of desperation that needs him to stuff you so full you choke.

“See for all your whining, you’re takin’ me so well. What did I say about bein' honest?”

You sniffle, blurry eyes creaking open to stare out the window.

Your body throbs in time with your pulse, your pussy so stretched out you can’t clench down when he thrusts in deep. The fat mushroom head teases your cervix, a faint whisper, before he’s drawing back again.

“T-Too fast,” you stutter, head rolling back to rest on his shoulder. Your thighs tremble, knees going soft. “Slow down, slow down.”

“Sh, you can take it. I know you can.”

With a grunt, he surges forward. Wasting no time in starting up a brutal pace that rattles your bones. He drives you hard into the side of the diner; tits crushed and face smashed, a disgusting mixture of tears and drool wetting your cheek.

“Just like that, Sweetheart.”

You do little more than hold on, all thoughts driven from your mind as he fucks you swollen and bruised. Cunt a sticky mess as your slick eases the way, clinging to your inner thighs and dripping down his heavy balls.

Every thrust punches little sounds from you, and he grunts. “Fuck!”

Your hands cling to the sides of his hips, focusing on the shift of muscle beneath heavy fabric. “I can’t,” you slur, eyes cloudy as you glance up into his, gazes meeting for the first time. “Please, I - ah!”

His thrusts turn punishing, even more so than they already were, hips meet your ass with enough force to leave bruises. “What did I say about sneakin' a peek?”

While the words sound threatening, his voice is heated and breathy. For all his talk, he doesn’t look away. In fact, his hips slow into languid rolls, grinding close. When your eyes slide from his, he reaches down to pinch your clit between his fingers.

“Ah, ah, ah,” he chides. “You keep those eyes on me.”

Pretty, you think, dazed.

Glinting in the slants of firelight like wet sand or a Nuka Cola bottle in the sun; bourbon warm as they peer at you from beneath a heavy brow bone.

“That’s it, there’s my good girl."

Eyes fluttering when he flexes his hips in reward, the tip massaging along your g-spot, your mouth drops open on a whine.

“O-Oh! Right there, I - fuck, please don’t stop. ‘m so close.” F-Feels s'good.

His bare hand reaches up to curl around your jaw, gnarled fingers pushing their way past the open circle of your swollen lips. They compress your tongue as they gather saliva, stroking along your tastebuds.

Gritty, rough; he tastes of dirt, blood, and gunpowder.

You sneak a kiss to his scarred knuckle when he pulls free.

“Shit, I’ll be damned. You’re just a nasty lil freak, ain't you?”

You moan in response, stretching up on your tip-toes and arching your hips to change the angle. Your palms rest beside your head, docile.

A crazed grin cracks the corners of his lips, his teeth bared like an animal. “I like that,” he husks. “Now be a peach…”

Then those soaked digits are finding their way between your thighs, ghosting over your skin to smear spit onto your abused clit. The tender bud throbs beneath his fingertips, swollen and begging for attention.

He hitches his hips forward to feel you jerk, pulsing beneath his touch as he resumes a fast, jolting pace that has you smacking into the wall.

“And cum for me.”

A deep rumble escapes his throat, the sloppy, wet sounds of him fucking you ringing loud in your ears. Your hips roll, unsure if you want to press forward into the swirl of his fingers or back into the rut of his cock.

Tears stream down your cheeks, your chest heaving with weak sobs.

“Please,” you whine, his shaft pinching your walls uncomfortably. You feel swollen, rubbed raw. “A-Almost there.”

A nip to the ear is all it takes.

“Hhaah, I’m--!”

The liquid heat that’s been pooling low in your belly - building and building - finally bursts in a gush of slick that soaks his hand. Darkens the crotch of his pants as it drips down your thighs to splash against the tile.

You sob, a full body tremor zipping through you like bottled lightening.

In the aftermath, your cunt twitches in time with your heartbeat. Hands numb and head full of cotton as cramps bloom between your hips. Sharp little stabs shoot up behind your navel.

“Shit, I’ve got myself a gusher,” he laughs, a nasty little smirk tugging at his lips. “Look at the mess you made. Now if you ask real sweet-like, maybe I’ll let you clean it up with your tongue.”

You sag, too boneless to be ashamed as electric aftershocks tingle along your nerves. All the while, his pace never falters, quickly fucking you into overstimulation.

Your clit twitches pathetically when the fat head of his cock drags along your g-spot. "No more," you mumble weakly, letting him maneuver your body how he likes. "Please."

“Heh, let’s see if you can do that again.”

You whimper, “Oh, oh, please n-no. I - I can’t. You’ll break me.”

“That’s real cute,” his lips, harsh and rasping, drag over the shell of your ear, “but I wasn’t askin’.”

The grip on your hips tightens to the point of pain, digging in and marking you up.

“Now, why don’ we have some real fun, Darlin'?”

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nekokennedychan-blog · 3 months

Text

Entwined

Leshy!Steve Rogers x female reader; Steve Rogers x female reader

summary: You enter the woods hoping to gain the ancient being's mercy and help. However, you hadn't expected how truly powerful he is, or what price he will ask of you.

*Leshy is a deity of the forests in Slavic mythology. He rules over the forest and hunting.

warnings: sort of monsterfucking (though Leshy isn't exactly a monster, more of an eldritch entity); consensual, with a slight dash of dub-con; tiny bit of manipulation; smut;

Author's Note: This is a story written for Aspen's (@buckets-and-trees) Enchanted Birthday Festival. Early happy birthday, love! ❤️ I've been toying with the idea of Leshy!Steve for a bit and Aspen's challenge was the perfect opportunity to work on it. Especially since she loves forests, plants and all things wild nature 💚 Also a special shout out to @vonalyn who listened to me ramble about the hotness of Leshy!Steve when the idea first came to mind!

“Are you willing to sacrifice?”

His voice echoed with the power of a booming wind, rattling your bones and swishing up your skirts.

The trees surrounding you seemed to grow out their branches, weaving into thick, green walls closing up. Sunlight, just moments ago filtering through the tree crowns, had disappeared; but the dots of luminescent fireflies flickered on, filling the space with a deceptively warm glow.

You looked around, seeking for a path, or entrance through which you might escape, if you chose to. There was none. Within seconds you found yourself trapped in the depths of the ancient forest, with a being whose mercy you came to beg for.

When about an hour ago you stepped into the woods, you were bracing yourself for the sense of being watched, perhaps hunted. You haven’t considered how closely in contact with the powers of nature you’d come.

Your steps never faltered as the soft carpet of juicy grass beneath your feet seemed to grow more resilient the deeper into the woods you went; green straws springing back from being crushed under your shoe. The further you went, however, the dewy emerald grew sparse, shrinking into rich soil scattered with shards of bark, little leaves and pillows of moss.

Rays of sunlight filtered through the branches, casting glowy direction into the sacred altar hidden in the belly of the wilderness. It felt so peaceful, so relaxing, that you’d gladly sink into the shades of green and speckles of gold.

If not for the pounding of your worried heart, which knew that you were searching for more than reprieve.

Had you known what awaited, you’d listen to your heart’s anxious patter and run away.

But you were determined. Though your grandma would probably call it simple stubbornness.

You didn’t enter the woods to forage, nor to roam it to fill your soul with happiness. No, your feet carried you forward to face the greatest of dangers and beg for mercy.

Not only for yourself, but for the village and people who lived in fear, but still refused to abide by the ancient laws. Proud and focused on ways to increase wealth, they forgot there’s more in the world than just gold and war.

Powers mightier than any army. Beings greater and more dangerous than any king.

When wolves ripped to shreds one of the lumberjacks, everyone thought it to be a tragic accident. When two other people disappeared in the woods, never returning, others came up with ideas of them running away. Then a mother was seen screaming as wolves dragged her body into the forest. The child that followed, crying after its mum, disappeared. A day later a small fawn started prancing around the garden by the empty now household.

Still, people refused to bow to the entity that could be behind all of this, or at least held the power to end this madness. Or so you hoped.

Having packed a big wicker basket of offerings - jars of golden honey, cheese wrapped in paper, strings of colorful beads and pearls, folded silk, dried exotic fruit you got from the market - you carried it deep into the woods, to place them on the long forgotten altar where your ancestors paid their respects to the guardian of the forest and nature.

Leshy.

You expected to find the ancient, stone altar, with a deformed statue overgrown with moss. The plan was to lay your offerings there, spend some time bowing down and praying for mercy, then returning to the clueless village.

For a few beats it went like that. The birds still chirped, leaves rustled softly in the wind, your offerings laid motionless on the slab of stone.

Then, suddenly, ivy vines weaved up, covering the stone and your produce in a thick cocoon. The earth rumbled and melted, swallowing the altar whole.

Startled, you took a shaky step back and lost your balance, falling onto your butt. A split of a second when your gaze looked up at the darkening sky and when you returned it forward, he was already standing in front of you.

Whenever you thought of Leshy, no particular image came to mind. You always thought the creature to be an entity beyond human imagination.

He was that, but also… not.

He reminded a human man, but only at first glance.

Much taller, with shoulders broader than the blacksmith’s (whom you always thought to be the biggest man alive). His complexion was fair, but the veins in his arms were jewel green. His hair and beard seemed cast from various shades of gold, intertwined with russet bronze and chestnut reddish. Delicate, tiny vines crawled up his cheeks and along his forehead; like intricate tattoos.

From the thick mane of his silky looking hair sprouted majestic antlers. Thick and sturdy, their dark color with filaments of gold shining through. His eyes, when you met them, were a striking shade of blue-green. Rare and iridescent, like ponds bathed in the light of dawn.

“It’s been a while since a human has come to me.”

The entity’s voice was deep and low, both dangerous and soft, like a purr of a bear or a jungle cat.

“Are you Leshy?” You swallowed nervously.

“I’ve been called that, yes.” When he grinned, amused, the filigree vines on his body glowed luminescent.

“And you are?” He asked, courtly.

When you whispered your name, he leaned forward, bending slightly and outstretching his hand for you to take. As you slipped your shaky fingers into his palm, you felt the pulsing warmth seep through you. It reminded you of the sun-heated earth beneath bare feet.

As he helped you stand up, your gaze drifted up his body. You noticed that while most of his skin looked like any human’s flesh, a stripe along his left calf and thigh seemed textured like bark. A combination of moss and vines formed a fitting coverage around his narrow hips; yet you still caught the sight of a green vein slithering down his chiseled abdomen.

More gold-glowing, floral-like tattoos appeared ingrained into the skin along his ribs. Skin on top of his right shoulder looked to be made of bark, just like on his leg.

As much as he looked unworldly, you also found him majestic.

Beautiful, as nature itself.

“Those who know me, call me Steve.” He said, holding your hand in his and not letting you step away. “It's a shortened and funnily deformed version of Svyatobor.”

Lost in his eerie blue eyes, it took you a longer moment to realize what his name meant.

Breath hitched in your chest, your pupils widened as you stared up at him. All this time you believed Leshy is a creature brought to life and given a purpose by a god. That’s what all the legends suggested. It didn’t occur to you, it's a deity itself.

A god of the forest.

After a moment of complete stupor, shock gave way to a flash of fear. You bowed your head and started to fall onto your knees, to pay proper respect. However, his hand still holding yours pulled you up.

“None of that is necessary.” He assured you.

Though when you tipped your head up to look at him, Leshy’s gaze slid down your body in a slow, assessing study.

“At least not in that sense,” he murmured, licking his lips.

His eyes flicked back to yours. The stark blue pulsing with more green specks than before; as if his body came to life the same way nature sprung back as the snow melted away.

You felt a rush of heat through your veins at the suggestive implication of his words.

“What have you come here for, little fern?”

“To beg for mercy for my village.” Once again, you lowered your gaze. “People have been disappearing and being hurt. Swallowed by the forest or its creatures. I plead for no more blood to be spilled.”

Steve’s face betrayed no sign of irritation. For a split of a second you thought you saw a flash of sunlit amusement in his irises, but no mockery followed. He studied you for a long moment, not saying a word.

When he moved, it was slow and nonthreatening. You still startled, though perhaps it was at the loss of contact as his hand gently released your fingers.

He walked over to where the ground swallowed the altar with your offerings. It was only then that you realized a thick carpet of clovers had filled the space where the table had been. Delicate leaves tilted toward Steve’s legs, brushing against him with the softest of rustles, as if they were purring for him.

“You brought me honey, which you poured out of the goodness of your heart. But don’t you know that our wild bees’ honey is sweeter?” Steve asked, walking barefoot through the small field of clovers back toward you.

He stepped even closer this time and you felt the unique warmth radiating from him. A little stifling, like the humidity of the forest soaked in rain that was evaporating in the high summer sun.

It was making you dizzy in a very pleasant way.

“You gave me expensive fabrics, but nothing feels as soft and luxurious as petals of early spring’s flowers.” He circled you, like an animal may circle its prey. “None of your colorful beads shine as bright as drops of dew in the moonlight.”

“I-” What were you supposed to say? You didn’t have much and what you gave away was a big sacrifice in terms of your day to day survival.

You also didn’t think Leshy would be pleased, if you brought seasoned meat. He was, after all, a protector of wild animals. That sort of disrespect may have killed you on the spot.

Suddenly, you felt his hand brush along your waist. A light, fleeting touch, but enough to send a jolt down your spine.

“Moreover, you try to barter a single basket for dozens of lives.” Steve stopped in front of you.

“I’m sorry.” You lowered your head in shame, feeling the burning tears gather beneath your eyelids.

He was right and you didn’t think of that when you were packing your basket. It made you feel helpless, that you had nothing else to offer.

“Don’t be.” Steve tilted your chin up with the pads of his fingertips. His gaze was soft, glinting sincerity.

“You still did more than any other human has for decades. I’m just pointing out that a life can be compared in cost to another life, nothing else. No riches equal a heartbeat.”

You understood the value, agreed with it completely. But it made the situation look unsolvable. The fate of your village was doomed to go through horrors, since there was no other way to barter for it.

Then you registered the warmth of Steve’s fingers still holding your chin. His thumb angled to rub along your lower lip. You were in the hands of a powerful deity. Steve may have appeared nonthreatening, but he was still an ancient entity demanding a sacrifice.

No riches equal a heartbeat. You had a heartbeat. A rapidly fluttering one, at the moment; bouncing against the bars of your ribcage in fear of being ripped from it.

“You mean-” You swallowed a bile rising in your throat. “My life for theirs?”

You wanted to help your village, to help people in general. That need to care and nurture have always been so deeply ingrained in you. But you wanted to live! You wanted to experience feelings and wonders, joys and losses. You weren’t ready to meet the end so soon, so unexpectedly. The two needs - to help and to survive - were clashing in violence.

Steve’s hand moved from your chin to cup your cheek. Since he was the only comfort available at the moment, you leaned into his touch. A soothing shush spilled from his lips as he caught your panicked gaze and locked it with his.

“I’m not thirsty for blood, little fern.” He assured you. “I long for company.”

Somehow, looking into his eyes and sinking into the warmth his closeness provided, you felt the fear subsiding. Slowly, still leaving instinctive distrust, but it eased away.

“You want a friend?” You blinked, a little confused.

Of course you understood what he meant the moment he said it, but a voice of reason wouldn’t accept the fact this beautiful, powerful being wanted to bed you. Out of all the things a deity may demand, fucking an unimpressive mortal like you shouldn’t be on the list.

Steve laughed at your question, genuinely amused.

Instantly, choirs of birds joined his mirth in a tinkling melody that carried through the forest.

“No.” Steve shook his head; smile-caused crinkles appeared in the corners of his eyes and the filigree vines along his skin curled.

“I’ve got friends. You would meet them, if you stayed.” It surprised you, teasing your curiosity about what other beings roamed these forests.

Your thoughts didn’t stay focused on the matter for long. Not when Steve’s hand slid down the column of your neck, his other arm weaving around your waist and pulling you close to his body.

Very close. Even through the fabrics of your skirts and corset you felt the hard planes of his muscles against the softness of your body. Your hands landed on his chest, at first in an attempt to brace yourself to perhaps fight him off, but any force to push away dissipated. Instead, your fingertips were tingling.

Steve’s breath teased your skin as he leaned down, trailing his lips along your jaw.

“I want intimacy. Passion. And devotion.” He murmured, gripping the back of your neck as his other hand dipped lower to squeeze the flesh of your bottom.

Abruptly, your whole body tensed and you gasped when something coiled around your ankles. Thin and tickling, possibly an ivy vine. It curled along your legs, reaching upwards. Teasing your skin with a brush of leaves and forcing your legs slightly apart.

Steve’s lips grazed the shell of your ear.

“I wish to splay you on the moss and have it soak up your sweet juices as I play with your pretty cunt.”

You jerked in his embrace, but your core ignited. Heat pooled low in your abdomen, spreading down in a quick wave and filling your folds.

“I want to stretch you on my cock and have you call me your god not out of fear, but the pleasure I give you.” The vines that weaved around your legs didn’t reach far up your thighs, but if they had, your wetness would coat the delicate leaves.

“I want to fill you, until you bloom flowers and berries.”

Breathing became hard as the images filled your head; though you doubted it was a trick of his, more your own imagination eagerly supplying possibilities Steve words enticed.

When Steve unexpectedly released you and took a step back, you shivered as if you were dropped into a cold cave. Deprived of light and warmth.

He appeared more inhuman as he stretched to his full height and loomed over you.

“Are you willing to sacrifice?”

His voice echoed with the power of a booming wind, rattling your bones and swishing up your skirts.

Shaken from the daze Steve’s proximity and dirty words have caused, you faced the deal he was proposing with a clearer mind.

You’d be bound to the forest as long as Steve wanted to keep you, having to abandon your human life and plans. But you would be alive. And so would the villagers, some of whom were your friends.

You chanced one more look at the wall of branches and vines, briefly wondering if he’d let you go had you refused. Probably. But it was uncertain what awaited your village, or any other, if you backed out.

Taking a deep breath, you turned back to Steve. You gripped the fabric of your skirt to cover the nervous shaking of your fingers.

“Yes,” the word rolled out on your tongue like a faint whisper, but he heard it.

His eyes shimmered with tempting joy, like the reflection of sunlight on the rippling sheet of a lake. In a blink of an eye he was right in front of you, his hands on your hips.

“I’ll be good to you, my little fern.” Tip of his nose nudged along yours, warm breath softening your lips into compliance.

When he kissed you, it felt as if berries burst on your tongue, filling your mouth with sweet flavor.

Your hands traveled up his arms, clutching his shoulders. The one covered in bark provided a new, unique sensation. It grazed your fingertips, but also felt grounding. He didn’t have to pull you closer, your body turned pliant on its own volition.

Steve swallowed your gasp, gripping your hips tighter, as thick vines of ivy rapidly wound around you. They covered you whole, like they had that stone altar before. It felt scary and suffocating, but as soon as the cocoon of greenery swallowed your forms fully it burst apart; leaves scattered around in a fountain.

You broke the kiss, tipping your head away and looking around. You were no longer in the same spot. You were in no recognizable place, to be exact.

If you could find a name for it, the heart of the forest would be it.

Light green grass spread around in a thick carpet, with patterns of bluebells and lilies of the valley. Graceful, tall birches circled the place, their silvery leaves catching chunks of sun rays. By a spot where wild rose bushes weaved an intricate arch stood a big bed. Easily high at hip height, woven tightly of green moss and periwinkles.

Steve didn’t give you much time to admire. With a firm push of his hand he tilted your head back towards him. Kept cupping your cheek as he kissed you again, more urgently this time. Demanding.

He released you to tug on your clothes, doing a swift job with layers of your skirts, but grumbling a bit when trying to untie your corset.

“Won’t need that anymore here, little fern,” he purred as your breasts spilled out.

Then he was picking you up, big hands gripping the back of your thighs and hoisting you easily. He sat on the bed, slowly easing you down until you were standing between his spread legs.

It was only then that you realized the coverage around his hips was gone, leaving him exposed in all his glory.

You couldn’t help peeking down. Your pussy clenched around nothing as you stared at the impressive size of him. Your mouth filled with the aftertaste of berries and your own saliva as his cock twitched upwards.

Steve’s hands roamed over your body, exploring your curves and lines with utmost fascination. He didn’t hesitate leaning forward to capture a stiff nipple into his mouth, sucking eagerly. His antlers gave you a scare as they brushed so close to your skin, but not once did his movement cause you pain.

Feeling a little bolder, you slipped one of your hands between the roots of his antlers and into his hair. They felt soft and silky. Your other hand gripped the top of his shoulder; the one where bark printed into your palm in a sensation you were finding more and more pleasant.

As Steve pulled back slightly, you slipped your fingers from his hair and across his face, mapping out contours and scratching through his beard. He gripped one of your legs under your knee and pulled it up, placing your foot on the bed and spreading you obscenely. His eyes darkened, something wolfish glinting in them as his gaze settled on your puffed, wet folds.

“Show me how you touch yourself,” he demanded in a raspy voice.

The hand on your calf kept caressing and squeezing your flesh, while his other fisted his cock as your fingers dipped between your thighs.

None of your lovers ever expressed desire to see you pleasure yourself, but Steve’s gaze was so heated you didn’t feel shy. Quite the opposite, somehow it felt so easy and natural; even more arousing as Steve licked his lips in unmasked hunger.

“Let me taste you. I bet you’re sweeter and richer than any honey.”

You moaned, pushing two fingers inside and pumping them in and out a few times. When you brought your glistening digits to his lips, Steve licked them in a broad stroke of his tongue then took them into his mouth. His greedy sucking had your clit pulsing wildly.

“Delicious,” he hummed in delight, “and so ready for me, aren’t you?”

Swiftly, he grabbed your hips and pulled you over his lap. Your gasp at the sudden movement and the feeling of his cock against your inner thigh combined with Steve’s loud groan of pleasure, when you gripped his antlers to steady yourself.

“That’s it. Keep touching them.” He urged you on as he slid you down his shaft. “It’s as if you were gripping my cock.”

“Nghh!” You keened, tightening your desperate hold on the antlers as your walls stretched around Steve’s girth.

“Too big!” You whined, yet your hips followed the command of Steve’s hands as he guided you down.

“Shh, my little fern. Take it. I know you can.” He was mercilessly forcing you down, moaning as your tight, hot walls enveloped him. “All your sweet holes will learn to take all of me.”

By the time he was buried to the root, you were shaking in pleasure. Your cheek was pressed to Steve’s, your breath coming out in jagged, hot puffs. Where your breasts were squished into the hard planes of Steve’s chest, it felt as if the filigree vines pulsing beneath his skin moved to tease your nipples. Steve’s hands were splayed on your hips, holding you in place as he savored the feel of your pussy around him.

After a moment, he began rocking up into you and a few heartbeats later started bouncing you up and down his length. Soon your whimpers stretched into moans. Despite feeling boneless in his powerful hold, you also felt a surge of need to take from him as much as he was taking from your pliant body.

You held Steve’s gaze as you straightened your back and started riding him; your fingers squeezing his antlers.

When your climax hit, it was intense and unworldly.

The first burst of it felt like falling into a cool mountain streak, only for the next tremors to fill you with heat and glow. Your head spinned and your moans and cries intertwined with small gasps of laughter. It was everything at once! Running with the wolves, picking fresh raspberries, twirling around in summer rain.

And when Steve followed soon after, cumming with a loud roar, each spurt of his seed seemed to immerse you in hot springs.

It was a rush of sensations; overwhelming, but addictive.

When you met Steve’s gaze - both of you breathing heavily and still rocking into the continuous rhythm of aftershocks - you had no idea your irises bore first specks of inhuman green. All you knew was that you wanted more.

And so you demanded it.

Steve’s grin at your responsiveness was near predatory. He pinned you beneath him on the soft mossy pillows, placed your ankles over his shoulders and plunged into you in a hard thrust that had your scream echoing through the woods.

Soon you’d be bound to him and the forest with every cell of your changing body.

516 notes · View notes

nekokennedychan-blog · 3 months

Text

Sweeter Than Sugar

On My Tongue

Baker Birthday Drabble

Soft Morning Drabble

Baker Bucky Boyfriend Traits Drabble

Morning Peach

His One Rule

A Taste of You

Baking with Bucky

Kiss Cam

Hours and Hours

Life with you

Me or Churros

Peaches

Rise to the occasion

Celebrating Peach

Drink Up

Tipsy Baker Bucky

His Sweet Girl

Blow Me Away

The Interview

Breakfast in Bed

Wrecked

Sweetest Gift

Happy To Be Yours

Drunk Bucky

Fresh out

What Baker Steve looks like

*incredible bucky moodboard made by @treatbuckywkisses *

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nekokennedychan-blog · 3 months

Text

IDIOTS IN LOVE

Steve Rogers x F! Reader

incl. Natasha, Wanda, Bucky and Tony

Summary: Being in love with Steve Rogers isn’t easy with all the dates Natasha sets him up with. One day you’ve had enough and ask her to set you up, something you’ve never let her before – and a certain blonde isn’t too pleased.

Warnings: Angst to fluff! Jealous! Steve and Jealous! Reader. Misunderstandings. Two blind idiots in love with each other. 4.3k words.

“Okay, I’m off to bed,” You said through a yawn and got up from the chair you’d been sitting in for the past hours, drinking and chatting with Natasha and Wanda.

Natasha took a sip from her glass, before asking, “See you in the morning for our run?”

“Count me in,” You nodded and walked towards the exit, your head facing Natasha, “Goodnight ladies.” The second you faced away, something tall crashed into you, making you trip on your own feet.

“Woah careful, doll!” A familiar voice said, as a hand grabbed you by your waist to steady you, “Are you okay, angel?”

“Steve! Oh- Thanks!” You felt a bit embarrassed as he was still holding onto you, his blue eyes looking down at you with what seemed like concern. His face was close, so very close, and his lips-

“Steve you’re back!” Natasha cheered from behind you, interrupting the moment, “How was your date?”

You immediately felt your heart drop at her question. Steve had been on a date. Again. You took a step away from the super soldier, looking down as he shifted his attention to Natasha, “It was good.”

You snuck out of the room in the blink of an eye, not wanting to hear about yet another one of Steves ‘good’ dates that never lead to a second one. Couldn’t he just choose one of the girls and make it official? That way you had no reason to hold onto the hope that he just might, someday, reciprocate your feelings.

You didn’t see the disappointment in Steve’s face when you suddenly disappeared out of sight.

You woke up in the morning with a burning headache. Partly because of the wine last night, but mostly because of Steve keeping you awake for hours. You always stayed to hear how his dates went, but it was always the same: “It was good, but there won’t be a second one, I’m afraid. Better luck next time Nat.”

Though what if it was different this time? What if he finally found the one? Your thoughts and feeling of regret were interrupted by a harsh knocking on your bedroom door.You knew it was Natasha and got out of bed. The floor felt extra cold this morning.

“I’ll be down in five!” You yelled trough the door and went to get dressed for your run. After swallowing some painkillers for your headache, you left your room to meet the redhead, desperately in need to get some fresh air.

You and Natasha jogged from the Avengers compound and ended up in the nearest park. As you felt the morning sun warming your skin, you felt a little relief lift off your shoulders. You needed this.

The two of you sat down at a bench, kind of like creeps, observing the civilians enjoying their own morning.

A dolled-up lady was walking her dog, or more like, the dog was walking her. You shared a laugh with Natasha at the sight. Your eyes followed her movements, watching as she passed a little girl blowing soap-bubbles. The little one let her tongue out to taste the bubbles, only for her nose to scrunch up in disgust.

“Cute.” Natasha commented from beside you. You smiled and let your eyes wander along with the bubbles flying away, which popped right next to an older couple holding hands. “Aww, look at them!” You commented.

The husband of the old couple, smacked his lady’s butt, growing a mischievous grin on his face. “Now, that’s cute.” Natasha commented this time.

“I know! Old people are the cutest.”

“I can only partly agree with you there. Buck and Steve are quite the old men,” Natasha laughed, “Wouldn’t call them cute.”

You chuckled lightly as your eyes left the old couple. To you, Steve was so much more than cute. He was the kindest, most caring man you’d ever met. He always listened to your small and bigger problems. He was always willing to drop everything to help you out. He was always by your side whenever you got hurt on a mission. You had no doubt he cared for you, and yet… he still went on all those dates like you weren’t even an option. He made you feel so special and loved, and you weren’t even each other’s. Oh, how lucky the one who wins his heart would be.

“Y/N? Earth to--”

“Oh, sorry!” You snapped out of your thoughts at Natasha trying to get your attention.

She gave you a concerned look as she spoke, “Are you okay? You seem down.”

“It’s just my head, it really hurts.” You excused, wiping away a tear you hadn’t noticed before.

“I’m sorry. Should we walk back? We can take it slow.” Natasha asked and got up from the bench, lending you a hand.

You accepted her hand and cracked a small smile, “Thank you kind lady.”

Once you started walking back towards the compound, a familiar figure caught your eye. Steve, with a girl beside him, was walking in your direction.

“Would you look at that! Steve’s on a second date,” Natasha cheered at the sight of Steve and Sharon Carter coming closer, “He said yesterday they wouldn’t go on a date again.”

Natasha was clearly trying to share her excitement with you, but all you felt was a knot tightening in your stomach. You liked Sharon, you really did, but of course she, a Carter, would be the one to finally win Steve’s heart.

Natasha was waving at the pair, just to make sure they saw the two of you. The jealousy in your body didn’t help much with the headache, making you feel sick, “Nat, I’m just gonna go, okay?”

You weren’t in the mood to stand around and wait for Steve to arrive with his new love interest, you didn’t even bother to give Natasha a smile, “You can wait for them if you want. I’d like to have some alone time anyways.”

Natasha wasn’t sure how to react, starting to feel like it wasn’t just a headache bothering you, “You sure?”

“Yeah, I’ll see you later.” You left without taking another look back, leaving Natasha to start worry about you.

You didn’t see Steve’s expression go from excitement to concern as he watched you leave Natasha behind.

Back at the compound, you fall down onto your bed, soft sobs rocking your body. You’re tired of loving a man you’ll never have. You have his friendship, but your heart is still not satisfied. Now that Steve has found a beautiful woman like Sharon, maybe you can finally try to move on.

You roll onto your back, looking at the ceiling as your tears dry out. What are you going to do?

Then, it hits you. Natasha.

Just a soft knock on the door and a hug later, the redhead asks what she can do to make you feel better. You let out a sigh and ask away, “Could you help me, maybe… find a date?”

Natasha wasn’t sure she heard you correctly, but when you nodded, her face lit up in excitement, “Of course! It would be my absolute pleasure!” She didn’t even ask why you wanted a date all of a sudden, she was just happy you’d finally give her matchmaking a chance.

“Oh my god! I have so many guys in mind. They would all be so lucky to have you Y/N. I have to pick one worth your time though!”

You chuckled as you listened to Natasha ramble on about who to pick for you, a feeling of excitement growing in your stomach. You were finally ready to give someone new a chance.

As the moon shone through your window, you thought about what tomorrow would bring. Natasha had already picked out a date whom you’d meet tomorrow night.

Busy in thought, you suddenly felt your stomach growl. Slipping out of bed, you put on a pair of slippers and wandered out your door towards the kitchen. Truth be told, you had been avoiding going around the compound in fear of meeting Steve, which also meant skipping dinner.

You fixed yourself a bowl of cereal and let your thoughts wander back to your upcoming date. What dress would you wear? Maybe the blue one? No. What about the white, the one you knew Steve loved so much?

“Hey.”

The sudden sound of a voice made you jump in your seat. As you choked on your cereal, you felt a hand patting your back.

“I’m sorry for scaring you. Are you okay, angel?”

You looked up to find Steve looking down at you. Damnit. You managed to embarrass yourself in front of him again.

“I’m fine, thanks.” Your voice sounded hesitant, your eyes going back to your cereal. You listened as Steve made himself a cup of tea behind you, not a single word shared. You felt awkward.

You hoped he would just make his damn tea and leave - but of course not. The man sat down, right beside you, half facing you as he took a sip.

“So…” Steve began, and you felt yourself wanting to disappear. You were in the mindset of moving on a few minutes ago, but here he sat, the man you were so in love with, alone, giving you all of his attention. “How’re you doing? We haven’t talked much since, well, yesterday.”

Steve’s voice sounded hesitant, and you knew, that he knew, that something was up. The two of you hung out every single day, so not talking for 24 hours was unusual.

“I, uh… I’m okay. I’ve been a bit tired lately, that’s all.” You lied, and you didn’t sound very convincing either.

“Nat told me about your headache earlier today, at the park-”

“Yeah, I’m fine.” You interrupted him, a hint of annoyance in your voice. You really didn’t want to talk about it. Especially not think about the sight of Steve walking alongside his new girl.

You hear Steve let out a sigh at your answer. You were hoping he’d let it go, though you knew Steve too well. The blonde put down his cup and turned his body fully towards you this time, “Y/N,” His voice sounded serious, “I know something’s up, more than just a headache, and it worries me. So, please, what is going on? Did I do something?”

You didn’t know you had it in you to be angry with Steve Rogers, but when you felt your blood boil, there was no going back. You jumped out of your chair and looked at him with rage in your eyes, “Why do you care, huh?”

You saw the immediate hurt in Steve’s eyes, his expression shocked at your sudden outburst. You didn’t care though, “It’s been a fucking day, and you’re worried about me because I haven’t talked to you yet? You haven’t even been home! The last time I saw you, quoting Natasha, you were on a second date with Sharon! Shouldn’t you be with her now anyways?”

“Y/N-”

“No! Why the fuck do you sit here and talk to me like I’m the only thing you care about, like it matters how I’m doing? It doesn’t make any sense! You’ve always been like this, yet I’m just a friend sitting around while you go out and fuck all the girls Natasha find for you!” Your breath is heavy, tears threaten to spill from your eyes,

Steve was reaching out a hand to you but retracted it as tears streamed down your cheeks. You pointed a finger at the man, your teeth gritted together as you spoke, “And lastly, I am under no obligation to tell you anything about my feelings! So please, stop treating me like I’m your fucking girlfriend!”

Without taking another look at him, you spun around and left the room. As you disappeared out of sight, you ran down the hallway to escape into your room, not wanting Steve to follow. It was when you shut your bedroom door, you realised what you just did.

You yelled at Steve, for the first time ever. Worst of all, he hadn’t done anything to deserve it. That night, never ending sobs were rocking you to sleep.

As you stormed out of the kitchen, you didn’t see the look of heartbreak in Steve’s eyes. They carried more worry than before, confusion and a load of regret as he started to catch on to what was going on with you. It was all a misunderstanding, and he felt like the biggest idiot in the world.

Getting ready for your date was supposed to be fun and exciting, but after you yelled at Steve last night, nothing seemed to cheer you up.

You regretted every single word you yelled at him. He came to check up on you, but all he got in return was your anger. Though maybe it was for the best, now he had no reason to care about you anymore. You were an asshole. The thought hurt like hell, but you chose to use it as an excuse to ease your feelings.

You dressed up in a white beautiful dress, paired with a pair of white heels. It was Steve’s favourite outfit of yours – he had told you so with words, but his eyes when he looked you, oh, they said so much more. That's were you got the nickname angel from.

It was time to give the outfit a new association, perhaps, the first outfit you wore out with your new potential love interest?

As you walked down the compound hallway to leave, familiar voices came from the kitchen. You knew snooping was wrong, but you couldn’t help listening as it was Steve talking.

“I’ve been a fool Buck,” Steve sighed, “What am I gonna do?”

“It’s all a big misunderstanding, right? Just tell her everything and I’m sure she’ll understand. Y/N always understands.”

“Yeah, tell her I’ve been going on a new date every week for the past year so that I can forget about her?” Steve groaned, “It sounds awful.”

It did sound awful. He really wanted to get rid of you huh? You didn’t understand why but his words hurt. “-so that I can forget about her.”

You sniffled and was ready to sneak past them, not wanting to hear anymore, but of course, both men noticed your presence. Stupid super hearing.

“Y/N?” Steve asked and walked a little closer to where you were standing, “Wow, angel, you look-” Steve gave you the same look as he always did when you dressed up. He looked at you in awe, which you usually loved, but now, you hated it.

“Princess, you look beautiful!” Bucky commented and walked over to kiss the top of your head, “Where are you headed off to?”

“Oh, I-” You looked at Steve, then shifted your attention back to Bucky, giving him a shy smile, “I’m going on a date.”

The words felt relieving to get out in front of Steve. Now he would know not to treat you like a girlfriend, since you were trying to see someone else, right?

“Oh, really?” Bucky sounded surprised, but you ignored it, “Have uh-” You noticed as Bucky gave a quick look at Steve, before plastering on a big smile, “Have a nice one then! Can’t wait to hear about it!”

“Thanks Buck,” You smiled, “I gotta go.”

As you rushed out of the room, you didn’t see Steve clenching his jaw and fists. He was irritated at himself for letting it come to this. The feeling of jealusy made him feel sick.

It was an hour into the date, and you were actually enjoying your time. The guy Natasha had set you up with was an agent you had met before during some mission, Christopher. He was cute and had such golden retriever energy - he made you genuinely smile for the first time that day. Apparently he had been smitten with you for a while now, and to no surprise, Natasha knew.

As time passed by, it was time to head home. Both of you had work in the morning anyways. Cristopher followed you all the way back to the Avengers Compound, giving you a kiss on the cheek, “Thank you for giving me a chance Y/N. I had a really wonderful time. Will I see you again?”

Busy with your date, you didn’t see Steve standing nearby, observing the whole thing. He was tense, saddened and growing more and more jealous as he watched you laugh with the other guy.

Steve had come out to get some fresh air, to clear his head, but was interrupted by your arrival. You looked so beautiful, and the sound of your sweet laughter made his knees weak. Oh, how he wished he was the one who caused it.

The morning after your date with Cristopher, you felt the best you had in the last few days. You hummed as you entered the kitchen, the smell of something delicious hitting your nose, “Oh, what’s that smell? It’s amazing.”

“’I made pancakes, so I hope you’re hungry!” Bucky cheered and handed you a plate. You accepted it gladly and sat down at the table next to Natasha and Wanda to your left, and Tony to your right.

“Hey girl, you seem happy. I’m guessing the date was a success?” Natasha asked as she took a bite of her breakfast.

“You finally went on a date with Steve? Rhodes owe me money-” Tony started at the information.

You almost chocked on your first bite of the pancake. Why would he even think that? Didn’t he know Steve was dating Sharon?

“No, Tones, wrong,” Natasha corrected him, “She went with that guy Cristopher. Remember that agent who wouldn’t shut up about her?”

“Oh yeah! The guy who was blabbering about Y/N almost as much as Steve does!”

Steve was blabbering on about you?

“Anyways, tell us how it went? When’s the next date?” Wanda asked, eager to know.

You chuckled a little nervously, “Well, you see--” You stopped talking as soon as Steve entered the kitchen, shocked to see his fallen shoulders and saddened eyes.

You observed as he grabbed a plate of pankakes, before heading over to the counter to make his morning tea. It was weird not hearing a good morning, or getting greeted with his soft smile. You had no idea what was bothering him, and it killed you inside.

"Y/N? You were saying?" Natasha questioned, as you had left them all hanging.

Your eyes didn't leave Steve's figure, even though he was facing away, "It uh... The date was good."

You watched Steve's whole posture tense as you spoke. Oh, how much you wanted to ask if he was okay. You just didn't feel like you had the right to. The last time you spoke, you were yelling at his face.

"Come on! Give us the details!" Tony pushed.

You shook your head, suddenly not wanting to bother Steve with details of your date. You plasteted on a forced smirk, "You'll have to wait and see if we weet again."

"No come on!"

As Steve was facing away, you couldn't see the tears forming in his eyes. You couln't see the absolute heartbreak on his face from the thought of having lost you. He really felt like he had lost the most important person in his life - and you didn't even know he saw you as such.

Over the past few days, you hadn't shared a single word with Steve, and it was starting to drive you crazy. You didn’t even face each other while in the same room - it was a good thing you hadn't shared a mission yet.

All you wanted was for Steve to be happy, and to be his friend again, so with that, you decided it was time to apologize for your behaviour – even if he wouldn’t forgive you for being such an ass, you knew it was the right thing to do.

Your palms felt sweaty, and your mouth all dried out as you stepped outside his room, “Okay… here goes nothing.” You knocked on the door, feeling your heart thump rapidly against your chest.

When he didn’t answer you knocked twice, then again and again. Giving up, you asked Tony’s A.I. for help, “FRIDAY, where’s Steve?”

“In the gym ma’am.”

You let out a sigh, “Is he… okay?”

“From what I can tell, he seems distressed and angry.”

You felt a knot in your stomach. It was 8 pm, and Steve never worked out in the gym that late unless he was upset, “Fuck… Thanks FRIDAY.”

Earlier that day, Steve had been walking past the door to your room at least five times, with the intention to make up. Though the super solider was way too nervous to bother you and chickened out. It was killing him not having your company every day. He missed you. So, with his emotions changing from heartbreak to anger, and the heavy regret from not telling you the truth and let your relationship come to this, he escaped to the gym.

You entered the gym and carefully closed the door behind you. It took you seconds to see Steve by the six destroyed punching bags on the floor, the seventh about to face the same faith.

Steve’s back was tense, and you could see the anger he was feeling in every punch. You felt the knot in your stomach from before tightening, your palms even more sweaty. Taking a deep breath, you walked up to him; it was time to face the music.

Speaking of music, before you knew it your ears were singing a high-pitched tone, your head hurt and your whole back was facing the cold floor beneath you.

“Oh my god!” Steve rushed to your side, worry in his voice, “Are you okay? I’m so sorry Angel!”

You blinked a few times before looking up at the concerned man above you. Putting a hand to your head, you groaned out due to the pain. Releasing deep breath, you let Steve help you up, “I guess I deserved that.”

You had been so smart to come up behind the Captain and stand in front of the punching bag. Because of Steve’s quick and hard punches, he failed to notice you in time, and punced the bag into you, sending you flying to the floor.

“Seriously, are you okay, doll?”

The concern in Steve’s voice made you forget why you came her in the first place. You only nodded and let him lead you to sit down on a bench. He didn’t let go of your hand as you both sat down.

Steve let out a shaky breath. It was clear it had scared him when he saw you flying in the air, and it was all his fault too. You could see the guilt on his face. He still cared so damn much.

You had enough of Steve feeling so down because of you, he didn’t deserve a second of it, “Steve I’m okay. I’m the idiot for creeping up on you like that… Also, I kinda deserved it after how shitty I’ve been treating you.”

“What are you talking about?” There was confusion in the Captain’s eyes.

“Just… let me talk.” Suddenly you had the courage to just get it out. You took hold of both his hands and looked deeply into his blue eyes, “I’m so sorry Steve. I’ve been an absolute asshole towards you.”

Steve opened his mouth to say something, but closed it as you shook your head, “Let me continue. You’re my best friend and I have so much love for you. You’ve been nothing but good to me, and I was yelling at you for it. Thinking about how good you treat me, your friend, I can only imagine how good you treat Sharon. She’s very lucky and I wish you guys the best.”

Your gaze fell from Steve and down into your lap, “I… I’ve been jealous. With all those dates you’ve been on… Why couldn’t you just pick one the girls and get it over with? I…”

“Cause none of them were you.”

You looked up at him, shock in your eyes, unsure if you heard him correctly. Steve plastered on a small smile, his eyes so soft as he looked into yours, “Y/N, there’s nothing between Sharon and I. The other day, when you saw us at the park, we were walking back from visiting Peggy’s grave. It was only a coincidence we were there at the same time.”

“Oh… but what about your date the day before? You said it was good?” You asked, feeling almost ashamed.

“You left too soon to hear what I told Nat and Wanda. I had a good time, but I wasn’t interested. I’d have way more fun with someone else there with me…” Steve’s voice was low, his hand coming up to caress your cheek, “I can’t hold it back anymore Y/N. I love you; I always have. And those stupid dates?”

Tears were streaming down your cheeks at his confession. Never in a million years would you have thought he loved you back.

Steve chuckled lightly, a hint of sadness in his eyes, “I went on those to get you off my mind. I never belied you could love me back, you’re way too good for me, Angel. Though every damn date I went on, I just couldn’t get you off my mind. Every time they wanted me to come home with them, I only thought; No, I can’t do that to my best girl.”

“Steve…” You felt so stupid for not having confessed your feelings earlier. All this misunderstanding could’ve been avoided, “I love you too. I love you so damn much Stevie.”

Steve breath caught in his throat, not sure he was hearing you clearly, “What?” The word came out weak, like he was scared to wake up from a dream, “What about--”

“Cristopher?” You giggled, “Oh, I had a nice time with him, but you know, he wasn’t you.”

Steve laughed loudly and you joined in. Both of you realised how stupid and blind you had been. You loved each other.

Steve caressed your cheek again, his thumb stroking over your soft skin. The look in his eyes were different than before; you knew it was love. His features, his voice, all soft, “Can I… kiss you?”

You only nodded and let him lead you towards his lips. The kiss was gentle, but a firework erupted inside of you. It made tears fall from your eyes, his too. Pulling away, Steve kissed the top of your head before speaking, “My beautiful, Angel. I can’t believe I finally have you.”

You threw yourself forward and let him wrap his strong arms around you. His embrace felt like home.

It felt so right, and finally, your heart was satisfied.

You didn’t see the tears continue to stream down Steve’s cheeks. You didn’t see the huge weight being lifted off his shoulders. He was so damn in love with you, and he already knew that someday, he wanted to call you his wife.

THE END! Thank you so much for reading, feedback is very much appreciated <3

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nekokennedychan-blog · 4 months

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The Sandman Works Masterlist

Hello there! I figured it was about time that I made a comprehensive list of all my fics set in the world of The Sandman so here it goes <3

Remember Me, Special Dreams

Table of Contents and Playlist - Self-insert. You're having trouble with recurring night terrors and Morpheus pays you a visit. (Warnings: language, angst, mentions of graphic night terrors. Smut in later chapters.)

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One Shots

Healed - Fluff. Gender neutral reader. You hurt yourself at home and Morpheus tends to you. (Warnings: injury, blood.)

Fever Dream - Fluff. Gender neutral reader. You develop a flu-like illness resulting in fever dreams. Morpheus helps you with the nightmares and cares for you. (Warnings: sickness, nightmares, physical intimacy.)

Decisions - Fluff. Gender neutral reader. You and Morpheus are due to attend an Endless family gathering and you ask Morpheus for points on what to wear. (Warnings: physical intimacy, suggestive themes.)

Low - Angst/comfort. Gender neutral reader. Morpheus attempts to bring comfort to a dreamer who is managing depression, while in his cat form. (Warnings: angst, talk of depression.)

Autumn - Fluff. Gender neutral reader. Morpheus has made you a dream based on one of your favourite things and you explore it together. (Warnings: physical intimacy.)

Don't Stop - Smut. You and Morpheus are in the exploratory stages of your relationship. Morpheus asks to worship you, and all is going well. At least, that is, until you start to wake up... (Warnings: Minors DNI. Smut.)

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Sometimes It's Fated

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 Coming Soon

Self-insert. AFAB reader. Dark Morpheus. After restoring the Dreaming and locating the missing dreams and nightmares, Morpheus turns his attention to finding you, the human he believes fate has chosen for him. (Warnings: Minors DNI. Dark Morpheus, smut, possessive behaviour, voyeurism.)

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nekokennedychan-blog · 4 months

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Shadows of Mandalore

Pairing: Din Djarin x Female Reader, Boba Fett x Female Reader

Length: 20k

Warnings: A/b/o (alpha beta omega dynamics), omega reader, not a poly relationship, angst/hurt comfort, mentions of past trauma, mentions of slavery, smut, oral (f and m recieving), p in v, anal play, anal sex, dirty talk via communicator, slight degradation, one mention of name calling during sex (consensual), m/m/f threesome, no m/m dynamics

Notes: Takes place during the span of episodes 5, 6, and 7 of The Book of Boba Fett.

Perhaps many years ago this vast expanse of darkness below would have been frightening. Now though, you came with the safety that those other then yourself had your back. The fade into what you couldn’t see reminded you of the vast crevasses you had been told to avoid as a child. The elders insisting you went nowhere near where the world split, but your father whispering promises of teaching you not just how to cross but to climb. Such lessons never happened, and so for a long, lonely time you continued to go nowhere near such deep falls.

By your side however, there was more than just the promises of your long forgotten father. The pair behind you kept far away enough to watch but not listen, but one of them no doubt would not only dive off to catch you but climb up in no time. Both would, but you felt Din’s eyes trained on your back at all times. Even if he was turned to speak to Paz, never once did he not have you somewhere in his sights. Both men watching respectfully, but gave the space and distance commanded by the woman beside you.

The Armourer sat next to you at the edge of the platform, having requested she speak to you and you alone before discussing thing’s further with those of her covert. Only somewhat taller then you, she still seemed to tower over you with bulk and authority. The fur around her shoulders and helmet designed like that of horns still intimidated you as much now as it did the first time. Sitting next to her, legs crossed as your heart beat a tinge faster, you wondered if her silence was because she sensed it.

“You were a slave before meeting Din Djarin were you not?” There had been hints of amusement and closeness when speaking to her kind, but the formality of a leader returning with you only adding to the strange worry that you still didn’t belong. You stared out into the darkness as you nodded. Not wanting her to pick up on your insecurity. “And yet you haven’t returned to Werda since being freed.”

It was either curiosity in her voice or a judgment, a tone you doubt even without the modulator you would be able to ascertain. Your only memory of the place now was of that night. The cracking split in the cliff side and ship so large it looked as if it was rising out of the caverns below, there was painful silence for just a moment until it boomed and lights flew from the ships interior until there was nothing left in your young understanding but fire and screams.

There was pain in being taken from your home, your family. But where Din’s loss ended in the arms of a people who formed the brave and valiant family in place to heal. You were ripped from a home you didn’t know much about, and tossed into the hands of others with a brand that you still felt the phantom burning of on your neck.

Omega’s were rare now. Uncommon in the galaxy, and once thought to be extinct amongst Mandalorians. From an isolated childhood to a life of slavery, finally thrusting into the vast world of the very people you heard so much about as a child. You didn’t know what confused you more. Your own presentation as an omega, or the strange fascination different Mandalorians seemed to have with such a presentation.

Din knew there was nothing left of what he called home if he were to travel back, but you didn’t know what was even left behind. Swallowing harshly, you kept your jaw set and forward. “My home, they were killed that night, or they moved on in fear. Either way I would have no way of knowing where to even find them. We didn’t stay in once place if there was trouble, but I don’t even know where home was when they took me.”

A silence passed between you before she found her voice again. “Keeping in small numbers while hiding to protect those small amounts. An interesting trait for those who claimed to stray far from The Way.”

Head turning to her slightly, you felt something reach within you as if trying to shield a truth that’s wanted to make itself known for a while now. Your unsure silence spoken as a prompt for her to continue. “Omegas exist outside of Mandalorians but it was with us that their numbers prospered. A presentation once treasured but whose numbers disappeared some time before the Great Purge. Whomever was left, all but perished along with our home world and for some time none of us knew where the remainder had been taken.”

A sinking feeling in your stomach felt like a powerful weight slamming into it. The shock and surprise of the pirates who stole you from your home, and the scramble to sell you to the highest bidder.

“Until an omega was rumoured to have shown up on the slave trade after Werda was invaded. A planet many of us thought to be abandoned along with much of The Mandalore System. Hiding our own kind in plain sight.”

Were you not sitting, hands already wrung together and hidden away in your lap, the shaking may have become painfully clear. Your jaw clenched tightly as the only tone coming from your mouth was that of a whisper. You knew the truth of history, yet the disbelief of stories told as a child fought strongly with that. “No, we went to the Mandalore system after you abandoned it, because you wouldn’t look where you left behind.”

A creak of distraught peeked into your voice, but neither it or your words offended her. “Who is more likely to be telling the truth, omega. If it is the stories told to you as a child, then you wouldn’t be here right now, would you?”

Of course it was a stretch, did you truly ever believe the opposite when since day one you had trusted Din and his people more than anyone in your life before. “You said Werda was hiding your own kind, you mean-”

“Mandalorians.” Her head turned slowly to yours, her voice as sure and as absolute as ever. “Or, those born to Mandalorians. Stashed away to keep their omega’s from the very kind of Mandalorians they deemed dangerous for simply putting faith in The Way.”

You thought of that, even now. The possible truth that the Elders of your home lied of the past and destroyed access to the outside world just to keep it that way. Even now as you walked through the hanger, your mind replayed her final words to you.

“You are bonded to him,” nodding to Din, “and we are not to disrespect the bond between mates but know this, omega. His transgressions are not yours. You need not swear the Creed to have a place amongst us. An omega born to Mandalorians such as us will always be welcome here should she choose so.”

Both you and Din had far too much on your minds to even know where to start with the other, and least of all to discuss out in the open as you both were stuck travelling. There were people everywhere, and the transport ship in sight was even less viable as an option.

Little had been said since leaving the covert, but Din kept you close. A hand on your lower back or keeping you more firm at his side than normal, the spiralling whirlwind of emotions no doubt his was picking up on but also for himself.

The Armourer had given you a place with their people in the same encounter she told Din, that he had lost his. There was a path to redemption, one that neither of you knew where quite to start but the road there would not be felt likely in his heart.

Paz spitting he was an apostate, while the Armourer forced herself to stand collected and provided a redemption, but it did very little to settle the fiery conflict the deceleration put within him. You had gently slipped your hand into his, fingers wrapping together, making sure that this not a loss of everything.

Din had turned to you, back to his people as he cupped your cheek with his other hand. Just like always, you met his eyes through the blackness of a visor and he found unwavering solidarity in your togetherness. He didn’t have nothing, there was still you. For now that would be enough to prevent his mind from falling apart in just another way.

You both felt the frustration too. All of your belongings now sat either on Din’s person or in the bag wrapped across your shoulders that once held the other piece of your hearts. No home, no child, and now, Din being casted out, an apostate despite the very reason for his sacrifice being for his foundling. A part of their Creed which was supposed to be the most important thing to protect.

He understood the gravity of what he did, and regardless of how you felt about the repercussions it was still important to him to fix. Something of his identity that through meeting Mandalorians of other kinds, still was part of who he was and wanted to be. You both would fix this, but it was hard to do that in your current situation.

Especially when that situation involved a droid falling it’s alarm that only tripped after you and Din crossed it’s path. Turning back it sat amongst a security luggage port, sticking out a key card telling you to remove your weapons.

Both of you turning in place to walk towards it, Din was already agitated let alone being yelled at by a machine. “I’m a Mandalorian, weapons are part of my religion.”

Coming up beside him, you could see eyes on the large man in full armour with worry as if they weren’t regularly surrounded with far more and far worse people who didn’t have the respect and restraint that Din has. “If you wish to discuss this with my supervisor, I will gladly book you on tomorrow’s flight.”

Sharing a glance between you, a fight with an even more frustrating droid and being stuck here overnight looked even less appealing. Snatching the card from it, Din opened the secure storage, turning to you with a hand outstretched.

The small blaster wasn’t exactly the best, nor was Din really even happy that you needed one but without the Razor Crest it was a compromise. Tossing it in, he already begun moving onto his arsenal. You remembered the first time you saw the extent of weaponry he kept on his person, yet now you could almost predict what he’d reach for next without looking. Putting it all back though, was going to be a much bigger annoyance then taking it off.

Stepping to his side, Din pulled out the Darksaber. Looking completely unremarkable in it’s deactivated state, but one of the only things that connected you both to that day Grogu left. Sparing a look at the other, you raised your eyebrows with a little tilt of your head in hesitancy.

Din didn’t have a choice, but it certainly felt odd putting a weapon of such apparent importance into a security luggage some droid was going to toss into the cargo. Pulling the card out, Din pointed at the little droid. “I know everything that’s in there.”

“Proceed.”

You didn’t know why, but the light hearted tone of it’s response to a threat, made you smile. An act that had Din looking at you curiously, but in an impossible to determine way. His hand returned to your lower back as you entered the transport making your way to whatever seats they booked you in.

Gesturing you to go in first, you took the bag off your shoulders, letting it hang off the edge of the armrest next to the wall. Eyes shutting with a huff, you let your head rest back for just a moment as you felt Din move in next to you.

It was those quiet times in the cockpit of the Razor Crest that you and Din felt the most connected. A long way to travel with the peace of just the two of you interspersed with a baby wanting in on the affection. Many times Grogu would end up on Din’s lap, venture over to yours for a while and then back to Din when he wanted to sleep.

It was those moment’s you felt that bond the Armourer spoke of. Technically you and Din weren’t mated, but your souls reached for one another in instinct at all times and kept any from stealing you away. It was more quiet now though. An unspoken you always felt.

Din able to retain his alpha, knowing it would calm whatever senses your omega had the potential of putting off to much. Feeling his gaze, you opened your eyes to turn and look up at the man already watching you before a child turned in the seat in front of you.

Curious gaze looking at Din in the same childlike wonder Grogu would often do. The little wave he did and the nod Din gave the kid back pulled too much at your heart. The kid looking nothing like yours but the feeling persisted of how much he was missed.

It must have gotten stronger, because you suddenly felt a wave of calm splashing onto you from Din as he brushed your knuckle with a few fingers to catch you, voice little more then a whisper. “Cyra’ika,” You must have made Din feel more distressed then you were actively realizing. His touch moving then to brush against your cheek as he leaned in. Forehead not quite touching yours, “How long has it been since you’ve slept.”

Eyes drooping a slight as you leaned into his hands touch. “Since before the bounty?”

Smirking at how instantly Din sighed, you shrugged one shoulder. Neither of you slept well since the light cruiser. “I’m not even going to bother pointing out how many days ago that was.” Sliding his touch to under your chin, pushing you to look up at him. “You should try while we’re on here. It’ll be a bit before we get to Tatooine.”

Narrowing your eyes you grasped his hand, pulling from your chin to keep in your lap. “What about you?”

His chuckle was light enough that no one but you could have picked it up, making you pout a tad as he pulled away from your lap to slide it up behind your neck. Firmly yet soothingly holding you close to him. “I will, I promise.”

His hand pulling you to rest gently on his shoulder, knowing that you liked the coolness of the beskar on your skin lately. You had been running hotter the past few weeks, and with little chances to lay together and surround yourself with Din’s even warmer body heat, you took advantage of the beskar’s temperature.

Din waited until you were asleep to pull out the wrapped cloth. The shirt forged from the spear he used to rescue Grogu. A fitting transference if you asked him. If he squinted, Din could almost see the shape of his head and large ears in the wrappings, but it also certainly was just the loneliness without him pulling at his heart.

You had each other, but missing Grogu was something else entirely and it left a painful void. He tried to keep the subject from you, Grogu was his and their clan was made just with the two of them, but you were just as important to it. An honorary member turning it to a clan of three that you insisted wasn’t true. You always wanted to keep a distance. Fearing your attachment would come across as trying to invade on their space despite how much both parties wanted you too.

Your distress at his leaving was more evident, everything you felt lately was more intense. Screaming to the surrounding people that you were omega in distress and Din put forth everything in his power to keep you calm and safe in his arms. Even the rising level of your body heat was concerning to Din. He knew you tried to hide it, but he scanned and checked your vitals through his visor more then you knew, even before you joined him.

Finding himself scanning you to ensure you were alright and safe between visits to Navarro. It was there he noticed your former slavers brand was red inflamed. You had been working on removing it, but it was leaving a new scar on your neck at how viciously you scrubbed it away.

He bought bacta specifically for it, telling you to use it before bed and not to touch your fading brand until it was healed entirely. He protected you just like that now, even if it meant keeping both of your pains quiet. The first night you two were together was after Grogu had left, and the feeling off ripped away loss send you hurling towards a stress induced heat.

Your presentation had never quite gone back down after your heat ended. Like you were stuck on the verge of another, but kept rooted to the ground by Din’s soothing presence and the command of his alpha. He hoped seeing Grogu would be good for you, even if it would still mean leaving him once more.

You didn’t allow yourself a goodbye. Turning your gaze away to leave the moment to them alone, and from the distance he felt more torn apart inside at how raging your omega screamed. Letting what you subconsciously saw as your own kid, just be taken away after everything to rescue him.

Maybe that’s why Din was handling it just the slightest bit better, he felt Grogu’s gentle touch on his cheek and their eyes on each other until they were no longer together. You didn’t let yourself have that, and if Din wasn’t also fighting this internal struggle of what his people now saw him as? This would be easier for you to handle, but the two of you had too much stolen from you and what to show for it?

No home, no child, just a weapon that held a responsibility Din had no interest in. Tatooine wasn’t a great place, but maybe enough familiar faces to ease both your pains for even a little while.

Leaving the artificial light of the transport into the blistering suns masked by nothing but the sand below had you squinting walking off the ramp. Throwing the bag back over your shoulder you remembered the last time you were actually on this planet.

For the first time since you begun travelling with them, it was the first time anyone outside of Din had given you any kind of flirtatious attention that wasn’t dripping with a creepiness. Cobb Vanth was more chatty then you were used too, and honestly? Having a man smile charmingly at you like that almost felt as unusual as it did somewhat flustering.

Sitting around a fire, Grogu had been happily plopped down between Din’s feet to sit closer to the fire occasionally climbing gently over his boot to glance over at you, only to find you looking right back. A little game between you and him, who caught who staring first and who would be the first to look away.

One of the Tuskens had made a rather loud noise to another, breaking Grogu’s concentration and giving ample opportunity for the Marshall to whisper yours over onto him. “You know, I was wondering if I could see the resemblance, but some kids just take more after their father’s don’t they?”

A hint of a smirk formed as you turned yourself to look at him properly, your voice an inch lower. “Or maybe all those years in the sun just means you don’t see too good.” He chuckled, but it wasn’t as deep and warm as Din’s, though it was odd you’d compare.

He was quiet for a moment, watching you sip the odd liquid the Tuskens had given you all and it also didn’t feel as nice when Din quietly watched you. Though, you figured it at the least was better then the annoying feeling when it was Calican watched you. Acting as if cocky spunk would endear you to him. “The kid’s his. That much is obvious, now you got me wondering where you fit into all this exactly.”

Cobb had meant it as a genuine question. A Mandalorian shows up demanding the return of the Marshall’s bought armour, has a very small baby in toe with big ears and curious wide eyes, and you by his side. Not a bounty hunter, nor a Mandalorian, and what Cobb knew all to well was the faded mark of a slave brand on your neck healed out to almost nothing. He was interested in this strange trio that walked into his town and rallied the what he normally felt was a group of dangerous creatures together for a common goal.

To you? It felt much like then Xi’an asked you the same thing. Only she meant it with malice. A judgment upon your person that even worse, was extended to the kid. A kid that they sent their bug droid to kill just for being associated with Din. She was the first one who made you question if you belonged with these two.

Cobb didn’t mean it that way, but you felt it. And surprisingly, so did the kid in question. Grogu at some point had found himself up on Din’s lap. Little hand reaching over to you with a grumble as if upset you were too far away. The man beside you chuckled more, “Just like me as a boy, could never go too long without his mama’s attention.”

Your heart lept at the word, but quickly Din had scooted over to get your side pressed up against his. Grogu crawling half into your lap before falling over and letting out a half purr half grumble. Din’s voice was in your ear this time, and the warmth filling your veins brought calm to your memory once more. “I’d suggest you hold him a while, but I have a feeling he’d just get upset all over again.”

Hand reaching down to trail softly over his ear, you smiled. Not that you could sense it quite yet, but Din smiled at the sight just as brightly. “Maybe we spoil him too much.”

A gloved hand reached down to grasp at Grogu’s little hand, baby fingers wrapping around one of his while the remainder covered it entirely in the leather. “Spoiling was when you spent the last of your earnings on that plush instead of that drink you enjoyed.” Din had geared you towards a specific vendor one day, hoping you’d catch the sight of the man selling this strange dark blue drink you loved only to stop at Grogu cooing.

You had turned to look at him, sat happily in the bag Din kept on him and his big eyes trained on a brown frog plush, a bit on the rough side and just short of his own height. Naturally, you folded instantly.

Now though, it was just one of the very little items you had left. Din kept the metal ball on him, and you kept the plush frog in the bag once for Grogu himself. The droid at the security station was in far worse condition. Paint chipping and it’s voice box stuttering and movements lanky. It didn’t feel as welcoming as the memory you sank into just seconds before.

Headed towards the main part of town, thing’s didn’t appear to be in quite as working order as you expected. Nothing was occurring, but there was a quiet unsure feeling among the people like waiting for violence. Din, naturally, kept you pressed almost right as his side until Peli’s hanger approached.

“Where’s your unlikely companion?” As instant as you froze up in place, Din’s alpha reached out to tame the rising flames before they could spark more. The way he could command your presentation without speaking were it from anyone else, would be alarming.

“I returned him to his own kind.”

Peli’s response though, almost cracked something akin to a smirk. “Why the hell would you do that? I could have good money off that thing.”

Pushing past the dryness in your throat, you turned your head to her. “Pretty sure keeping a baby for just a petting zoo is illegal.” Her head turned to look over at you, the little glint in your eye much easier to read then the stillness of the Mandalorian few were used too.

Shaking her head with an amused smirk of her own, “It’s not illegal. Just morally dubious. Besides, those big bright eyes would have made me a killing.”

Approaching something covered in a sheet in her hanger, you and Din paused to glance at one another hesitantly. You weren’t a ship expert but something tells you she had a completely different plan then what she called you both for. “Ready to have your mind blown?”

Well, that wasn’t really the word. More confused, at least Din was more straight forward. “Where’s the Razor Crest?”

“I never said I had a Razor Crest, I said I had a replacement for the Razor Crest.” The more you looked at it, the more interested you became. The general design looked familiar but not in a way you would have seen out in the open space.

The two of them went back and forth for a bit, Din saying “This is a pile of junk.” and Peli trying to sweeten the deal with promises of modification and big game about it being a Starfighter used by some Naboo Queen. Pacing around it, you think you may have read a book with something like this in it.

Early on, you had started reading up on ships and internal ship mechanics trying to prove yourself useful to Din beyond just watching Grogu. Starfighter’s were in that text somewhere that pinged at your vauge memory. Something you actually know about in a way that’s helpful, finally.

“I’m telling you Mando, you gotta believe me. This is a classic.”

While she had inadvertently knocked a panel right off it’s loose hold, you turned to Din from where you stood by one of it’s engine thrusters. “What if we fix it first?” His head tilting, you started gesturing around it. “I mean, we’ll need to fish around for parts, but it doesn’t look salvaged, more like it’s just been stripped.”

You felt a shiver at his silence, glancing around before backtracking. “Just, I mean it’s not what we wanted, but if we can get it to work,”

Peli’s high pitched voice yelled out as she pointed to you, “That’s when, not if, missy.”

Smirking slightly, you raised your hand sin defence. “When we get it to work,” You moved back closer to Din a little unnerved at his silence. “You get to keep all your weapons on you in a Starfighter at least.”

Could you see under his helmet, you’d see the amused yet done look on his face. Peli, a scrappy friend who was the hardest person outside his clan to say no too. Then there was your hopeful look, and an understanding that you had perked up at the idea of working on the ship for the first time in weeks.

It wasn’t a permanent solution, but it was a temporary one that seemed to brighten your face. Glancing up at it, then down to you, your eyes wide and mouth slightly parted in hope. “Fixed up it’ll sell for more then we paid.”

Peli had a protest to it, but the excitement in your eyes was just the right amount for Din. Hanging your bag up on the wall, you grabbed a pair of gloves and all three of you had some work to do. Peli disappeared to start on looking for certain parts, leaving you and Din in the peaceful quiet.

Seamlessly working back and forth, interspersed with the goofy little droids that astounded you that they knew how to do anything. But they made you smile sometimes, and hey, five times out of ten, they passed you the right tool. You didn’t even know where to start on the Jawa’s, or more accurately, whatever strange arrangement she had with them.

You were behind the ship, hands deep in one of the still stripped open panels with half the wiring either missing entirely, or hooked up wrong. “I dated a Jawa once.” Your head flying up, the dead silence Din gave her contrasting Peli not even considering the oddity of what she just said. An R5 unit passing by you, bleeping and shaking from the scavengers still hovering the area.

Side eyeing it, you just shook your head muttering, “Trust me, buddy. Getting stripped for parts is the least of your worries out there.” Turning away it bumped into you slightly by accident, jostling you forward as one of the open wires sparked. Zapping at your fingertips, one hand gloveless just to have fit your hand through. Pulling back with a quiet hiss, you shook your hand and sat back on your knees.

Pressing the heel of your palm into your forehead, the warmth came now from beside you not just within you. Peeking to the side, Din kneeled by your side, his hand outstretched towards you. “Here, let me see.” Handing him the tool but he didn’t take it, just looked at you. “Not that, cyra’ika. Your hand.”

Dropping it, you hesitated for just a moment ultimately knowing Din would just yank it towards him if you refused. Palm up, he traced your fingers up and tickling the soft sensation. You shrugged not yet brave enough to look at him. “Just a zap, it’s fine.” No words, he looked you over until the image of just dirt and small, older scrapes covered it. But he didn’t give it back. Sparing a look around the room, Peli was no where. “Din.”

He himself sighed, shoulders dropping in exhaust that had you yearning for the privacy to help wring tension out of. “Sorry, I know. I just-”

What he expected out of you was not what you had either. “Maybe you should go without me.”

Helmet snapping up to you, a surge of paralyzing disbelief rushed forth into you. Trying to slip your hand back, Din in fact, yanked you right back into his touch. His heart pumping silence demanding an elaboration.

Stammering you felt far less confident in this idea then you had when it arrived as a fleeting thought. “I just mean, this means a lot to you two and I wasn’t even there from the beginning,” Din said your name in warning, and pulled you further into him just as you unconsciously fidgeted too far from his comfort. “I just shouldn’t-”

Peli’s voice rang out higher then both of yours could possibly dream of combined. “I don’t know why you’re always in such a hurry. Build me a ship, fix my blaster holes.”

Her interruption granting just enough surprise from Din to slip out of his grasp, pushing up from your thighs and walking around the ship the long way from him. “Find us a ship is different then build me one, Peli. Besides we’re the ones doing all the work.” Gesturing to the slowly standing Din.

Waving her hand at you, “All the work? Trust me, dealing with a bunch of eager Jawa’s always asking me out is hard work, believe me.” The funny thing about Peli is either she didn’t see your narrowed brows as you stared confused at her because it didn’t matter, or she did and ignored it. “You’d know what I’m talking about if you didn’t have a human sized massiff glaring down your potential suitors.”

Voice flat as ever, one hand on his hip Din just stared Peli down until she threw her hands up in bemused defeat. Not before mockingly covering her mouth and leaning into you, “All alpha’s this protective or just the Mando variety?”

There was a joke somewhere deep within you, but it was hard to get out at Din’s stare. It wasn’t something you came too lightly, but more and more you couldn’t help but feel this pull of failure that permeated every conversation or thought of Grogu. Not that you’d say it, but you somehow felt like a disworthy omega. Not even given herself the chance to say goodbye to her child and now lacking the ability to comfort the loneliness and dark pain creeping into her mate.

Or supposed mate, in this case. Kicking nothing at your feet, it became too hard to face that reality the closer the ship was to finished. That was the plan, see Grogu once the ship is acquired but maybe you didn’t deserve it. Grogu was Din’s, his foundling. Not yours. Just a tag along that accidentally fit a nice role of doting omega that now wandered the galaxy lost and without use.

Tension between you and Din was palpable. His eyes on you at all times the second they were anywhere but the ship. Yours, never met his back. Even through the visor, you found his his eyes perfectly every time. Even his covert making mention of the ease in which you spoke to them like the helmet was just who they were like your face was.

By the time the Jawa's returned, you had been crouched by a panel away from the door. Knowing both by the quick scramble of small feet and R5 shaking like the least brave droid in existence. Catching it’s attention, you inhaled and exhaled with dramatic movements. But the droid just beeped more.

Never met a droid that was such a baby before.

Din’s voice rang out through the hanger. “Where did they get a cryogenic density combustion booster?”

“Do you really wanna know?”

Sounded like a fair question, neither you or Din had found the Jawa’s holding a favourable track record of being in the ownership of things belonging to him, or Fett for that matter. A thought that sparked in your head and begun plotting itself out..

“They said they crawled under a Pyke spice runner and crimped it off while they were refueling. Gutsy little fellas.” Hands pausing mid movement, you turned your head just enough to hear her the slightest bit clearer. “Let me tell you something, Pykes do not mess around. Ever since they've been moving spice through the system, everything's gone to hell. Everyone's afraid of 'em and law enforcement won't even go near 'em.”

Eyes glazing over, you bit part of your bottom lip as you lost yourself in wonder. Things around here looked calm, but that might be in part of fear of what may come through. You’d had enough encounters both with their kind, and that of spice runners in general. Their work and cooperation with the slavers trade were synonymous with one another. Many people you had seen sold off in favour of high quality cut, but not you it seemed. No spice was worth selling an omega until an even greedier profiteer came along with a heftier offer.

Gears turned, but perhaps ones which wouldn’t make Din very happy. What did though, was how gorgeously fast the Starfighter was. You watching from a view point separate from her hanger, the machine flying through the sky with impressive skill. Peli leaving the field test over to you, saying something about cleaning up after them, either her droids or the Jawa’s who knows.

He unbeknownst to you, could hear the joy in your tone along with the smirk on your face more akin to proud them smug. “How’s the handling?”

“A little bumpy,” the slight echos of control switches flipping on his end, “let me open her up.”

The speed catching attention of those on the street’s below, you felt something shiver down your spine without recognizing it. Nor that your tone felt much raspier to his deeper one. “Controls are more sensitive then a Razor Crest, going to have to ease me into this one.”

It didn’t translate through both the communicator, or the modulator on his helmet but there was a shift in his seat and a grunt along with a more boiling point of his blood before he spoke. “I’ll be gentle. Don’t you worry mesh’la.”

Face flushing, he called for you again. “Talk to me, sweet girl tell me how I’m doing.”

If he was doing this on purpose that was unfair. You squirmed in your seat along with a tightness in your chest that felt more thrilling than was appropriate for being alone in a friends control bay. Swallowing your tone down, you shook your head. “Manoeuvrability looks good, take it through Beggar’s Canyon so I can see the navigational stats.”

Still learning how to read navigational equipment outside of the Razor Crest, you squinted as you watched it coming through, putting together the pieces in your head. “That’s better, you look good out there.”

“Says the pretty girl giving me orders.” The deepness he spoke in was intentional, it had to be. There was a silence in your bones as he chuckled. The communicator making it feel deep in your chest. “There we go, nice and tight.”

You barley registered what he was actually doing on the Starfighter, the communicator holding tight in your grip. “What’s an omega got to do to get an alpha to talk to her that way?”

Oh Din could dish it, but he could not handle hearing it back right in his ear like that. He groaned shamelessly, coming at you like a warning. “Mesh’la..”

Pushing up from the chair, you braced a palm on an empty space of the control board, far too warm for your own good. “No, please I understand. She’s sleek and gorgeous, I’ll give you space.” Din muttered something in Mando’a that you didn’t know. “I’ll meet you back down there, okay? Treat her gentle.” A quick glance back up to where nothing was visible anymore, you sighed out clicking it off.

The trek down to the outside wiping away the fluster in your heart, glad this was working out at least in the meantime. Looking around you saw the hanger closed up oddly enough. Hopping down the final step, you closed the door behind you looking over at the woman with her hands on her hips looking up much like you had chasing a ship too fast to spot.

“Peli?”

You jumped back as she did, her hand on her heart as she walked over to you. “Maker, you think that man gets himself into enough trouble, now he’s got people stopping by here looking for him.” A breathless rant you stepped closer to her, hands up almost trying to bring the manic down a tinge.

“I was gone for less than ten minutes, what happened?” Watching her shake her head, she dramatically inhaled and let it all back out before nodding to the closed doors.

“Someone came looking for him, both of you. No idea how they knew either of you were in my business but I locked ‘em up in the hanger. Figured Mando’s more equipped for that than you or me.”

Glancing over, you watched the closed doors for a moment with narrowed eyes until you heard the sleek sounds of the Starfighter back in atmosphere. You and Peli backing up to give him space, it landed like nothing. Peeking inside, Din made it look easy enough but you had a distinct feeling getting used to this one wouldn’t be as easy as before.

The Razor Crest was a gunship, but more forgiving to pilot. Peli meeting him with amusement in her own voice. “How was it?”

Din glanced at the pair of you, making Peli cheer to herself as you grinned. “Wizard.” He climbed out of the seat as you walked over, leaning on the side to look over days worth of work. His tall frame loomed over you, were he not in public you’d have felt his hand tilt your chin up to look at him. Instead he stood as close as he could get away with, a strong scent of his inner alpha radiating your senses.

Your eyes a little dumbfounded at how strong he smelt and how small it made you feel, in a way you wanted more of. “I know it’s not what we wanted, but it’s something, right?” Before he could respond, Peli came back over.

“Oh, someone claiming to be a friend of you two dropped by.” Holding her hands out, she switched her tone. “Don't worry. I told her I didn't know where you were. Then I locked her in and engaged the hangar security system.”

“She tell you her name?”

Before anyone said another word, they did for you. “Fennec Shand.” Spinning around, you saw her sitting up on a tricky hanger ledge with a smirk. Hopping down each one, you felt a real grin forming as you and Din met her halfway. “By any chance you looking for work? The pay is good.”

You could feel even just still beside him, Din’s hovering presence the second anything switched to business. Especially lately. “What’s the bounty?” Being tossed the pay, neither of you even glanced at it’s contents.

Fennec shook her head, “No bounty, we need muscle.”

Now the dots made sense. The Pykes, the strange aura of the city streets. Boba Fett challenged the leadership in a different kind of way, no doubt such a name and conquered title would set forth an a new challenger to test it. “Fett’s after the Pykes?”

Her sharp gaze nodding at you, “Encroaching on his territory. He sure would appreciate it.”

Neither you or Din had to even look at one another to feel your answers. It wasn’t often Din was shown fair and unselfish loyalty and neither he or Fennec needed to help you when going after Moff Gideon. But they did, and you felt that connecting chain tighten in agreement between you and Din. Tossing the pay back, he was absolute. “Tell him it’s on the house. But first,”

If he felt that strength of understanding between you go slack, he said nothing until the three of you parted ways. The walk back to the hanger where your stuff hung was painfully quiet and he didn’t deserve this strange silence over something he likely wanted you to look forward too.

But if Din was straight forward with you, so would you be in return. “Din, I’m not going.”

He stopped right in his step, turning back to you almost as fast as the very ship you watched sail in the sky. His tall frame hiding the brightness of the sun but leaving your shadows feeling intimidated. “Oh I hear you the first time. What the hell do you mean you’re not going?”

You opened your mouth to speak but nothing came from it as people passed by in the area. Din noting the same, pulled you to the side of the building all but crowding you against it. Trying to pull himself down, his tone turned sweet but you were faster to get it all out. “I don’t think it’s a good idea for me to go with you. To see Grogu.” Your throat closed up, and your hands trembled at your sides.

Din slightly leaned back, his voice in quiet disbelief. “Mesh’la why would you-”

Crossing your arms across your chest you shook your head. Sinking in on yourself as the wall served as something of a backrest. “He’s your foundling. Not- not mine. You were the one he said goodbye to, I just don’t think I should be there. It’s..between you two.”

No longer caring of the sight, Din finally captured your chin in his fingers. “Why would you think that?”

Truthfully you didn’t quite know. Something inside your chest clawed at you and it bled into your lungs until the air felt too strained to breathe. Your arms hung uselessly at your side wishing that you could just hide in his chest like you could before. “I- The Armourer called you a clan of two. Not three. And I guess...I just think there are things you two should do just with each other, without me tagging along.”

His head leaned into yours, voice tighter then normal as his grip did the same. “You are not just tagging along. You belong with me. With us, you’re apart of our clan.”

But were you? That first night, those first few days once Grogu was gone. You and Din spent that time together and isolated, your heat had sped into you full force and it’s strength sent his own rut slipping over the edge. So much of those few days you spent in the others bare arms. Blindfolded you felt every touch of his lips, the hot air from his breathe as you freely raked through the lush hair and scratching ones on his face.

Then the days were over, and the reality of having no home and no child felt painful. You clung to the other like never before, and it had been weeks of almost never leaving the other’s side. Perhaps a number of hours for Din to nab a bounty, but that’s it. It was just the darkness and wandering pain of you both unable to find the lives you lost and just maybe you only had that bond because he lost his other.

You weren’t even mated. You were just an omega who followed him around the galaxy, it was Grogu, his very foundling that was the love of his life. A truth you never questioned but maybe it was a role that you shouldn’t intrude on. Maybe your place was just this. An outlet for an alpha who was desperate to not lose everything. So you were a body to keep safe.

You wanted to shake, cry, plead your sorrows, but none came. Just a far off stare, watering in your eyes that were his helmet reflective you’d be forced to stare back at yourself and not the blackness. “You’re a Mandalorian, and he’s your foundling. Just because I’m an omega doesn’t mean I’m one of you.”

Hands drifting up you traced over the Mudhorn on his shoulder. That’s where their clan was created, it wasn’t the day he went back for him on Navarro and took on a stray. “It doesn’t feel right.”

Capturing your hand in his, Din stared intently struggling to find any kind of word, and even worse, unable to reach your omega. You pushed him out, just to keep him from convincing you. Something you hadn’t done in a long time. “He’ll want to see you.”

Shrugging, you faked what was likely a not very well executed expression of casualness. “He misses you more then me. He always does.”

For a moment the both of you just stood in the streets of Mos Eisley, your hand caught in his as you stared the other down until Din broke. Leaning further, he closed the gap. Pulling you in by the back of your neck and resting your forehead against his. A shaky exhale just audible through his modulator and your own shaky one not helped as he held your connected hands over his chest plate to his heart. “This conversation isn’t over, mesh’la.”

Nodding together, you basked in his warmth as much as you could, trying to steel the spiralling inside of you that screamed of failure. Finally nudging him lightly, you smiled up at him. “Go give the kid his shirt, you went through enough as it is to get it forged.”

Just another list of things you and Din would have to figure out at some point. His covert. It took more then another few minutes to convince Din to leave without you. Everything deep within being an alpha saying leaving you behind like this was a bad idea. Even if you’d be perfectly safe, he refused to accept that this was you feeling perfectly normal.

Finally returning to the Starfighter, you wrapped the bag around your shoulders once again. “You contact me if anything goes wrong.” Stopping you in place Din tilted your head up again. “I mean it, Cyra’ika. If the Pykes are as big of a problem as Peli said, I don’t want you wandering the streets alone when I’m not here.”

Nodding, you secured the communicator on you visible for him to see. “It’ll be fine, Din. You’ve taught me well.”

Shoulders dropping, he sighed deeply. Something muttered in Mando’a you couldn’t translate leaving his mouth as only a sliver of his alpha was allowed to seek out your comfort. His gloved hand stroked the side of your cheek before turning to hop into the pilot’s seat. Stepping back he called you before closing the top. “Tell Fett to behave himself around you until I get back.”

Your head jolted back for a second, confused, “What?”

If there was a smirk on his face, you heard it loud and clear. “Just until I get back, Cyra’ika.” There was little fanfare watching him take off, mostly because the Starfighter just moved at astounding speeds. It would be interesting to see what she’ll feel like with the new hyper drive.

Tucking everything against your chest securely, you took more than a few minutes getting yourself confident enough to make the trip there. A combination of the last time you were there, it was still the days a brand sat plastered on your neck with the world muted heavily on suppressants. Also, it was the first time on a speeder bike in the drivers seat, without Din also there hands on your waist and gentle words encouraging you.

But you were under Din’s instructions, and in terms of his protectiveness towards you, his rules were followed and you trusted them whole heartedly. So your insecurity had to be shoved down for at least a number of hours.

At least there was significantly less risk going by yourself to what was formerly known as Jabba’s Palace this time around, all on your own. The sands of Tatooine were bright and lifeless, not much to watch your back in the kind of way ones may have in the past.

Sat high on a ragged cliff were the highest of the towers stemming up from the hidden depths of the building below. The main entrance was just as foreboding as memory told, large and fortified to the degree you wondered if it was built such a way for posturing rather than practicality.

Wincing as you climbed off the bike, you yanked off the old dusted helmet tossing it onto the seat as you walked up. Unsure where to even place your eyes, you debated heading around the long way for where you knew a hanger was. Just as your feet turned in place, a metal slot opened shooting out an extended arm with a circular eye glowing red at the end.

Looking you up and down, the gatekeeper droid seemed to be scanning for weapons. Slowly, you let it watch your hand reach for the blaster at your side, holding it up by the ends away from the trigger as it considered you for a moment. Telling it your name you kept your other hand up for the droid to keep it’s eye on. “I’m here to see Boba Fett. I have business with him and Fennec Shand.”

In an instant, the droid flew back inside and the slot slammed shut leaving you in the bright sand. A second passed as you considered what to do, when the large doors slowly rose open. Just high enough for you to walk safely under there was a Gamorrean there watching you. Jumping back you were about to bend to put the blaster down, when he barked something at you and gestured you down the vast empty corridor.

Raising your eyebrows, you slowly brought the blaster towards your side watching the guard do nothing to stop you. Either you were already deemed welcome, or just looking at you the guard could tell you weren’t any kind of a threat to anyone inside here.

Sheathing it, you slowly begun walking down the hall as the dim light faded along with the door lowering closed once more. The corridor itself was large, so much so that even a crowd of Hutt’s could fit themselves in no problem. Your boots barley making a sound as you walked through, trying to recall through the fog.

Following in a line should lead you to twist that narrowed down to a stairwell surrounded by blocking rocks carved around them. The activity was silent and not bustling with life as was the time you had been here. Dragged through the crowds with a chain around your wrist to keep your slaver from losing you to the wandering eyes. Not that you noticed.

Many of your slave owners in that time kept you completely dosed. Sensing that your presentation would stir up whatever alpha’s were in the vicinity they kept you on heat suppressants for years to keep them from ever happening, which in turn, helped keep your scent dulled to that of a mild sweet scent that only the most keen of alphas may not have been able to pick up on.

The blockers were the worst though. You couldn’t get distracted either, any incidents and you might become damaged property and what good is an omega to sell if she isn’t in pure condition. So you were muted from the world as it was to you. A dreary and fog filled mind that made the beings around you barley feel like human. The effects were worse depending on who was giving them to you, and being dragged to Jabba’s palace, you were effectively a walking sedation.

The unaware confusion and bumps were replaced with the clarity that there was little but silence until you reached the turn leading to the main room. Slowly what sounded like faint talking, rose up to defiance and yelling. Pressing yourself against the wall, your heart sped up in your chest. The one voice was enraged, but the other was deep and scarring with absolutes. “Whatever arrangement you had with Fortuna, ended with him.”

You could hear Boba Fett further in the room, just enough solace to have you slink a number of steps along the wall before your toes reached the top of the steps. “I made a deal with Jabba, not him. But at least he had the honour to uphold that deal unlike you.”

Peeking around the wall, you could see not much except for the shadow of a tall, lean figure that even in posture was clearly irate. Fett through his modulator was without question, the power and deepness rippled through your veins in a way only one other had done so. His voice speaking to whomever was there. “If I were anything like my predecessors, you would have been in the stomach of a rancor already for this disrespect. If you want to be treated with the same respect, earn it. Otherwise you stay at the bottom like all the others who’ve tried me.”

Biting your lip in surprise, the other party begun taking the steps up. Slowly the red tinted scales matched the steam he no doubt wished was coming out of his ears. Kneeling down, you could see with each word he was being told, the snarl on his twisting face morphed. Hand at his own side twitching until he made it only a third of the way up.

Body stopping in place, he turned back to the main room, hand now touching the blaster at his side. A silent exhale through your nose, you very slowly took your feet down. Back pressed against the wall and each foot step slow as you matched the position towards your own weapon as your heart pounded out of your chest.

The slimy rage coated your ears unpleasantly as you came close behind him. “Maybe this little war of yours will teach you what happens when you turn your back on your allies, Fett.” You barley felt your lungs even work, pulling your blaster out the same painfully slow speed that he was. Your eyes wide and hands trying not to shake, you took one final step behind his back. “Or I could just do it for them.”

His hand rose up, blaster ready to fire until you rung the shot out firstt. The force jolting you back slightly, but there now was a burning hole in the Elomin’s chest. Blaster dropping from his hand to the ground, you lowered your aim. Coming up behind him, you breathed deeply before rising your boot up to kick him over out of your way.

Him slumping over to the ground, you took the final steps down before kicking the blaster away from his still hand. Stepping over his feet, you looked up as you put your own back to see the throne room empty save for the one figure.

Standing partway up the steps, Boba Fett stood clearly having just turned around to fire only to have seen the man slump over before. Lowering his own, your exhale was much calmer this time around as he tilted his head at you. Down a smaller corridor closer to him, Fennec appeared with her own weapon out, but with narrowed eyes dropped it just as fast at the sight.

Her disposition changing as her eyes dragged up to you, now moving with a lighter bounce towards Boba whose stance relaxed back. “Thought you’d get here when Mando’s back.”

Sighing out, you walked further into the room. Boots making a notable clunk as you walked along the gated doors cemented in the floor. Head turning to glance down but nothing was visible to the naked eye. “Should I leave and come back?”

Boba chuckled, watching your curiosity with that of his own. “Nonsense. This place could use an omega, dim enough around here as it is.”

Looking back up, Boba stood on the lower level closer to you while Fennec perched herself casually on the arm of the throne. “Good to know I’m still a useful piece of decoration after all this time.” Behind you the steps of the Gamorrean filed down as he barked more into the air.

Boba only nodding once to the body at it’s feet. “Get rid of that.” Like nothing at all, you remembered why many crime lords used them as guards. Pulling the Elomin away like it weighed nothing. Turning back to him, you almost jumped at how close he was.

Both he and Din were far too silent for two fully armoured men of their sizes. “He said it would be safer here then back in the city.” Watching you, it was hard to assess where he stood with you. At this point you could read Din’s slight shifts as good as full sentences, but Boba Fett was still a mystery. One sending shivers down at the black visors cold stare that only intimidated you in such an enticing way back working behind the cantina bar in Navarro.

But Boba, if you could guess anything, seemed to enjoy making you squirm under his stare. Keeping it up in pure quiet unlike Din’s change of smooth causality to relax you. “Unless-”

“He’s right. No safer place then with us, little one.”

Eyes flickering to Fennec who watched you with a playful curiosity of her own. Strange as it was, you sort of missed her teasing yet sharp and unquestioning aura. Nodding, you readjusted your bag, if just out of fidgeting nerves. “Okay, so, uhm, what now?”

Veins flowing with something that burned the way he stared at you, a feeling that wasn’t determined in your strange state. Broken only by Fennec coming up behind him unphased. “How about a tour?”

Raising your eyebrows, you failed to hold back a smile. “That in your new job description?” In an exaggerated flourish with a deadpan stare she gestured you down the corridor she had come in through. Taking a second to speak quietly with Boba once you moved out of their range. Glancing around, not much had changed it seemed but it was a large room now that you stood in it so freely.

Turning for just a second as she caught up with you, you caught his eye. Helmet turned a fraction to the side right at you, there was a wave shivering through your chest that had you swallowing nervously. A moment lasting only seconds before you let Fennec give you the run down of this place.

By evening, the city was ramping up just as the suns disappeared and a calming night washed over the empty dunes. Despite such a high up point, the sight of the planets lands below in the dim early evening light did no such comfort, but not quite for the events to surely follow.

Hearing the sound of armour, you perked up just as fast as you then deflated. It was of no offence to Boba, but he held a different kind of scent then Din. Just as strong, and strangely alluring but his alpha felt cooling and in control, whereas Din’s was warm and overwhelming. Your fingers twitched on the edge of the balcony as you returned to the skies.

Foolish to think he would just arrive as you seeked him out. You were the one who didn’t go with him, you had no right to miss him. For a second, the hiss of a helmet being removed startled you alert and straight. Coming down only at Boba’s light chuckle. “Didn’t think I looked that bad.”

His voice bare sounded less scratching, more like a scarred rasp that you wondered if it was a result of the same events that left the physical ones on his face. Eyes flickering over as he came to stand next to you, you gave half a smile for as long as your energy could muster it. “Sorry. Should be used to it by now.”

Shaking his head dismissively, his own gloved hands mimicked your position. “Nothing to be sorry for, little one. There’s few people who see me without it, but you’re welcome to be one of them.”

It should feel like an honour, but your heart had little room. Leaning down to rest your forearms on the edge, your legs leaned back by the knee to accomodate stretching your back for a second before relaxing into the stance. There was no uncomfortable feeling in the quiet between you, but something seemed to be picking at your brain. “Your father was a foundling, right?”

Out of your peripheral vision you could see him turn slightly to you and nod. Biting your lip for a second before continuing. “If he was a foundling, that would make you one as well. Since he raised you.”

“Is there a question in there?”

You inhaled your nerves, and blew none back out. “Why would Bo Katan say you aren’t a Mandalorian then? I mean,” Your hands moved to dig at the others nails mindlessly. “On top of everything else she said.”

Suspecting he knew you were going prying for information in a much more roundabout way, you were still glad he played along. “Kyrze believes in blood supremacy. She was born to a powerful family thus she feels power belongs in her hands by birthright. Outsiders brought in are looked at as less then.” He noted the still somewhat confused narrowing look in your eyes. “I share the exact dna of thousands upon thousands of other clones. To her, my blood is as far as worthy it could get.”

To even your surprise you jumped in before he could even finish his sentence. “But it’s not about who you’re born to, it shouldn’t matter if you’re a clone. D- Mando’s a foundling, a lot of people in his covert are foundlings they’re supposed to be treasured.”

“Like omega’s are supposed to be.”

Whipping around to look wide eyed at him, only to fall flat at the teasing glint in his eye. Shoulders deflating as you turned back to the view a shake of your head. Boba rested one palm on the railing as he turned towards you, mind putting your pieces together. “How about you tell me what’s really bothering you, and I can stop guessing the wrong answers.”

A shake trembled in your neck and slid further down into your muscles. The trains of thought in your mind pathing you from grievance to grievance wondering what it was it all stemmed from and truly there was only one answer. The same answer you tried avoiding with everyone.

Boba’s own stare weakening your resolve, forcing you to once again look back into the night for a ship that still wouldn’t come. Breathing deep for a moment before the racing of your heart got out of control. “Everyone talks about my presentation like it means something. Looking at where I’m from and telling me that they lied about where we came from or who we were when I already know that. I knew my family lied the second I was taken off world and the planets and people were nothing like the vicious monsters they made you all out to be. I thought, maybe if I could get out of this one day, finally be free to do as I please, I’d be my own person again.”

Jaw set, you dug your nails into the harsh railing of the balcony. “But I’m still just an omega. I’m important, I’m uncommon, I belong to these people, no I belong with the people my mother was apart of, I’m supposed to be treasured as a rare commodity to Mandalorians but all I’ve done is get passed around from group to group solely beacuse of a presentation I can’t control. I’m seen as an omega, and so everyone thinks their the ones entitled to have me. Except...”

Boba seemed to stand closer to your side now, his voice quieter but deeper as it hit your ear. “Except for Djarin.” Without committing in whole, you glanced only for a fraction to the man beside you but said nothing. “He wondered why you never asked him about you or your kind, when clearly he knew.”

Saying nothing to answer the question he posed, it was obvious he wanted you to fill in the blanks for yourself. It was easy to strip away the barriers and see what was always there. “Because I went to him, not the other way around.”

“To the others, you are a commodity. Who gets the omega, those her kind were stolen from or people like Kryze’s kind who wanted you out of the way in the first place.” You never did like the suspicious way Bo Katan looked at you, but Din was always there to keep you firmly at his side. "In a way you are right. There probably aren’t many people who see you as anything more then an Omega. But the ones that want you for more then that are already here. Or, in spirit.”

His head gesturing to the night sky. Two people he meant in that case. So many people obsessed with what you were, and where you belonged or didn’t belong. Something you slowly came to realize, was a common threat amongst both Din and Boba as well. An apostate and an outcast, both alongside an omega who had no idea what her place in the galaxy was outside them.

“What about you?” Turning your head enough to see him meet your eyes, a knowing deepness in them which you didn’t even catch in yourself. Not sure what it was you truly were asking. “You were asking me-”

“The polite thing to do when getting to know someone is to ask questions.” Pausing, you squinted at him in slight confusion until the smirk forming on his own face made yours fall flat. “I’m interested in where you came from, because I find you interesting. Just as Djarin does.”

Taking a step towards you, you straightened up as your lungs tightened in something feeling like a strange set of nerves, not quite stemming from intimidation. Before he found himself intimately close in your space, you found your habits slipping back. “I’m sorry. For dumping all of this on you. I just, I’m not used to being away from Mando without even having the kid, everything just feels weird.”

Those very nerves turned into shivers flowing through your veins as Boba tilted your chin up to look him in the eye. “Nothing to apologize for, little one. You’re confused and upset,” the knuckles under your chin traced up so his thumb and brushed over your cheek, then down very gently across your bottom lip.

You had never seen the exact look glazing over Boba’s eye in Din, but the feeling it gave you was all too familiar. The interested pull of an alpha calling to you. “Boba?” He hummed in response, “Is there a reason Mando wanted me to tell you to behave?”

Oh the chuckle which emerged deep within his chest pulled your soul even closer in ways you once felt purposely from Din. “He sends me his pretty, little omega to protect. One who defends my honour, and opens up about what’s hurting her? I can’t imagine why he’d want me to behave myself around that.”

His thumb pulled slightly at your bottom lip before sliding off of you entirely. Turning away to pick his helmet up, “You should sleep. Fennec will want to train you more in the morning while we have the time. Once Djarin arrives, I suspect thing’s are going to escalate rather quickly.”

He almost reached the door by the time you called out for him, his face still just as warm as it was listening to you throw up whatever troubles brewed in your head. “Will be be mad at me? For not going with him to see Grogu?”

Expression not changing, the quiet tenderness spoke out in his tone. “I don’t think there’s anything you could do to make him feel that way. Not with the way he speaks about you to me at least.”

Your lips parted slightly, but he gave nothing else. Leaving the room and thrusting you back into the quiet solace of the dark windy balcony. Your brain stuck in a whirlwind.

Sick to the stomach of feeling as if you have failed your duties as an omega to protect and support your family, but twisted over what the world wanted from you as the very same presentation. Boba’s warmth wasn’t quite the same, it would never quell the yearning to see Din again.

But it did bring you a comfort that no one outside that little clan of two had ever provided before. If you were lost in your place in this world, maybe it meant something that the connection you felt with both men, also had their own turmoil of where and how to belong amongst their people as well.

As it turned out, he was painfully right. Factions gathered, and the Pykes moved in quickly. Whatever negotiations their enforcer Cad Bane had assumed would take place were refused and the violence followed suit leaving little people left on your side. It was a mess, and left you feeling terribly out of your depth.

Making it worse, you had no idea what happened on Din’s journey. Everything moved too fast and neither of you had time to talk. Just a questioning hopeful look from you, and a stilted head shake of no from Din and a sorrow sat upon his shoulders as danger loomed closer.

Fighting ensued, and you were grateful that Fennec was a relentless mentor. Pushing you enough in the day and morning prior, building a trust that you could and would follow her lead out on the streets enough to handle yourself when she needed it. Her focus kept you focused.

She was skilled on the sidelines, left better out the line of fire as a silent take down. A trait in which she recognized was suitable in you, even if by both your admissions, you were nothing close to a fighter. But in war, being a lesser suited follower was fine by you.

Impossible to say how long the confrontation lasted, but the silence in the streets felt as if it was a sound you hadn’t heard in years. Leaning up against a wall, you shrugged part of your upper arm from the top of your shirt. Fennec coming to crouch at your side as you poured a bit of water of a burn striked through your skin from the dirt and sand kicked up into it. Wincing at the stinging, you glanced up to her and back. “Pretty sure only have a graze is a miracle if you ask me.”

A slight smile on her face, Fennec reached forward to pull your shirt down better, gently taking the container to do it at an easier angle. “You did better then you think. Just because fighting isn’t your thing doesn’t mean your bad at it. You have a good teacher.”

Smirking through the final wince as she dragged the fabric backup, “Yeah, I’ll be sure to pass the message onto Mando.”

Briefly considering helping you up gently, Fennec resorted to just tossing the container onto your lap and standing up alone. “You always get bratty when you’re injured?”

Throwing your head back in a laugh, you pushed yourself up with palms pressing against the wall behind you. “Maybe next time you should teach me how to do more then mouth off.” Sharing a laugh, she led you to where the others were gathered in all likelihood.

From a distance, you could see a rancor, flopped down on it’s side breathing heavily in sleep visible from where you were. But the image became clearer as you approached.

In the stories of the old world your father told you, they were always grand. Powerful vivid images painting in your head from the words spun of drama and theatrics. Reunions one of those stories always told in whimsy. But there was none to be found here, not in your confused, torn heart.

He was small, and cuddled next to the rancor on his side, but Grogu’s little green figure was easy to spot from miles away. Stopping mid step, the sights in front of you didn’t quite catch up to your brain. How was he here, Din hadn’t come back with him not by the weightful dread on his shoulders.

Peli was also here. For some reason. Talking to the one from the meeting that you couldn’t quite tell was annoying or just a bit of a coward. The sight was unusual, but you could see the silver shining off Din’s beskar as he slowly approached the slumbering pair. Steps careful around the large creature, before kneeling down.

His hand gently running over Grogu’s side who shifted closer into his touch. Din scooping him up in his arm to let him sleep soundly. None of them had seen you yet, and maybe you didn’t want them too. A fleeting thought that stabbed another dagger into your omega’s heart and told your conscious self that you weren’t worthy of that soft, gentle love they gave each other.

Din’s attention was solely on the kid, cradling him up to watch him as he ran his hand over what he could get. Before you could rationalize it, you took a step back. No plan, what or where to go, but intruding on it felt wrong now. You didn’t go to see him int he first place. Why would you deserve to be apart of this reunion?

Heart screaming to go see both of them, let yourself hold the one your soul treated as your own and the man who gave you a love once never known before. Your eyes stung like the burn on your upper arm, and before the tears could so obviously overtake you, you let them have this together.

There was no plan in your head, just the need to get back to the palace where your stuff was and hoping reason and logic would kick in by that point. Instead all you got was more of a memory that made it feel worse. The terror of Din telling you to take the child and leave him. That he needed you, and staying here to help was futile. You could still feel the desperate way Grogu clung to you as you carried him from the room, both of you leaning into the other. Grogu’s scared and exhausted head burrowed into your front, as you looked at IG-11.

Pleading in your gaze to fix things, you and Grogu might be able to do this together but neither wanted to do it without Din. The binding that kept you three whole. Only the memory didn’t serve as some great analogy like your father tied into his tales.

Din and Grogu started without out, they didn’t need you. Everyone offered someplace for you to go, a purpose to serve but the only one you wanted didn’t feel as if you were worthy. You failed as an omega to Grogu, and a fierce alpha such a Din would surely admonish you it. If you thought the palace was quiet before, it was even moreso now.

The biggest threat to his rule this far was taken care of, so hopefully this silence would turn peaceful not stay eeiry as it was now. The bag was tossed onto whatever bed you found yourself falling into the night before. Chucking your blaster beside it, you dragged your feet over. The first thing you saw though, was that silly little frog you kept for him.

It was stupid. Din gave him what he needed, and more then plenty of what he wanted. The pieces of why Grogu found his way back to Din unknown, but you didn’t see yourself in that future. Slowly picking it up you could still see the way the kid clung it to his chest, making a content little cooing noise only to immediately get upset when you tried to get up and leave him be. How normal it was for the kid to switch between cuddling with Din and cuddling with you, and the excitement on his face when he wanted you to watch him about to do something particularly silly, usually to Din.

Nothing had felt right since your heat had ended. Where you and Din stood was unknown, he was closer and protective of you, his touch similar to that of one bonded to you, and yet you were ummated. Just a companion who filled a painful emotional void once his son was gone, and now that they were together you failed to picture that dynamic going anywhere.

He didn’t need to look for the Jedi now, he had enough of a ship to start making his way across the galaxy in his own quest for atonement and so your usefulness had worn out. Maybe you’d stay here if you could convince Boba you could find some way to be useful at all.

No plan was made still. You had no idea that you even had passed out. The strenuous events of the day, the emotional turmoil of the past weeks and the fear you were no longer wanted had piled too high on the very little sleep you managed to get.

Totally unaware of your surroundings, you weren’t at all aware of the voices in the room or the weight on the bed that joined you. In fact, such presence was only realized, when the weight on the bed seemed to jump, and land at your side with a high pitched coo. Sound increasing in distress until it was at your face and snuggled right up beside your head.

Once your eyes fluttered open, big black ones wasted no time in realizing it. Grogu say on his side in front of you, one ear flopped out while the other sat low on his face as he reached out to you. Little hand brushing your cheek before a stubborn little noise flew from his mouth and he jumped almost with no effort right into your neck that managed to push you back.

“Easy, Grogu.” He almost whined defiantly at the voice behind him, as he held onto you much like that very day. Following you sitting up so your back was against the wall, he started looking between you and the voice, dawning on you it belonged to Din.

Head whipping over, Din stood by the wall underneath a window. Boba a few feet away, amused at the kid’s antics. Before you could even ask, Din stepped over, sitting down to face you on the opposite side of the bed. Bag and blaster now sat neatly on a surface opposite the bed. “I wasn’t allowed to see him when I got there, saying it was bad for his training for me to be there.”

Instantly, your brows narrowed, but Boba interrupted right as you opened your mouth. “The real enemy to the Jedi. A loving family.” Your sleep riddled brain couldn’t decipher the double meaning in his tone, but you remembered Ahsoka telling you she couldn’t train Grogu because of how attached he was. That Din was a father to him and that somehow would get in the way.

“Fett.” Boba raised his hands in surrender at his tone. Din turning back, watching Grogu turn his head, still wanting you to hold him but watching Din with bright affection. “I asked them to give him the shirt, and left. He was right there,” Din’s hand reached out, stroking one of the kid’s long ears making him purr into your chest. “But he came back anyways. He returned to us, of his own accord.”

The hand on Grogu slipped up to trace over your cheek. “I thought if you could see him, maybe it would make you feel better, but maybe it was better you didn’t come. If I could barley handle it, not sure tearing an omega away from her own foundling a second time would do you any good.”

It should have clicked that it was unusual Din was having this conversation with you, a third party in the same room. But clicking the gears in your head into place, Boba mentioned both of them had talked about you. To what extent the back of your brain was asking.

Looking at the space between you on the sheets, just a whisper was summoned. “After everything, I didn’t think it was fair to be just as lost as you, me being upset didn’t matter as long as you were more lost.”

Boba’s presence was felt behind you now, giving your trio space but never quite enough keep away, which was fine with you. Din leaned in, pulling the back of your neck to keep you close, resting his forehead against yours. Chuckling as Grogu leaned in, gently leaning in the middle, and leaving your touch enough to rest a hand against the side of his helmet. “Our kind belongs together, mesh’la. Not just our presentations, but us. We’re in this together. Got it?”

Biting your tongue, you forced a choking feeling back down your throat for another time. Your hand moving to cover the little one of Grogu’s on Din’s helmet and briefly, Din covered both of yours with his free one. The serene moment ruined, by Grogu letting out a yawning whine as he dropped in both your touches.

Pulling back, you let Din pick him up. “Alright. Back to sleep, kid.” Seemingly only going into a small room attached to this one, Din chuckling at a little sound Grogu made in his arms. “I know, well this is what happens when you play with a creature eight times your size.”

Pulling your knees up to rest your forearms over, you watched Boba with a curious look. If he was here not just now, but this whole time, the two Mandalorians must have something up their sleeve and Maker knows you have no idea what they had put together. “Is there...something feels off here.”

His eyebrows raised in a mocking way that didn’t quite match the play in his eyes. “Only if you want it to be.” The deepness in his tone rippling through you in a way annoyingly like Dins. “It’s all up to you.”

The sound of a door sliding shut had you looking up to Din, now leaning against the door with his thumb looped through part of his utility belt and the other resting his forearm up on the door frame. A sight that was so simple, yet heated your blood noticeably. “Am I missing something?”

Din stepped towards you, a hand reaching out for you to take. Letting him pull you up gently, he stood tall in front of you. “I’ve been trying to think of a way to get you out of your head. You’ve been on edge since your heat, and I hate watching you this way.”

Fingers gently reaching to brush against the cool metal of his chest plate, you shook your head indignantly. “D- Mando,”

“You can say my name, sweet girl.” You had no idea what was going on here, but you were being pulled so close to the warmth of in’s alpha, but also, part of you in another direction. A pull that Din would be able to sense, and yet, was allowing.

Swallowing, you didn’t realize Boba stepped closer towards you. “Din, I’ve been trying to be there for you, you don’t need to do anything.”

“Except he does.” Turning your body partially, you felt Din’s hands fly firmly onto your waist in no time and turned you to press your back against his chest fully. Boba only a few feet away, keeping a respectable distance unbecoming of the darker look in his tone and voice to boot. “An alpha can’t ignore their omega in distress, your pain becomes his. And best be sure you’ve consumed Djarin, little one.”

Din’s hands tightened with his voice closer to your ear. “Not just me.”

Your Mandalorian behind you, and Boba a step closer looming over you. “What are you-”

Din’s hands trailed up, sliding just under your shirt to squeeze slightly at the plush skin he found underneath. “You say no, and this all stops.” Apparently Din expected a response, tightening his grip as he spoke sharper. “Okay?”

Nodding fervently at his tone, it made your head spin. “Okay.”

Pulling you closer into his chest, Din’s rasp even behind the modulator continued to destroy something inside of you, weakening your resolve to his touch. “Let us take you, mesh’la. Both of us.” Your mouth parted slightly, eyes trapped on Boba which if you could think clearly, was likely by Din’s design. His rasping words and touch, ached still further by Boba’s dark and intimidating eyes that raked over your body. “Get you out of your head.”

Your gaze never left Boba’s even as you tilted slightly back towards Din. “Both of you?”

Din nodded, and so did Boba. Oh this could not be what they both discussed about you, yet here you are. Boba took his turn to make a softer case, letting your true alpha pull your senses underwater as he gently swims his way over. “The only thing anyone’s asking of you, is to let us treat you like a kind, sweet,” Each word he stepped towards you until he was in your space just inches further away then Din was to you. “Pretty, omega you are.”

Your breathing heaved as his own gloved hand traced your bottom lip just like he did before. Din’s comment for Boba to behave. There was no way they discussed this before, and yet? The protectiveness, the possessive feeling which could consume Din at the sight of other men, another alpha looking or touching you as if you really were just property weren’t there. “But Din-”

Giving you once last reassurance. “It’s okay to say no, mesh’la. But don’t just say it on my account. I want you to want it.”

The air was stark and silent as you contemplated what on earth you were about to get yourself into, but there was a heat radiating from within and burned almost painfully as Din touched, you pressing you against his back to where he was losing his patience to hide how hard having you pressed against him like this made him.

Din’s own mind both needing this yet confused at why he needed this. There was an angry possessive feeling he had around you, but Boba Fett came to be someone he trusted. And someone who he could trust with you. Putting you between them and forcing this constant looming anxiety in your heart out even if just for a time. One wouldn’t be enough, but between both of them? You’d have nothing left to focus on but their touch and their words and that’s the level of control Din wanted you to give up.

Watching Boba touch you was going to be a jealousy that he didn’t know why he was willing to handle, but just maybe it’s beacuse you didn’t get to see how you looked together. Never having the gift of sight as Din touches you, only he knew how insatiable you made him and how addictive you looked writhing in pleasure.

And he knew, you didn’t get to look at Din as much as you wanted. Always ready to let him blindfold you like an obedient omega so make sure he can take as much as his greedy mind needed. But if Boba was there, Din could sacrifice that just this once.

You breathed heavily as Boba brushed over your lips, and it was Din’s words right in your ear that crumbled the insecurity keeping you from letting them take you as they wished.

“Let him kiss you, mesh’la.” Looking back at him, he pushed you forward gently. “It’s okay.”

It was an overwhelming feeling. The guilt of such an intimate act with another man, but the purring encouragement from Din to just let yourself give up control in their hands. Your hands hovered over Boba’s chest plate, fingertips only slightly making shaking contact.

Din behind you undoing parts of his own armour almost turning your focus before Boba tilts you up to look at him under your chin. Leaning in he gave you plenty of time to back away, brushing his nose against yours feeling his breathe on your face.

One hand grabbing your hip, and the other keeping his hold he teased bridging the gap but never sealing the deal. Din’s voice rang out, commanding an order from deep within, calling your omega to obey. “Mesh’la.”

Jumping in your bones, you pushed up on your toes to press your lips against Boba’s. A small sigh coming from you as your hands continued to shake despite smoothing your palms out. And as soon as you crossed that initial barrier, Boba overtook the control from you immediately.

Comparing the two of them is impossible. They are of completely different realms in nature with their touch. Boba is like a wildfire. Bursting at the seams from the onslaught, running hot and dangerous that can consume you if you let it do so. Once in it’s trap, escape only possible if it lets you.

Deepening the kiss, you could feel your lips swell and bruise from the rough treatment, and once he bit the bottom lip he was so enraptured with, you gasped. Not just a gentle teasing nibble like Din, no should he have bit slightly harder he would’ve drawn blood. Your gasp was as much of a whine, his hand raking into your hair and tightening his grip to continue to move you.

His tongue brushing into your mouth, tasting your own and coaxing you to follow suit. Your hands rising to dig into his cowl as he kissed and licked into your mouth until you had to pull back for air. Grabbing both your hands he pulled them in front to the side of his chest plate. “Undress me, little one.”

It was hard to tell if they used their presentation to command you, or if having two of them in the room like this was just turning your brain into sludge. Nodding fervently, you swallowed trying to focus hard on taking each part of his armour off with care, just like you do Din’s. Who had ideas of his own.

Pulling you into his chest once more, only now you felt much more the softer press of his body without the coolness of the armour at his back. Slightly pouting at not being able to do it for him. Din pulled your outer layer down your arms and stood back to let you continue.

Hesitating once his upper body was done, you look up to Boba wide eyed in question. Shaking as he nodded, raking his hand through your hair once again as you knelt down. Your body feeling like it truly was becoming surrounded by fire at how this position felt, but you made sure to take your time undoing every piece, putting it down gently to where you now could see Din’s not too far away. Stacked just the way you do it.

Looking up at Boba, now like Din, just in his flight suit, you ran your hands innocently up the length of his calves. “May I?” Dancing up to the bottom of his shirt, Boba chuckled. Watching slowly as you stood up. Hands raising his shirt as you did so until you stood in front of him. He did no work. Watched with dark amusement as you had to lean close into him to pull it off until it was down his arms.

Din’s touch, crowded you just then. None of the patience, Din pulled your shirt and chest band up and off in one swoop. Not yet touching you he kept his arms around you, one on your hip the other by your mouth. “Bite.”

Gently taking the leather between your teeth he pulled it off letting you see his hand as he yanked his other glove off and gently took the other from you. Finally able to look, you realized you didn’t really get the chance to see Din the way you could look at Boba now.

Greedily reaching to run your hands over his large chest, eyes trapped on every scar, burn, gunshot that was painted on no doubt a story to follow. You didn’t know Din’s by sight, but you knew them by touch, so you did the opposite.

Fingers tracing only lightly across each mark as you barley blinked staring at him. The heat in your limbs travelling between your legs. Skin rough in some places and soft in others you reached down to his pants and gently tucked the seam into your fingers. Not waiting for permission, you went to slowly move when Din did the same to you.

Yanking your bottoms down, underwear in his grasp in one go. Tossing them aside. You whined in your chest as you felt his rough hands now bare run across your skin while you gently finished undressing Boba. Another sight you never got to see, but the heat between your legs now felt much like a need.

He was a large and thick man, in more places then one including his cock. Thick and begging for your touch it was more then half hard. His hand thumb traced your bottom lip and tugged, gaining your attention. His eyes black as anything as his face twisted in a more aggressive harshness then the soft patience before. “Small mouth to fit such a thick cock.”

Your thighs squeezed together as you ran your hands up his thighs glancing back at his length. Shuffling closer, you reached up to run your thumb and forefinger over his leaking tip. His legs steeled in a flex at the sensation along with his muscles constricting. Running them up and down his length slightly before gently cradling him close to the base of his cock. Almost like a kitten, you licked gently over the tip. Each time slipping more of him inside your mouth.

Knees engaged each side of you as Din’s helmet soothed your sweating skin and leaned into the back of your head. His own hands running over your thighs but much firmer then your touch. He said nothing, but the more of Boba’s cock you slipped into your mouth the more overwhelmed you felt. Boba it seemed, was just as talkative in the bedroom as Din, but with one small difference.

Boba took pleasure in being mean, and you only got more wet the more he talked. “Djarin’s far too easy on you it seems. Go on, little one you can fit more then that.” Sliding more in, you could feel Din run down to rub gently at your clit, making you moan around Boba’s cock.

Almost like he couldn’t help himself, he ran his fingers over your throat as you slowly took more of him into your mouth. Full and overwhelmed you felt your nerves on fire as much as the fingers on your clit rubbed harsher, pushing more pressure into you as your mouth soaked the thickness inside it.

Head starting to bob up and down, you felt tears at the corner of your eyes as well as your heart pounding each time you tried taking him deeper. “All the way this time, that’s it.” You cried around his cock as your nose pressed against the coarse hair around his pelvis soaking as saliva built and even dipped from your mouth the deeper he kept himself in.

Din’s touch on your clit making you burn and shake wanting so desperately to grasp onto his arms but they were firmly set on Boba’s thighs as you slid his cock in and out of your mouth. “I knew you’d have such a filthy mouth, just not such a messy one.” His fingers swiping the saliva on your skin before tipping your gaze up slightly to see your eyes fluttering. “You wet from his fingers, from sucking my cock or are you just that much of a little greedy omega?” Moaning once more you felt him throb in your mouth as you felt almost lightheaded.

One of Din’s hands slid up, groping at one of your breasts, fingers twisting your nipple enough to make you want to arch back into his touch, but he only shushed you gently in your ear. Your breathing already strained feeling that much weaker at how much your body wanted to writhe at Din’s touch.

“Your girl like a mess, Djarin?”

Both of Din’s hands stopped moving for a second, like he was contemplating something before he slid his hand down, shoving between your thighs as much the angle could offer. Sliding two thick fingers smoothly into your soaked pussy he groaned just quiet enough you could hear it. The one on your breast moved down to your stomach. “No, just greedy.”

Din’s helmet now resting on your shoulder thrusting his fingers in and out with such little resistance and every slide of Boba’s cock making you clench that much harder. Groaning louder at how much he could see your wetness from even here, his other hand stroking your stomach with his thumb. Refusing to let you wince or flinch at your insecurity. No, he wanted you on full display.

Boba’s hand raking around the opposite side of your head he pulled you into him close as he could, feeling him twitch inside of your mouth before letting go. “Fuck, such a filthy fucking thing, that’s right swallow all of it, good girl.” Boba’s cum spilling into your mouth, so close to the back of your throat and the twisting of pleasure Din was bringing you with his fingers made you almost want to cry it was too much.

Slowly pulling you off inch by inch both men watched a mixture of saliva and cum almost dripping from your gasping mouth as Boba’s cock finally left you. Din’s hand turning you by your neck gently to look partially back at him, the darkness of the visor even contrasted to the gritted teeth and dark panting face of Boba’s. He still brought you comfort as Din brushed mercilessly against a sensitive wall inside of you. “Doing so good for me, sweet girl. So fucking good,”

Your hands free you reached back to grab at whatever you could of Din as the heel of his palm roughly rubbed your clit as he thrusted them in and out almost rougher then before. Gasping you arched back, unashamed at how much it put your tits almost on display. “Din, please let me cum. Please, I’m so-”

Whinging you couldn’t even finish your owns entrance as he pressed his other palm hard against your stomach as he sped up enough you could hear how much you soaked him. “Come on, you can cum mesh’la. All for me.”

“Taking all the credit isn’t your style,” Boba’s voice was further away, rasping with a dash of cheeky as Din pulled you right over that edge. Holding you tight against him as you cried out as your orgasm washed over you. Seizing your muscles tightly in his hold.

“F-fuck, not ugh, your name she’s crying is it though, Fett?”

Talking about you like your orgasm wasn’t in his arms and on display it just made you stutter a moan out even as you came down. Pulling his fingers out of you, Din pulled you up with him turning you to face his front. Moving your hands to gently pull his shirt off, you wanted to reach to run your hand over his chest only to get pulled roughly into Boba’s back. “He can have you whenever he wants, so how about you lay out for me?”

Gently climbing up onto the bed, you could see Boba moving around to the end of it and Din carefully climbing up near the wall behind you. Just as you settled, Boba yanked you towards him at the edge of the bed. Spreading your legs wide to fit himself between.

“Let’s see if an omega tastes as sweet as she smells.” A man with patience in many aspects of his life, but none as he pulled your hips closer to put his mouth on you. Crying out almost immediately as he licked from your entrance up to your clit.

Din’s breath stuttering behind you, his eyes behind the helmet stuck on how much you gasped, back arched and legs already tensing in Boba’s hold. Brushing your hair sticking to the sweat of your forehead back, raking gently in his bare fingers like out of everything the soft silky feeling is what had him transfixed.

Sucking your clit before almost biting it to make you jump, he Boba chuckled deep into your pussy as he licked inside of you. The roughness of his hands but the warmth of his mouth working you over so gently making you moan. Thighs wanting to close, but he kept them wide on the bed as he could force them. Refusing to even give you the reprieve of hanging them over his shoulders. You’d still have some control were he to do so. Your core inside hot and burning, too soon after Din made you cum on his fingers you grasped at your chest mindlessly.

Only to have Din grab them. Despite pulling your head up to his lap, Boba never faltered. Just moving with the action to keep his mouth tasting you. Din however, wrapped your fingers in each of his before pushing them down on either side of you. His own cock unfairly hard and still confined by his pants, but he needed you to come again. He never gets to fully see how you look cumming on his mouth, but now Din refuses to miss it.

Shaking in his hold, you were far too close from your last orgasm. The coil inside you twisting and flaming as Boba never faltered in his moves. Feeling a smirk against you as your stomach muscles started to tense up. Your hips lifting from the bed slightly as he pulled you into his mouth from a better vantage. His tongue deep as it could go, you started to loose yourself.

“You gave me one, mesh’la. Fett deserves one too, for everything he’s done for you.”

Boba’s nails dug into your skin as he pulled you right over that edge, not even hearing the noise coming from either of them. Just ringing in your ears as you came, falling apart on his mouth that refused to stop licking you up and down until you stopped spasaming. Your senses like you were drifting underwater, only soothed by Din’s soft touch letting your hands go to gently cup one of your breasts again, like the small massaging sensation and gently playing with your nipple just enough of a spark to keep you near the top.

The two Mandalorians however, had no plans on giving you time to catch your breathe. Like you were a doll light enough to be tossed around, Din manoeuvred you to straddle his lap. Your hands instantly running down his chest, eyes wide at how broad and soft he looked outside of even just his flight suit.

One of his hands ran up the length of your spine, the other running across your hip over you ass and back down your thigh like a pattern. “Pull me out, sweet girl.”

Nodding mindlessly, you reached for his bottoms. Thighs clenching around his as you pulled his cock out, long and intimidatingly thick as well. You knew it felt as such but seeing what you had previously fit inside of you made you shiver. Wrapping your hand around it, you ran your thumb over his tip. Gathering as much precum as you could and stroking his cock with it, slow and a light grip that Din never touched himself with. His voice raspy and lustful. “We can do this a few ways, but it’s all up to what you’re comfortable with. We can go easy on you if you’re more comfort-”

Shaking your head furiously, “No, no whatever you want. Both of you, please I want you to do whatever you want,” Turning to see Boba who also was know up on the bed behind you.

His hand reaching out to keep your head turned on him with his hand on your jaw. “Are you sure?” A second nod yes, had Din groan. Covering your hand with his and tightening your grip on his cock. Boba’s eyes on you. “I’m gonna open you up back here while you sit on his cock.”

Dins hands reaching behind to pull your ass cheeks apart enough to sting. “Come here, sweet girl. Let me feel you.”

Looking back you propped yourself on his shoulders as Din held you by your hips. Sinking you down was far too easy, from making you cum on his fingers and Boba’s mouth you soaked his cock before even sitting on it fully. Din moaned as he sunk into you fully in one go. His helmet dropping into your chest as his own stomach heaved trying to control himself.

Your moan was high pitched and needy, hands grasping onto the bit of hair sticking out from his helmet his hands pulled your chest more into him. But as soon as you tried moving, Din held you in place head lifting up to look disapprovingly at you. His tone sharp as his words were short. “Are you in charge?”

Pausing, you clenched around him, making an even wetter mess already but you shook your head no. Your mind too in the clouds to even joke otherwise. Feeling Din trail his hands up to hold you by the back of your neck and waist. Pulling your forehead to his you shivered at Boba’s hands on your hips.

His large frame pressing into your back as his hands trailed downwards, squeezing your ass lightly, then rougher each next one. Finally, one of his fingers moving down. Collecting the wetness still soaking you and nearly the bed at that point before moving it back up between your cheeks.

Stilling briefly as he pressed against your ass, heart racing but your head still in the clouds could do enough to nod. Boba leaning closer to your ear with a deep, “Good girl,” before sliding his finger inside of you.

Gasping, you pressed into Din more who tightened his grip on your hair, but held you not in comfort but to keep you nice and steady for Boba who was keen on riling you up more as he spoke. “Never been taken here have you, little one?” Chucking deep when you shook your head no. “Not treating her right are you, Djarin? If you’re leaving some of her firsts for me.”

Sliding the hand on your waist, Din moved his thumb against your clit. “I’m the one filling her pussy nice and full, aren’t I sweet girl?” You moaning just as Boba slid in a second finger and such a moan turned into a whine. Your body on fire, your insides already burning to the ground your body only able to focus on either of what their hands were doing.

There was a stretch and a burn inside your ass that just two of Boba’s fingers were pulling from you, but the gentle side of a third had you jump. Crying out desperately as Din’s hand in your hair tightened painfully. Voice scattered, you didn’t know if you were even making sense as you writhed in place. “I, fuck, I don’t wanna- wanna upset either of, of you..”

The hand now loosening, Din slid it down to the back of your neck, pulling you to look at him. His voice as rough as you looked. “You could never, cyra’ika. Fuck, you could never upset me, upset us.”

Boba leaned into your ear, free hand wrapping around the front of your neck. “You ready to take me, little one? It’ll be a stretch, but I’ve opened you up nice and wet for me.” You swallowed, your eyes on Din and your focus on the their hands but you nodded. “You sure?” You nodded again. “Hold onto him, then.”

Din sat up better, holding you in his lap. The second Boba started pulling his fingers out, Din thrusted just out of you enough to set your insides alight. Thrusting back in but slowly, forcing you to feel his cock stroke against every inch of inside you as you moaned.

The slow pace making you lean into him quietly, only to cry at Boba now pressing his cock up against you. Leaning forward, he pulled you out of Din’s hold making you lean back against his shoulder to look up at him. Like they were in sync, Din slowly pulled partway out of you as Boba barley pressed his tip in.

Din’s final reassurance once more like fired the bullet. “It’s okay, cyra’ika. You can kiss him.”

This time Boba kissed you, his roughness resuming from before and Boba slowly started to push inside you as Din slowly filled your pussy back up. Your body feeling like it was panicing, heart racing from all the stimulation, but Boba kept slowly filling your ass until he, like Din, was sat fully inside you.

Pulling his lips from yours, not bothering to hide how deep he had his tongue in your mouth he clenched his jaw at the feeling. “You still with us?” It took you more then a moment to answer, barley with an uh-huh as you clenched around both of them.

Din’s thrusts slowed down dramatically, his cock almost just grinding in you with painfully gritted teeth hiding behind the helmet. Boba, started to fuck you, but far less gentle. Both of them, feeling the desperation of your omega yearning for more of it.

You couldn’t describe how it felt to have him pound you from behind that way, it was new and almost so foreign it scared you but you were desperate for it. Crying and moaning only speeding his hips up more and more. The slapping of his skin against yours contrasting with how soaking wet your pussy was with each slide of Din’s cock was obscene.

Should have made you feel embarrassed but with your body pressed between their chests you couldn’t find yourself to care. “Fucking tight little ass, can barley shove my cock inside you can I?” He pounded harder, your body bouncing more on Din’s from the force.

“Should feel what her cunt’s like, I’d never-fuck, would get you to fucking leave if you felt her.” Din and him just not speaking to you, but about you and yet it just felt too good. Like they wanted to get you out of your messy head, and to do it, treated you like a you for their pleasure and you were burning on the inside.

Boba’s voice scratched to hell in your ear, “Gonna let me cum inside your ass, little one? Spill inside you just like Djarin would?” Looking up at him you nodded, Boba sharing a glance with Din that you didn’t see before he kissed you again.

His cock pounding into you fast, your ass jiggling with the force as Din sped up inside your pussy. Himself leaning back against the wall, watching your face and your body transfixed as his thrusts were slower but far rougher.

It seemed to sneak up on Boba, his orgasm. A few sudden thrusts almost too fast for you to be able to handle, before he pressed up against your back, head sinking into your neck with a groan. You felt his cock throb inside you before it started to fill you with his cum. Thick and lots of it he fucked you until he was empty. Slowly pulling out, to watch your ass gape without his cock still there to fill it and his cum leaking out of you.

Din, didn’t waste time. Flipping you around so he was on top of you, pressing deep inside your pussy and fucked hard as soon as you were laid out for him. His cock so painfully hard and desperate to cum inside you, Din was rougher then normal. Your legs wide as possible to the point of strain, and the sound of his hips slapping into yours was loud.

You didn’t expect it then, but you came from nowhere. Your orgasm splitting inside you and washing over your body as you arched back into the bed. Boba, leaning over to kiss you, his tongue commanding yours as Din started to lose composure.

“Defect, my perfect girl with the tightest cunt, gonna fill you up okay? Gonna let me spill inside this pussy the way I want, like you deserve- oh fuck, baby,” His helmet dropping into your chest as he held both your hips still as he came.

Slow thrusts as he too, felt like his cum spilled inside you forever. Your ass still full and whatever leaked out now spread against your cheeks as you were pressed into it from behind. Boba’s lips and tongue swallowing your moans and cries as Din gave a few final pushes. His body shaking from how hard and just how much he came inside of you.

Both of them, let go of your body very gently. Boba slowing his kiss down to something gentle, before pressing a peck to your swollen lips and one to the bridge of your nose. Din took longer to pull out of you, his cock still half hard from how worked up he got, waiting until he went soft before leaving your soaked warmth entirely.

You weren’t sure if you passed out, or if you dropped that hard. You felt Din’s touch and his gentle words but not much registered as you tried coming back to your senses. Only really feeling back in the world as you settled against Din in the water.

Water?

Looking around, you were in a large tub built into the stone ground like an indoor pool. Leaning back you felt his helmet and arms wrapping around your front. “Welcome back, mesh’la.”

Laughing lightly, you looked around the room. Not quite a room like a refresher, but it seemed to be solely for the tub in there. “Did I pass out?”

Din traced his hand over your stomach, “Not quite. You were out of it for a little bit though, thought a bath might help bring you back a little bit.” Smiling weakly you just leaned back into him. Enjoying the quiet.

A question however poked at your brain, “Where’s Boba?”

“Checking on the kid. Figured it might be a bit calmer for you to come down from tonight with just me for a little bit.” Pausing he almost sounded worried. “Did you...like it?”

Turning in his arms, you straddled his lap hands on his shoulders much more relaxed this time despite both of you being naked now. “I did. It was...a lot. But I liked it. You were were..” Din suggested the word rough, which made you laugh. “Yeah, but I was going to say safe. I don’t think I’d do anything like that with anyone else. But Boba-”

“You trust him.” Nodding gently, he ran a hand up and down your back. “So do I. Would you ever want to do it again?”

Leaning into his forehead you smiled. “I think so. As long as I get just you most of the time.” It wasn’t really obvious that the screaming insecurities didn’t rear their ugly head in that moment. You were stiff, quite sore, but content and snuggling into Din like a loth-cat.

It was quiet for a bit before you asked about Grogu, only to feel mostly as confused as he did for how he got back. Either he was sent across the galaxy all alone or Peli’s story was just wrong. Either seemed plausible considering what you knew about your curly haired friend and the Jedi.

Not that everything was perfect, but you felt content. The protectiveness of how Din held you was that of an alpha shielding his omega from the world around you. Din almost brought up the question of mating you, but he wasn’t sure his timing would be the greatest were he to bring up that biting into your neck to mate was all he had been thinking about since he got you in the bath.

He also had a necklace. Two distinct animal skulls carved of beskar into them for when he did. But for now, you both soaking in this elaborate tub in each others arms would have to do.

Besides, he wouldn’t live down the amount of shit Boba would tease him with for mating you right after letting Boba fuck you the way he did. There might be a bit more of this dynamic to explore.

He and Boba trusted one another, a companionship that made him trust the other man treat you with the proper respect of a fellow alpha. Omega’s were precious to Mandalorians, but Din didn’t want to share you with his people just yet.

Sharing your affections with just one other was an acceptable middle ground. Well two others.

The second you saw Grogu again, the idea of you leaving this little clan became practically impossible.

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nekokennedychan-blog · 4 months

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Bucky Barnes | Masterlist

Welcome to in that little space of my thought and my fantasies of the men I adore and love.

Here you can find my work of Bucky Barnes. The stories they can include Fluff, Smut and Angst. Every warning is mentioned in the oneshot and I ask you to read them before you read my work. I’m not responsible for the things you read.

I take requests, so share your thoughts with me if you want to and I would love to hear what you think.

Do not copy, translate or publish my work. Reblogs, comments and likes are always appreciated.

I work with a Taglist, you can find it here. If you want to be tagged let me know and I will gladly mention you in my work. Dividers made by @firefly-graphics.

Fluff: ❤️ | Smut: 🔥 | Angst: 🍂

Jealousy | 🔥 | Bucky, your boyfriend, is jealous of drunk tony, who is trying to get you into bed to have some fun. Until bucky interrupts him and shows you who you belong to.

Cheated on you | ❤️🍂 | Steve comes back from a mission, and you know he cheated on you, but he acts like he didn't and wants to explain. Bucky hears the two of you and comes into the room to see what happens.

Scratching tree | 🔥 | Bucky and you share a good "fucking" morning together.

Happy Brithday, doll | ❤️ | It's your birthday, and Bucky surprises you with a birthday you always wished, with a lot of surprises and love.

Haunted Maze | ❤️🍂 | Moodboard |Your friends convince you to go into the haunted maze. Even when you don't like them, you go with there with your friends. In the middle of the maze, you're suddenly alone. When you try to find the way back you run into a scary attraction worker. (Halloween special)

“It’s okay to love me.” | ❤️🍂 | Bucky has been your enemy since your first meeting but something changed after a while.

When we are older | ❤️🍂 | You and Bucky are best friends since childhood and you have the plan to marry when you’re older. But when you move away he turns into an idiot.

I only want you | ❤️🍂 |During the party he confesses his feelings for you, he kisses you but the next day he isn’t the same anymore. Your best friend is the biggest idiot you have ever seen and you don’t know why.

Got you | ❤️🍂 | You feel like you lost control and everything you can feel is fear but your boyfriend takes care and makes sure you feel better.

Bucky calls you during a mission | ❤️

Coming soon

Subby Baby feat. Bucky Barnes | 🔥

The dark side feat. Bucky Barnes | 🔥🖤

Sweet & Spicy Bingo / Sebastian Stan Bingo / Fandom-Free Bingo

Hair holds memories | ❤️🍂 | When you come home your boyfriend has tried to cut his hair. But he needs your help to cut them properly.

Already Mine | 🔥 | Bucky and you are fake dating for a mission, when the two of you are out for dinner you tell him about your planned date with someone. But Bucky isn’t really happy about it and makes sure to show you that you’re already his.

Late night conversations | ❤️🍂 | When you go to the roof you didn’t know Bucky would be there as well. You join him and the tension between you two leads to conversation you didn’t know you would have with Bucky.

Treated like a queen | ❤️🍂 | Steve cheated on you, and even when he tries to apologise, you can’t look at him the same way after knowing he just fucked someone else. Luckily your best friend is always there and knows how to treat his doll right.

Would you lie with me? | ❤️ | After a mission Bucky comes into your room to see you watching the raindrops at the window. The two of you decide to go out to enjoy the warm summer rain there.

Another kind of heating | ❤️🔥 | You just want to warm your feet but this leads into a way hotter situation with your boyfriend.

Walked into a mobster | ❤️🍂 | In your angry state, caused by your ex-boyfriend, you walk into the Mobster Bucky Barnes, you don’t recognise who he is and show him your anger and attitude because of your ex-boyfriend who still things he can decide about your dates.

Bucky Barnes Smut Menu

“Fuck me.” | 🔥 | Bucky always tries to decide about the guys you go out with, and when you tell him to fuck you in an argument he doesn’t hesitate to do what you want him to do.

Coming soon

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nekokennedychan-blog · 4 months

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Love Bites Masterlist

summary: In a coven, the master’s word is law, and humans are nothing more than pets to symbolize wealth and prestige. They tell you that being the master’s pet is a great honor, but the poorly constructed façade is broken when you forsake honor for love. {vampire!Steve}

➥ Warnings: NON-CON, DUB-CON, MAJOR CHARACTER DEATH, vampire!Avengers, murder, bloodplay, violence, period sex, public sex, jealous!Steve, side of Peter x reader, modern setting just wealthy af

➥ playlist

Keep reading

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nekokennedychan-blog · 4 months

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Goddamn Prince Charming Looking DILF

Last Updated: 02/11/2024

AU Summary: Your single dad neighbor is a constant menace to your ovaries. Even before you find out all his dirty secrets.

This series contains smut and adult themes, no minors!!

Full Fics:

Plain to See

All I Need

(She’s So Near) Everything is Better

Lazy Sunday

Do You Wanna?

Housewarming

Under the Mistletoe

Champagne Problems

The Bachelor Disaster Part I/Part II

Like a River Flows

Prompts, Drabbles, and other Randomness:

Lazy Wakeup Sex

Perfectly Good At It

Their First Fight

Steve and Bucky’s Relationship

Bottom Steve is a Screamer

NSFW Alphabet 1 2 3 4

Bratty Bucky and Soft Dom Thor teaser

Bold of you to assume I haven’t eaten my entire advent calendar

It’s snowing!

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nekokennedychan-blog · 5 months

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To find the light, we must first touch the darkness

Please also check out @bluepinkangel’s amazing hot moodboard for this universe 🖤

dark!mafia Steve Rogers x female reader

summary: When you unexpectedly are appointed to run a health center, you foresee many struggles along the way, but not one in the form of a merciless mob boss. Steve Rogers’ core aim is to own and he won’t take no for an answer. To any of his demands.

warnings: dark!Steve Rogers (really, he’s not a softie here, he dark); manipulation; blackmail; threats; power imbalance;

specific warnings will be added for each chapter separately

*yeah I know the title is long, but I like it 😜 besides, each part will have it’s own little title

Chapter 1. Storm on the horizon

Chapter 2. Lava in the snow

Chapter 3. In the eye of the storm

Chapter 4. Heated hail

Chapter 5. Breaking ice

Chapter 6. Downpour

Chapter 7. TBT

Chapter 8. TBT

Chapter 9. TBT

Chapter 10. TBT

his fave position

pic inspired

if Princess was pregnant

birthday celebration

show of power

OVA

OVA II

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nekokennedychan-blog · 7 months

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ミi hear you like magic? i've got a wand and a rabbit!

🍓 pairing: simon "ghost" riley x fem reader

🍓 tags: nsfw, size kink, virgin!reader, oral sex, vaginal sex, rough(?) sex, some mild second-hand embarrassment perhaps, sex toys, edging, failed masturbation attempts, ghost takes your virginity and also maybe ruins you for literally anybody else ever again

masterlist

reblogs are always enormously appreciated!

The ceiling over your head is drab grey and water-stained, the old paint peeling away in strips. It’s an ugly sight, but you barely see it; you’re too busy trying to catch your breath.

The sheets beneath you are uncomfortably damp with your sweat, but you don’t have the energy to roll over just yet. You feel hot and itchy with frustration, and you scowl up at the ceiling above you as your fingers curl into fists. But even though you feel like laying in your now grubby-bedding for the rest of the evening, you can’t let yourself wallow. There’s going to be a knock on your door any minute, and this is not a position you want to be found in.

With an irritable groan, you haul yourself off the bed and to your feet. Your muscles ache and you feel too warm, but you reach for your clothes anyway. The worn cotton of your shirt feels scratchy against your skin, but maybe that’s just because you’re still over-sensitive and irritable.

You can never quite bear to look at the aftermath of what you’d been doing, so you avert your eyes as you gather up the bright silicone and plastic devices littering your mattress. It’s embarrassing now that the adrenaline has worn off and disappointment is beginning to set in, so you end up gathering them all up more roughly than necessary.

The term ‘toy’ seems incongruous to you. It sounds too childish, too immature. It makes you sound like a stupid kid, as though you aren’t a young adult past twenty fumbling your way through sexual self-exploration. It’s embarrassing, and much more frustrating than you ever would have predicted – despite all of your clumsy, desperate attempts at pleasuring yourself, you’ve never quite managed to reach that peak of pleasure you’ve heard other people talking about.

You grumble quietly to yourself as you try to wipe away the sticky lube that’s still coating your thighs. Your muscles are a little achy from all the tensing you’d been doing trying to come with that stupid vibrator, not even accompanied by the satisfaction you had been hoping for.

It’s not as though you’ve never gotten the opportunity to experiment with others; you’re not unforgivably ugly, you don’t think you have a bad personality, and for the past few years you’ve been surrounded by military men that certainly aren’t known for being picky. And it certainly isn’t like you haven’t received your fair share of offers.

It just never seemed right. You’re not overly concerned about ‘saving’ your virginity or anything like that; it’s just that putting yourself into such a vulnerable position is scary. You’re aware of the irony, of course, that you’d trust many of these people with saving your ass from catching a bullet in the field, but allowing someone to see you so intimately feels like a step too far.

You’re still sweaty and flustered and naked when a knock sounds from your door, and you freeze. The doorknob turns, but doesn’t open; in that moment, you’re deliriously grateful that you had turned the lock – it’s something that you’ve forgotten to do on far too many occasions.

“Lass, you in there?” Oh god, it’s Soap.

Cursing quietly to yourself, you jolt into action. Your pants are crumpled at the bottom of your bed where you had shed them, and you hurriedly gather them up and struggle your way back into them.

“Gimme a minute!” You yell, praying he doesn’t notice the somewhat frantic edge to your voice.

You stagger slightly as you worm your way into your pants, and then lunge to grab the stupid dildo you’d just been trying to use. You feel your skin prickle with humiliation as you try to force the stupidly large silicone cock into your already full underwear drawer, jamming it shut roughly to hide it from sight. You don’t want to even imagine what Soap might have to say if he were to see what you had been doing; you think you might have to go full deserter mode and abscond into the wilderness.

“Did ye forget about drinks?” Soap’s drawl carries through the thickness of the door. He doesn’t sound even slightly put out – if anything, he sounds a little amused.

You pause, close your eyes, sigh. Fuck. You had not, in fact, forgotten about drinks, you just thought you had more time.

“No, I– just a minute!” You yell back, shoving your shoes on and trying to fix your hair.

You had completely lost track of time, and now you don’t even have time to rinse your sweat-damp skin off – you’re going to have to sit through drinks with the squad all grimy, like a physical reminder of what you had been up to for the last two hours.

When you finally unlock the door and wrench it open, Soap is standing on the other side tapping a staccato rhythm on his thighs with his open palms. He’s dressed casually in just blue jeans and a black muscle shirt, and he gives you a look of semi-disbelief.

“What the hell were you—”

“Gym.” You interrupt, landing on the only explanation you can think of for your sweaty skin and messy hair.

Soap blinks, but apparently decides it’s not worth the effort to continue that line of conversation. He just shrugs, then turns and starts making his way down the hall, slowing his pace for you to catch up.

You exhale; Soap can be like a bloodhound when he suspects there’s gossip to be had, and you’re relieved to have dodged a round of his relentless questioning. You suppose he can be surprisingly tactful sometimes, and he knows you well enough not to press you. Or, perhaps it’s because you come across as such a non-sexual being that it doesn’t even occur to him that there may be another explanation.

There’s an unofficial tradition that when the squad is on base, everyone gathers in the sparsely decorated recreation room for drinks and card games on Thursday evenings. It usually makes for an enjoyable night; Gaz and Soap can always be trusted to supply whatever bottles of alcohol they’ve managed to get their grubby little hands on, and it’s always amusing to watch Captain Price get increasingly more irate as Soap pretends not to understand the rules of whatever card game they’re playing. The whole illicitness of having contraband on base only makes the whole thing more exciting; the CO’s on base often turn a blind eye to the activity, so long as it’s kept under control.

But tonight, you’re distracted.

The others had offered a bit of good-natured ribbing when you and Soap had turned up late, but before long you’re all settled in a loose circle on the poorly-stuffed couches in the corner of the room. Gaz has already unstoppered a bottle of bourbon, and is attempting to convince a visibly unimpressed Price to play a game of Kings with them. You curl up on one of the worn-out couches opposite them, watching with a small if slightly stiff smile.

The atmosphere is relaxed and pleasant, almost enough to make you forget about the irritating buzz of unfulfilled arousal under your skin. You shift, trying to keep your movements small, subtle, to avoid the notice of your team. Your denim jeans are nowhere near as comfortable as usual, and you wonder briefly if you should have simply worn your cargo pants just to avoid the harsh friction of the denim.

You sit there feeling… unmoored. You fidget, drink your smooth bourbon in sips in an attempt to avoid wincing, and try not to look as obviously out of place as you feel. It’s been like this, recently. Joining the task force has been an accomplishment for you, a source of immense pride – you’re the youngest member (just narrowly beating Gaz for the title) and a woman to boot, and though the squad has never treated you any differently it’s hard to kick the belief that you have something to prove.

You engage in conversations the best you can, but you’re distracted and you know it must be obvious. Your preoccupation gets you a couple of furrowed brows and glances, but there seems to be an unspoken agreement to give you some space.

You don’t even realise the extent of your distraction until a big body settles down on the loveseat next to you, and you jolt. True to his name, Ghost had appeared near silently, escaping your notice until he lowers himself down to sit next to you.

And damn, you forget how big he is sometimes. It’s an average sized loveseat, but the lieutenant takes up over half of it. He’s obviously being mindful not to consciously crush you, but he’s not being overly cautious when it comes to avoiding touching you. He’s dressed unusually casually, and his thick, muscled thigh is wrapped in blue denim as it presses carelessly against yours.

“You alright?” He asks, his voice low and smooth as he nudges your knee with one of his big knuckles.

You haven’t been a member of the task force for long, but you would know Simon Riley by his hands alone, by the earthy salt-spice in your nose as he leans a little closer to peer at your face. You tilt your head up, unable to stop the small reflexive smile that breaks over your face at the sight of him.

“Yeah.” You breathe, hurriedly straightening up where you’re sitting. “Yeah, sorry. Just thinking.”

His sudden proximity isn’t doing your current state any favours, and you take a quick sip of your drink in an effort to collect yourself. It’s taking a herculean effort not to stare at the way his biceps are bulging against the straining material of his black cotton t-shirt.

“What’re you thinking about?” Ghost asks as he stretches out his legs with a tired groan. The sound is gruff and gravelly, and you feel blood rush uncomfortably to your cheeks.

“Nothing.” You say quickly.

He doesn’t believe you, that much is obvious, but Ghost never pushes and he rarely speaks more than he has to. He just gives you a glance, brief and knowing and far more penetrating than it should be, before turning his head back so he can watch the boys playing their card game. He’s holding a crystal tumbler filled with dark amber liquid, but he hasn’t yet pulled his mask up to drink from it.

Your eyes drop to the thick, pale scars that mar the backs of his hands. You trace the path of the scar tissue, eyes lingering around the thick knuckles and broad palms, the way that he holds the glass so casually confidently. He’s got nice hands, probably made all the more attractive by the fact that you hardly ever get to see them. Seeing Ghost without his usual long sleeves and gloves makes you feel like a Victorian pervert snatching stolen glances at a passing lady’s ankles.

A quiet snicker causes your eyes to dart back to his face, and you’re mortified to find that he’s caught you staring.

“What’s got you in such a mood?” He asks. Even through the mask you can tell that he’s smirking, though it doesn’t feel as though he’s making fun of you.

“Just one of those days, I guess.” You say without meeting his eyes.

It’s an evasion at best, but Ghost nods ponderously as though he’s giving this great thought. His stare is penetrating, those big brown eyes watching you as though he can see right through you. Maybe he can. You try not to get too caught up staring at his pale eyelashes, darkened by smears of eyeblack.

“Did something happen?” He asks. The question is casual enough, asked as he lazily swirls his whiskey around in his glass, but his gaze is sharp and assessing.

“No.” You sigh, finally looking properly at him.

It’s a little frustrating, but the squad has been like this with you from the start – protective. Your whole military career has consisted of you veritably clawing your way up through the ranks, and you’ve been surrounded by coarse, gruff men that have underestimated you all your life. 141 is different – they don’t baby you, but the way they treat you is unmistakably softer than how they typically treat each other. The concern can be touching, if a little tiring sometimes.

And maybe it’s because he’s your lieutenant, but Ghost’s attention has always been just this side of overwhelming. It feels like you’re pinned beneath his dark eyes, his gaze somehow sharpened as he watches you from beneath his more casual balaclava, the skull pattern printed on his jaw adding another layer of intimidation. But his shoulders are relaxed as he sits next to you on the small couch, settling the weight of his attention over you like a blanket.

You’ve always respected him, admired him. How could you not? He’s practically a living legend, his reputation larger than life, and he’s scary as fuck. But he’s also softer than you had expected, gentle when he needs to be. He still rides you hard in training, pushing you to your limits and taking no quarter, but you can’t begrudge that. Not when you know he’s working to keep you alive. Perhaps that’s how the attraction had first bloomed; once it started, it was hard to stifle.

Ghost hooks one finger into his balaclava and pulls it up just high enough to expose his mouth, and he presses his glass to his lips to take a sip of his drink. You struggle not to stare like a moron, but he makes it so difficult. His lips are full and pink, and there’s a rugged scar bisecting his top lip. His stubble is dark blond and short, and it doesn’t hide the various scars and marks that decorate his strong jawline.

You almost jolt when he pulls the mask back down, hurriedly averting your eyes and forcing yourself to look out across the room. It’s not just the 141 that’s decided to take up in the rec room this evening; there are soldiers from other units littered all around the room, laughing and joking, playing lazy games of pool on the table in the corner and smoking. The smoke alarm has been jimmied off the ceiling and the window is open, and even Price is turning a temporary blind eye to the blatant disregard for regulations in favour of puffing on one of his cigars.

Ghost shifts on the worn-out fabric of the couch, and lays an arm over the back of the headrest behind you. It’s a casual, thoughtless movement, but it ends up pushing his body slightly closer to you in a way that makes you feel as though you’re about to catch fire.

You cross your legs, but the seam of your jeans presses into your pussy in a way that sends a frisson of heat up your spine. You hurriedly uncross your legs, and attempt to school your expression into casual neutrality as you force yourself to tune back into the conversation.

“–ach, c’mon, Captain,” Soap is saying in a wheedling tone that he probably thinks is endearing. “One round of strip poker won’t kill ya–”

“No.” Price says in a voice like thunder, brooking no argument as thick cigar smoke pours from his nose. It gives the impression of an enraged bull.

Soap either is ignorant to the warning, or is choosing to wilfully ignore it. Judging by the sly gleam in his eyes, you can guess which. He turns to you then, and waggles his eyebrows.

“C’mon, lassie, you’ll play, won’t ya?” He asks with a grin that promises trouble. “I guarantee you’ll be a sight better than any o’ these louts.”

“Speak for yourself,” Gaz pipes up, already grinning. “I was looking forward to seeing the Captain in his jocks–”

Price promptly knocks his drink back, before pushing himself up to his feet with a grim groan. “Right. That’s enough of you lot for one night.”

Gaz and Soap break into peals of laughter, settling back into their seats as they watch their captain march away.

“Offer’s still open, love,” Soap says, still snickering when he looks over to you. “Wanna play?”

Ghost shifts, his wide thigh knocking into yours as his arm stretches behind your shoulders. He lets out a short exhale through his nose, but when you glance up at him you find him as stoic and hard to read as always.

You just roll your eyes. It’s not the first time that they’ve tried to rope you into strip poker, and you’re sure it won’t be the last. You can always trust Soap to start stripping his clothes off when he’s three drinks in, whether he’s playing a game or not, so it’s not surprising that he tries to involve other people in his bad decision making.

And it’s not a big deal, really. There’s been countless missions and operations that have ended up with all of you staying in uncomfortably close quarters with each other. You’ve seen them naked countless times, and the same with them for you. It’s never meant anything, and you know that Soap’s teasing is exactly that – you don’t think they’ve ever once looked at you through any sexual lens at all.

But even still, the joke flusters you more than it should.

“Think I’ll be joining Cap in going to bed, actually.” You say, clearing your throat and setting your glass down on the low table in front of the couch.

The playful booing from Soap doesn’t do much to change your mind, and you stick out your tongue at him and Gaz as you push yourself up from the couch. You try to ignore the loss of heat at your side when you move away from Ghost, though you can’t help but glance back at the lieutenant. He’s not looking at you, his gaze directed into his glass. You try not to feel disappointed about that.

You say your goodnights, and retreat from the rec room.

By the time you make it back to your dorm however, you’re already playing the conversation back over in your head and wondering if you had made the wrong decision.

Perhaps you should have just played the damn game. Despite your inexperience with all things sexual, you’re not actually all that shy about your body. On missions, you and the squad are often forced into tight quarters, and they've all seen you in various stages of undress before. It's hard to be self-conscious around a group of people that have seen you at your worst, whether that’s soaked in blood, unshowered, sleep-deprived, or injured.

But you were so keyed up from your earlier failed attempts at masturbation that the thought of being so physically exposed in front of your squad is mortifying. It feels as though your unresolved arousal is still simmering through your veins, turning your thoughts slow and soupy and stupid.

It’s not so surprising. Your preferred method of dealing with stress is coming back to your private bunk and messing around with your vibrator until you’ve forgotten all of your problems. The problem is, you’ve never quite been able to reach that climax you’ve heard so many talk about.

It’s not for lack of trying, and it’s not as though you haven’t come close to that toe-curling finish you crave so much. But it’s like there’s some sort of block, something that always holds you back before you can go plummeting over that edge. Something that makes the buzzing pleasure dissipate before your eyes like smoke, leaving you worked up and so frustrated. It’s probably inevitable that all those ruined finishes have built up like sludge in your veins, leaving you slow and distracted and irritable.

You eye your underwear drawer thoughtfully as you perch on your bed, before reaching inside and drawing out the same dildo you had been using earlier. You wonder if it would be too much to try again tonight – the muscles in your calves still feel a little bit over-worked from training all day, and you have a feeling that straining in an attempt to reach an orgasm you’ll likely never attain will only make it worse.

But the thought of Ghost in that stupid tight cotton shirt stays firmly stuck in your mind, and that really makes the decision for you. Before you can think too much about it, you’re sliding your jeans off and climbing atop your mattress. The sheets are dirty anyway, after all. May as well have some fun before you change them.

You slide your panties off next, then kick them to the side. It’s difficult not to feel a little pathetic, but you push those feelings aside. So what if you have an embarrassing little crush on a superior officer? It’s not like that’s unusual within the military, and you’re quite certain that dealing with all that unresolved attraction like this is the most sensible thing you can do.

You fish out the bottle of lube you had been using earlier, and drizzle it liberally along the dildo’s length before setting it aside on the blanket. While you’ve used your dildo plenty of times, you still struggle to grow accustomed to the stretch of it. It’s a good dildo – a vibrating one in the rabbit style, designed to stimulate your g-spot and clit at the same time. It was damn expensive too, but it’s one luxury you’re willing to indulge in.

You close your eyes, slide it between your legs, and hit the power button. A low bzzz emanates from between your thighs; you jerk at the immediate barrage of pleasure, your abs tightening and your legs twitching apart, creating more room between them.

Your body is quick to react, sweat prickling under your armpits and your heart thudding quickly in your chest. You can feel electric pleasure coursing through you as you press it against your clit, your toes curling into your sheets.

You bring the vibrator lower, your clit throbbing a little at its sudden absence before you press it inside, sighing. It slips inside much too easily – you’re almost embarrassed by the easy slide. You’re so wet, both from your failed attempt at masturbation earlier and from sitting beside Simon fucking Riley all evening. It’s a deeper, subtler pleasure now, and you clench around it with a quiet moan.

You cycle through the vibrator’s different settings, making it buzz at odd intervals or lower intensities in your usual attempt to build up an orgasm. You wish, with sudden and mortifying clarity, that it could be replaced with a person. More specifically, a person with big hands and firm muscles that still have some soft give to them, and a toe-curlingly gravelly voice.

You squirm, shifting your hips to change the angle of the vibrator inside you. Without meaning to, you imagine Ghost. It’s hard not to, considering your close proximity to him all evening. Your cheeks heat as you imagine Ghost actually being here, watching you all still and silent with that penetrating dark-eyed stare of his.

You huff out a breath, arching off your bed. This is always the best part. You have to ensure that you relish the build up, before it all fizzles out from between your fingers. You whimper, soft and quiet, clenching around the stiff silicone as it buzzes away inside of you.

Right as you press the soft little vibrating bunny ears to your clit, there’s a knock on the door. Then, horrifically, like a scene from your fucking nightmares, your door opens.

“Kid, you–”

Ghost is already half-way through the door when he lays eyes on you, and then he goes completely still in your doorway.

“Fuck.” You hiss, scrambling to knock the stupid thing off.

You fumble for it, panicking. The end is slippery and you can barely manage to grip it. When you finally do, it’s difficult to pull out, your body still attempting to hold it inside. It’s another agonising few seconds to turn it off, the vibrator unfortunately featuring one of those awfully thought-out designs that makes you have to cycle through every single one of the settings rather than hit an off-switch.

And then, finally, silence.

Ghost is living up to his name right now; he’s as stock still and silent as a dead man, stiff as a board as he stares unblinkingly at you. You’re not even sure that he’s breathing, but you can see the whites of his eyes as he gapes at you, frozen.

You stare back at him blankly, hoping that your bed comes to life and swallows you whole just to put an end to your mortification.

At last, Ghost blinks, then finishes his sentence. “You left your phone.”

He lifts his arm. In his large, thick fist, is your stupid goddamn phone. You must have left it on the couch when you had gotten up to leave. You might have wondered at the lieutenant voluntarily bringing it to your dorm for you, but you’re hit with a wave of humiliation so strong that it wipes your brain completely blank.

“Ah.” You say, and your voice cracks. “Thanks.”

There’s a moment of mortifying silence, and then Ghost steps into your room. Your heart jolts right up into the base of your throat as he closes your door behind him. The click of the door is as loud as a gunshot in the silence that’s settled over the room.

Ghost still hasn’t blinked. He’s watching you with eyes that look almost black in the dim light of your room, intense as a predator.

“I–” You attempt to speak, and your throat clicks dryly. “I didn’t–”

Far too late, you realise that your legs are still splayed open. You snap them shut, inhaling a choked breath through your nose.

“I thought I locked the door.” You finish lamely.

Ghost apparently decides to simply disregard that, which you’re honestly a little grateful for. Instead he steps towards you – the enormous bulk of him feels as though he’s completely filling every bit of space in the room, sucking out all the damn oxygen.

“...‘S this why you were so distracted this evening, hm?” He says as he approaches the bed. “You were in a mood ‘cause you wanted to get back to playing with yourself?”

It’s not a question, exactly. At least, it’s not phrased like one. Ghost’s tone is knowing, with an undertone of gruff amusement. You’re certain that you’re not imagining the rough, breathless quality to his voice either, though the thought sends nerves fizzing through your bloodstream.

“No.” You deny uselessy; it’s plainly obvious what you were doing, after all. “No, I just–”

He doesn’t wait for you to finish. His eyes are still glued to you, even though your thighs are now pressed together. Before you can stop him, he reaches down and takes a hold of your hot pink vibrator where you had been trying to hide it beneath your thigh.

“Cute little thing.” He comments, tilting his head to look at the dildo hanging between his thick fingers.

Mortification burns through you. A panicked sort of screech escapes you and you yank it back out of Ghost’s stupid big hand, shoving it under the blankets.

Perhaps if it had been anyone else, your humiliation wouldn’t be burning quite so intensely. But this is Ghost – your lieutenant, the gruff man that you’ve looked up to ever since you joined the task force. He’s not a man famed for his patience, nor for his eloquence, which is making this situation all the more unbearable.

“Lt,” You wheeze, scrambling to sit up and cover your pussy with your hands as you squeeze your legs closed. “I swear I didn’t– I’m sorry–”

But Ghost doesn’t seem interested in your apologies. He’s still watching you as though he can see right through the damn blanket, as though he’s measuring you up and trying to come to a decision about something. In that moment, you hate your reaction to him – no matter how humiliating this situation is, you want him to approve of you, even now.

“Didn’t mean to interrupt.” He grunts, and then he sits down on your bed.

You gape at him. It feels as though your brain has stalled; you’re pretty sure you’re not reacting correctly right now. You probably should have screamed when the lieutenant walked right into your room without knocking. That surely would have sent him straight back out again. And even now, you should probably be ordering him out, telling him to leave.

But you don’t.

“I was.. um.. finished anyway.” You manage to croak out. You sound so pathetic that you nearly make yourself cringe.

Ghost doesn’t answer immediately. He just watches you, his eyes as dark as ever beneath the mask. For a moment, you think he’s not going to answer at all.

But then he says, “Didn’t look like you finished to me.”

Blood rushes to your face so quickly that it makes you light-headed as you catch his meaning. Oh, what the fuck. This is just adding salt to the wound now.

“I wasn’t trying to–” You start, then cut yourself off. “That’s not why I was– I was just trying to relax.”

In the ensuing silence, you realise how silly you sound. At the very least, Ghost doesn’t laugh; he just tilts his head to the side, consideringly.

“Let me see.”

You gape at him. “I– sir–”

“Let me see, sergeant.”

It’s not an order. Not quite. Ghost’s voice is effortlessly assertive, but it falls just short of being a command. You have room to refuse. You could tell him to get out of your dorm right now, and he’d do it. Knowing the lieutenant, he’d never bring it up again, either.

You drop your knees apart, spreading your thighs in an unpracticed, self-conscious sort of motion.

Under the lieutenant’s sharp gaze, your skin prickles and your nerves strain. Even sitting down on your bed, he’s a veritable behemoth of broad shoulders and thick corded muscle. His hulking form towers over you even now, and you feel so damn small as you lay there propped up against your pillows in nothing but a t-shirt.

Ghost has seen you naked before, obviously. You can’t afford to be prudish in the military, where you never know when you’ll next have true privacy, and you’ve changed out and showered with the squad countless times. It’s never meant anything, and the men in 141 have never made you feel anything less than comfortable with them.

This, however, is different. This isn’t just a case of catching a quick glimpse of your nude form as you shower in the group shower rooms when you’re out on missions – your whole damn pussy is out on display for him, still glistening wet and sticky from your ministrations and the lube you’d used.

Ghost’s inhale is as loud as a thunderclap. You’ve never felt so exposed, so vulnerable in another person’s presence. You feel a little ridiculous laying like this as he watches you, but another part of you feels so humiliatingly desperate for some kind of approval from your lieutenant.

At first, that approval is nowhere to be found. Ghost is notoriously difficult to read, and you’re beginning to sweat as you lay there waiting for a response – any response.

At last, he makes a noise. It’s part grunt, part hum, and part groan.

“You’re still wet, sergeant.”

Are you imagining it, or is his voice an octave deeper than usual?

Your eyes trace his face, trying to imagine what he looks like beneath the mask. You can see the suggestion of his nose, the square curve of his jaw. His darkened eyes are watching you so carefully that you feel as though you’re physically being pinned in place.

You swallow. “It’s just– I–”

“You didn’t get to finish.” Ghost interrupts, with the air of completing your sentence for you.

You try to speak, but nothing more than a strangled sort of murmur escapes. You swallow hastily, then try again.

“I wasn’t going to. Sir.” You tack on the title at the end as an afterthought, but this whole situation is so far beyond professional that you probably needn’t have bothered. “Finish, I mean. I… I never do.”

You’ve admitted it before you can really think about it, and then you regret it wildly. You can’t help but wonder if you’ve overstepped a boundary, but then again the boundaries are currently so blurred that they’re virtually impossible to discern.

“You never finish.” Ghost repeats it. Slowly, staring right at your face, as though he’s confirming what you’ve just said.

It sounds so much worse in his deep, gravelly voice.

Embarrassment blooms, thick and sickly in your stomach. Your legs start to twitch closed, too embarrassed to be having this conversation with your cunt bared like this, but then Ghost’s big paw of a hand reaches out to settle over your knee, keeping you open and exposed. It’s so rare to see his hands ungloved, and the bare skin of his callous-roughened hand feels almost scorching hot against your inner knee.

“I don’t– I’ve tried,” You say, and you can’t help but feel as though you’re just digging yourself further into a hole, here. “But I don’t– I’m not able to. I mean, I’ve come close, I’m just not able to… you know.”

You trail off lamely, feeling like the biggest fucking loser ever. Why are you telling him this? Why the fuck haven’t you reacted properly, and kicked him the hell out of your room?

Deep down, a shameful little part of you already knows the answer to that. You’re feeling awfully, sickeningly hopeful. Having Lieutenant Riley in your dorm, sitting on your bed and staring so hungrily at the wet, swollen parts between your legs feels like something out of your wildest wet dreams.

His eyes flick towards your pink silicone rabbit dildo, half-hidden under your blanket, and he grunts consideringly before reaching out and taking it into his hands again. It’s standard-size, but it looks small in his big hands.

“You ain’t doin’ it right, then.” He says, so bluntly that you just blink at him. “Show me how you use it.”

For a brief, wild moment, you wonder if you’re experiencing visual and auditory hallucinations right now. Surely you can’t really be experiencing this right now – and yet the lieutenant is still watching you, and you’ve never disobeyed a direct order before.

He hands you the vibrator, then waits expectantly.

And… well. All you ever try to do is impress him.

You shuffle your legs open a little wider, ignoring the flustered heat that scalds your cheeks. You’ve never been all exposed like this in front of another person, and the weight of Ghost’s eyes on you is reminiscent of being under a spotlight.

You swear his eyes darken even further when you press the stiff silicone rabbit dildo to your cunt, if it’s even possible for that gaze to get darker beneath the thick balaclava and eyeblack smeared over the narrow strip of skin that’s visible.

The dildo sinks in so easily that it’s almost embarrassing, and your breath catches both from the stretch and the way Ghost leans in a little closer to see. Far from turning you off, you feel your body throb in response to his proximity, and your cunt flutters pathetically around the plastic toy. You shift, attempting to get a little more comfortable, but you can’t dispel the nerves fizzing in your blood as you attempt to push the dildo a little deeper under Ghost’s sharp gaze.

His big, hulking body is so perfectly still as he watches you that it’s making you a little nervous. The only reaction that you get from him is a small, considering hum, but even then you can’t figure out what it means. Your movements are a little clumsy, so hyper-conscious that he’s watching every single thing you do that you end up fumbling a little. He’s looking at you in the same way he assesses threats, his intense dark eyes examining every movement and reaction you make. It makes you feel small and jittery, especially when you realise that he’s judging you by what you’re doing.

“You gonna turn it on?” He asks, and oh god his voice has definitely dropped lower and huskier. You know you’re not imagining it.

You can’t even bring yourself to respond with words. You just make a strangled sort of sound of agreement, then clumsily hit the on button. The toy buzzes to life once more, and your toes curl absent-mindedly into the sheets as the soft silicone bunny ears pulse against your clit.

It feels nice, but you can’t manage to concentrate on the feeling. Hyper-aware of Ghost’s attention, you let out a quiet moan as you shift the vibrator inside you. It’s a little exaggerated, but you can’t help it – you feel like you should be putting on some kind of a show.

You glance back at Ghost’s face, trying to guess what he’s thinking; even through the mask, you can tell that he’s frowning. You feel your stomach clench anxiously. Have you done something wrong?

“This how you usually do it?” He asks.

You swallow thickly, feeling a bit stupid. “Um.. yeah.”

Ghost grunts. He doesn’t sound impressed.

“No wonder you can’t come.” He says wryly.

You go still, eyes widening. In the silence, the bzzzzt! of your stupid vibrator is louder than ever. A sudden wave of shame washes over you, and you start to close your legs again in an effort to block the sight of the toy stuffed into your pussy.

“Oh,” You snap sourly, your embarrassment making you irritable. “So you’re the pussy expert now?”

That startles a loud bark of a laugh out of the lieutenant, a sound so rare that you find yourself desperately trying to commit it to memory.

“Think I might know a bit more than you, sweetheart.” He says. He’s relaxed now, his wide shoulders rolling back. He’s always so effortlessly confident, always so assured in himself and his abilities in a way that makes you feel like a silly little girl.

Judging by the way the corners of his eyes are just slightly wrinkled beneath the mask, Ghost is smirking at you. He finds this funny.

“What about when you’re with other people, hm?” He asks, and his eyes drop back down to try and get a look at you again. When he realises that your legs are clamped tight together, he reaches out to guide your thighs apart again. “No one’s ever impressed you?”

His hands are big and rough and hot, and your willpower crumbles like wet paper as you allow him to open your legs all over again. The vibrator is still buzzing sadly inside you, mostly forgotten about; the stimulation is nice, but it’s never been enough for you.

You huff a weak laugh. You should have known that this would come up, and now you find yourself floundering a little.

“No one’s ever tried.” The confession comes out like a whisper, like a secret.

You can see the moment Ghost understands; realisation settles heavy over him like a physical weight, and the whites of his eyes flash as they widen just slightly. For a moment, he says nothing at all. He doesn’t move – it doesn’t even look like he breathes.

“No?” He says, except it doesn’t really sound like a question. It sounds rough, and you can feel the almost convulsive motion of his fingers tightening around your knee.

You shake your head wordlessly, beyond embarrassed now.

Ghost’s wispy blond eyelashes flutter softly as his eyes dart down to your pussy, still humiliatingly stuffed with your stupid little vibrator. He takes a moment to stare, then looks back up to your face. He’s so frustratingly confident about everything he does, not an ounce of shame in his posture even as you wilt beneath him.

“Never messed around with anybody?”

“No.” You say, and it comes out on a wheeze. He holds your gaze without faltering, and you realise that he’s expecting you to elaborate. “No, I– it just never happened. I was never… um, I was just always too busy, I guess.”

“Too fussy, more like.” He mutters, quiet enough that it seems like it’s a comment meant just for himself. You don’t know how to take that, so you chew your lip and stay quiet.

His eyes drop down to the vibrating dildo again, and you recognise something that looks like a flash of hunger. It feels like there’s pressure building up beneath your skin, tight and hot, and your thighs fall open a little further. You feel raw and so, so exposed, but you don’t even care when Ghost is looking at you like that.

“Let me try.” He says, the words falling out sharp and harsh as though he they’ve burst out of his mouth before he can stop them. It’s not like Ghost to speak without thinking it through, perfectly calculated, and your breath catches a little at the offer.

How could you ever say no to that? You don’t really think that he’s going to succeed in making you come – at this point you’re pretty sure your body is a little bit broken and you’re just not capable of orgasming at all, and that’s whatever – but the chance to get fucked by Ghost? To lose the lingering vestiges of your viriginity to your ridiculously hot, mysterious, massive lieutenant? It’s like something out of a dream.

“Okay.” You choke out, nodding stupidly. “Yeah.”

You want to be touched. You don’t think you’ve ever actually felt the yearning for physical contact this strongly in your life; you’re practically holding your breath as you wait for Ghost to make a move.

Finally, he reaches out. His first move is to pull the stupid little dildo out of you, still vibrating, and you feel yourself clench convulsively around nothing as he leaves you empty and wanting. He spares it a brief, evaluating glance, and you feel yourself burn as you realise he’s examining how you’ve soaked the toy.

He tosses it to the side, barely even taking the time to switch it off first, then turns his attention back to you. He’s got that same kind of laser-focus he usually only gets out on the field, and you take a moment to feel incredibly grateful that you’re never going to be on the receiving end of that terrifying scrutiny on the battlefield.

It feels like your skin is too tight for your body, every nerve and synapse strained and primed as you wait for him to touch you. But he’s slow about it, as though he just wants to torture you a little bit.

When he finally reaches out to lay his hands on you, he doesn’t touch where you want him to.

His callous-roughened hands land on your hips, and pull you down the bed towards him. In the same move, he half-climbs up on the mattress, his huge form practically dwarfing you. Your head and shoulders are still cushioned by your pillows, but your legs are splayed open around Ghost where he kneels on your bed.

You glance down, unable to help yourself, unable to resist trying to catch a look at the outline of his erection pressing against his trousers, and oh. Fuck. He’s big. You knew he’d be big, of course, he’s big all over, but Jesus Christ, maybe you’re a little out of your own depth here–

His thick fingers tangle in the hem of your t-shirt, stretching the fabric out. “Take this off.”

You scramble to do as he says, grabbing at your top and pulling it up clumsily. You realise a moment too late that you’re not wearing a bra, but you suppose at this point it hardly matters. You drop your shirt to the side, and try not to feel too horrifically self-conscious beneath the burning hot gaze of the lieutenant.

Though you can’t see Ghost’s face, you can hear the soft exhale he blows out through his nose, just faintly muffled by the fabric of his mask. His eyes are trained on your chest, darting between each of your tits as though he can’t decide which one to settle on. After a long moment, he reaches forward and cups your left tit with one of his enormous hands, thumbing absently at one of your nipples.

It’s silly; Ghost has touched you before. Lots of times. A nudge of the elbow accompanied by a conspiratorial eye roll, a clap to the shoulder, rough hands pulling you to your feet after training or applying white-hot painful pressure to injuries. But this – you’ve never been touched like this before, not by Ghost, not by anyone.

The shaky breath you let out as his big, rough thumb rolls over your firm nipple comes out as a strangled sort of moan that honestly startles you a little. The noise catches his attention, and he snorts.

“Can’t be that sensitive.” He mutters, but then he reaches to thumb at your other nipple as though trying to be sure.

It’s because you’ve never been touched like this by another person before, you tell yourself. Truthfully, you’ve never even touched yourself like this before. You’ve never bothered to play with your own tits; you’ve always just gone straight to breaking out your vibrators. Now, with every brush of Ghost’s scarred fingers over the tight bud of your nipples, you think you must have been crazy to skip over this part of yourself. But then again, there’s no way that your own hands on yourself would elicit the same sharp jolt that shoots from your breasts down your spine.

“Sir–” You breathe, struggling not to squirm where you’re laying. You wonder, somewhat deliriously, if it might be rude to demand your lieutenant stuff his thick fingers into your pussy. You can already tell that they’re going to feel so much better than your own.

Ghost glances up at you, his eyes unreadable as he watches you bite at your lip. God, his little wispy eyelashes are so blond—

“What?” He says, his voice deep enough that you swear you can feel it rumbling through your bones. “Say it.”

“Want to try your fingers.” You breathe before you can second-guess yourself.

The laugh that rumbles out of Ghost’s chest is low and smoky. It’s probably impossible to miss the way your eyes have been drawn to his hands all evening, so big and corded with veins and muscle and scar tissue. You’ve witnessed those hands crack bones and snap necks and break down doors, and yet you can’t help but wonder desperately what they’re going to feel like when he starts touching you properly.

He adjusts himself on the bed; he’s a big man, hulking and huge as he kneels on your mattress, his weight causing it to dip. His palms wrap around your ankles with ease, and he hauls you into place with a grim efficiency that goes straight to your pussy.

“Big brute.” You say, a little breathlessly.

He ignores you, using his arms to hold your legs open and wide for him. And all you can do is just lie there as he stares, because goddamn it’s like he’s been carved from steel and you can’t break out of his grip. Not that you want to break out of his grip anyway, but you’d really appreciate it if he actually got moving instead of just staring.

“Fuck,” He grunts after a moment, with the air of talking to himself. “Been hiding this all this time, huh?”

“Jesus.” You breathe in response, subconsciously letting your legs drop open even more.

He makes a low noise of appreciation, and finally reaches out to touch you properly. One thick thumb swipes through the seam of your cunt, and you feel the way he’s smearing the clear sticky wetness that’s been leaking steadily out of you. With his now slick thumb, he drags up towards your clit and circles it with agonisingly light pressure.

You let out an embarrassing choked whine, your toes curling at the sensation. Somewhat ironically, Ghost is handling you far more gently than you usually touch yourself, and you find yourself flexing your hips in an attempt to get him to touch you with more pressure. He ignores your attempts, keeping his pace implacably steady and slow.

“D’you always get this wet?”

You can’t even tell if he’s asking you mockingly or if he’s being genuinely curious; it feels like every inch of your focus has narrowed down to the feel of his big thumb rolling those tight little circles around your clit, his touch scorching against you.

It’s not exactly surprising that Ghost is good with his hands. You’ve seen the way he handles weaponry, locking and loading and aiming to fire with the kind of swiftness that comes from muscle memory, working with unwavering speed and precision. He’s the same in hand-to-hand combat, moving with aggressive fluidity that overwhelms his opponents. You’ve caught hits from him before in training, and you know from experience that a punch from those big hands feels like getting hit by a cinder block.

But even knowing how deft and skilled his hands are, it knocks the breath out of you when he slides his middle and ring fingers inside of you, still rubbing steadily at the swollen bump of your clit.

When you exhale, it accidentally comes out as a moan. Your cheeks burn, but there’s really no space in your brain right now for embarrassment to sink in. Two of Ghost’s fingers are the equivalent of at least three and a half of yours, and you feel yourself break out into an overwhelmed sweat when they twist and rub against the sensitive squishy spot in the front wall of your cunt.

You’re so damn worked up, your arousal coiled like a knot in your lower belly from your failed attempts to get yourself off all day. Your back curves, humping yourself near mindlessly back up into his hand as he plays you like a goddamn instrument.

You barely even have time to consider how unfair it is that Ghost is so good at playing with you like this when he doesn’t even have a pussy himself, because then he pulls his fingers out of you.

“Oh, no, don’t stop–” You start to protest breathlessly, your chest still heaving, but the quick glance the lieutenant sends you has you falling silent.

Ghost glances down at his fingers. They’re all glossy from fingering you, and he takes a moment to eye up the way they glisten in the dim light of your bunk. You might have felt self-conscious about it, if you couldn’t see the unmistakable gleam of hungry interest in Ghost’s dark brown eyes.

He wipes his hand on the crease of your hip, but you don’t even get the chance to protest before he reaches up to hook his fingers into his mask. You go still, holding your breath in surprise as he pulls the material up until it bunches up around the bridge of his nose.

And that’s– well. You’ve seen his jaw before, and his mouth (Jesus, you had seen it earlier that evening, when he had been sipping on his smooth whiskey of choice), but the sight of his strong jawline and blond stubble and corded scars on his pale skin always manages to knock the breath out of you. And this time, he’s rolled his mask up even further than before, revealing a nose that’s clearly been broken at least once before.

You probably shouldn’t stare so blatantly, especially knowing that Ghost always takes such pains to keep his face covered. You’re not even sure if the other guys on the team have seen his uncovered face, except for Price, and you know that they’ve developed a habit of averting their eyes when he pulls his mask up for whatever reason. It’s a habit that you never quite managed to develop yourself; you’re never able to stop yourself from gaping at him like a moron, drinking in all of the minutest details. He’s never said a thing about your penchant for staring, so you can only hope that he’s chosen to ignore it.

You’re so busy staring that it takes you by surprise when he grips your jaw with one massive hand and pulls you into a rough kiss.

The sound you make is small and startled, but it’s swallowed by Ghost’s demanding mouth. His lips are dry and a little chapped, but they feel scorching hot against yours. You reach up to grab at his arms – mostly just to ground yourself – but you find yourself almost immediately distracted by the firm bulge of his biceps beneath your hands.

Listen, you’ve kissed people before, plenty times. You’re in your early twenties, and just because you’re inexperienced sexually it doesn’t mean that you’re inexperienced full stop. But this, right now, kissing with Ghost, makes you feel as though you’ve been doing nothing but fumbling your way through all of those encounters, like you’ve been kissing wrong all this time.

It’s slow and deep, at first. All-consuming. It lights a fire in your gut, which expands and spreads throughout your body until you find your fingers grasping desperately at the short cotton sleeves of Ghost’s t-shirt where it’s stretched over his thickly muscled arm.

Ghost doesn’t just kiss with his mouth, either. It’s like a full-body experience with him; he puts his hands, his whole damn body into the kiss. He clutches you to him, holding you close even as the force of his kiss bends you backwards into the pillows beneath you. At the same time, it’s all you can do to concentrate and respond to the kiss itself, your attention stretched and strained by the feeling of Ghost’s hands running over you, stroking you sides and squeezing at your breasts and groping at the soft flesh of your hips and ass.

“Hah,” You gasp out when Ghost’s lips slide sideways to find the corner of your jaw. His mouth is hot against your skin, bruising, and you feel yourself grow embarrassingly wetter, just from a little kissing.

“You good?” Ghost grunts into your throat as he nips at the base of your jaw.

“Uh huh.” You manage to get out, still clutching at his meaty arms like they’re a lifeline. “So good.”

His breath is hot on your throat when he rumbles out a deep chuckle, and then his tongue flicks out against your earlobe. It makes you forget how to breathe for a second, and you’re distracted when Ghost’s hand changes course, easing beneath your legs so he can press his fingers against your clit again.

Then he pauses, and his fingers slide lower, lazily hooking back and inside you. You tremble, horny and humiliated as you realise that your arousal is glistening all over your damn thighs, impossible to miss.

“Fuck,” Ghost mutters. “All this for me, sweetheart?”

“Hnng,” You whimper like an idiot as his fingers return to your clit, now slick and slippery. “I’m just–”

He doesn’t wait for you to explain. Instead, he pulls his fingers out of you again and kisses you hard. The soft breathy noises you make are muffled into his mouth, and you wrap your legs around his waist automatically. He’s built like a damn mountain, your thighs stretched wide to accommodate the bulk of him as he settles against the core of you.

He likes that – he presses in close, and you can feel the hard line of his cock pressing up against you through the roughness of his jeans. You’re so sensitive that the coarseness of the fabric is almost unbearable, but you’re able to ignore it because you’re so distracted by the sensation of his erection because holy fucking shit that can’t really be how big he is.

You gasp, the sound high and breathy, and you try to grind against Ghost, but it’s impossible because he’s so fucking heavy and he’s pinning you down on the mattress beneath him. Instead, all you can do is squeeze your legs and pull Ghost in even tighter, increasing the pressure between the two of you.

“I’m gonna ruin you,” Ghost whispers, and it sounds like a promise. He drags his lips up your throat, then talks against the corner of your mouth. “You won’t be able to touch yourself again without wishing it was me.”

The wave of desire that rocks through you almost pulls you under, and you swear you might have actually gotten so horny that you blacked out for a second, because from one second to the next Ghost has somehow managed to muscle his way back down between your thighs so that he’s eye-level with your cunt.

“What are you–” You start to say, but then he loops his forearms under your knees to tug your legs wider, and you realise just how close his face is to your pussy. You swear you’re actually pulsing with arousal, and you wonder a little wildly if he can see that.

“Oh, fuck, yes — please,” You blurt out, before Ghost has even gotten his mouth on you. He chuckles, low and amused. His grin looks predatory, but in this moment you really don’t mind being the prey — not if it means you’ll be devoured by that mouth.

Then Ghost’s mouth is against you, wet and burning hot. You cry out, barely noticing as Ghost throws one of your legs over his shoulders, spreading you open.

It’s just the right side of overwhelming. Ghost’s mouth feels like it’s going to swallow you whole – his tongue is huge and flat and firm as he licks over your clit, making your thighs quake on either side of his head. It’s entirely unlike any of the fumbling masturbatory attempts you’ve ever made – you always enjoy messing around with your various little sex toys, but you’re swiftly beginning to realise that it could never compare to real human contact. Or at least, contact with Ghost.

His hands move from your waist to your asscheeks, his big palms squeezing the plump flesh there before using his grip to pull your body closer so that he can bury his whole face between your legs. The rougher material of his mask presses harshly into the sensitive skin of your inner thighs, but you hardly even notice it.

Your pussy has never been this wet before; it feels like you’ve sprung a goddamn leak. You might have felt embarrassed about it if it weren’t for the way Ghost groans against you, his wide tongue laving flat and rough against the seam of your cunt as he practically gulps down all the sticky arousal you have to give him.

“Oh god– fuck! Sir…” You sigh, spreading your knees farther apart so that Ghost can wedge his head further between your thighs.

Your ears burn as your room is filled with sounds of him tonguing at your cunt, the lewd wet squish of him working you over until you’re keening, your hips twitching clumsily until his hands tighten where he’s gripping the plump flesh of your ass to keep you still. Then all you can do is twitch as he licks over your clit in repetitive lapping motions, working in circles and then dipping down to shove his searingly hot tongue inside you. You can feel his teeth press against your labia even as he sucks at your clit, and the sensation sends hot bolts of pleasure rocketing down your spine.

Though you don’t mean to, you’re pretty sure that you make his job harder. You can’t stop wriggling, tossing your head back against your pillows and squirming on Ghost’s tongue in a wild overstimulated dance, like a fish caught in a net.

Finally, Ghost seems to have enough of your unco-ordinated flailing attempts to grind against his face. He reaches around your thigh with one arm to reach your clit so he can keep it stimulated as he gulps at the sticky sweetness of your cunt like a man possessed – the action also works to keep your hips pinned down and still. You stop your frantic moving, but your spasms and sounds increase tenfold.

You can hardly believe it, but you feel something coming. A sweet, torturous build up starts in your belly, and you sweat and gasp as he licks and suckles at you relentlessly. You’ve never found yourself in this state so quickly before, with your legs trembling and your breathing heavy and shaky.

“Oh.. oh…” You breathe, beginning to arch your back.

You know this feeling – this is where that sweet climax builds and builds, only to dissipate at the last agonisingly close moment. But this time, with Ghost’s big head between your thighs as his mouth moves against you, sucking, tasting, eating up everything you have to offer, the breath-taking pleasure doesn’t show any sign of slipping out of reach. It feels like for once you might actually reach that peak.

But then, right as you’re certain that you’re about to tip over that long-awaited coveted release, the bastard pulls away.

“No!” You practically shriek, attempting to sit up. “No, I was so close–!”

“Lie back.” Ghost orders, his voice like the crack of a whip.

You drop back obediently before you can even register that you’re moving, so conditioned to react instantly to that tone of voice coming from Ghost’s deep rumbling baritone. Your eyes are wide and betrayed as you stare at him, admittedly a little baleful.

God, but it’s hard to stay annoyed when he’s staring up at you from between your legs like that. His eyes are dark and hungry beneath the mask, and since it’s all pushed up and rumpled around his nose you get a toe-curlingly good look at his lower face. His chin is wet and smeared with your slick, and his lips are plump and pink and swollen from all the kissing and suckling he’s done to you. In a moment of near-delirium, you think that you understand now why he covers his face – his mouth is pretty in a way that shocks you, in a way that needs to be hidden for decency’s sake.

“You’re gettin’ greedy,” He grunts, turning his head and sinking his teeth into the crease of your thigh just to make you yelp. “Wait for it, love. It’ll be worth the wait.”

You don’t think you have much of a choice, so all you can do is lay back and hold on for the ride. He presses his mouth to you again, and you whimper softly as he tongues at your clit.

“No one’s ever eaten you out like this?” He asks, the words muffled into the damp curve of your thigh. It’s stupid, because you know he knows the answer to that is a resounding no, but it seems like he just wants to hear you say it out loud.

“No.” You say, your breaths sawing their way out of your chest.

“Hnn.” He makes some kind of grunting sound against you, his tongue flicking out to taste you again. “That’s why you’ve been so tense, huh? So fuckin’ desperate for someone to touch you?”

“That’s not– ‘m not tense,” You manage to get out, your breasts heaving as your thighs tense up where they’re thrown over his shoulders. “Maybe.. Maybe you’re too relaxed.”

Ghost huffs a hot little laugh at your hip because you both know that couldn’t be further from the truth. You doubt anyone has ever accused Ghost of being too relaxed before, but you don’t have time to feel stupid for it – not when Ghost is devoting the full force of his attention on you, deep breaths huffing against the wet skin of your pussy and making you shudder.

“That’s it,” He croons, his voice uncharacteristically soft and lilting. The rumble of it ripples through your limbs like lapping waves, his battle-roughened palm stroking and smoothing down your ass and thigh as he hauls you closer. “Relax, sweetheart. Fuck, such a pretty pussy. Fuckin’ criminal of you to keep this hidden away all to yourself.” And then, quieter, “Fuckin’ Christ, you’re wet.”

You’re not even sure that he’s talking to you. It seems more as though he’s talking to himself, and it just happens to be you he’s talking about. Your cheeks burn as the feeling of vulnerability sets in, but you keep your legs spread wide as he kisses your clit with his swollen pink lips. You want so badly to be good, for him to be pleased with you, that you push past your embarrassment as best you can.

There’s a budding anxiety in your belly that Ghost is wasting his time here. As much as you crave his touch and the build up, you worry that he’s going to get frustrated with you and your inability to actually orgasm.

But Ghost doesn’t seem to be in a rush. He seems perfectly fucking happy between your legs, and even with his mask all clumsily rucked up around his nose he presses his face into your pussy with his eyes heavy-lidded and hazy. Even when you shift a little in an effort to get him to go a little harder or faster, he just pins you still and continues at his own leisurely pace.

When he reintroduces his fingers, pressing inside and stretching you out with a light sting, you hiss and try to lift your hips again. His rough calloused knuckles brush against the inside of your soft inner thighs, making them quiver as he goes three fingers deep.

“Shhh, atta girl.” He mumbles into you, his words coming out wetly muffled since he doesn’t even both pulling his face back. “Fuckin’– shit, so good.”

The praise shoots liquid and molten through you, and you have to bite back a pathetic keen as you pulse around his fingers. You’re sure he must feel it, because he lets out an answering rumble and laps against your clit, then closes his lips and sucks.

“Oh god–”

“Shhh.” Ghost scoots forward so your knee can hoist over his shoulder. Then he angles his chin to kiss the skin on the inside curve of your knee as he pumps into you with slow, slippery fingers and ungodly squelching noises that only sparks you hotter. You can’t even tell if it’s sweat or tears dotting your face anymore.

Though Ghost’s eyes are heavy-lidded and a little fogged over, he hasn’t looked away from you once. The focused intensity of his gaze spears you through, because you’ve never been looked at like that. No one has ever seen you like this, no one has ever put effort into you like this, no one has ever been so determined to please you before. You don’t know how you’re ever going to recover from this; you have a terrifyingly distinct impression that he’s going to live up to his promise to ruin you for anyone else.

It feels as though your blood is boiling beneath your skin, and you nearly sob when Ghost pulls back. You’ve never been so close, and you want to scream when he takes his gorgeous fucking mouth away from your clit.

“Fuck.” You wet your lips, realising you were panting like a dog and your mouth is bone dry. “Fuck, Ghost, just—”

“Quiet, lovie.” His reply is hoarse and firm, his throat working hard to swallow as he peered down between you, his clever thumb delving slick circles over the taut bump of your clit, his other three fingers fucking with easy rhythm and purpose. It’s maddening, it’s infuriating, it makes you feel as though you’re about to break apart.

His fingers are pulled out, and then you feel firm pressure pressing into you yet again. Your head lolls as you attempt to sit up, your eyelids fluttering as you realise that he’s pressing your stupid dildo into you again.

“Oh, you bastard–” You start to complain, but Ghost doesn’t give you the opportunity to speak properly.

The dildo slides into you so easily, your sticky slick mixing with his spit making the slide almost effortless. You sigh, a build-up of pressure making your whole body feel as though you’ve been stretched out and pulled tight.

Now that you’ve been pushed to the edge, you linger by it. Ghost keeps you on that edge for what feels like hours, until your breaths are burning in your chest and the ligaments in your calves are screaming from all the straining you’ve been doing. Every roll of Ghost’s thumb over your clit sends sparks racing through your nerves, and your breathing is harsh and uneven as Ghost starts fucking you with the stupid vibrating dildo. The rhythm he sets is firm and unrelenting, pushing the silicone toy in and out and visibly relishing the wet squish of your cunt as it takes it deep.

Ghost huffs against the wet skin of your inner thigh, making you shudder. It seems like he’s enjoying this as much as you are, judging by the subtle roll of his hips against your mattress as he absorbs himself in fucking you with the dildo.

He experiments with the angle, adjusting the dildo until you cry out, jerking against the bedding, and whining “There!”. You needn’t bother telling him, though; Ghost has a sharp eye, and he’s so goddamn attentive. He’s already repeating the stroke, pushing the dildo in and bumping it against the same sensitive spot he had hit before.

It feels good, but it’s not enough. Now that you’ve felt the firm hot pressure of his fingers spreading you wide and the wet hunger of his mouth devouring you, you don’t think anything else will do.

He shifts, you catch the rolls of his hips against your mattress again, and you feel as though you’ve caught fire. You think of the glimpse you had caught of his hard cock, pressing against his jeans and making the fabric stretch taut, and you find yourself speaking without thinking.

Ghost pushes the dildo in once more, and you reach down to grab at his wrist as you ask breathlessly, “Can I try yours?”

He pauses; goes so still that it’s honestly uncanny, his eyes practically boring holes into you as he stares at your face. You grow flustered, your own eyes widening in response to your own words. Just because he’s deigning to touch you with his fingers and his mouth, doesn’t mean he’s actually planning to fuck you. Jesus, he’s your fucking superior officer. What were you thinking?

“I’m sorry,” You squeak. “That wasn’t appropriate. Fuck, forget I said that–”

Even beneath the mask, you can see the bob of Ghost’s Adam's apple as he swallows thickly.

“You sure?” He interrupts your rambling before you can get started. “I don’t... ‘m not good with virgins.”

There’s… there’s so much you could say in response to that. Namely, he certainly doesn’t seem like he’s bad with virgins, as evidenced by the throb of arousal still pulsing through your soaked cunt. He’s just had you sobbing at the mercy of his fingers and mouth, and all he has to say when you ask for more is that he’s not good with virgins?

Instead, what you say is a rather lame, “I’m not technically a virgin.”

Which is true. Sort of. Based on a technicality – you had bullied your damn vibrator through your stupid hymen years ago, and you’ve always thought the idea of virginity was a stupid one, anyway.

“Plastic cocks don’t count, darlin’.”

Blood rushes to your face so fast you feel light-headed as humiliation burns through you. Jesus, okay. That’s just mortifying.

“Oh, you think your cock is special, then?” You scoff, attempting nonchalance.

Ghost shifts, letting your legs drop from his shoulders, and kneels up on the mattress so that he’s looming over you. Fuck, every time you get a visceral reminder of how big he is, you feel a little faint. It’s like having a veritable wall of muscle caging you into your bed. Your thighs are spread wide to accommodate the size of him, and you find yourself absolutely captivated by the sight of him with his muscles straining against that stupid tight t-shirt, still panting lightly from his greedy gorging on your cunt.

He reaches out and drags a hand slowly from your cunt up over your belly, between your breasts, up over your sternum, to rest over your collarbones. It’s gentle – he doesn’t put an iota of pressure against your throat – but all you can fucking see is the swell of his bicep and the dark ink of his tattoo and the prominent veins running down the chiselled muscle of his forearm.

Good fucking lord.

“You’ll find out.” He says.

And oh. Okay then. Yeah, you sure fucking will.

He reaches down and unbuttons his jeans, and you can’t help but strain to try and watch. He pushes them down carelessly around his thighs, but doesn’t make any move to strip them off any further. You’re suddenly aware of the fact that you’re laying on the bed completely nude and exposed, while Ghost has only pushed his jeans down far enough to pull his cock out, but you don’t have any time to feel self-conscious about it.

His cock curves up against his belly, red and twitching. He’s fucking rock hard, and bigger than you had been expecting, bigger than any of your stupid little toys. Your mouth goes dry, and your eyes widen comically. Fuck. No wonder he’s confident. He’s not lacking in any way.

“D’you’ve a johnny?” He asks, one big paw of a hand taking his cock and stroking lazily at it until a bead of pearly precum oozes from the angry red head.

You’re distracted for a moment, staring at the way he fists his cock, before you blink back to yourself. “What?”

“A condom.” He enunciates slowly, as though speaking to someone he thinks is a bit thick.

“I know what you meant,” You snap, embarrassed. “But– no. Why would I? I’ve never…”

You can see the way his eyes crease and realise that he’s frowning beneath the mask, and you’re hit with a sudden bolt of panic – is he going to change his mind now? You can see the hesitation in the lines of his shoulders, but you think if he changes his mind about fucking you, you might just die.

“It doesn’t matter,” You blurt, “You don’t need one. I’m on the pill. I’m clean.”

Ghost cocks his head, but remains still. It’s almost unnerving, and you feel your toes curl into the bedsheets as you wait for an answer. He looks fucking predatory, hulking over you like a fucking behemoth as he watches you assessingly. You try your best to look confident, but you have a feeling that you just look desperately hungry.

He reaches up and hooks his fingers into the fabric of his mask and pulls it back down to cover his still slick-shiny mouth and jaw, and you’re gripped with sudden overwhelming panic and dismay that he’s changed his mind, that he’s about to leave you here wet and empty and wanting. In that moment, you throw your dignity into the wind.

“Please,” You beg pathetically, wriggling a little bit against your sweat-damp bedding in an effort to grind yourself against him. “Please, please, it’s fine, I swear, you don’t need one–”

“Fuckin’ hell.” Ghost grinds out, his voice rough and a little hoarse. “How can a virgin be such a fuckin’ slut?”

Some part of you wonders if you should be offended by that, but instead a frisson of heat runs down your spine. You know you’re not a slut – you’ve never searched for any sexual attention, and you’ve never even experienced someone else’s touch – but goddamn you want to be a slut for your lieutenant right now.

Despite his harsh words, when Ghost hooks your legs over his hips and aligns himself with you, he’s gentle. He’s acting like you’re something fragile; he’s so big that your legs are spread wide around his waist, his shoulders so broad that he’s blocking out the dim light from your lamp, and yet his touch is light against you as though he’s afraid to break you.

He’s still gripping his cock hard, and he slides the tip of it against your slick heat. You have a brief moment of alarm; even through the haze of arousal, you can recognise that this is going to be a tight fit. You breathe deeply, then begin to wiggle your hips in an effort to take him inside you.

He hisses, then one of his big hands grabs at your hip. “Fuck, stay still.”

“Put it in.” You beg, your voice coming out thick and stupid-sounding. “Fuck, please, c’mon, c’mon–”

“Kid,” Ghost bites out through clenched teeth, his voice low and gritty. “Need you to shut the fuck up for me.”

You manage to bite down on your lip, but you can’t stop yourself from pouting mopily at him with wide, wet eyes. You don’t understand why he’s making you wait – can’t he see how mean he’s being? You’re so fucking wet, so empty as you clench down on nothing, and your clit is so desperate for any kind of stimulation that it’s throbbing needily. The head of his cock catches at your opening, dipping in for a second before resuming its maddening slide up and down.

Ghost is still watching you closely, his brown eyes flickering from where the head of his cock drags through your sodden folds up to your pleading pouting expression. You can only imagine what kind of a sight you make, because his chest growls with a choked sort of groan.

“I know,” He murmurs, almost mockingly soft with you. “I know, you want it. Gotta give it to you slowly.”

You want to tell him that he doesn’t have to give it to you slowly, that he can go as fast and hard as he wants to, but some sense of self-preservation shuts you up. Instead, you nod clumsily as he rubs his cock over the slick folds of your cunt, lubing himself up with your own arousal. The feeling of his cock dragging over you, iron hard and velvety soft, so close to where you want it, is enough to have your head spinning dizzily.

You want to beg again, but you’re still trying to follow his order to be silent. You shift restlessly, biting back a whimper when he taps his cock thoughtfully against your clit.

Finally, he decides to put you out of your misery.

The thick crown of his cock pushes against the tight ring of muscle at the entrance of your cunt, and the gasp you let out is positively punched out of you. He goes slow, just like he promised, but you can still hardly believe it. He goes in and in and in, and yet he’s somehow not even halfway inside.

“Fuck,” You wheeze, punctuated by a strange little yowl. “Oh god, wait–”

You feel stuffed just from the first few inches, drunk already on the quiet little grunts he’s making. The stretch and the sting and the pressure inside you is glorious, so tight that you can barely even flex around him and you can’t even decide if it’s good or if it’s too much. Your eyes are hot and wet as overwhelmed tears begin to overflow, and you find yourself arching in a weak attempt to flex away from him and the devastating stretch.

God, he’s massive. You knew he would be, of course, but his size seems so much more significant when you’re being impaled on the end of his cock. Fuck, you can feel your vision go blurry as your eyes fill with overwhelmed tears. You’re mortified when a sob is ripped from your chest, harsh and thick.

“Shh, shh.” Ghost coos, his deep voice syrupy thick as he leans over you, the enormous bulk of him caging you into the mattress until your whole world consists only of him. “Just a little bit more.”

“Fuck,” You choke out, trying to arch away again but failing because he’s so big that there’s nowhere to go. “It’s not gonna fit!”

“Shh, lovie,” He rumbles, ducking his face down so that the rough cotton of his mask is pressed against the sweaty skin of your neck. “Relax’n let me in.”

“I– ‘m trying–” You whine, clutching at his biceps. “Jesus–”

You blink your eyes open, vision blurry from the tears clumping your lashes together, only to be met with the sight of Ghost’s deep brown eyes staring at you from beneath the black mask. He’s looming above you, his gaze made all the more intense by the fact that it’s the only part of his face you can really see.

“All that messin’ around with those plastic cocks, but you’re still this tight for me,” He says, his voice so deep that you feel it reverberate into your bones. “Deep breath.”

The breath you inhale at his instruction is rough and ragged, and he snorts a low breathless laugh in response.

When he finally drives his cock all the way in with one smooth stroke, all the breath is driven from your lungs. It feels as though his cock has been pressed all the way up into your chest, and the noise you make when you squirm on it is utterly pathetic.

Ghost’s hands are like steel clamps when they close around the plump flesh of your thighs, holding them up and pressing them back until they’re pressed against your belly. He looms over you, still almost entirely clothed as sweat beads over his thickly muscled neck. It’s like getting pinned down by a mountain, and you whimper as you’re speared open and prone by the weight of Ghost pressing down upon you.

He hasn’t even started to move yet, but you still feel overfull and raw.

“Too big,” You mumble, struggling to catch your breath. You choke on a sob and feel your eyes burn with unshed tears as your back arches. “Ghost–!”

“Shh.” He grunts. “Call me Simon when I fuck you.”

That… that does something to you. Molten heat rockets up your spine and pools in your belly, and you swear your pussy floods. It’s stupid, how being granted permission to call your lieutenant by his first name is somehow so much hotter than anything else he’s done so far.

“Simon,” You try it out. It comes out a little shaky, your voice little more than a weak whisper, but you swear you can see his eyes sharpen.

Apparently having come to the decision that you’ve adjusted enough, Ghost pulls his hips back only to drive back in.

“Oh!” You yelp, hips jumping, but there’s nowhere to go.

All you can do is lie there as he slides out, out, out, slow and careful and long, and then his hips snap forward and he impales you, pressing all the way into him. He does it again, and again, and you try to bite down on your tongue, try to not sound so pathetically wrecked, but you can’t. It’s like Ghost is puncturing your lungs and every time he fucks into you, you let out the most pathetic little mewling ah ah ah sounds.

You’re not quite prepared for how different this feels; it’s nothing like your stupid plastic dildo. Ghost’s cock is bigger, but it’s also hotter and with more give than you expected, and you’ve never been able to fuck yourself like this. Your plastic toys could never compare to the sensation of being pinned by your giant of a lieutenant as he ruts into you.

Ghost reaches up and roughly pushes his mask up so his mouth is exposed again before he leans in deeper, almost folding you cleanly in half, stretching in to claim your mouth in a kiss that’s not quite a kiss, but rather a fierce mash of lips and tongue as his rhythm picks up, riding you down into the mattress until you realised the screaming noise isn’t coming from either one of you, but the cheap standard issue bed frame.

All you can do is gasp with each deep, raw fuck. There are tears tracking lazily down your cheeks, having overflowed from your burning eyes, and you honestly think your lungs might collapse. You’re bent like a fucking pretzel, in a way that’s making the muscles in your thighs scream, as Ghost pounds into you.

He’s fucking relentless, but also shockingly aware of you beneath him. He doesn’t put too much pressure on you when he holds you, he never goes hard enough to hurt, and he knows just the right amount of weight to pin you down without being too much.

Your pussy is sloppy around him, wet squishing noises getting louder and louder as he finds more rhythm against your tight walls. Your whole world of awareness has been narrowed down to Ghost and Ghost only; his fingers digging into your thighs, your name in his mouth, his sweltering body pressing against yours.

He’s holding back, you can tell by the way his voice is caught in his throat. He’s keeping all his dangerous muscles at bay as he pulls out and presses in again. Rough, fast, but not enough to break you, just enough to make you scream until you bury your face to the side and try to cover your mouth with your arm.

“Yeah, you needed this,” Ghost grunts, his uncovered mouth nipping at the hinge of your jaw. “This’s why you were so fuckin’ distracted earlier, hm? You thinkin’ about how much you needed to cream around a real cock?”

“Uh huh, yeah,” You slur out, not even sure what you’re agreeing with. Your tongue feels too big for your mouth, every nerve in your body raw and sparking. You must sound so pathetic, but Ghost seems to like it.

“Ain’t gonna be distracted anymore, are ya?” He rumbles, laving his tongue over your jaw in a way that feels filthy. “Just needed your little pussy filled, that’s all.”

You cry out for him because you can’t help it, delight bubbling in your throat every time he plunges into you. He keeps his pace for a bit, all rushed and blazing, transfixed on watching you suck him in, leaving slick trails along his shaft. But gradually he gets bolder, more desperate, big hands squeezing from your thighs to your hips.

You get lost in the feeling of him in your belly, searing and harsh, fat tip rolling against the spongy spot inside of you until you feel like you might snap. You feel him in your ears, your head pounding with every snap of his hips. You swear you even feel him in your toes, lightning zaps of pleasure down your nerves.

Then he leans back, lifting his weight off of you so you can breathe properly. He leaves his hand on your collarbones like a placeholder, his palm spread over the base of your throat like a reminder, a way to keep your attention on him.

“Fuck,” He grits out, “That’s it, doll.”

You’re vaguely aware of the fact that Ghost’s gaze has shifted, no longer focused on your face but now instead fixed firmly between your legs as he watches the thick shaft of his cock sink into you. He obviously likes how you feel inside; you can hear him cursing and grunting quietly as his free hand grips your hip for leverage.

With his mask rumpled up around his nose, you’re gifted with an incredible view of the way his teeth are sunk into his lower lip. Each time he sinks his cock into you again, he makes a raspy little groan, eyes fluttering briefly shut. It’s so painfully endearing that your heart quivers in your chest.

Your legs burn from being spread around his thick waist — any attempt for you to lock them around his back is useless, your legs slipping everytime his ass flexes with his thrusts. Every hasty drive of his hips has the ridge of his cock sliding against the spongy spread of your walls, making you feel more stuffed every time he ruts into you. With every sudden movement you feel the entirety of his fat cock; the veins are throbbing, skin heated and silken within you. Part of you marvels how you’re even able to fit him inside you.

“Never seen you look like this,” he grunts. “All fucked-out and perfect.”

Ghost leans in again, grips your legs so he can rearrange them over his shoulders, and you think you might die. The angle is different and somehow, impossibly, Ghost is fucking into you even deeper. You think you might actually be crying. There’s no question as to whether you’re drooling.

Your hands move to his arms, nails sinking into the hard muscles of his triceps as you cling on for dear life. He doesn’t even seem to notice the sting of your nails scratching him; or perhaps it only urges him on, because his movements take on an edge of desperation.

“Gorgeous girl,” He grits out, jaw clenched. “Squeezin’ so tight. Fuck. Gonna make you cream.”

You had forgotten about his promise to make you come, too lost in the hazy pleasure of his cock. But now it seems as though he’s been seized by the compulsion to fuck you to the edge; he reaches a hand down so that his thumb can join the fray, and it startles you into moaning breathlessly aloud.

His thumb is merciless against your clit. You’re vulnerable to his touch, clit spread and on display from the stretch of his thick cock inside of you, and he takes full advantage. His fingers are thick and blistering hot as he rubs at you, and you choke as your toes curl.

“Simon–” You manage to eke out before you lose the weak thread of your thoughts, scattering into nothing as he stimulates the stiff bead of your clit.

He grunts to show that he’s heard you, but he doesn’t seem any more capable of words than you are as he rocks into the cradle of your hips. You’re practically blinded by your wet eyes, blinking frantically to try and clear your vision as you reach out clumsily to throw your arms around Ghost’s blisteringly hot neck.

It feels as though your skin is stretched too tight over your body, hot and prickly and too much. You’re trembling, your breaths coming in shaky gasps as agonising pressure builds in your lower belly.

“Fuck, love.” Ghost says, his voice little more than a snarl. “You gonna come?”

No, You think hazily. No, you never come. But even as you think it, part of you recognises that it’s never felt like this before. Your stomach tightens, toes curling, your lungs burning, your eyes rolling. You hardly even know what’s happening.

You recognise that something is building, but it almost seems secondary to the way that Ghost is rutting into you like a man possessed, hitting that spongey spot in the back of your pussy that you’ve never managed to reach yourself and making your legs spasm every time even as his thick thumb rubs frantic circles around the bump of your clit.

“Fuck, fuck–” You wheeze, bucking your hips against him.

It doesn’t grow and dissipate in the way you’re used to. Rather, it creeps up on you almost without you noticing, until you’re whimpering and clinging to Ghost like he’s a lifeline. Your bottom lip trembles as you sob weakly, practically on the brink of diving into an oncoming tidal wave of desire. Then that coil in your stomach snaps like a rubber band, sudden and sharp as a slap to the face.

Your back arches, your vision whites out, and you cum so hard that the world stops, your ears ring, your body goes limp. Your cunts sucks tight around him, pulsing, feeling every inch of him. It feels so sweet, that white-hot buzzing pleasure rushing over you and wiping your brain completely clean.

You’re a little delirious from being stuffed with such a fat cock; every thrust just prolongs your pleasure, like his penetration keeps you from squeezing your very first orgasm out right away. It’s mindless ecstasy, your nails burrowing into the skin of his biceps as you desperately clutch at him for some kind of leverage. Ghost doesn’t falter, his hips continuing to work into you, wringing your orgasm out until you feel as though your brain is melting.

You sob – an actual, genuine, wet-sounding sob as your chest heaves for air and your eyes burn with overwhelmed, rapturous tears. Your head is spinning even as your climax subsides, leaving you limp-limbed and weak as Ghost continues rocking into you.

“Look so lovely when you come, sweetheart,” Ghost grunts into your ear, his bulky chest weighing you down as you clutch feebly at his shoulders. “God, that’s a sight. All for me, yeah?”

His praise only makes it worse, makes your eyes sting until there’s tears down your cheeks and stars behind your eyelids. He sounds so smug, but you can’t deny that he has reason to be. He’s the first man to ever touch you, first man to ever fuck you, the first person to ever tip you over the edge and wring an orgasm out of you. Fuck, you think your brain might have been reduced to mush permanently; you wonder wildly if you’ll ever be the same after this.

Despite the sting of Ghost’s punishing thrusts into your already oversensitive cunt, your body sings for him. The rhythm of his hips is getting gradually sloppier, as though he doesn’t care as much for precision now that he’s succeeded in making you come. Soft, guttural little grunts fall from his mouth, and his arms wrap around your waist to reposition you so that he can fuck quick and shallow. It’s almost tender, as though he’s aware of your growing sensitivity as you mewl under him.

There’s a profound, instinctual pleasure in seeing Ghost lose himself in your embrace. His dark eyes are heavy-lidded and his mask is still all rucked up, revealing the way his mouth is lolled softly open as he pants. You find yourself wishing feverishly that he had taken off his clothes too, because you think you would give anything to watch the roiling muscles of his chest and shoulders as he ruts into you.

Then just when you think you’re beginning to recover from the shattering, mind-numbing oversensitivity, Ghost comes inside of you.

He stops rutting to ride out his orgasm, his cock throbbing, pulsing, spurting inside you until you feel fuller than you’ve ever felt. And he comes a lot.

You’re stuffed so tightly with his cock that his cum has nowhere to go, and ends up leaking thickly from where your cunt grips around him, messy and hot and spilling over your thighs and his. The sound he makes is breathless, all open-mouth and head lolled back as he groans, blissed out as he finds release in your cunt.

The minutes afterwards are a blur.

You close your eyes for what feels like only a second, but the next time you blink your eyes open you find yourself feeling miserably, uncomfortably empty and sticky as all that oozy cum leaks out of you. You somehow missed Ghost pulling out of you, and your thoughts are muzzy and embarrassingly slow.

For a moment, you think you’re alone. You’re becoming more aware of yourself, and you realise that you’re shivering weakly alone in your sweat-damp sheets. Where did Ghost go? Part of you, still a little hazy, wonders if he had left you alone as soon as he had come, and you feel your lower lip tremble at the thought.

God, you feel pathetic. You shift feebly on the sheets, and suck in a sharp breath when you feel the ache inside you, proof that you’re going to feel the shadow of Ghost’s cock for days. You feel drunk off the afterglow, yet you’re swiftly becoming more and more aware of yourself and all the aches and pains that are coming to the fore now.

It feels like you’re too big for your body, and you’re clumsy when you try to sit up. Pushing yourself up makes a whole new set of aches light up, and you let out a quiet keening grumble.

You’re so caught up with trying to ground yourself that you jolt in surprise when big, paw-like hands land on you, pushing you back down onto the bed. “Shh, hey, lay down.” Ghost says, the rough edges of his accent softened. To your bewilderment, he has a damp cloth in his hand; he went to the bathroom, you realise hazily.

Maybe it’s just because you feel raw after your experience with him, pulsing like an open nerve, but you sniffle and blink and then suddenly there are tears dripping down your face.

“Thought you left.” You mumble, trying not to sound like a needy little idiot.

Ghost glances up at you, unblinkingly. His mask is fixed firmly back in place, and he looks annoyingly put-together; it’s an embarrassingly stark contrast to the way you’re still nude and shivery and teary-eyed.

“No.” He says simply.

The damp cloth is warm when it makes contact with your skin, and you relax as he drags it along your sweaty back and over your legs. He’s a little rough about it, but you don’t think it’s on purpose. Gentleness doesn’t come naturally to Simon Riley, and yet you can feel that he’s trying and that makes a warm glow settle in your stomach, replacing the cold anxiety that had settled in when you thought that he had left you alone.

When the cloth reaches the tender skin of your pussy, you hiss and try to pull away. It all feels too sensitive, and you feel your face crumple up as he wipes away the mess of slick and cum between your thighs. He gentles his touch as much as he can, but you still mewl at the electric zaps of oversensitivity that jolt up your spine.

When Ghost pauses and pulls the cloth away from you, you blink your eyes awake. Your vision is still all wet and blurry from tears, but you can still see the shape of Ghost as he stares down at you. You can imagine you look nothing short of ruined right now, even after having been cleaned up, and Ghost’s stare is burning.

You wonder if he’s about to leave now – you can recognise this whole thing had gotten out of hand, and you just about manage to stifle the panic at the creeping realisation that you’ve just fucked your superior officer. Ghost must have realised at this point that the two of you had just ripped through all those fraternisation rules, though it’s always been difficult to tell what he’s thinking. But you trust him – you have to, in your line of work. You have to trust that he’ll handle things.

Ghost tosses aside the cloth, and his big overbearing body climbs back into bed beside you. It’s a standard-issue bunk, and yet it feels comically tiny when Ghost has been added to the mix. He’s surprisingly agile, even despite his big size, and you barely have time to realise that he’s joining you in bed before he’s wrapped a thick arm around your middle, hauling you closer.

You’d love to act chill and cool about the fact that he’s now essentially cuddling you, but you miss the mark by a long mile. You take a breath, and allow yourself to relax into his big burly chest. He’s still fully clothed, and the rough texture of his jeans against your tender bare skin makes you shiver lightly from oversensitivity.

Your hips are sore from being stretched so wide, your joints weak and watery, and you’re perfectly content to close your eyes and forcibly ignore all your concerns about fraternisation or how you’re going to face Ghost in training. It’s a problem for another time.

“You still alive?” Ghost grunts, and his palm coasts down over your back to settle at your ass, his fingers squeezing absent-mindedly into the soft flesh there.

He sounds amused, which makes you grumble in irritation. He takes up so much space, his big body filling up all the free space on the bed and making you feel so fucking small as he holds you so that your back is pressed against his stomach.

“I dunno,” You mumble, words a little garbled. “Think… think you might have fucked me stupid, Lt.”

Lying like this, with his front pressed against your back, you can feel his laugh rumble into you. He’s touchy too in a way that surprises you; his hands are constantly moving, swiping over your sides and groping at any part of you that’s squishy-soft.

“Think I might have,” He agrees, and you can hear the smirk in his voice even if you can’t see it. “But I think you needed it, sweetheart. You were practically cryin’ out for it all day.”

You feel your face heat at the insinuation that he had noticed the arousal you thought you had hidden so well. But you still feel so fuzzy inside, and you can’t manage to drum up any genuine reaction.

Ghost’s roaming hand slips down between your legs, and you hold your breath as he reaches your swollen, tender pussy. His fingers are so big, but he’s aware of his strength and keeps his touch light, cupping rather than groping, his calloused palm catching on your puffy clit.

“Told you a real cock would be better,” He rumbles, and you feel the soft material of his mask rubbing against the back of your sweaty neck. “You’ve got a fussy little cunt – ‘s only gonna be satisfied by the real thing.”

You’d love to jab back at him, but the feeling of him rough palm against your oversensitive clit has your thoughts fizzing out into nothingness. All you can do is let out a quiet little whimper, and rock your hips into his touch. To your utter bewilderment, you feel your arousal, which you had previously considered entirely sated, pulse back to life.

As if Ghost can feel your cunt throb beneath his hand, he snickers. “Yeah. Fussy and greedy.”

He leans down, and you feel his lips brush against the back of your neck through the cotton of his balaclava. You quiver, and part your legs without conscious thought to give his thick fingers more room to work. Despite your exhaustion, and your soreness, and your sensitivity, you find yourself wanting. You wonder, with an edge of hysteria, if your body has somehow managed to rewire itself to only accept pleasure from your commanding officer’s hand.

“Ghost– Simon–” You breathe, your hips jumping as you grind into his palm.

“Yeah,” He says again, as though he knows exactly what you need and want. “One little orgasm wasn’t enough, was it?”

“No.” You choke out, throwing your head back so that it’s resting against Ghost’s broad chest. “No, ‘t wasn’t.”

You can hardly believe that your body is winding up for more, but Ghost’s touch is searing hot against your tender skin, and you can already taste the pleasure he’s going to bring you. This time, without the edge of urgency, you think you might even enjoy it more.

“Gimme five minutes,” He drawls, his voice low and muffled in your ear. “And I’ll give you your second.”

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nekokennedychan-blog · 8 months

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Unexpected Constellations Series- Din Djarin x Female Reader (Completed)

Summary: Things in the Bounty Hunter's Guild are tense. The Mandalorian is hired for a mysterious job to retrieve a desirable bounty, but the stakes are higher than normal. Something dark is brewing in the galaxy and you'll do anything to protect the light in your life, the small group of stars you've found yourself in the middle of.

An unexpected constellation.

Tags: Mutual Pining, Slow Burn (sort of), Hurt/Comfort, Found Family, Angst, Fluff, Smut (18+, minors DNI), No use of Y/N

⚠️ Warnings: Foul Language (Din and reader swear a lot), Violence, Mature Themes, Mentions of Blood, Mentions of Death, Explicit Content/Detailed Descriptions of Sexual Acts (I will label 18+ chapters.)

A/N: This fic loosely follows the plot of Star Wars and The Mandalorian. I may make mistakes regarding facts and information so please call me out for it and I can change them :) The story basically takes place after TBOBF (with some minor adjustments) like Din still has the Razor Crest (because not everyone can fit in an N-1 Starfighter ok? ok.) Please leave love (like/reblog) and feedback, I love all of it. Hope you enjoy!

Table of Contents:

✧ Part 00

✧ Part 01

✧ Part 02

✧ Part 03

✧ Part 04

✧ Part 05

✧ Part 06

✧ Part 07

✧ Part 08

✧ Part 09 18+

✧ Part 10 18+

✧ Part 11

✧ Part 12

✧ Part 13 18+

✧ Part 14

✧ Part 15 18+

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nekokennedychan-blog · 8 months

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— meet me in the woods

halsin x druid!reader/tav

rated e - 7.2k

tags: double druids, smut with feelings, aphrodisiac (in the form of a fertility solstice), mates/mating rituals, hinted at breeding kink, poly!halsin (but has a connection with you), pleasure dom!Halsin, canon-typical violence, masturbation, miscommunication, oral, PiV, size kink, multiple orgasms, cum play

Living in the city had muted your druidic powers, cut you off. That all had changed, in your journey across Faerûn. Something inside of you had cracked open - letting nature and instinct sink in.

And in spite of the feelings now burning inside you - you don’t know what it means to celebrate the Solstice. Luckily for you… Halsin is there to help you through your first.

The sky has started to slip from soft shades of blue to deep orange and purples. Your wrist aches from where you scrub at your hide armor, removing the layers of grime from the long days of travel.

Your eyes flick up, like they have three times already in the last ten minutes. Across the twist of smoke from the fire that Gale tends, a cauldron of stew that has begun to fill the camp with it's rich aroma.

To where he lounges. To where your eyes meet soft green.

You look away.

"Do you think he's looking at us?"

You don't mean to ask this question out loud. It's a thought that swirls in your mind - slipping between teeth and a tongue loosened from a warm afternoon under the sun and a flagon of crisp wine.

There's the cutting strike of shale against steel. Sharp eyes flicking across to where yours have slipped, once again.

A lip curling, with the click of a tongue.

"Chk. I've seen that look on a male before." Lae'zel's tone is knowing, the slightest hint of a smirk sent your way, as she sharpens the edge of her longsword, "A bear that wishes to devour."

You blink, glancing her way at the humor in her voice. Trying to ignore the fluttering flip in your stomach at the thought.

"Oh, I am not so sure he sees me that way." Your knuckles curl as they press into a stain, your eyes dropping in mock concentration.

A red eye cracks open near your hip, Astarion's head propped up on the wrap of your bedroll. Curled like a cat under the sun and with the wafting warmth of the fire - a hand coming up to shield the bright glare above.

If it had been anyone else lazing next to you, you might have asked them to lend you a hand with the basket of vegetables for the stew - the next in your long list of things to-do. But secretly, you were just pleased he chose to spend the afternoon near you.

"Gods - I took you for boring, darling. But I never took you for stupid." He sighs, with a stretch.

Well, you had been pleased.

He ignores your look of offense as he pushes himself up on an elegant elbow, chin propped in the cup of his hand, "I don't think he's stopped looking at you since he's joined us."

A wistful sigh, "It's enough to make me wish I had saved that child."

Before his nose wrinkles, as he reappraises that thought with displeasure.

"Appreciate that, friend." Your response to his earlier remark is flat, as he flops down again.

"Oh, don't be like that," He drawls, "You were the one who asked."

The misdirection is noted with a small huff of a laugh, as you turn back to work again. Flipping around their thoughts in your own mind.

How you wish that were true.

Your own feelings were no secret to yourself. There had been no pretending in your heart, after your first meeting. Even if you had not always known the strength of your powers, you had always known yourself.

There had been a near-instant attraction with your first meeting. A suspicion that there was something special about the bear trapped in the worg pens. That feeling blossoming with the fluttering in your stomach when he had changed - the depth of his thanks at your aid in protecting the Grove.

A seed had been planted then. A hope that perhaps, with time - with some tending - that there could be more. That feeling only grows since, flourishing, weaving its way between your ribs.

And lately, you think there has been something more. His laugh comes easier. An eagerness to join you when you left the camp. Never far from you, when you return.

You were the first one he turned to after the rage of battle.

“Are you well, teuivae?”

As if you could not mend your own wounds. The word that slipped from his tongue lost as his eyes searched - until he was satisfied that the blood splattered across your leather armor was not your own. Broad hands that cupped your face. Close enough to brush his own against yours, but instead he had hovered.

Waiting - but for what, you did not know.

It had you wondering. You suppose enough now that those thoughts have made their way out into the world. Not knowing what to do, with your friend’s confirmation.

That feeling only increases, the turn of the moon turning it into a surging weight in your chest. Something physical, that gnaws at you. Tipping past want and hurtling towards something that felt like need.

Your thoughts of desire running wild, until you can’t help but slip your fingers beneath the layers of your bedroll. Your teeth biting into the heavy fabric that muffles the quick circle of your fingers, the soft sigh of your relief.

It was hard not to. To see him that way, to want him.

He is kind. Almong the best Elves you have met. He could take care of you. Your mind tells you, now. Protect you.

A very instinctual thought, one that you’ve brushed aside. You don’t need protecting. How could one protect against the tadpole, better than you already are?

But the thought comes back.

He would keep you safe. You know that, as certain as the changing of the seasons.

How quick he already is to race to your side - all teeth and claws. Imagining the honor of sharing his bedroll, how he’d wrap around you…

Only now do you realize you’ve been staring - your damp rag hovering in your still hands. A small shake of your head as you concentrate on your work. Making a point not to look again, to push the thoughts from your mind.

You really needed to get a hold of yourself.

You’re still thinking about it later, as dusk settled. The sky now streaked with hues of purple and grey, the camp littered with small fires and torches. Bellies full of stew, content to wind down after the long day.

Under the stars, it's impossbile to ignore just how much things have changed.

In the city, everything had felt muted.

Even in the outskirts, the small towns you had flitted to. The desire to fit in cutting off your attunement with nature.

But, after the Nautiloid. After you had crashed down to the Wilderness. Met the others - truly embraced who and what you were - things had changed.

You felt more like yourself than ever.

Even when you thought your time left was marked by days. Hours.

The warmth of the sun against your face. Acres of trees, the bark rough beneath your fingers as you climbed.

It seeped into your skin. Invigorating you. That liminal space between beast and body melding as you changed freely, unrestrained by space or propriety.

It was freeing.

You didn't have a coven, in the city. A lone wolf - left to wander along.

Forgetting how it felt to channel the forces of nature, with the night air wrapping around you. A bond formed when you had met Halsin, your first prolonged contact with another Druid in years. Something had been planted, watered with admiration, carefully tended in the absence that had soon come.

An urge to stay at the Druid's Grove, once the fight was over. Something unlocking in you, a need for kinship.

It had been ignored - there had been no other option. But it was like part of you stayed cracked open. Inviting nature, the whims of Silvanus, to eddy inside you. Growing potent, under the wax and wane of the moon above.

Intimate feelings mixing their way in along the way. Undeterred by the quiet, shared murmurs. Of rumors and whispers of Halsin's many lovers - good natured ribbing about his scar.

You had often thought your heart was too large to belong to only one other. It had been a relief, when you heard Halsin speak the same, around the fire.

Not fearing a connection, but not limiting it. Like nature itself, he had said. His eyes had found yours - you had taken it as some sort of lesson, from the Archdruid.

Perhaps it had been an invitation, instead.

The thought is pleasing to you. Enough so that you think… you think it’s worth being brave for.

You can’t help but seek him out, once more. Thick arms cross over a broad chest as he talks, though you’re too far away to hear. But it doesn’t stop his gaze from finding yours over the top of Wyll’s head. The way his friendly smile softens, a look you suddenly feel certain is just for you.

One you return, as that thing inside your chest swells. Blooms.

You’ve trusted your gut so far.

You’re ready to trust it again.

There is a stirring. A rooting, something sprouting in his chest. A feeling that has flickered before, but never this strong.

It had been easy, for gratitude and respect to bleed into something more, after their first meeting. After seeing such a fierce little thing take down two goblins with the flash of sharp teeth, sharper claws. A worg following, almost bigger than themselves.

Few would have stood before him, after. A frown as ferocious as their bear-form as she had offered her own opinion on how to handle the Druid Kagha, though his sentence had already been bestowed.

It had been hard not to smile.

There had been more pressing matters that had kept him away, after. Denying the offer to join her - them - the Emerald Grove had needed him more.

But still, something had lingered.

A connection. Something invisible that ties them together, that has nothing to do with the being that squirms in her mind. It begins lower - beneath the cage of ribs and where, perhaps, something soft lies.

It has him feeling like a yearling again, in spite of his three hundred and fifty years amongst Faerûn.

As the moons have passed, he'd become too accustomed to the gleam of her fur, in the sunlight. Nearly blinding him. Eyes as sharp and a tongue as quick as his.

Her true form as pretty as a field of wildflowers, of the rainbow spray of colors against the mist of a waterfall.

Evenly matched, he has thought. More than once.

The sentiment settles in his bones, trapping him - a rabbit in a snare. Though he's not so desperate to be freed, as he might have thought. The idea of being tied down had never been appealing.

But there is no urge to leave. To walk amongst the forest again, to find his way back to the Druid's Grove, for Spring. To dance and join beneath the moon, like he had for so long.

A more singular focus taking over his thoughts, as the rite approaches. A deep-seated hope, his affections shown in the ways known by his people.

Many have begun their attachments in the span of evenings to follow. Perhaps they would take the same path, if is she was willing.

The thought is more than pleasing.

It has him seeking out the eyes that fall on him so often. Finding where they linger now, in the flickering of the fire. The look she gives him - one of consideration, one of seeing in a new light - is one he knows well.

The beast inside him can read the subtle looks like tracks in the mudbank. The glitter of lights in her eyes like runes - etching a message just for him.

Enough that when she turns from the fire, when she pushes herself so carefully up - slipping like a shadow, into the forest...

It's impossible not to follow.

You can feel him behind you, as you weave through the trees.

Anticipation, excitement, pricking up the hairs on the back of your neck. Guided by the stars that sift through the canopy of leaves above.

Your feet know the way, though your mind does not. Guided by something primal inside you, taking you to a small clearing.

Grass blankets the space, tucked away in the forest. Dotted with wildflowers, a break in the branches above to let down a shaft of moonlight.

The armor you once clung to left back at the camp. An innate knowledge that there was something special about this place - that you were safe here. Protected by your own abilities. Even more so, with him following.

There is much said, in the look that he gives you as you turn. The shift of his shoulders as he approaches, a slow nod of approval as his eyes sweep across the clearing.

“You’ve chosen this spot well. The Solstice, could you feel it?”

His words make you frown, suddenly unsure. The curve of his smile wanes at your silence, as he takes another step closer, “Is that not why you’ve come here?”

The hope you’ve carried sinks, settling low in your belly. So unlike the weight that was there before - one of hunger and desire.

“I must confess, I had been hoping.” He continues, with a cock to his head, “But it seems like we are on different paths.”

You have to answer him, you know this. It takes a second to gather your courage, this meeting quickly taking a much different turn that you have expected.

“I do not know anything of your Solstices. I came here because I hoped…” Your gaze drops, unable to look at him, “I had hoped that you would follow. That this night might be ours.”

A hand cups your jaw, tilting your head up. To your surprise he is smiling, his thumb stroking across your cheek, “Your answer relieves me. We are not so far apart. I thought I had been clear, but it seems you are still unsure of my intentions.”

Something flips in your stomach, melting the spray of ice that has coated your insides. A small flutter of hope, as your eyes search his green ones, “What do you mean?”

“I have become so accustomed to your presence, that I’ve forgotten that our ways are still unknown to you.” His voice softens, and you can’t help but lean into his touch - hanging on to each of his words, “I’ve been courting you for some time, now.”

Time freezes, for a moment. Your mind whirling past all the small moments you’ve collected - held so close to your chest. Reaching out to touch others that now made more sense.

Bringing you your share of dinner at the camp. A solving of the mystery of a fire that had been stoked during the night, an extra pelt placed over you for warmth. Caring for you.

You had mistaken them all for chivalry.

“-and I had thought you were accepting, tonight. With the beginning of the Solstice.”

“I must be dense.” You can’t help but smile, with a sensation of being able to breath again, “I had my own wishes, but I never knew-”

“I should have been more clear. Forgive me,” His hands touch his scars, his smile turning wry, “I thought it wise to let you set the pace of our journey.”

Hence his waiting for you to kiss him, after that battle. His following you, tonight.

Courage rises in you, once again.

“I want you to show me what it means to celebrate.”

He softens, for you. Hands dropping to entwine with yours, bending until your foreheads touch, “Then I am yours.”

The slightest tilt of his head, bringing your joined hands to point at the heavens.

“With the spring comes new beginnings. We lead the way, with the Solstice. Baring our flesh and joining beneath the moon, in an offering to the Oak Father.” His words are a low rumble, it’s impossible not to focus on his mouth, the way it quirks at his next words, “It is… rigorous.”

The heat that has simmered for weeks now flares to life, as his eyes darken.

Bu there's something small tickles at you, making you lean back. Your brow furrowing, needing the clarity.

"Is it just the Solstice that draws you to me?" Is it just duty that has ensnared his affections? Is this no more than fulfilling the desires of Silvanas?

He laughs, with a shake of his head, "If our first meeting had been in the Grove, your beauty would have been more than enough to enthrall me."

The knowledge is flattering. That he still would have wanted you, in another life, in another time. His next words are enough to cast the rest of your doubts aside.

"But make no mistake. For quite some time now, I have desired more. Deeper than the skin, down to the marrow." He brings your entwined fingers to his mouth, his lips pressing against your knuckles, "I fear you stole more than gold that day, in the Sanctum."

There is much that he reveals, with his words.

A sense that your feelings are more than reciprocated. A reminder that he does not mince words, like others you have known.

For as keen as your eyes are, you should have realized this sooner. The last curl of unease lifts, wafting up to stars above.

“How do we begin?”

“Eager. I like that.” Halsin grins - his eyes dragging over you, as his voice pitched low, “For starters… you are overdressed.”

With as large as his fingers are, they are dexterous as they tug at the tie of your tunic. A palm curling around your waist, tugging you close as your face tips up to his.

“And there is usually music.” He murmurs, dipping just enough to brush his mouth against yours, “But I am sure we can make our own.”

His name is a soft sound on your lips, before they press against his. Warm and solid and plush, a sigh in his throat as your hands reach up to grasp at broad shoulders. Slipping to tangle in his chestnut-colored strands, keeping him pulled close.

And you are reminded that he is strong. Abandoning your shirt when your tongue brushes his lip. Hands catching the underside of your thighs to haul you against him.

Your legs stretch wide around his waist. One of those hands moving to splay across the small of your back, a low growl rumbling as you nip at his lower lip.

Hunger gnaws at you, as he deepens the kiss. An ache to be closer, unable to get enough of the taste of him as he licks into your mouth.

Holding you against him as he sinks to his knees. Bringing you down against the blanket of grass, nestling you against it. A low chuckle at the way you still cling to him, entangling yourself around him like vines, as Halsin begins to tug at your clothes again.

Carefully, as if it's a gift to unwrap you.

"Come now, my love." He coos - another gentle tug, as you finally let go.

The air ghosts against your skin, warm with the changing of seasons. A low sound of approval with each layer that is stripped from you. The curl of a palm against your ankle, tugging off your boots. Heat pooling low, as fingertips brush up your thigh, settling at your belt.

"I long to see you bare beneath me."

He touches you as if he can't get enough. The sweep of his thumb over your thigh. Fingers joining yours as your hips lift, allowing him to peel your trousers down, and then off.

You think that perhaps it should feel strange, to be naked in the moonlight. But Halsin eclipses the brief fluttering of unease. The hunger in his expression captures yours, as he leans back to sit on his haunches.

So broad, so big. You think the desire must match in your own eyes, his sentiment so shared.

"Join me," You coax, a hand reaching for his thigh - feeling the muscles jump underneath.

His grin gleams in the moonlight, as he lets you start to do the same to him. Distracting you terribly as his hands skim from your waist to cup your breasts, teasing and pinching.

Only tearing the sleevless tunic from his shoulders before he's curling over you - his mouth pressing against your neck. Inhaling your scent with another low growl, his nose skimming over heated skin.

Those lips pressing against your throat, the threat of teeth as they part. You squirm beneath him, something inside you aching for him to bite down. To mark you.

You can feel his smile against your skin, his hands still teasing the tight peaks of your nipples. One drifting lower across sternum and belly, drifting across the curve of your mound.

It’s easy to arch into his touch, to urge his fingers lower. The sweep of his fingertips is so light, a summers breeze against your skin - a low hum of a laugh as your hips jerk again.

“I know it’s affected you.” There’s the slightest pressure - thick fingers split, tracing the crease where your thigh meets groin. Purposely avoiding where you need him, where you know you’re wet and wanting.

Another sharp intake of breath, before he’s pushing himself up to hover over you, “At camp. Your smell. It was difficult to hold myself back.”

He touches you, then. Twin moans as his fingers slip against slick flesh. Dripping, for him. Almost making you forget your words as the pad of his fingers circles your clit, as your hand brace against his biceps, nails biting skin.

“W-wasn’t the coming of Spring.” You protest - the rhythmic swipe of his fingers stealing your breath, “It was just you.”

The look he gives you then - it’s all soft edges, wrapped in a focus that’s so intense your eyes flutter shut. It’s too much, his gaze, his touch.

A low groan from his chest then, in recollection, “There were many nights lately where I wished to offer myself for your pleasure. Perhaps I should have.”

For your pleasure. Few would word it that way - conjuring images of him beneath you. His tongue tracing the same path of his fingers, your thighs pressing against the long points of his ears.

It makes you clench - the simmering fire in your belly sending up sparks, stoked by the way his head moves lower. Your fingers slipping to twist sharply in his hair, as his tongue peeks out to brush your breast.

“More, Halsin. I need you-” You pant, your free hand fitting under the bulk of his shoulder. Reaching to nudge his hand down lower, until his fingers are brushing your entrance.

He traces you, before he sinks into you, down to the first knuckle. His hands are so much bigger than yours, there’s already the slight stretching burn as he eases deeper.

The tilt of his head, chin pressing against your ribs. The fire burns in his own eyes, a heavy press of his hips against your thigh, letting you feel him.

“If we had been at the Grove, I would have hoped you would have chosen me as your mate for the duration of the three nights.” It’s a confession, the word mate ringing out - enthralling you, “Now, I do not know what tomorrow brings. I will give you all that I can, tonight.”

In a fluid motion, he moves. The ripple of muscles as he shifts between your thighs - their breadth stretching them too wide. Enough that you have to hook one over the curve his shoulder, before his head dips.

The heated swipe of his tongue hits you just as his finger presses deep and curls. You’re instantly thankful for his three hundred and fifty years, with the pointed exploration of his mouth.

A groan as he tastes you, those green eyes fixing on yours again. Fitting another finger into you as your heel digs into his shoulder, as your head tips back with a cry.

It’s too much. Pleasure skitters through your stomach, your hips moving on their own, matching the steady thrust of his fingers. How he drags them against a spot that makes you keen and squirm, before sliding them free to fit them between his lips.

Tasting the honey of your arousal, his lips already shining with you, before filling you again. Muscles clenching like the pull of a bow, waiting for the arrow to fire.

Halsin moans into your cunt like he’s feasting, like he truly means to devour you. His own hips pressing into the ground, easing his own need for friction.

Too practiced with the tight flicks of his tongue, the way his lips kiss and suck against the sensitive bud. The press of his fingers loud with how wet you are, matching your sharp, panting breath.

His name is a whimper before your muscles string even tighter. Going stiff as your breath catches, a pathetic whimper of a sound before you’re crying out.

The pleasure ignites, ripping through you as you come. As your thighs press around his ears, though he does not slow. Fucking you through it with his fingers, soft growls that buzz against your clit with each press of his tongue.

Leaving you breathless, boneless.

His mouth soft as kisses are pressed to your thighs, as you come back to yourself. It feels like you’re glowing, a soft haze settling over your limbs, down to the curl of your toes.

A broad hand smears your slick across his jaw, as he pushes himself up to kneel between your thighs. Where his cock strains against the leather of his leggings, tenting the soft fabric.

You ache to make him feel as good you feel. Something primal roars in your belly, as you follow him. Hands pressing against his chest, the flicker of shock turning warm as he lets himself be eased back.

Until it’s your thighs straddling his, moving up until your slick cunt is pressing against that heavy curve. His lips parting with a soft pant as you lean over him, your head dipping to kiss him.

He tastes like you, the sweet tang of your orgasm. Another shudder of pleasure coursing through you at the thought - as his hands find your hips, coaxing you to rock yourself against him.

Back home, you don’t know if you would have had the courage to climb this mountain of a man. But the images that flicker through your mind - the ones of him beneath you - are too strong, tugging at you. Beckoning your limbs to follow.

“I want to-,” You’re mumbling, between kisses, “Will you let me?”

“Follow your urges, my heart. Wherever they lead you, I am here.” His words sound strained, his hips flexing up, against you. More than content to be your guide, or to let you explore at your pace.

Your fingers drop to tug at his belt, with his consent. His hands coming to cover yours, lifting you with the rise of his hips. Freeing himself, his clothes joining yours on the forest floor.

It’s only here that you pause, as your thighs stretch across his waist. Where it becomes evident just how proportional he is - his cock full and flushed and heavy, curving up towards his stomach.

Unable to help touching him, his eyes fixed on the slight frown and then panic that flits across your features. A low rumble as your hand fits around him, your fingertips unable to touch.

“You-” You stammer, suddenly unsure, “Halsin, I don't know if I can-”

His eyes darken at your insinuation, his teeth flashing with his smile. Fingers curl around his base, tilting himself up. Pressing himself against your belly, the tip smearing a wet spot on your skin.

Measuring. Your grip tightens and he groans, his hips flexing into your touch.

His voice ragged, rough in the night air, “You can take me. Know you can, my love.”

You can’t pretend you’re not eager to try. Hands pressing against his chest, eyes flicking between his face and his cock, as you lift yourself up.

One leaving to hold him steady, taking a second to feel him slide against you. Muffling a sigh when he bumps against your clit, slicking him up with your release. Before you line him up, and start to sink down.

He splits you open. The pinch of his fingers against your hips hurts, as he tries to resist thrusting up into you. Even with your orgasm, your cunt slick with pleasure, he still stretches you wide.

Taking an inch, and then another. A tremble in your thighs as your knees press into the earth, a strangled whine as you make room for him.

His murmured encouragement catches in his chest, the moon and spring calling to him - only his experience keeping him from taking matters into his own hands.

A strong jaw ticking as you sink onto him, achingly slow - until your hips finally lie flush. Your hand flying to your belly, as if you could feel where he fits inside you.

His gaze is heavy, reverent. The press of fingertips against your skin as his grip eases, lips parting as you carefully begin to lift up - to rock back down.

The sensation flickers through you like faerie fire, the slow and sweet drag of him. Making you feel impossibly full, your head dipping down to hang between your shoulders. Hands curling into the hair covering his chest, as you figure out how to move.

It’s impossible to describe. A desire like you’ve never known bites at you, curling in your belly. You think perhaps you understand now - this need to bring forth the Spring and celebrate its arrival. It’s been something inside of you this whole time, waiting for guidance.

You have it, now.

“I-I did not think there was anything that could rival your touch,” Your words some out shaky - your thighs already twinging with the effort of moving. The steady rise and fall of your hips, the hitch in your breath when he sits flush within you, “I am happy to be wrong.”

The corner of his lip lifts in a snarl, but it’s one of pleasure. Just as gone as you are, with the drag of his eyes from your face, down to where you bounce on his cock. The thick peek of him each time your rise, shining with your slick.

It’s enough that his hands slip lower. Fingers slipping to rub at you again, each time you sink down.

“Use me, then.” He rasps, Come on, sweet one. Take your pleasure.”

Your heart races, breath caught in your throat at his words, his touch. The slow pace increasing, as you try to do what he says.

Instincts flooding wisdom, drowning it out - tilting your hips until your thighs tremble, as he knocks against a sweet spot inside you.

Again, and then again. His eyes are fixed on you now, and the look he gives makes you clench - coveting his attention. Wanting him to only look at you, tonight.

To sear the feeling of you into his memory, as he has done to you. You think there is nothing that could make you forget tonight.

To forget this swirl of magic, as if you’re tethered to the ground, the sky, him - all at once. Utterly free at the same time, your body moving on its own without inhibition, encouraged by the sound of his moans.

The clench of teeth - the heavy press of hips that have begun to snap upward, no longer able to hold back.

“Oh gods-” You keen. Once, and then again - a grinding circle of your hips against his fingers, as that feeling inside you threatens to burst again.

Halsin chases the rock of your hips now with his own, with his fingers. His laugh rough, caught between his teeth.

“The gods may be listening, little one. But only I will answer.”

It makes you shudder, makes you beg.

“I’m so close. Please don’t stop.”

His fingers stay true. Pressing just a little harder, a jostle of his thighs as his feet plant against the ground. Fucking up into you now, as your pace falters. Too focused on the rushing white noise in your ears, the feeling that’s so big that it feels like you’ll choke on it.

“Let me feel you.” The words are muted, miles away. Digging into your skin to weave around your ribs, “Sweet one, come on-”

Your cry rips from your lungs, as you tip over the edge. He’s there to catch you, the steady pound of his hips as your own legs fail you. Fingers sweeping as the pulse of your cunt matches the heartbeat in your ears, clenching around him as you find your release.

Pushing himself up to meet you, as your arms wrap around him. Letting you chase the last waves of pleasure with the grind of your hips, your mouth panting into his neck.

A sweet sweat beading at the nape of your neck, across your skin. Your head turns just enough to meet his, his hand coming up to curl around the back of your neck.

To hold you to him, hovering over him, as he buries himself in you again. Again and again, until he is panting as you steal kisses. Tasting where you still linger in his tongue, another melding of your spirits.

“How do you want me?” His eyes are bright, hands slipping down to cup your ass, to help you ride him, “My heart, I fear I won’t last-”

You had made a pretty coin, brewing herbs and potions. Enough that you could do it in your sleep, your talents extending to camp. Teas of protection brewed openly and without shame.

The need for him to spill in you floods your senses, your own breath ragged at the thought.

“In me, my bear.” You beg, leaning back - the snap of your own hips sharp and loud, “I need you in me.”

The groan he makes is laced with relief. The feeling coursing through him as well - an innate need to spill himself into your cunt. To rut himself into you, until you’ve taken every drop.

Your name is ragged on his lips, as his thrusts turn shallow. As you take over, riding him until his hands grasp at your waist, as he goes stiff beneath you.

He throbs, a warmth flooding deep inside you. A pretty sight, his strong back arching into you - lips parted, hair streaming loose amongst the wildflowers. A snap of teeth as he grinds against you until you drip with him, too full of his cock to keep everything inside.

Fully joined, beneath the moonlight.

Afterwards, you melt against him. A hand smooths down your back as your fingers wander. Across the fur of his bare chest, the curve of his lip. The swirls of scarred and tattooed skin - your lips following.

He’s beautiful beneath you. Eyes content and half-lidded as an arm tucks beneath his head. A little inhale of breath - his broad chest rising as your lips move to his neck.

If you were Volo you think that, perhaps, you’d write a song about this. But that would mean that you would not be with him now, and the thought all but fills you with agony.

That hand on your waist tightening as you push the thought away - stretching up to reach the curve of his ear, a groan as your tongue traces the point.

It moves you against him. His cock slipping part-way out, only to sink deep again with your exploration.

He’s still hard, achingly so. You’re more sure whether it is a blessing of Silvanus or just him - this being so perfectly crafted in nature’s image.

Your teasing winds him up, even as his release leaks from you, shining against your thighs. A groan buzzes against your lips, where they still press against his throat.

A shifting beneath you, a pointed lift of his hips that nudges him against that sensitive place inside you.

“Let me take you, once more,” He husks, his face tipping up to yours. Knuckles brushing your cheek, tender in spite of the fire burning in his eyes, “Like the Oak Father intended.”

Desire still burns in you. An ache at the thought of having him another time, enough that you’re pushing yourself up to straddle him.

Nodding, your begging “please” making him smile, as he pushes himself up on an elbow. His eyes raking over your body, bathed in the glow of moonlight. Where he’s still buried deep, kept warm by you.

Before he’s moving. Hands gripping at your waist - a soft whine when he lifts you off him. His cock flushed and shining where it rests against his belly, as he rolls you beneath him.

“Hands and knees, my love.”

You’re eager to do so. The grass soft against your palms as your knees press into the ground. Arching your back - feeling the weight of his gaze as his thighs brush against yours.

The curve of his cock pressing against you, as he squeezes the flesh of your ass. His touch reverent and hungry, grinding himself against your core as he groans.

“If I could keep but one image in my mind, it would be this one.”

You moan at his praise, rocking back to meet his press of his hips. His hand dropping to wrap around his slick cock, notching it at your entrance.

Holding himself there as his chest presses against your back - warm, as his other arm wraps around your middle. It does something to you. The position, the feel of him overwhelming you.

“Halsin-” You pant, each second ticking by feeding into your desperation, “Why do you wait?”

“My impatient little she-bear,” He laughs, but the sound is strained with you beneath him, “Do not fear, I will give you what you want.”

And he does, the thick tip of him parting you. Sinking deep with a rough thrust of his hip, making you cry out as he fills you.

You had thought he was big before, when you rode him. But you had been in control - taking him at your own pace. Bouncing at your leisure, aided by the span of your hands against his muscular chest for balance.

Now, it feels like he’s in your throat, as he seats himself completely. As you make room for him, gripping him so tightly he chokes on a breath, fingers biting into your skin.

Yours wrap around his wrist, braced against the grass for balance. Nails biting into skin as he noses at your neck, his breath warm where it ghosts against your skin.

A kiss pressed there, so tender that you feel yourself relaxing. Rocking your hips back, whimpering at the feeling of his cock dragging against your walls.

“Take me,” You beg, wanting more, “Feels so good, I want you-”

He groans, and you can feel him throb inside you. There’s the sharp snap of his hips, starting shallow. Sliding out further each time, until pleasure is crackling against your skin.

The little clearing filled with the sounds of your joining. Panting breaths and the slick sound of you taking him. Fucking his own cum deeper into you, lewd with the way you cry out when his cock grinds against that spot. When the heft of his balls kiss your clit again and again, heavy with his arousal.

It feels right. Halsin’s body pressed against your back, bending you until your chest is flattened against the grass. Fingers finding purchase in the strands and flowers, giving you something to hold onto as his thighs crash against yours.

Each deep thrust pushed your breath from you with a soft whine, leaving you panting.

Trapped beneath him, until all you can do is take it.

Squirming against the cage of his chest and arms.

Fuck me. Take me. Fill me-

It comes from deep inside you. The want to be filled. An ache at knowing he’s already spent himself, that each thrust brings him closer to a second.

You must say the words out loud because he makes a noise that sounds wounded. A stutter of his hips, his words a jagged rasp, “Let go, my love. I've got you.”

So, you do. Releasing your hold on that last ounce of control. Leaving yourself in his hands, letting your sounds and cries flow freely. Embracing the mounting pleasure as it swirls through you.

You babble - half-formed words as he holds you against him. Shifting when he hears you sob, rutting himself against the spot that sends you up to the stars above. The broken “oh, oh, oh’s-” bleeding into “Gods, Halsin-”

His teeth press against your neck, pinching against your skin, “Give yourself to me.”

The arm curve around your waist moves. Fingers carefully wrap around your hair until it’s fisted in his grip. Pinning you further as he pants in your ear, soft grunts and growls that sound like music in the night air.

Not stopping until you’re shuddering beneath him. Until he feels the tight pulse of your cunt, his own release not far behind. As sweet as the taste of you, as your muscles jump under his touch, as you arch and claw at the grass below you.

It’s bliss. It feels like you’re channeling the forest itself. Feeding off the pleasure that radiates from him. The new beginning of the season, the pull of the moon above.

The Gods are pleased, you think dizzily, they must be, for I have never felt like this.

The slap of his hips is louder, as you soak him. An overwhelming instinct to claim you, as his teeth sink into the curve between neck and shoulder.

Holding you still against him as he growls. Eyes flashing gold as you cry out again - pleasure and pain melding as your orgasm flares out, beginning to ebb in sweet bursts. As the sensation drags him along to find his own end.

Spilling into you a second time with a shout. His hips moving on their own, shallow thrusts with each pulse of his cock. Your head twisting to meet his mouth, a press of teeth and tongue as you swallow his groans.

Until his strength is all but sapped from him.

Until he is more man that beast again, those eyes soft and green again - a field of clover on a bright spring day.

It’s an easy thing, to take you with him to the forest floor. To curl around you - blocking your smaller form from the midnight chill that’s begun to creep in.

Warm and strong - an arm wrapping around your hip, a large hand splaying across your belly. As if those thoughts still lingered.

Still pressed inside you, keeping you filled with him. You think you’d be content to stay like this all night. Longer, if there was not more work to be done, tomorrow. More paths to be taken.

It’s not long though, before you find yourself shifting. Dozing in his grip, a sleepy rock of your hips in an effort to feel him move in you again.

“Oak Father, preserve me.” Halsin stirs behind you, as he huffs into your hair, “Insatiable little thing. And to think I worried about you lasting through the solstice.”

Your teeth bite into your lip as you grin, as his arms wrap more tightly around you.

“I should have been concerned about myself. This old bear needs rest, little one.”

But even with his low rumbling, his hand drifts. The pad of a finger brushing against your clit, sending another shot of pleasure coursing through you.

Your thighs part, a knee bending to give him access. Another soft whine as his circles against skin that is slick with his release, as his hips slowly match the lazy rhythm.

“Do not worry, my love. I will not leave you wanting.” He rasps.

“And there are many left hours until dawn.”

omg I started playing recently and I am so in love with this game. this was so much fun, I hope you enjoyed! I love Druids so much (and am playing one) and thought they for sure would have a 👀festival👀 of some kind and wanted to explore that in the context of like, act ii/iii (I am still playing so please let me know if I got any lore wrong!!)

Teuivae – ‘Moonlight’

(tags: @samspenandsword, @amywritesthings)

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