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miioouu · 7 months

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Mean dad’s best friend! Ghost pt3

Continuation of this part. In which Price makes you feel loved. Tw: smut, age gap, oral (m receiving), unprotected sex Wc: 2.4k

“You think you taste better? Let the sweetheart decide then, Lieutenant.” the captain’s voice boomed in the small bathroom, condescending and authoritarian, as he pushed past the lieutenant, now your face is at level with his crotch.

Your eyes were wide, yet confused when you looked at both older men, feeling the tension. Thick, it was palpable. Thick as if it were syrup dripping from toast. But it wasn’t sweet; sour like the expression on Ghost’s face; salty, like the look Price shoots at his subordinate. It should make you crawl away, take the opportunity to slide out of the bathroom and go back to dinner, but instead, the little whimper you let out made them both turn their focus back to you. "Mmm, let's see what she'd think then" The deeper voice retorts, slapping his superior's hand away from your head so he could push you closer to the other man's bulge. In a swift movement, the sound of jeans unzipping, fabric rustling echoes between the four walls. "Don't rush her, LT". Unlike before his voice was soft, tender almost, the complete opposite of the man you're used to. He leaned back against the wall, making his hips roll forward a little, if it weren't for the gloved hand in your hair, you would've taken a step back at the sight.

So used to Ghost's mean cock, John's almost looks like a piece of art. A pink blush, tip glistening with pre, got your mouth watering, and again, if it weren't for the gloved hand in your hair, you would've delved in, relished in the taste of the oldest man. "I'm not rushing her…she's too impatient, a whore." Although it's not the first time Ghost addressed you that way, hell, that was kind of nice coming from him even, the presence of someone else made your cheeks flush red, your teeth nibbling on your lower lip. A gesture that didn't go unnoticed by the captain. He smiled, bright as sun rays, he swiped his thumb across the tender flesh "Easy sweet girl, don't be shy…"

Soft yes, but also patronising, as if he's talking to a child, and to be honest, to him, you were one. His fingers took a hold of your chin, guiding you closer to his aching dick, he hummed, feeling the brush of your lips against his very tip. You glanced up at him for half a second, his eyes already looking down at you with hunger, you didn't hesitate to part your mouth, taking just the head and swirling your tongue around it. He chuckled after letting out a whisper of a hiss, he peeked at the slightly younger man "Trained her good, Ghost. I’ll give you that." The way he talks about you, as if you were nothing but a dog needing to be trained, needing to be tutored. As if you were nothing but a doll in their hands, made only to pleasure them…Why did the idea make your stomach flutter? Made you purr as you took more of John. “She’s a good girl. She’s my good girl.”

Oh so now you were his? This question echoed in both your mind and the captain’s. The way he huffed, rolled his hips with slight aggression indicated that he was not agreeing. “Not yours…” He defended you; your heart skipped a beat, is this how you were supposed to be treated all this time? And how else were you supposed to thank him? Your nails found his thighs, digging in purpose to leave small crescents in their wake, your eyes closed shut, squeezed as you willingly took all of him in, the tip hitting the back of your throat. Surprised, both of them were. The captain was just not expecting so much from you, maybe now he knows, he understands why the masked man likes to mess with you so much, though he won’t deny his confusion; why make such a diligent girl cry. Him, he would’ve spoiled you, love, attention, affection, and most importantly, seeing how thirsty you are, he would’ve quenched your desires without you even having to ask. Him, he would’ve worshipped you like a goddess, the ground you walked on, the air you breathed. Ghost on the other hand was stunned by your behaviour for a whole different reason. His teeth were gritting against each other, his hands clenched in rage. Who do you think you are, pleasing a man right in front of his eyes? His blood was boiling in envy, it should be him that you’d so readily satisfy! How dare you?! How dare you give him a taste of his own medicine?!

With bitterness, he pushed his superior away, earning whines from both of you. “Yes mine. Don’t forget who you belong to, darling.” He looked at you in anger, shoving your face between his thighs, making you take more than you can. You complained, knowing well that it wasn’t like him to listen to you. Although, this time you had some sort of hope. Teary eyes glanced to the side, meeting blue ones, silently begging to have him back, to taste him again.

Price was an angel compared to Ghost, yes, but he was still a mean man. He hushed you, fingers combing through your hair; he didn’t help. Instead, he pushed you further onto the taller man. Your nose brushing against his pubic bone, his balls hitting your chin with each of his hard thrusts. The sight of your drooling, the sound of your choking, and the way your thighs rubbed, made the men chuckle and look at you like a prey. “Enough of you. Take it easy on the sweet girl, Ghost.” Finally he showed you mercy. John pushed him away, grabbed your arms to pull you back to your feet, but they barely touched the cold tile before you were lifted up, seated on the marble countertop.

Ghost on your left, lips on your neck, kissing and licking and biting; usually not a fan of leaving visible marks, today he needed to claim you. His fingers were on your thighs, drawing soft circles, the action taking you aback, oddly tender coming from him. You barely had time to sigh in delight, your breath was caught in your throat at the feeling of slightly chapped lips kissing yours, coarse facial hair rubbing against your delicate cheeks. The captain’s hands left your hips, going up to paw at your breast, pinching and rolling the sensitive nobs between his calloused digits. “Look at the whore, huffing like a bitch in heat for us… you call her a sweet girl, all I see is a desperate slut. You baby her too much.” Simon argued, as if that would change the way his superior viewed you. But that jab wasn’t for him to begin with, it was for you, a reminder of what you truly were, who you were deep inside. And his tone was so mean, so cruel, after all he’d done to you, now really wasn’t the time to degrade you. The older man felt that, felt your hot tears on your cheeks, felt the way your fingers curled around his wrists, grounding you from lashing out. He pitied you, really. Such a pretty thing, young and innocent, naive and sweet, being toyed with by the big bad wolf. Confused and torn, it wasn’t his place to make decisions for you, though something deep inside begged him to do it, told him that he had to, so he did. He wrapped his arms around your waist lifting you up, only to sink you back down on his cock. “You don’t deserve her. Her pretty pussy needs a nicer man, isn’t that right, sweetheart?” You know you should push him away, disagree, or even shake your head. You knew, he carved it in your brain, that this cunny belonged to him, him only. Ghost, Ghost, Ghost as he made you scream multiple times before. You knew the next time he’d visit you - scratch that, he won’t wait that long actually- he’d bend you over his lap to spank you, spitting out that you misbehaved, that you derailed from your trail, that you forgot who you were supposed to adore, who you were supposed to canonise. You knew all that, and yet, you nodded. Can he blame you? The older man made you feel safe, wanted, and you’re just a girl, that’s what you craved the most. “Need you, John” You breathed out as he guided you up and down his length, knowing what to expect, supposedly.

As cruel as he was, Ghost was also an unpredictable man. It surprised you that he didn’t curse, didn’t even fight his superior to have you squeezing on his own dick instead. It surprised you when he only huffed, quickly fixing his clothes again and storming out of the small bathroom. But of course he didn’t forget to shoot you a look; one filled with hatred, with anger and indignation, and also something you couldn’t quite pinpoint; disappointment? Regret? Sadness?

Though you didn’t have much time to dwell on it, the tongue on your nipples snapped you out of your thoughts. “It’s ok, he’ll come back around. He’ll come back… for now, enjoy your time with me, you deserve it.” The warm voice whispered against your flesh, John leaned you back against the sturdy surface of the counter, trying to ease the tension out of your body. "You deserve better…" he meant you deserved him. A man who will kiss your neck tenderly, leave the faintest of hickeys right below your collarbones, right above the curve of your chest. A man who will slowly slip inside you, his lips leaving small pecks on your temples, who will praise you “Taking me so well… Like you were made for me, sweetheart”. His thrusts were slow, deliberate, he was taking his time to savour you and the feeling of your walls fluttering around him. He was enjoying you, the way your nails clawed at his shoulder, and the way your legs wrapped around his waist, seemingly pulling him closer to you. Your head rested on his chest, looking down, eyes zeroing on his every movement, on his abdomen contracted with every breath he took, every hiss he let out.

His pace started out peaceful, like clear water being caressed by a soft summer breeze. Though he’s only human, drifting away from a promised heaven with each in and out, only to end up in a fiery hell. His breathing was heavy, hot against your sweaty skin, and his hips became erratic with every passing second. Never been a believer, but John never felt any closer to holiness than he did right now, right inside of you. And if god existed, he wouldn’t know whether to thank him for blessing him with the feeling of your cunt around him, the mewls of his name coming out of your sweet lips, or curse him, how is he supposed to live now having had a taste of pure ecstasy? How did he survive all these years with this feeling of fulfilment? “Good girl. You feel good, hmm pretty girl?” How can his voice be so delightful, and his thrusts so mean? The tip of his cock nudging at your cervix beautifully, making you see stars, bringing you closer and closer to your release.

His fingers had a bruising grip on your hips, leaving his marks too, soft blues compared to the violent reds of Ghost’s hickeys on your neck, the contrast between the two men had you spiralling. So different, they balance each other perfectly. You needed that moment of love after all the things Simon made you go through. After all the degrading words, the aggressive touches and bites, the unfair love; Price felt like a warm blanket on a stormy snowy night.

John’s voice became raspy, a little louder too, he had to sink his teeth into your shoulder to keep quiet. Although you weren’t any better. With your head thrown back, a hand over your mouth to keep your moans and whimpers at bay, your other one too busy grabbing at his hair, pulling for some sort of steadiness. Your legs thrashed around him, squeezing his waist tight, not being able to close from overwhelming pleasure as you came. The squelching noise of your arousal echoed in the room, spurred him to quicken the shoving of his length into your sopping wet insides. Messy, everything is messy. From his erratic pace to the drenched counter beneath you, everything is just so messy. Your chest heaved, body squirming as you felt overwhelmed, overstimulated from his constant prodding at your spongy spot. One, two, three more seconds and your walls are convulsing for a second time, not even your palm could preclude your scream of his name, only getting higher when you felt some liquid warm coating you from within, only to begin to slip out, dripping.

Cerulean blues sparkled under the harsh white light of the bathroom as he slowly pulled away, hushing your cries of protest at the emptiness as he did. “Feel better?” he asked warmly, with a kiss on your forehead, not caring about the perspiration that formed earlier. Even the dirtiest parts of you were like sugary candy for him. “He’ll come back… Don’t you worry about him. And if he doesn’t, you still have me, alright my sweetheart?”

Just like Ghost -it’s funny how you keep comparing them- he was possessive of you. Although it felt different, like he cared, like he would keep his promise. And you couldn’t help but smile as you watched the captain pull your panties up, not before he left a whisper of a kiss on your fluttering clit. You couldn’t help but smile up at him as he fixed your hair, tucking a strand behind your ear. “Go back outside sweetie. They must be looking for you… He’s waiting for you… I’ll clean that mess up.”

Your heart was beating faster with each step you took, as if you were the one in the wrong. So fast you felt like it was about to burst out of your chest, and then, and then it stopped when whiskey browns eyed you up and down, briefly mentioning the seat beside him for you to take place. A shiver ran down your spine, palms sweating when you were told that your friend had to go home early, something told you that Simon had something to do with it. Something told you that Ghost has something planned, should you be excited, or scared for what’s to come?

#ghost x reader #price x reader #simon riley x reader #captain price x reader #ghost smut #john price x reader #captain price smut #john price smut #cod x reader #cod smut #smut #female reader

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papiliotao · 1 year

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・❥・IN CLASSROOM 143

♡ — Reader: GN

♡ — Characters: Aether, Albedo, Kazuha, Scaramouche, Xiao

♡ — Synopsis: what is it like sitting next to them in class?

♡ — Content: fluff, high school AU, modern AU

♡ — A/N: classes were just better when I sat next to silly people. That's probably where I got the inspiration for this from. Have fun reading!

AETHER is the living definition of overcommitment. He's quite popular among your peers, so it's only natural that people are queuing up to ask him to join their clubs. Unfortunately, he's a bit people pleaser, so he can never find the heart to turn them down. From music to volleyball, Aether is involved in almost every extracurricular that the school has to offer, and as his desk partner in history class, you begin to notice the toll it’s taking on him.

It shows in the way he's always late and gasping for air as he sits down beside you. It shows in the way he turns to you and tiredly waves at you each class, offering you a weak smile that makes your heart skip a beat. And it shows in the way his honeyed eyes droop as he fights the temptation of slumber, all while your elderly teacher's droning voice lulls him into a state of tranquility.

He's fighting a losing battle, and he knows it. Each time the boy gives in to his weariness and lays his head on his desk to inevitably drift into the realm of dreams, his expression softens. He looks so content. You can never muster the willpower to wake him up, so instead, you leave him be and diligently take notes to share with him once class ends. After all, even someone as busy as Aether needs to set aside some time to rest in their strenuous schedule. The dark circles under his eyes tell you all you need to know about the amount of sleep he gets.

But there's no way the frigid surface of the table he uses as a makeshift pillow is comfortable, so one day, on an impulsive whim, you offer up your shoulder as a headrest instead. Aether agrees gratefully, and from then on, the sweet boy leans against you as he rests. His warm breath sends tingles down your spine, and his soft hair tickles your skin, and although his proximity makes it harder for you to take notes, you wouldn’t trade it for anything.

ALBEDO, the boy who sits next to you in chemistry, is studious yet eccentric. He’s known for achieving nearly perfect grades by utilizing his unrivalled intellect, and he’s always the first person his peers go to for help with their schoolwork despite the fact that he’s rather introverted. As a result of his reserved demeanour, he almost never offers his aid to others first, but you’re the exception.

Whenever you look as though you’re struggling, Albedo won’t hesitate to assist you. He almost appears a little too excited to talk to you, giving advice anytime he sees an opportunity to. It's gotten to the point where even your classmates have picked up on his eagerness to speak to you, and they have started speculating that the bright boy is infatuated with you. You can't deny the fact that the thought causes your heart to flutter, but you try your best not to get your hopes up, just in case your peers are mistaken. Besides, Albedo is rather difficult to understand anyway, so it wouldn't come as a shock if it turned out that his intentions were simply being misinterpreted.

One example of said contradictory behaviour on Albedo's part has to do with his participation during lessons. Despite his stellar academic performance, he has a habit of zoning out whenever a topic doesn’t interest him. In those instances, you notice that he pulls out a sketchbook and flips to a page half-filled with doodles and begins to meticulously scrawl on the paper. Soon, snowy white is dyed shades of grey and black, undergoing a metamorphosis that transforms it into the finest of portraits. You’re always curious as to what Albedo is drawing, but you’re never able to catch a clear glimpse. Whenever you look his way, he hastily shuts the book, concealing its contents as if he is guilty of a crime.

Unbeknownst to you, the ocean-eyed boy beside you is doodling the one he is infatuated with: you. His feelings ebb into his sketchbook, and his art captures every dip and curve of your face, encapsulating all your radiance with immaculate precision. And yet, he never overlooks your imperfections either — with his pencil acting as a catalyst, he records them in great detail. Albedo is in love with every single aspect of you, even your flaws, which arguably garner more adoration from the boy than any of your other features because they make you distinct — the brightest star in a galaxy full of wonders. Perhaps one day, he will be able to show you his works, but for now, he is more than content with silently admiring you.

Peculiarity is a trait best embodied by KAEDEHARA KAZUHA, the boy who sits next to you in English class. On the surface, he seems normal enough — although one could argue that he is abnormally pretty with his snowy white hair and eyes the colour of autumnal maple leaves. However, he is also strange in other ways. Six months of conversing with Kazuha have led you to the conclusion that he is most definitely odd, but not necessarily in a bad way.

Unlike most of your peers, Kazuha often appears to have his head in the clouds, daydreaming in a world that he has made entirely his own. There are times where he stares out the window, sighing wistfully as he gazes at the vivid azure sky overhead. On other occasions, he writes poems in the worn notebook he always carries around, hardly minding the way you look over his shoulder to get a glimpse of what he's writing. Most puzzling of all, however, is his tendency to absentmindedly stare at you in the middle of class. He doesn’t even have the shame to look away when you glance back at him. He just maintains eye contact and smiles at you, causing you to avert your gaze first.

Despite the fact that Kazuha is rather odd, he is still a polite and compassionate person. Whenever you allow him to proofread your assignments, he compliments your work in embellished words that bloom with praise, and he offers advice in a way that feels warm and genuine. You feel at ease with him — unafraid of being judged. However, sometimes guilt gnaws at you when you ask for Kazuha's help because he's always the one assisting you. He has nothing to gain, but he continues assisting you out of the kindness of his own heart.

That's why when Kazuha asks you to read over some of his poetry for the first time, you agree without hesitation. A quick scan of the page Kazuha directs you to causes you to raise your eyebrows. It's a love poem that is cryptically addressed to ‘the one I adore’. You can feel the affection Kazuha harbors toward the person mentioned in the poem just by reading it. When you ask Kazuha who it's for, he simply chuckles and asks if you like his poetry, effectively dodging your question. You decide to let him off easy and give him a half-hearted answer, pretending that you aren’t jealous of the person he likes.

Over the remainder of the year, Kazuha continues showing you his poetry and requesting input from you. Each time you read his impeccably-crafted works, you feel your heart race. His poems are spun from the stuff of dreams — sweeter than the cotton candy clouds that hang in the sky outside the classroom window.

Sometimes you like to entertain the idea that they could be for you, but you always shut the notion down before it can grow into a fully-developed thought, too insecure to believe someone as handsome and thoughtful as Kazuha could ever hold such feelings for you.

When it comes time for the final English class of the year, you swear that you’ve read almost every form of poem in existence from sonnets to haikus to odes. On that particular day, you notice something different about Kazuha. He seems more fidgety than usual, and he has entirely lost his ability to zone out, instead becoming hyperaware of his surroundings. The smallest movements you make cause him to whip his head around to steal a glance at you.

You discover the reason behind his atypical behaviour at the end of class when he hands you a simple white envelope. When you open it, you find pages upon pages of poetry, causing you to experience a sudden epiphany.

The one he loved was you all along.

Raiden Kunikuzushi — more commonly known as SCARAMOUCHE — is living proof that pretty privilege exists. At least, that’s what you believe.

He’s infuriating. No matter how abhorrent you find the way he treats his friends (who are honestly more akin to acquaintances), they never stand up to him. They simply allow Scaramouche to walk all over them. It's like he's put them in a trance with his breathtaking eyes, which are filled with starlight and tinted an indigo reminiscent of the awe-inspiring night sky.

But despite the fact that he is admired by many, his relationships are purely superficial. To his peers, he is nothing more than a sight for sore eyes, and that is what keeps the bitterness of envious sentiments from swallowing you whole. You’ll never be jealous of Scaramouche because his popularity stems solely from his looks.

His situation evokes a feeling of pity within the depths of your soul. The notion of your contempt for the boy still remains ingrained in your mind, but you also can’t help but pity him.

Perhaps that is what pushes you to sit beside him in your physics class on the first day of school when you notice that he is all alone. You have your reservations, but the way Scaramouche is scowling makes you think he’ll explode out of sheer rage if you don't take action.

Things start off slowly. He doesn't speak to you at first. You simply see him glancing suspiciously at you in your peripheral vision, as if he believes you have ulterior motives. However, the awkward tension becomes too much for you far too quickly, so on a typical day of classes, you decide to take your chances and pass him a note in the middle of a lesson, asking him how his day was.

When Scaramouche first sees your note, he frowns. It almost appears as though he's in disbelief because someone has taken an interest in him rather than his looks. Nonetheless, he decides to entertain you and promptly responds to you, writing a reply underneath your message in impressively neat handwriting. This sparks a conversation. One instance of the two of you passing notes in class turns to two — and two to three until you and Scaramouche are discreetly conversing each class.

Your inconspicuous discussions with Scaramouche lead you to learn more about him as a person. Whereas before you thought he was just a shallow pretty boy, now you know that he’s both cunning and witty. He never fails to make you laugh with his sarcastic comments, and despite the fact that he seems rather mean-spirited at times, you discover that once he opens up, he is more than capable of caring for others. Case in point: on days where you're feeling down, he (attempts) to tell you jokes to make you feel better, and he gives you the candy that his mother packs for him, claiming that he "doesn't like sweets anyway."

If only other people could take the time to get to know the real him. Underneath the veil of entrancing vanity and mystery that surrounds him, Scaramouche is a surprisingly entertaining and contemplative person.

However, for now, it seems that Scaramouche is more than content with the relationship he has with you. He doesn't care for any of his two-faced "friends." The only one he needs is you.

Fate has rather unconventional methods of bringing people together. There are times where you believe it is sentient, cutting, weaving, and pulling on the delicate threads that bind humans together with its steady hands.

Fate must be alive and working its magical because there is no other plausible explanation for how things ended up this way. All that is to say, some otherworldly force must have noticed your desperation to get closer to your longtime crush, XIAO, and finally decided to take pity on you.

It's crazy to think that one minuscule decision can shape the course of your entire relationship with someone, but your own experiences are indicating to you that there is some merit to the claim. After all, your computer science teacher's spontaneous choice to seat you next to Xiao is what kindles the first sparks of your relationship with him.

It all starts with music. At first, Xiao doesn’t attempt to converse with you. He seems adamant on retaining his introverted ways. It's not that he doesn't want to talk to you; he's just inexperienced when it comes to socialization. So instead of making an effort to talk to you, he simply grabs a pair of earbuds and listens to his favourite songs whenever the teacher gives the class time to work.

This all changes when you muster the courage to ask him what he’s listening to. The way his eyes widen that fateful day, gazing at you with surprise evident in his pools of amber, is something you’ll never forget.

After all the silence on his end, you still want to talk to him? He is touched by your resolve, but he is also afraid of being too blunt, so instead of giving you an overly-verbose response, he asks you if you want to listen with him, offering you one of his earbuds. Xiao's heart jumps when you accept with an endearing smile. From then on, the two of you bond over music, and Xiao begins feeling comfortable enough to speak to you.

Gradually, years of distance and rigid formality vanish. Hushed conversations at the back of a sunlit classroom, shy waves from across cramped hallways, and accidental touches of his hands to yours replace the barriers that once separated the two of you. A once hopeless situation gives way to a radiant future as you finally begin getting closer to the boy you've pined over for as long as you can remember.

Sorry if there are mistakes. I feel like I'm making this worse each time I edit it :( Either way, thank you for reading and have a fantastic day/night!

#r.archives *ೃ༄#aether x reader #albedo x reader #xiao x reader #scaramouche x reader #wanderer x reader #kazuha x reader #genshin impact x reader #genshin x reader #genshin fanfic #genshin imagines #genshin fluff #genshin headcanons

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midnight036 · 5 days

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The Craving

Sammary: Nanami's a pervert and he can't deny it any longer. Porn with plot.

Note: English is not my first language, so if there's an error don't doubt on correct me ♡ crossposted on my AO3

WC: 1.9K

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You and Nanami had been working together for a couple of months. Although your interactions were limited, you made an effort to connect with him. He often worked late, rarely mingled with other colleagues, and preferred having lunch alone, so your relationship remained strictly professional. However, since you shared the same workspace, you endeavoured to build some rapport. You would engage him in small talk, bring him coffee when he looked particularly exhausted, and occasionally leave some bread on his desk, knowing he often skipped meals.

And that was it. Yet, Nanami couldn't help but be drawn to you. It wasn’t just for how hard you worked that captivated him; it was also the way you made an effort to build a relationship with him. Also, despite your exhaustion, you always came to work looking impeccable. Like today, that your baby blue blouse revealed just enough, your pencil skirt perfectly hugging your curves and how your ponytail swayed gracefully with each step you took.

The problem was that Nanami was a gentleman who firmly believed in keeping his professional and personal lives separate. But on days like today, he found it impossible not to notice you more. Even the smallest touches sent his heart racing.

He despised it when his desire as a man overshadowed his manners, but he couldn't help but notice the growing bulge in his pants as he watched you work so diligently. He tried to conceal it himself under his desk and using the towers of papers to hide his blushing face. Just as he was beginning to regain his composure, you touched his shoulder, causing him to jump slightly in his chair.

"Sorry for disturbing you, Nanamin!" you said, brushing a strand of hair behind your ear, using the nickname you had once heard an intern call him. "Could you help me with something?" you asked, holding some papers in your hands, your eyes meeting his with a soft, expectant look.

Nanami turned to face you, his eyes locking onto yours with a mix of surprise and something you still couldn't put your finger on. His gaze lingered on you a moment too long before he cleared his throat, attempting to regain his composure. "Of course," he said, his voice slightly huskier than usual. "What can I do for you?"

"Could you check this report? I feel like something's wrong, but as an assistant, I'm not entirely sure," you say, placing the documents on his desk and leaning in to point out the issues.

"Of course," Nanami replies, his eyes briefly flickering with appreciation as he notices your exposed cleavage. His breath catches, and he shifts slightly in his seat, now keeping his gaze firmly on the papers in front of him. He maintains his composure, his voice low and steady. "It seems there's a slight discrepancy in the numbers here."

"Oh, but why? Is it an error in the calculation or the writing?" you ask, standing up straight. The subtle scent of your perfume enchants him, and his mind races with indecent thoughts as he struggles to focus on the task at hand.

"I believe there may have been an error in the calculations. I'll need to double-check the figures," he says, trying to regain control of his thoughts and remain professional.

"Sorry for troubling you," you apologize, realizing the task is more complex than you initially thought.

Nanami's eyes flicker up to yours, a small smirk forming on his lips. "No need to apologize. It's my job to ensure everything is accurate."

"Thanks, you're the best," you say, giving his arm a reassuring squeeze before returning to your desk.

Nanami's eyes follow your every movement, his mind filled with indecent thoughts. He adjusts himself awkwardly in his chair, trying to hide the growing bulge in his pants. He hates feeling this way, the sense of being a pervert gnawing at his conscience, yet he can't help but be captivated by you. He couldn't work like this. No matter how hard he tried to focus on the report, he found himself reading the same sentence for the fifth time. Frustrated and distracted, he realized he needed a break. Standing up abruptly, Nanami decided to go to the bathroom to wash his face with cold water. He hoped the brief respite would help clear his mind. With four more hours of work ahead, he knew he couldn't continue in this state of distraction.

Nanami locks the bathroom door behind him, leaning against it for a moment as he takes a deep breath, trying to calm his racing mind. "She's driving me crazy," he mutters to himself before making his way to the sink.

Nanami splashes cold water on his face, letting out a breath as the chill cools his heated thoughts. "What the hell is wrong with me," he groans, shaking his head in frustration.

Just as he opens the door to leave the bathroom, he's startled to find you standing outside. Your eyes dart around to ensure no one is watching, and before he can react, you push him back into the bathroom, your hand firmly on his chest. You turn swiftly to lock the door behind you.

"Y/L, what are you—?" he begins, but his words falter as he sees the determined look in your eyes. The confined space and the intensity of the moment heighten the electricity between you two, making it impossible for him to ignore the pounding of his heart or the heat rising in his body.

"You think I wouldn't notice?" you say, pointing at his chest with your finger, making him back up into the small bathroom. "How you kept looking at me with those beautiful eyes of yours, full of desire? Did you think I wouldn't notice the bulge in your pants?" You grab him by his tie, pulling his face down to your level, your faces mere inches apart.

Nanami's breath hitches, unable to deny the desire coursing through his veins, his body responding to your touch. "You... noticed?" he says, his voice thick with longing.

"Tell me if I'm reading this wrong, Nanami..." you whisper, your eyes searching his for any hesitation, waiting for his response to close the distance between you.

Nanami looks deep into your eyes, his gaze burning with intensity. He slowly nods, closing the distance between you two. "No, you're not reading this wrong," he murmurs, wrapping his arms around your waist and pulling you closer. "I want you—" His words are cut off as you throw your arms around his neck and kiss him deeply.

Nanami eagerly returns your kiss, his tongue quickly exploring your mouth with a hunger that matches your own. His hands wander over your body, pulling you even closer as he deepens the kiss. "You have no idea how much I've wanted this..." he murmurs between kisses, his voice low and filled with desire.

Nanami groans in pleasure as you begin to trail wet kisses down his neck. One of your hands gently grips it, giving you more access, while the other roams over his toned body beneath his shirt.

He eagerly assists in loosening his tie and unbuttoning his shirt, his lips hungrily finding yours again. "God, you're driving me crazy..." he breathes against your lips.

After a few minutes of passionate kissing, your hand moves to his growing bulge, caressing it over the fabric of his pants. Nanami's breath hitches, a low moan escaping his lips as he responds to your touch. His hands tighten around your waist, pulling you even closer, his desire evident in every movement.

His hands travel to your backside, pulling you firmly against him as he grinds his hips into your touch. "You're killing me..." he murmurs, nipping at your bottom lip.

Nanami's eyes widen in surprise and desire as you drop to your knees in front of him. You deftly unbutton his belt and pants, freeing his throbbing erection from its confines. He eagerly assists you, his breath hitching in anticipation.

"Let me make you feel good, Nanami," you say, your voice sultry as you caress his cock. Nanami lets out a low moan as you place small, tantalizing kisses around the tip.

He runs his fingers through your hair, gripping it lightly as he thrusts his hips forward into your hand. "So good..." he breathes out, leaning his head back in pleasure. The sensation of your touch and the sight of you on your knees for him sends waves of ecstasy through his body.

Nanami lets out a low growl as you take him into your mouth, your other hand massaging his balls. The pleasure building inside him is palpable. "Oh god..."

You briefly release him, but continue to stroke his shaft. “Nanami, try to stay silent. You're going to get us caught,” you say with a teasing smile. Nanami nods, struggling to stifle his moans as you continue your ministrations. He bites his lower lip, his eyes fixed on you as he fights to keep quiet.

Nanami's breath hitches as you teasingly run your flat tongue over his length, your eyes locked onto his. He groans softly, "You're such a tease..." Then, with a sudden intensity, he grabs a fistful of your hair, pulling you closer and thrusting his hips forward. Your mouth opens in surprise at the sudden intrusion, and he groans as your lips wrap around him again. "Suck it..." he orders, his voice deep and commanding.

You respond eagerly, taking him deeper into your mouth. Nanami's grip tightens in your hair as he guides your movements, his breathing becoming more ragged. The sensation of your warm mouth and skilled tongue drives him wild. "You're incredible," he mutters between heavy breaths, his body trembling with pleasure.

You obey, stroking his dick hard as he thrusts into your mouth. His other hand tenderly tucks away strands of hair that escape his grip behind your ear, then cups your face, his thumb gently stroking your cheek as he pushes deeper. "You're so good at this..." Nanami leans against the wall for support, his thrusts becoming rougher and more desperate. His hand tightens in your hair, gripping it firmly as he whimpers.

Nanami's thrusts grow faster and more frenzied, his saliva-covered dick hitting the back of your throat with each movement. His breathing becomes ragged, his body trembling with pleasure. He moans loudly as he nears his climax, spilling his seed down your throat. "Ugh... fuck..." he groans, his body shuddering as he reaches the peak of his ecstasy.

Nanami smirks as he watches you swallow his seed and as you clean the saliva that escaped your mouth with your thumb. You brush the dust from your skirt and fix your hair with practiced ease before heading towards the bathroom door. "We'll continue this at my house after work," you declare, leaving no room for argument. It wasn't a question; it was a promise.

You wink at him and step out of the bathroom, leaving him half-naked and breathless as he tries to recover from one of the best experiences he’s ever had. He takes a moment to adjust his clothes, taking deep breaths to calm his racing heart. Just as he is about to leave, he feels a weight in his pocket. Curious, he reaches in and pulls out your panties, smirking as he shakes his head in amusement. “What a fucking tease…” he murmurs, pocketing the panties and heading back to his office, his mind consumed with thoughts of you and what the rest of the day might bring.

#jjk #jujutsu kaisen #kento nanami #nanami kento #nanami x reader #jjk x reader #jjk nanami #nanami x you #nanami smut #nanami x y/n

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djarins-cyare · 7 days

Text

Never Look Down

Part 1: Din’s Evening

Series Masterlist

Prompt: “I don’t know what’s happening but I love it.”

Summary: Din has been ignoring his crush on Grogu’s babysitter for a while now, with varying degrees of success. But after a misunderstanding leads to some revelations, there’s no denying things any longer. Sometimes you just need to look at things from a different perspective.

Rating: Mature (18+) with a smidge of explicit

Pairing: Din Djarin x Original Female Character (for his POV scenes) / Din Djarin x Reader (for her POV scenes)

Word count: 5,330

Tags/warnings: alcohol, drunkenness, vomit (no description), numerous references to erections, some swearing, references to sex, non-explicit smutty thots, Din carries OFC a short distance, masturbation (male, semi-explicit, but I don’t think enough to push up the rating), 3rd person POV (part 2 will be 2nd person POV and OFC will become reader/you).

Author’s note: This was originally supposed to be for @beskarandblasters’ Din Djarin Fic Club Drabble Event, although drabble this is not! Kel said there was no word limit, but it grew so long that I couldn’t even call it a one-shot anymore, so I’m uploading it in two parts to make it easier to read and I think that probably disqualifies it from the Drabble Event. But Kel, thank you so much anyway for the prompt – it resulted in me finally pushing through my writer’s block and finishing/uploading something new, so I’m eternally grateful!

READ ON AO3 (author’s preference)

Tumblr version ahead if you prefer…

:･ﾟ✧:･.☽˚｡･ﾟ✧:･.:･ﾟ✧:･.☽˚｡･ﾟ✧:･.:･ﾟ✧:･.☽˚｡･ﾟ✧:･.:

He’s panicking. It’s stupid, really – he’s been in situations far trickier and more critical than this. But Karga said he needed help urgently, and now his babysitter isn’t answering her comlink.

Should he just go and leave Grogu here? It’s not like he never left him alone on the ship.

Except… something’s changed since the adoption. Din has started to care what others think of his parenting style. He hears people whisper that fatherhood clearly isn’t coming easily to him (he thought he was doing alright). He watches how his babysitter closely monitors every move the kid makes (the Mandalorians never watched him that closely). He listens when people talk about how they raise their own children (he hadn’t realised it was such hard work). And it’s made him feel as if he’s… lacking.

He hates feeling less than adequate in any area of his life, but somehow, failing as a father cuts deep. Perhaps it’s because he grew up without one. Plus, that scolding Peli gave him after she found Grogu alone on the Razor Crest still haunts him.

Although the Mandalorian method of letting them learn from their mistakes has merit (and it never did him any harm), he wants to be there for his son. So, no. He won’t leave Grogu here alone. He can’t risk him waking up and wondering why nobody comes if he calls. The kid has probably had enough of that in his past.

Why isn’t Maia picking up?

Din paces the cabin’s length, listening to the gentle ping of the comlink as it tries to connect with the one he gave her. Even the soothing pulse doesn’t ease his frustration. Diligent parenting is hard.

Just as he’s wondering if he can wake the kid and bring him along, the comlink crackles to life.

“—know what the stinking stang is wrong with it! Ah, frotz! Hello? Is this thing totally borked?”

For a baffling moment, he can’t work out whether he’s shocked or thrilled. She certainly doesn’t use that type of language around the kid, but he’s delighted to hear her voice nonetheless.

“Maia!” He interrupts her frustrated confusion as loud as he dares, lest he wake the sleeping child downstairs.

“Shiny, hi! It works! What’s up, my metal man? It’s late… is this a booty call?”

Once again, Din can’t decide if he’s shocked or thrilled. However, his dick’s instant twitch of interest proves that it, at least, is clearly siding with the latter. Dank farrik, he wishes it were a booty call. “No, Maia, I need—”

“Course it’s not!” she interrupts, giggling inanely. “Sorry, that was ridiculous, ignore me. Go on, you were saying?”

He takes a deep breath and tries to push past the stab of dismay at her labelling the idea of a booty call as ridiculous. At least she sounds in a happy mood.

“I’m sorry to contact you so late, but Karga has some kind of crisis. IG-11 is still with the Anzellans for repairs after the last crisis, so he’s asked for my help. Grogu’s asleep, but I’m gonna need you to come over and wait at the cabin until I return. I’ll pay you double your usual rate. I just don’t wanna leave him here alone.”

“Suuure! I’ll haul my jets over to you now. Five, ten minutes, tops. If you wanna take off now, I know your door code. I’ll check on the li’l bug as soon as I arrive.”

Din breathes a relieved sigh. “Thank you, I owe you. I shouldn’t be long.”

“Happy hunting, Beskar Boy! Or happy dispute settling!” Maia signs off with a melodic laugh that instantly makes him grin beneath his helmet, despite the stupid nickname.

The grin fades as he processes the meaning of the words preceding her addictive laughter, and he sighs. She’s probably right, although he hopes he’ll at least need his blaster for whatever mess the High Magistrate wants him to clean up.

Karga was once able to intimidate the townsfolk, but these days, they see him as purely a leader and captain of industry. They respect his ability to govern and improve the town – he’s more than proven himself capable in those roles. But whipping out a blaster from beneath those ridiculous robes now gains him little more than dubious raised eyebrows. By contrast, Cara was a fearsome and capable law enforcer, and now IG-11 keeps the citizens in line.

Except a reptavian tore off both of IG’s legs a few nights ago. Apparently, whatever the droid equivalent of ‘sick leave’ is, he’s taking it.

Din doesn’t mind helping out when he’s not on jobs for Carson. As long as Karga doesn’t solicit his help too often, it’s an easy way to make a few extra credits. He supposes that kind of makes him a part-time deputy, though he’ll never accept a title or a contract. But if tonight’s job is nothing more than a neighbour dispute, he’ll be a little peeved. His friend is aware of his skillset and wouldn’t contact him unless it required weapons and armour. He hopes.

He checks on Grogu once more, then equips himself with his usual arsenal, making sure to lock the weapons cabinet behind him. For some reason, his blasters fascinate Maia. He’s given her several shooting lessons, and she always asks to hold them whenever the cabinet’s unlocked. Although he doubts she’d handle them without his permission, he’d rather be present if she’s caressing his things.

Truthfully, he’d prefer it if she handled and caressed something else entirely, though he buries that thought for now. He has work to do, and an ill-timed hard-on would be awkward at best, if not downright perverse. He can torture himself later.

:･ﾟ✧:･.☽˚｡･ﾟ✧:･.:･ﾟ✧:･.☽˚｡･ﾟ✧:･.:･ﾟ✧:･.☽˚｡･ﾟ✧:･.:

Din wraps up the problem in less than an hour. It does require his blaster, in fact, and he does have to shoot someone. Okay, it’s in the shoulder to disarm him, but the guy is only on his drunken vendetta because he’s heartbroken. He doesn’t deserve to die.

A year ago, he would’ve just shot him in the head and gone home. But he’s lived among the citizens of Nevarro for several months now, and he’s almost starting to feel like part of the community. Passing through it to visit the old covert was different. The Mandalorians were a separate (secret) colony, and he was merely a visitor who lived on his ship. Even though his new home is still on the outskirts, Grogu attends the school in town, and he already knows many of the other parents by name. These days, the market stall owners try to chat with him instead of looking away in fear as they used to.

The guy standing on a table in the cantina tonight with a blaster trained on his ex and her new flame is someone Din recognises. He can’t recall from where, but disarming rather than killing him feels like the right thing to do.

Once he has him in binders, he delivers him to Karga and hurries straight home. The lava flats are quiet and peaceful this time of night, free from the nocturnal bustle of the town and lit only by the celestial display above. There’s no sulphur fog tonight, and the air smells fresh.

But as pleasant as it is, he doesn’t dawdle. Just like every other time he’s left Maia in charge, he relishes the chance to walk into his home and see her there. As if she belongs. He finds that image far more dazzling than the constellations sparkling above him. It’s far sweeter than the fresh air he inhales through his helmet filters as he hastens toward his cabin.

He can’t pinpoint when his interest in her changed from professional to passionate. Grogu made it clear that he liked her best out of the several childminders they auditioned, so he gave her the job. At some point between then and now, he became enamoured with her.

But he can’t do anything about it.

His loyalty to his son means he can’t fuck the babysitter, so for now, Maia belongs to the kid, and Din sleeps alone.

Even though he’s had no serious relationships in the past, he imagines he’d be willing to try it with her. But since it’ll never happen, it’s not worth dwelling on. He’s noticed a few locals checking him out, so he can always approach them if he’s looking to get laid. He’s much more used to casual encounters.

But none of that stops Din from thinking his babysitter is beautiful. It doesn’t stop him from wishing he could run his hands over her welcoming body, indulge in her tender touch and heady scent, sink into her depths over and over until she’s crying out his name as they shatter together in ecstasy….

Dank farrik, he’d better quit thinking like that. He has enough trouble controlling his physical urges around her as it is. In fact, it’s starting to become a problem. He’s lost count of how many times he’s had to dash off and furtively rearrange himself so his stomach padding hides his boner. He can’t wear the flight suits with the tight pants around her anymore, so the looser-fitting ones are getting much more use. In fact, he’s wearing his last pair. (That reminds him: he needs to do laundry tomorrow.)

Maia teases him whenever she can, but it’s always friendly, not flirty, and it doesn’t come close to being sexual. He’s never caught her looking anywhere other than directly at his visor. Still, he can’t help feeling embarrassed whenever something she says or does causes his cock to harden. He simply can’t control it.

Din reaches the cabin and punches in the door code, happy to note that his guest has locked it from inside. Her diligence and attention to detail certainly helped him trust her in his home from the outset of her employment.

Stepping across the threshold, he notices all the lights are out except for the one above the kitchen sink, which is unusual. Stranger still, all it illuminates is a near-full cup of water standing in a pool of condensation.

Nonetheless, it’s bright enough for him to survey the rest of the room cast in shadowed shades of grey.

He can’t see Maia.

Instantly, his heart rate rises, although he doesn’t panic. She’s probably just in the refresher or the kid’s bedroom with him. But the amount of moisture surrounding that cup shows it’s been sitting there almost as long as he was gone, which is curious. And there’s no light coming from downstairs either.

The cabin is small, with an open-plan kitchen and living space, and a staircase leading down to two bedrooms and the refresher. Din’s priority is his son, so he creeps down the ferrocrete steps, well-practised at following the route silently. With his night vision on, he can see that Grogu’s door is open a crack, and he pushes it wider. Little purring snores verify that the kid is sleeping soundly, and he slides the door fully closed to ensure he stays that way. Good.

Since his babysitter wasn’t in that room, and she wouldn’t invade his private space without permission, there’s only one other option. He bypasses his own bedroom opposite Grogu’s and heads to the door facing him – the refresher. He can’t pick up any sounds from within, but he’s not about to invade her privacy by listening too intently. The door is fully shut, but there’s a faint glow through the ventilation grill at the bottom, too weak to be the usual lights. A glowrod?

That’s rather odd. He’s grateful that Maia avoided putting on the hall lights while Grogu’s door was ajar, but she could’ve switched on the refresher lights once inside.

For an unsettling moment, Din isn’t sure how to proceed. He really doesn’t want to interrupt her if she’s busy. But… his instincts are telling him something is off, and he wants to know she’s okay.

He’ll give her a little longer. He’d rather be cautious than a perv.

He retreats upstairs again, conducting a thorough check of the living space and kitchen but finding nothing abnormal or suspicious. Nothing besides that abandoned cup of water, at least. Next comes his nightly check of the cabin’s weak points – the windows and entryway. He secures them all, figuring he can escort Maia out when she’s ready. Tipping away the water, he runs a fresh cup, turns his back to the stairs to lift his helmet and drink, and refills it. Finally, he disarms himself of most of his weapons, leaving one blaster in its holster and his vibroblade in his boot. He likes to bring some of his usual arsenal downstairs with him, even though he has multiple spares in a secure cabinet near his bed.

Which is where he’s headed now. Din sets the drink on his nightstand, switches off his night vision, and switches on the dim bedside light. His guest has seen him armourless a few times before, so he begins removing his beskar and the rest of his kit. He’s almost finished – just his armourweave stomach padding to go – when he hears a thump from the refresher.

In seconds, he’s outside it again, listening intently for any further clues. He’s been in the business of handling unconscious bodies for decades, and that sounded like an unconscious body.

“Maia?” he tries, keeping his voice low to ensure he won’t disturb the kid.

Nothing.

He knocks gently, giving it a few moments.

Still nothing.

Okay, now he’s really starting to worry. He returns to his bedroom, grabs his vambrace, and flicks through his visual settings until he’s replaced his night vision with the thermal overlay. He hopes he isn’t crossing a line here, but what else can he do? Walking to his doorway, he takes a deep breath… and directs his visor at the refresher.

Dank farrik, she’s on the fucking floor. Why didn’t he check sooner?

Jabbing off the thermal overlay, Din throws his vambrace on the bed, then rushes to the refresher door. He keeps his voice low in case he wakes Grogu, hoping it reaches her anyway. “Maia, I don’t know if you can hear me, but I hope you’re decent because I’m coming in.”

He gives her five torturous seconds to respond or get decent if she isn’t already, and then he keys in the override code. The door slides open, revealing his unconscious (but blessedly fully clothed) babysitter slumped near the toilet, lit by a glowrod on the floor next to her. He can now hear her breathing heavily, though it doesn’t sound laboured, just a deep state of sleep.

His helmet isn’t sealed, so straight away, he’s able to detect the lingering smell of vomit. A somewhat grim consequence of being both a bounty hunter and a father means Din can also distinguish types of vomit. Although she has flushed, there’s no air filtration with the lights off, and the residual odour tells him that Maia has been drinking alcohol.

It also explains her unconscious state, so his worry dissipates a little, and mild annoyance starts to creep in.

She agreed to look after his son when she’d been drinking?

He kneels down next to her, laying a hand on her shoulder. “Maia. Wake up.” He shakes her, but she doesn’t stir.

He assumes she slipped from a propped-up position against the toilet, and the thud he heard was her slumping onto the ferrocrete floor. Did she bang her head? If that didn’t wake her… shit.

He tries shaking her again with as much force as he dares, and she groans and curls up even more. She’s fighting it, but he sees consciousness sluggishly returning.

“Maia, it’s Din. Can you sit up?”

“… y’can’t make me sing for the cup….” She’s still half asleep and confused, but that’s not surprising. A few seconds later, she cracks open her eyes, becomes aware of her situation, and slams them shut again. “Oh… fuuuck… no no, m’sorry… so so so s-sorry… please don’t be mad at meee….” She’s tearful and rambling but mostly coherent, even though she’s still curled on the floor with her eyes squeezed closed.

“What happened?” He can’t think of anything else to say until he’s established her culpability. He knows she wouldn’t drink on the job, so she must’ve been drinking earlier this evening. It certainly explains her overzealous response on the comlink. Dank farrik, he should’ve realised. But, no, he was busy revelling in his own drunken high from her joke about it being a booty call. Idiot.

“It was accidet— ac-ci-den-tal,” she continues from her foetal position. “Tried to call you back, but m’comlink’s busted… figured better I’m here drunk than not at all… ’m sorry sorry sorry, kark, pleeease don’t hate me. I jus’ wanted to make sure the li’l man was okay. I didn’t realise how much I’d had till I stood up, n’ it hit me worse on the way over. But Grogu’s fine, I checked. But I’ve grossed up your ’fresher, ’m sorry…”

Din sighs. In the scheme of things, Maia did the right thing. He’d rather she was here puking in his refresher than risk his child waking up alone. And it occurs to him that she achieved a surprising amount while seemingly drunk as a pirate. She secured the cabin, poured herself some water, stomached a few sips, managed to descend the stairs unscathed, and checked on the kid. Then she sealed herself inside the refresher and threw up neatly into the toilet bowl with no spills, even managing to flush before she passed out. And she did all that by the light of a glowrod so she wouldn’t wake Grogu.

In many ways, his babysitter’s actions tonight were more responsible than some of his own questionable choices regarding his son’s safety. He can’t be mad at her.

He tells her so. “I’m not mad, Maia. Thank you for coming over anyway. Can you sit up? I need to know you’re okay.”

Her eyes are still clamped shut, but she cracks them slightly as she tries to push herself off the floor. It doesn’t go well, so Din reaches forward to help, and together, they get her into a stable sitting position. Nevarro’s volcanic environment means the basement maintains a cosy warmth, so he’s not surprised she passed out down here. It’s not exactly soft, but those who grow up in the Outer Rim spend their lives making do. He likes that she’s a survivor. Like him.

“Everything’s s-spinning,” she groans. “N’ my mouth tastes like bantha balls.”

Din suppresses a snort. “Hold on.” He climbs to his feet, retrieves the cup of water from his bedroom, and then passes it to her. “Here, sip.”

After she’s taken a few delicate sips, Maia gives him back the cup. “Don’t wanna puke again.”

“You won’t,” he assures, placing it in her hands again. “Pretty sure you got all the alcohol out of your system already. You gotta rehydrate, or you’ll feel worse.”

Kneeling down next to her again, he watches her try to follow his instruction, pleased she trusts him. He can’t help but admire how adorably dishevelled she is. Her hair is mussed, her clothes are wrinkled, and she keeps pouting between sips… but it’s all so… cute.

Once she’s had half the cup, he accepts it back, though she follows it up with more apologies. “M’so sorry… , m’such a karkin’ idiot… I get it if you don’t want me to look after Grogu anym—”

“Stop,” Din interrupts sharply, unwilling to let her beat herself up. “This is as much on me as it is on you. I didn’t ask you if you were busy. I demanded you come over and bribed you with extra credits. I didn’t question why you sounded different on the comlink. And I didn’t wait for you to arrive. If I’d done any of those things differently, you might not have ended up on my ’fresher floor. So I’m sorry too.” Maia doesn’t reply besides blinking at him a few times, so he asks, “What was the occasion? For the drinking, I mean.”

“One year of freedom from a terrible relationship,” she states resolutely, and for a moment, she seems a little more sober. “Me n’ Zandi, we were both in deep with some mudscuffers who locked us in when we were too young to know any better. But we got lucky. Marshal Dune caught them dealing spice, and now they’re spending a decade mining the asteroid field at the edge of the system. The Nevarran tribunal sentenced them a year ago today, so we drank to celebrate our freedom.”

Din doesn’t really know how to respond. She’s made some previous passing remarks about the toxic relationships she and her friend escaped from, which he’s always taken as hints of her wish to remain unattached. It’s yet another reason he wouldn’t feel right about making any sort of move on her. He settles on, “You… deserve to celebrate.”

“Thanks, Shiny.” He bristles at the nickname out of habit, but he secretly likes that Maia has numerous nicknames for him. “N’ you deserve a ’fresher without a woman on the floor. I should get outta your way, Beskar Boy.”

She tries pushing herself up but instantly becomes dizzy and topples to the side. Din’s naturally quick reflexes kick in, and he positions himself to catch her, letting her fall into his chest as his arm snakes around her back. Before he can even process what he’s doing, he’s slipping his other arm beneath her knees and lifting her up.

“Whoa!” she exclaims, grabbing onto his flight suit with one hand while the other flies to grasp his neck. He almost shivers from feeling her clutch at him so keenly. “I don’t know what’s happening, but I love it! Thanks for the lift, muscles!”

He’s glad his bold move has amused rather than perturbed her, so he doesn’t answer, too busy willing his cock to remain unreactive to this sudden closeness. His main goal is to get her off the ferrocrete floor and put her down somewhere softer as fast as possible. As he elbows open the door and navigates out of the refresher, he makes a split-second decision. His bed is closer than the couch.

“Shiny! This is your bedroom!” Maia whisper-shouts as he steps through the door. At least she’s lucid enough to keep her voice low in case Grogu hears across the hall.

Din grunts in agreement as he approaches his bed and starts carefully lowering her onto it.

She keeps going in a gleeful whisper. “Is this…? Are we…? Kriff, I never thought I’d actually end up in your bed, metal man! I mean, it’s been a dream, sure, but I figured your creed thing meant, like, no sex or whatever. But holy frotz, I guess tonight really was a booty call! Count me the fuck in!”

He’s already laid her down by the time he fully processes her words.

Dank farrik, he’s a fucking idiot.

He will never have sex with any woman in this state. He’s not that kind of guy. The fact that being with Maia is a dream for him too is meaningless, and so is the possibility that she might actually want him. Because does she really? Maybe this is still the alcohol talking. It has to be. Right?

It doesn’t even matter. All Din needs to do is extract himself from this situation in the least awkward way possible and without having to reject her verbally.

But how?

He points a finger at her. “Stay put.” She bites her bottom lip and acknowledges his order with a sloppy salute.

Damn it, the image of her lip caught between her teeth is now burned into his brain, haunting him with forbidden promise.

He pads back to the refresher in his socks and closes the door, relieving himself, flushing, and then pouring some cleaner down the toilet to sit overnight. He then washes up at the sink as fast as possible and refills the cup of water. Returning to his bedroom, Din places the cup on the nightstand along with the glowrod that belongs to his guest.

Speaking of whom…

In his brief absence, Maia has toed off her shoes, stripped naked and strewn her clothes across the floor, and burrowed under his covers. She’s still bleary from the booze, but he sees fire and lust behind her hopeful gaze as she blinks up at him.

It kills him.

He remembers he never finished removing his armour, so he retrieves the vambrace from where he threw it and places it on its shelf. Then he finally removes his stomach padding and puts that away too, directing his visor anywhere except at the naked woman in his bed. He’s doing everything possible to deny the physical reaction her presence is giving rise to.

When he’s done, Din approaches the bed again, acutely aware that she’s tracking him with a hunger he shares but can do nothing about.

Fuck, this is torture. The blanket has slipped down (or maybe Maia has arranged it) so low that it’s daringly close to exposing her nipples. She’s right there, waiting for him. Wanting him.

But she’s drunk. And she’s his kid’s babysitter. He tries to quell his ache by thinking about how she’s thrown up this evening, which would make kissing gross. It helps for a second, although the idea of kissing her at all ends up eclipsing the negatives, and he hardens even more.

Shit, he cannot think about kissing her. Or how naked she is. Or anything like that. Vomit. He should focus on vomit.

Okay. Din taps off the bedside light and picks up the glowrod, then heads to the door in the dark, stumbling over her clothes strewn on the floor. He can’t activate his helmet’s night vision without his vambrace control, but he won’t put it back on just to navigate his escape. Nor will he switch on the glowrod yet because he doesn’t want to see any dismay or regret in her eyes as he leaves her. He wants to remember the hunger he witnessed there.

Hazardous garments notwithstanding, he finds his way to the exit.

Crossing the darkened doorway’s threshold, he whispers, “Get some rest, Maia.” Then he fumbles for the control and taps the door close button, releasing a sigh as it swishes shut behind him.

Switching on the dim glowrod, he traipses upstairs. It’s going to be so kriffing awkward in the morning. Nonetheless, one thought keeps repeating itself to him above all others, one he can no longer prevent his dick from swelling at the prospect of.

Is she really attracted to him?

He has to know.

Din extracts another blaster from his cabinet, knowing he won’t sleep without one beside him. Then he sits heavily on the couch, thinking about how often he used to sleep in his helmet before this cabin became his home. It’s the first place he’s felt secure enough to remove it at night, so he’s no stranger to sleeping beneath his beskar mask. It’s almost a comfort in a way.

With his face covered in a darkened room lit by nothing but a glowrod while those he cares for slumber downstairs, more memories return…

Sitting in the Crest’s darkened cockpit, fucking his fist by the swirling glow of hyperspace, chasing a release during those first stressful days as a fugitive. In theory, if something had pulled him out of hyperspace, someone could’ve quite literally caught him with his dick in his hand. But the odds of anyone being close enough to peer in through the transparisteel at that very moment and notice his furtive actions were slim. Back then, he was so untethered that in his weaker moments, he desperately sought anything that made him feel good. Fleeting moments when he could pretend his life wasn’t falling apart yet again. The risk was worth it.

Here, too, although he’s locked up the cabin and closed the shutters, there’s a risk of Maia sneaking up the stairs and finding him. But a similar desperation fills him now – the utter frustration of loss. Back then, it was the loss of a stable income, the loss of his covert. Now, it’s his missed chance – the loss of what could’ve been with the woman downstairs. And maybe even the total loss of her in his life. Perhaps she’ll be too embarrassed about this evening’s events and quit. Din couldn’t take that, nor could Grogu. It’s why he tried to avoid this.

Can they get past this? Maybe he ought to find someone else to care for the kid. Would that be best? This is getting too complicated. He doesn’t want to think about it anymore.

So, right now, he’ll imagine the positive and lose himself in the fantasy, just like he used to. He’ll think about the hunger he saw in her eyes and let himself believe it wasn’t merely the alcohol. Just for tonight, he’ll believe it’s the truth. The risk, once again, is worth it.

He’s already tenting his loose flight suit pants, so he fumbles to expose himself and relaxes against the couch cushions behind him. The wet spot on his underwear displays just how profoundly turned on he is simply by the idea of being with Maia.

After all the temptation it’s endured this evening, his cock is extra sensitive, so he begins with measured, lazy strokes. Whilst he’d love to revel in the fantasy, he knows he won’t last long. As he imagines joining her in his bed, filling his palms with those half-exposed breasts he saw, pressing his naked body against her, his movements begin to speed up and his pressure increases. Very soon, he’s plummeting toward the edge of ecstasy like a podracer pilot with the finish line in sight.

His helmet tips back to stare at the ceiling as he pictures how it would feel to sink into her warm depths, and the notion ignites his fuse, burning rapidly. It only takes a few more strokes before the powder keg within him explodes into a million tiny raptures. His hips stutter, his muscles clench, and his orgasm tears through his body. He comes hard, and a fractured groan far louder than he’d intended escapes through the modulator as he spills forth his pleasure…

Fucking. Bliss.

Din’s mind is blank for some time, just a sense of fulfilment and contentment gently rippling throughout his relaxed form.

As the real world filters back in, he’s able to think clearly, and he now knows what he has to do. He doesn’t like it, but it’s the mature and sensible option. It’s also a fucking daunting prospect, but he’s faced worse. Has he? Yes, he has. He can do it.

He tucks himself away and finds a cloth to wipe down the mess on his flight suit. That task makes him realise he’ll have to sneak into his bedroom tomorrow without waking Maia to grab his armour and some fresh clothes. And now he really needs to do laundry tomorrow. The only pants he has left are the tighter ones, which he tries to avoid wearing around her. Great, there’s another reason to dread the morning. Although it’s not as if he’s ever caught her checking out his package – she may tease him verbally, but her gaze is always polite.

For now, he’ll enjoy the security of darkness and the lingering swirl of happy chemicals in his brain.

Din lays down on the couch and switches off the glowrod. With a deep sigh, he surrenders to the relaxing state of comfort brought on by his orgasm, letting himself fall into a contented sleep. Before he drifts off, his last thought is of Maia’s beautiful lips… leaning in for a kiss….

If only.

:･ﾟ✧:･.☽˚｡･ﾟ✧:･.:･ﾟ✧:･.☽˚｡･ﾟ✧:･.:･ﾟ✧:･.☽˚｡･ﾟ✧:･.:

[PART 2 COMING ON 1 JUNE 2024]

Those of you who've read my work before will be familiar with my copious end notes:

As usual, it’s British spellings I’m afraid. Demographic stats say about 60% of you are American, but I can’t help where I was born, so sorry about all the extra ‘u’s and ‘l’s and for using ‘s’ where you would expect ‘z’. However, I’ve channelled my inner linguist and used American language and speech patterns since the show is filmed in the US and Din’s accent is American. All other wording is internationally neutral, including Maia’s dialogue (since the next chapter is written from her POV and I’ll be switching to second person reader insert for that, e.g. you/your pronouns). I’m a little sad I didn’t get to include any Mando’a linguistics in this fic tbh. Maybe another time.

The cabin’s layout is inspired by the concept art by Christian Alzmann that appeared in the closing credits of s3e8, in which there appears to be a staircase leading down to a lower level. That makes sense to me, as Din would need total security to sleep without his armour on, and a windowless underground room seemed appropriate. I also like the parallel that on the Razor Crest he used to sleep on the lower level in a windowless room too.

I know Carl’s absence is going to be felt when we finally get the movie, so I wanted to write something where Karga is still around. If this had been a longer piece, I would’ve had him actually featuring in it instead of being in the background, but in any case, Karga lives forever in the universes I write.

The reference to Din wearing looser pants is, weirdly, Canon. One of the ways you can tell it’s Brendan Wayne in the suit is because he seems to prefer these weird baggy clown pants. Contrast to Pedro who likes them tight (Din Peña?), as does Lateef Crowder, and as did Barry Lowin in season 2. Since Brendan did the majority of season 3, we saw Din in the loose-fitting style a lot more, so I decided to write in a reason for that beyond actor preference.

Though we have no information on Nevarro’s judiciary system, they’re an independent world who have a marshal and a magistrate, so my guess is they’d adopt the New Republic’s system of having a tribunal. Generally, group decision-making is favoured during this era, in contrast to the single-judge system of the Imperial era, so it seems more likely that Karga would encourage citizens to serve on a tribunal rather than unilaterally passing judgments himself.

Apologies to @the-mandawhor1an for using the name of your longtime established OC – it was coincidental, I promise! I chose it after looking up the most common female names in the world, one of which is Maria, and I settled on the variant Maia because it sounded like a more Star Wars-y version (and for another reason which you’ll see in part 2). I only realised when you reblogged my WIP Wednesday snippet, and it was a bit late to change it by then. I guess it’s a common name in the SWU too! But I’m sorry and I hope you don’t feel like I’m muscling in on your domain. Your Maia is of course the original Maia 💖

I made the GIF myself. Sorry it’s a bit blurry, I’m not very good at making them yet. I tried to use Tumblr’s GIF-making function, but it wouldn’t let me crop out Grogu’s ears, so this was my alternative attempt. It’ll have to do.

Definitions: Comlinks are those little cylinder comms they all use. Glowrod is a catch-all term for anything portable that produces light. All the swears/insults (stinking stang, frotz, borked, kriff, kark) are from the Legends list of phrases and slang this time (it’s longer than Canon). Nevarran reptavians are the ones that Grogu saved Karga from in s1e7 and that the Mandalorians were roasting in s3e7. Ferrocrete is a compound building material (Canon and Legends) made from concrete and iron, used in roads, reinforced bunkers and building foundations. I figured Din would only be happy with something strong and defensible, so Karga had the cabin built with it. Transparisteel is used for windows and ship viewports, as well as helmet visors.

Part 2 is written and will be uploaded next weekend once proofing/editing is complete. What do we think? Is Din gonna be dumb and tell her she can’t babysit Grogu anymore? Deny himself what he wants for Maia’s own good?

:･ﾟ✧:･.☽˚｡･ﾟ✧:･.:･ﾟ✧:･.☽˚｡･ﾟ✧:･.:･ﾟ✧:･.☽˚｡･ﾟ✧:･.:

Tags requested…

@aheadfullofsteverogers @alltheotps @axolotllover225 @burntheedges @copperhalfcent

@foomoosworld @jude77 @secretelephanttattoo @stagerightlauren @the-mandawhor1an

Those tagged below showed interest in my masterlist and WIP snippets (comments/reblogs), so I thought I’d sneak in some extra tags. Apologies if it’s too forward, if you’d prefer I didn’t tag you in part 2 just let me know…

@604to647 @cheekychaos28 @djarinmuse @gingerlurk

@joelalorian @kyberblade @readingupsidedown @sunflowersunlight7-blog

@thefrogdalorian @whataenginerd @wrathkitty

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emotionoitme · 10 months

Note

thinking about carmy bending me over his lap and spanking me for being a tease

teehee 🤭 fwb reader as a host at the bear

“i’m not doing anything,” she crosses her arms, coy smile playing on her lips.

“bullshit,” he challenges, shutting the office door “what’s—” he sighs, brows creasing, “-what’s with that outfit?” gesturing to the questionable mini skirt she showed up in.

“what’s wrong with it?” she presses, “you said yesterday we could dress for the heat.”

carmy runs a hand through his hair and takes a deep breath, raking his eyes over her bare legs. she was right, he did say that. he didn’t anticipate, however, how jealous he would feel watching her sweet talk the male customers while sauntering around in a piece of denim that hardly covered her ass.

“you even know how people are lookin’ at you out there? guys?” he asks, jaw tightening. she just rolls her eyes at this, brushing him off.

“no one’s looking at me, chef,” she annunciates the last part, stepping closer, “except you, maybe,” tilting her head to the side. she watches his face grow stern, hoping to further rile him up. he’s silent for a moment, studying her expression, seeing her pupils expand.

“that’s why you wore it, right?” he challenges, further closing the distance between them, examining the way her smirk drops a bit, pout on her face replacing it.

“no,” she curtly responds, refusing to take a step back, her face inches from carmy’s, his breath hot against her lips.

“don’t lie,” he chides lowly, hand coming to rest on her hip, pulling her in. her lips almost touch his, the heat of the small office rapidly increasing. she badly wants to give in and admit her intentions, knowing he would lean in to press his mouth against hers in reward. she retains her resolve, though, eyes flickering towards his plump lips.

“i’m not lying,” she mutters, hazed by the warmth radiating from the man in front of her, hazed by the clean sharpness of his deodorant. it takes all of her strength, but she turns away, distancing herself from him.

“better not be,” he warns, eyes drifting down her form. he knew he shouldn’t be talking to her this way while they were at work, yet he found himself undeniably affected by her presence, trying to bottle it away for later, pants noticeably tighter than earlier. he runs his hand through his hair.

“go back to the front,” carmy directs. the sternness of his voice leaves a prickle over the girl’s skin, meeting his eyes once more, casting over the set firmness of his jaw. she knew what that look meant— the “i’ll deal with you later” glare, his lowered intonation. it did nothing but encourage the girl, wondering how far she’d be able to get under his skin tonight.

“yes, chef,” she breathes out softly, glancing to his lips, then meeting his gaze again. he doesn’t miss the way she bends to his authority, heart pounding in his ears. how much time was left until close? he wonders if anyone would interrupt them if he grabbed her and bent her over the desk, or fucked the attitude out of her. his line of sight follows her as she turns to the door, letting herself out.

she couldn’t deny the heat his words had sent to her core—trying to steady her breath, bringing her hands to her warm cheeks to try and cool them as she makes her way back to the front of house. the girl found that his threatening demeanor inflicted a reaction the opposite of what he had probably intended, instead now plotting her next advance. she glances back through the expo window, watching carmen resume his rounds, barking orders as if he were on edge.

the dinner rush progresses smoothly through the night as the staff diligently works to accommodate the guests, although the influx of customers leaves the front of house short of a few items as the closing hour approaches. the young host makes her way back to the supply closet to grab a few necessities, flicking on the light to dimly illuminate the small space. she spots the bin of spare glassware she needed perched on the very top shelf, inwardly cursing and checking the vicinity for a step stool. she scoffs, finding nothing in the direct area, instead opting to climb the shelf. she hikes up her jean skirt, placing her foot up onto the raised surface, shakily grasping onto the wood as she climbs towards the top. she can almost reach the bin of glassware, perching her leg a bit higher, trying to push herself upwards when she hears carmen’s voice.

“the hell are you doin’?” he asks, eyeing her precariously balanced position, the angle of their height difference with her on the shelf granting him quite the view. she gasps at the surprise of his presence, body unintentionally flinching and knocking her slightly off balance. she clutches the metal railing of the shelf, hearing it rattle under the sudden movement. it looks almost like she would fall, so carmy’s hand instinctually flies up to steady her, gripping onto the back of her upper thigh. he immediately notices the softness of the skin, fingertips teasing the curve of her ass. she jolts at the touch, his grip firmly holding her in place.

“i’m trying to get the extra glasses,” she meekly explains, turning her head to look at him. his brows are furrowed, jaw tightly set.

“there’s a step stool in the office,” he reminds her, moving his hand a bit lower once he notices his current position, trying to guide his eyes away from creeping under her short skirt, “c’mon, get down from there.”

she feels her cheeks heat, self assured that she could complete the task, opening the lid of the container and taking a glass out.

“i just need a few,” she protests, trying not to focus on the warmth of his grip on her leg or the butterflies erupting from her stomach. he sternly says her name, patience wearing thin with the girl.

“down. now,” he asserts, “let me get the stool,” scoffing when he watches her rolls her eyes and continue taking glasses out of the box.

“oh yeah?” his eyebrows raise, leaning to look up at her and catch her eye, “we’re gonna do this tonight?”

heat pools in between her legs at his challenging tone, eager to rouse him, leaning back into his touch with a small pout on her lips. carmen closely watches her with his eyebrows raised, anticipating a response, tensing when she continues to ignore him. he attempts to rationalize his urges, reminding himself that there were still employees clocked in and they were not alone.

even so, carmy slides his arm up her back and around her waist, bringing the other arm to wrap around her legs, picking her off the shelf and placing her on the ground. she cries his name in protest, voice falling flat when she meets his eyes and catches a dangerous glint. he firmly grips her wrist and pulls her as he stalks to his office, dragging the girl behind him. he slams the office door behind them, pulling his apron off over his head, only letting go of her once she’s sandwiched between him and his desk.

she knows where this is going— having wanted nothing more than for carmy to give her some reinforcement, some attention.

“what’s with the fuckin’ attitude today?” he asks, watching her closely, hand coming to her side, “hm? usually such a good girl for me,” his voice is low and gravelly, igniting every nerve beneath her skin, strikingly blue eyes devouring her whole. she lets out a breath, fixated on the plumpness of his lips as she feels his hand creep under the hem of her shirt to caress the heating skin.

“i don’t have an attitude,” she protests far less convincingly than she means to, eyes fluttering slightly at the sensation of his hand sliding up her rib cage and cupping her breast. he scoffs at her response, then leans in to press his lips to her neck, peppering kisses from the curve of her shoulder to the sensitive skin tucked under her earlobe. his thumb brushes over her nipple, feeling her shudder at how the bud quickly perks from his touch. he reaches with his other hand to shove the material of her shirt up over her breasts, marveling at the sight.

“really?” he asks, caressing her soft mounds, seeing her fight a reaction, “cause it seems like you’re trying to get me to put you in your place,” watching as her eyebrows raise and cheeks flush at his completely truthful accusation. she doesn’t respond, just leans further into his touch, eyes glancing away from his as a knowing smirk spreading over the man’s face. he slides his hand back down her stomach, wrapping it around her. he quickly spins her around to face away from him, pushing at the small of her back to bend her over the desk, his other hand gripping her forearm and pulling it behind her, chest flush against the wood. she lets out a small whimper at the swift action, feeling as he presses his hardening bulge against her backside. she can notice her body physically heat up when he dominates her like this, arching back towards his hips, turning her head so her face lays against the wood. carmen releases her arm, then grabs the hem of her skirt and begins pushing it up over her thighs, exposing her ass clad in lace, supple skin enveloping the tight fabric. he quickly palms it, massaging, the softness making his breath catch in his throat, listening to her drawn out whine. his thumb teases the edge of her underwear as he smoothes his hands over her lightly clothed curves, hard bulge against her thigh.

“yes,” she pleads into the wood of the table, heavily exhaling at the warmth of his hand sliding along her gluteus, slightly embarrassed at the compromising position. he lets out a soft scoff in response, eyes gliding over his tattooed fingers grabbing her, pressing into the skin. he doesn’t miss the way she shifts, pushing her ass into him more, her arms stretching out over his desk.

carmen raises his hand, then cracks it down onto the right cheek, gripping the plump skin immediately after to soothe the sting. she releases a cry, pushing further back against him, basking in the hot prickling sensation of the impact. she’s unable to mask the ghost of a smile that prickles at the edges of her lips, having gotten exactly what she sought. his eyes trace over her expression as he raises his arm again, hand flying down onto the other cheek with a sharp smack that sounds through the small office.

“that what you wanted?” he asks in a growl, cock straining against his pants, continuing to firmly press her into the table. she shakes her head and turns away in an attempt to hide the arousal painting her face. “no?” he asks teasingly, smoothing over the reddening skin, “you taking your punishment like a good girl? won’t be all wet when i take these off?” his finger looping through the thin band of her panties, tugging. she hums in agreement, head hazy with lust, only wanting him to spank her more. carmy shoves the fabric down her thighs until they slide to the ground, eyes finding a glistening wetness pooling at her entrance, coating the insides of her thighs in a sticky sheen. he spreads her open, swiping a finger through her folds, slickness soaking the digit. he then wordlessly brings his hand in front of her eyes, showing her how wet his finger was with her juices. she flushes, turning her face out of embarrassment. he grabs her hips, pulling her ass higher up towards him, admiring the red hand prints blooming on her skin.

“you’ve been trying to get me to do this all day,” he taunts lowly, hand wrapping around her throat, leaning in to speak in her ear, “wearin’ that little skirt…talking back,” his bulge throbs against her, and she lets out a whimper. he rubs his hand over her ass once more, then smacks her. she gasps, and he smacks her again in the same spot, gasp morphing into a cry. she reaches back for him, fingertips coming to his thigh, nerves electrified with pleasure.

“please,” she begs, “put it in,” panting, the juices from her cunt soaking into his pants. her body feels incredibly hot, mind only focused on one thing as she pushes back against him rhythmically, making the man grin at how needy she was from what was supposed to be a punishment. he grips her to to hold her in place, reaching down to quickly pull her panties back up her thighs, fabric coming to cover her soaking heat, reddened skin peaking out from behind the delicate lace. he shoves her skirt back down over her ass, then roughly pulls her to stand, ignoring the cry of confusion.

“go finish your close,” he orders, jaw tight, increasingly clouded with arousal. if he had kept her bent over the desk he surely would have given into her desires, providing her with exactly what she wants (and potentially alerting other staff members to what was going on). instead, he remains firm in his decision, taking a small amount of joy in the look of desperation that spread over her features, opening her mouth to protest. he says her name sternly, cutting her off, “you heard me,” pointing to the door, “go.”

she turns, still enveloped in a thick heat of desire, a sting ever-present under her skirt as she attempts to changes her focus to finishing nightly duties.

why do i love mean carmen so much

i’m sorry for my irregular posting!! i have so much going on in my life right now. i appreciate everyone’s support so much <3 it means more than you know

#carmen berzatto x reader #carmy x reader #the bear imagine #carmy berzatto imagine #carmy berzatto smut #carmy berzatto x reader #carmy berzatto headcannon

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animeyanderelover · 23 days

Note

Hey! I love your writing!

Could i request headcanons of Yandere Douma with a member of the eternal paradise cult that has never asked him for anything despite the fact he's essentially their god. They assume hes probably stressed hearing and trying to fix other people's problems all the time so they never ask him to fix their life but theyre a diligent worshipper and helper around the cult.

Tw: Yandere themes, toxic relationship, possessive behavior, obsession, delusional behavior, clinginess, manipulation, sadism, isolation

Tags: @leveyani @kanaosprotector

It must be tough to be a god

❄️What others may only see as utter terror if they would know what is going on behind closed shoji doors is viewed as an act of kindness by Douma. The consumption of his followers is a sign of mercy and kindness as he frees them from their pitiful and pathetic human lives by devouring them. How can those creatures not be tormented by their own existence after all? Their bodies age and decay, their beauty vanishes and in the greater order of things they are flies just waiting to be swatted away and to be forgotten. Needless to say, he looks at your kind with rather condescending opinions yet such thoughts only convince him further of his good deeds. He lends them an ear when they seek him out, desperate and in agony, their heart shackled with chains only he can take off. He has always listened and given words of comfort and as empty as they may be, they latch on them like a leech does on human skin.

❄️You are one of many faces in his cult, one that should be meant to be forgotten when your time eventually comes. Through hard word and sheer dedication though, you have earned yourself a position where you spend more time with Douma than the average follower. It is a honor you humbly accept as you work earnestly to do your assigned duty and the expectations of everyone justice. You gladly accept all compliments given to you by other worshipper in the cult yet Douma's words of gratitude are the ones that make your heart race the most, although you never let those sweet words get to your head. You believe that one shouldn't slack off because of kind words and compliments and that one should work hard and do their best every day to achieve self-control and inner peace. You fulfill your duties remarkably well and always look out if Douma should need something which you will then promptly arrange for him.

❄️He praises you for your diligent performance and your hard work yet those words do not match his low thoughts. Douma is quite used to seeing little things like you who would do everything for him in hopes of gaining his attention and his affection. Surely you must be the same. A desperate, little thing who is prying for his love by working so exceptionally hard. He has always entertained such pathetic feelings as it is his duty to cater to the worries of his followers and he thinks that it is time for him to reward you too. What is it that your heart desires most right now? Tell him and he'll see it through to fulfill that little wish of yours. He expects you to utter the common wish of wanting his affection and attention, of the forbidden desire to be claimed by him, even if just for one night. Yet you don't fall for his seductive tone and the temptation of his body so close to yours as you express to him that you have no other wish than continuing to serve him loyally as you have done all this time before.

❄️Your response puzzles the demon as he has never received such an answer to his offer. He makes no attempt to stop you though as you distance yourself from his body and excuse yourself before heading out, though he tilts his head curiously as his colorful eyes move with you until you are out of his sight. It is only after you have left that Douma fully recognises what has happened and as soon as he has realised, he can't help but let out a rather excited giggle. You denied his offer. You rejected him! Maybe if any of his other followers would have known about your behavior they would have ganged up on you to punish you for your rude and dismissive behavior. Yet the emotions rushing through Douma's veins are far from displeased in that moment as he finds himself rather curious and thrilled all of a sudden as he has never had someone treat him the way you just treated him. It is only the start of his obsession.

❄️Suddenly you find yourself as the unfortunate target of almost all of his obsession as his attention is solely fixed on you. Boredom has been his only true companion that has always been with him even during his human years yet for the first time in his life he is experiencing something that isn't just a shallow and fleeting emotion. For the first time he sees a bit more worth in a human than what he normally thinks of them and it is rather thrilling to feel. Douma always appears in the places where he knows you are at the moment and successfully distracts you from your duties, quite displeased when you don't give all of your attention to him. You can feel his eyes on you even if you don't face him though and even if you are a dutiful worshipper, you tend to feel a bit creeped out by his behavior. He can't seem to hold out even a minute without asking you something or interrupting you otherwise as the feeling of boredom returns as soon as you don't pay attention to him.

❄️Despite the rather childish and clingy attitude he suddenly expresses when he is around you, Douma is still quite observant. The demon is aware that you only tolerate this behavior of his because he is the leader of this cult. If it would have been anyone else, you would have given them already an earful. He wonders how far he can take this? If he would have been an honorable man, he would have felt guilty for suddenly abusing his power over you to invade your privacy, to touch you and to downright molest you at times. He isn't though and he will never be. He takes delight in listening how your heartbeat always picks up when he touches you, his hands lingering as they slowly rub up and down your body and watching how you can only uncomfortably squirm whilst his hands linger. You are normally always rather composed and calm so it is quite fun to be the reason for you to lose your facade. Perhaps he can coax you into requesting something special of him if he shows you his interest so boldly.

❄️You remain unwilling to ask anything of him even as he continues expressing his interest in you through caresses and touches which soon has Douma wondering if you keep something from him. All of his followers have worries and wishes they confess to him yet only you have never made use of his services. Do you not trust him? Is that it? As fun and exciting your different attitude is, if you don't trust him that is a little bit of an issue that bothers Douma the more he thinks about it. He finds himself being rather straightforward this time without playing around as he asks you this question as soon as you have appeared before him due to him having sent for you. It is quite hard to decipher his true feelings as he still keeps a grin on his face, although his eyes are sharp and intense as he expects an answer from you. You see yourself pressured to answer his question, watching nervously as he tilts his head before he suddenly lets out an amused chuckle.

❄️Your answer is just as adorable as you, you know? It is quite interesting that you have such silly worries, although he does feel quite flattered to know that you care that much about him. Though you should know that it is quite frustrating for him as you don't open up to him as much as all other followers yet it is you he has the most interest in. Be assured that it would sadden him more if you were to keep secrets and thoughts away from him. Those friendly words of his still hold a silent demand for you to open up all of your thoughts for him because Douma finds himself slowly feeling impatient that you keep such a wonderful mind away from him. If you still dare to hold on to your unwanted worries and deny him, you'll have to live with the punishment he as your god will give you. If you do not give him what he desires, he'll get it himself. There is a lot you don't know about each other after all but he'll be happy to share all of his secrets with you and find out all of yours in return.

#yandere demon slayer #yandere kimetsu no yaiba #yandere kny #yandere douma #yandere x you #kny x you

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astrid-sorensen · 1 year

Text

Immaturity - Joel Miller x reader

AN - This one is about reader begging and Joel denying her hehe ;) feedback welcome!

Words - 2,443

Genre - Smut, Angst

Warnings - Age gap

MASTERLIST

Joel lowered his gun, stretching out a hand to haul you into his apartment. You stumbled forward, practically tripping over your own feet as Joel projected his head outside, checking to see that no one had followed you. He knew how diligent he had to be, especially since he knew you weren't. It was dusk, A very soft grey glow leaked through the windows, the old broken curtains failing to obstruct the privacy of his apartment. Although since the outbreak there had been an abundance of empty living spaces, so there was no one around to gape in anyway. He slammed the door behind him, walking to the table, he pulled the strap of his gun over his skull and stationed his weapon onto it. "Did you get that knife I wanted?" He asked, shifting to your direction.

You meandered in, the place identical to how it was the last time you were here. When the male had urged you to let him clean the gash on your forehead, from some idiot clipping you whilst tasked with the job of cleaning up the destroyed building rubble.

“Yeah, here you are." You removed your backpack, digging a hand in the canvas bag to pull out the blade you stashed at the bottom. You reached out to hand it to him, who put it next his gun. He then reached into his denim pockets, pulling out the ration cars he promised you in return for the knife. Joel said nothing after he handed you the payment, mixtures of blue, green and pink in the stack.

"Thanks." You smiled, there was an awkward pause as you thought about what to say next. "I should probably get-"

"Actually, there was one more thing I was going to ask you to help me with." He cut through the silence with his deep southern accent. Joel never failed to make you nervous, you weren't sure if it was his demeanour, his seriousness or the fact that everyone in the QZ was petrified of him. You were only just beginning to see what was under the surface of his stone cold exterior.

To be honest, the age gap was on his mind often. He constantly felt wrong for admiring a woman around the same age as his daughter would be, but he knew he'd never use it to his advantage.

"Really?" You asked intrigued and slightly excited to have another excuse to see the Texan. He traipsed towards you, a hand coming up to rest his thumb to the curve of your jaw. You breath hitched in your windpipe. He leaned in, his dark lashes descending as you did the same. He connected your lips strongly, almost tipping you over as you made small step after small step back til you were pinned against the brick wall.

Soon the desperation had over come him, his feverish kisses sloppy as he covered your jaw and throat with his needy lips. His coarse hands run up and down your sides with force, the friction causing your fitted black jersey t shirt to lift up. Crinkling till it was folded up under the fullness of your breasts. His calloused fingers pulled it off in one swift motion, the firm flesh bouncing back into its natural position.

His big hands grabbed at your waist in seconds, blanketing most of the skin. Your wrists fell on his broad shoulders, fingers laced in the curly black and grey hair on the back of his head. His unkempt hair trickled at your arms as you rubbed against him. The older man sucked lightly on your silky long neck before moving his hands to the waistband of your shorts.

He toyed with the fabric, the tips of his fingers dipping down to get to the skin. "Get these off now." He ordered, returning to the warmth of your neck. You obeyed him, fingers fumbling as you undid the button with struggle. He then stepped back, opting to undo a few more buttons of his denim shirt before slipping it off over his large toned body.

As long as you have known Joel, his form has stayed the same, always looking as if he worked in the trade. You could picture him in a hard hat and a reflective jacket, before the outbreak. His veiny hands then grasped at his belt with haste, eyes turning up to watch you rip of your shorts along with your leggings.

Without a second to spare, Joel was on you again, hoisting you up against the wall as he pressed himself between your legs. His lips were parted and this close you were able to see each individual dark hair and line in his skin.

You were above him now, arms clutched tightly to his shoulders and head, his face buried in between you chest, kissing and sucking on the skin. Joel paused, his chocolate brown eyes boring up at you, a soft and calm look on his face. His hair was going in all directions. "You sure you want this?" He asked in his deep rough voice, the sound echoing slightly through his apartment.

He had his head tilted slightly up, his cheeks ever so slightly pink under the soft glow of the apartment. You bit your lip softly, emotions flooding you. Mainly just pure arousal. You nodded eagerly but short and his head fell back onto the skin of your chest. His tip nudging at where you needed him most. This wasn't the first time you and Joel had had sex, it wasn't even the third but it was still early days for you to know exactly how he likes it. He's usually hard and quick, just enough time for both of you to get off.

You silently pray your not just a way to get him off so he can go back to his chores as little more relaxed. Your wetness coated his tip, just enough for him to begin stretching you slowly, moulding your body to fit his. The feeling sent your body into a frenzy, screaming at you to let him in deeper, trying to let him in all the way. He kept grinding, each time more of him eased into you.

His breaths grew heavy as he stuffed your pussy full. God he could never give this up. You whined in his ear, not yet comfortable to be screaming his name like so desperately needed to. Soon he was one with you, filling you up to your max, muscles stretching around his large girth. You wailed slightly as he got there.

"Ahh!" You cried, pain burning in your deepest areas. Eyes squeezing tightly shut for mercy, your neck stretching out so your head could hit the back of the wall.

"Shhh, You know you can take it." He growled quietly, his fingers denting into the meat of your hips. Although this was by far not the first time you had been intimate with Joel, it still didn't stop the fact each time with him you had more and more progress with how quickly you could fit all of him. Soon he was bottoming out, hips slamming into you with force, his hair slick with sweat and mouth wet with loose kisses.

"Please uhh Joel." You moaned into the air, the ripped wallpaper slightly scratching against the skin of your back. You didn't mind though. Joel held you up with ease, his hands squeezing tightly on your thighs and ass. He continued to grunt, biting his lower lip. "Uhh please I want your cum."

"No. Shut the fuck up." He demanded, his fingers moving from your hips to cover your mouth, your wet lips flush to his hand. You moaned into his palm unable to hold on, the coil in your stomach curling up. The feeling was addictive, you never wanted it to end, feeling this close to him. Like you were the only thing that mattered in the whole world.

"Don't pull out."

"No. What the fuck did I just tell you!" He shouted this time. Your heart stopped for a moment, his eyes were burning into you with anger but that only made you thirst for him more. Each thrust sent you into oblivion, the base of his unshaven manhood brushing against your clit. You were beginning to tip over the edge.

"Please cum inside me joel." You leaked out, unable to hold back your profanity. He pumped twice more inside you, the elastic band in your stomach almost about to snap when you felt him slide out. He dropped you carefully and quickly back down, turning on his heel over to where his jeans were spread out on the floor.

A breeze flushed over your whole body, now unsheilded from Joel's large, tanned and hot frame. His leather belt clinked on the hardwood floor, still laced through the loops of his dark wash jeans.

"Joel?" The brown eyes man didn't respond as he continued to pull on his underwear. Shyly you began to walk over to him, he was bent over in two obtaining his shirt off the ground. You set a shy hand on his shoulder blade and he whipped up, turning to face you as he towered over you.

The look on his face was one you were familiar with, his fluffy brows knotted together and a deep frown on his lips as he chewed on his jaw. You took a little step back, suddenly intimidated by the cold, dark look in his orbs. "Why'd you stop?" You questioned.

Joel blinked down at you once before bringing his eyes up to the wall behind you and pacing off into his bedroom, but you were quick on his tail. "Joel please, tell me what's wrong! Did I do something?" You pleaded.

"Did you do something?" He roared, amazed, turning around to see you eye to eye. Tears were brimming in your corners. "You're so fucking immature, Can you just get the fuck out my apartment!" He shouted, standing facing his bed as he put the rest of his clothes there. Hot tears run down your full cheeks.

"No Joel, I'm sorry." You bawled hands covering your blubbering face. "Joel" you begged, defeated and distraught. The male ran a hand to his creased forehead and sighed, then let it fall back down to his side. Joel drifted into space, observing his unmade bed. Sprawled across it was a deep red blanket.

He thought it was so scratchy when he first acquired it, but soon grew to appreciate it when the cold Boston winters would roll in. He listened to your whimpers for a few seconds longer before you felt his tall presence in front of your again.

You felt the large heavy weight of his arm wrapped around your shoulder and pushing your head into the crook of his warm neck. His other hand grasped around your bare back as tears fell onto his hot flesh. Joel's eyes shut as he held you tightly in his arms, it was the only time he truly felt you were safe, and yet here he was causing you this pain. He dammed himself for it.

"Don't you cry." He said softly. You began to relax, melting into his arms. The scowl never left his face, but then again it rarely ever did. He rocked you back and forth for a short moment longer before pulling away.

His hand dragged your chin up to look at him. Asserting his dominance on you as always, you could never intimidate him. "Don't ever say that shit to me again." He lectured, firmly.

"W-What shit?"

"Wanting me to finish inside you," He started. "You don't know what the fuck your talking about." He shook his head annoyed. "It's not something to joke about. Got it?" You were confused and hurt but listened to the older man regardless.

"Okay." You replied softly. Joel stared down at you, making a small glance at your lips then back up. The Texans face finally softening as he placed a hand to your pink cheek, he rubbed at the skin softly. Almost affectionately.

"Get your clothes back on, I'll see you tomorrow." His hand dropped and you watched his large back as he disappeared into the bathroom. You walked back to the living room, still distressed but holding back more tears. You pulled on your black leggings followed by your shorts and lastly your tee, swinging your beige backpack onto one arm. You left his place, speeding down the maroon hallway as light shone through the bare and unoccupied apartments.

Meanwhile Joel had stripped off his boxers, stepping under the cold downpour of his shower, the water spurting out in short intervals, just enough for him to feel somewhat clean. His mind wondered off, dancing on the memories of just a few minutes earlier. Your silky soft hair, your warm skin, young full chest and that tight gripping pussy. Just the thought was enough alone to make him hard again.

He was annoyed with what he had to do, but he needed you to understand. Saying those things would never end well, and Joel knew he wouldn't of been able to deny you if you pleaded one last time. He knew you had no clue what you were talking about, what if he did get you knocked up? What would you even do with it? Raise it in this place? That would be beyond cruel. Plus the poor thing would probably die of starvation, or malnutrition, or even just a common cold by the age of 1.

He wished things could be different, he wished you were back in the old world, where he would be able to comply to you wants, your needs. He'd have started off slow, kissing down the whole of your body, savouring your taste. In no rush or fear that you'd vanish from beneath him.

He would bury himself into your warmth, pushing down with all his force as he came, coating the inside of your pussy with his creamy white ribbons of pleasure. Just as you'd begged him to.

Then he'd stay there, holding you as close as possible, unafraid that would leave his side, unafraid to love you fully. The way you deserved to be. But that would never be the case, not in the world you lived in now, not how things were.

Joel turned off the shower dial and stepped out, his toes hitting the grubby tiles below. He left the damp room, opting to lay on his bed he made out of an old mattress he found on the side of the road and some grey cinderblocks.

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lovelykhaleesiii · 1 year

Note

Hello hei hi yes. Uhm i was wondering if i could perhaps make a request to. Something relating to maybe modern aegon or even tgc! However u want it! And for the plot part could it be sth of the fact their partner was nott very welcomed by people in their life all the time and so now they do evrrything to always make them feel wanted and needed and safe and all that jazz. Thank u love your stories!

heya bby, thank you for sending in this request!!! you know I'm a sucker for angst lol! I appreciate you, hope you enjoy this as much as I did writing it xx apologies for the long wait!!!

Approval & Acceptance.

PAIRING: Modern!Aegon ii Targaryen x fem!Reader

WORDS: 2,018.

WARNINGS: swearing, angst, mentions of slut-shaming, soft!Aegon.

A solid year had passed by since you'd plucked the courage to accept Aegon into your life, beyond the title of a mere friendly acquaintance. A wonderful, solid year it has been, now approaching the eve of your 1 year anniversary. Even prior to committing to Aegon as his one and only partner, you'd knew very little about him, although the extent of what you knew was not as pleasing as you’d liked…

A traditional part of living out a college life, many students often found themselves entangled in some sort of fraternity, which just happened to be the case for Aegon. He was quite the social butterfly, the centre of attention, although in a notorious way. The partying hardly ceased, only encouraging his previous habit of excessively drinking till he was passed out in some remote location of the campus. And the ladies… He relished in their undivided, carnally driven attention too, opting to satisfy his lust through sexual means, Aegon was a wild boy.

On the other hand, you had a rather mellow tune about yourself. More reserved and diligent with studies, although you did not mind the occasional outing, perhaps even a cocktail to go with it. You much rather preferred intimate, soulful gatherings than the chaotic mess of parties. Nonetheless, Aegon and yourself had mutually met one another and clicked instantaneously. The dynamic between you two was perfectly balanced, and gradually, romantic feelings had developed mutually.

The more of his time and thoughts you had naturally preoccupied, the more committed Aegon became, eager to devote his energy towards you. He began to disassociate himself from the all the unnecessary proclivities he'd previously pre-occupied himself with. Strenuously investing his efforts into making you as happy as can be.

The dates were splendid and fruitful, Aegon was infatuated with spoiling you with grand gestures and intimate, passionate love-making.

"I cannot get enough of you, sweetling, what have you done to me?"

Aegon would often mutter such pleasantries into your nearby ear, as he firmly held you close against his larger, warm body, enraptured in his arms, nothing but bare skin to skin contact.

It was undeniable, however...

The affection you naturally showered Aegon, was something that he'd been craving yet denied so vicariously throughout majority of his life. Upon mingling with you, it was all he could crave for, so desperately. Seeking for your approval and acceptance at all times. Your sweet, delicate scent had even become some sort of an addiction for him, that made him feral. Girls had come and gone in his life as means to satisfy his 'manly' needs, although none had remained, nor impressed him enough to have such a profound effect on him. With each lovingly, passing day, Aegon became more serious with you, serious enough that he had been intending to introduce you to his kin, as his girlfriend.

****

You'd been feverishly hesitant for tonight, as the hours tolled throughout the day, you could've sworn you were falling ill from the anticipation.

"Wh-What if they don't like me, Aeg? If they don't approve of me, what then? Do we stop seeing each other?"

"Oh, Y/N-C'mon, now. Be serious...Perhaps, they might not warm up to you but rest assured, they could never say no to some cake-" Aegon chuckled, as he fleetingly eyed the baked good resting on your lap, that you'd meticulously prepared hours ago, before resuming his attention back on the road ahead.

"Aegon, stop! You are absolutely no help right now! You know how these things stress me out," You defeatedly sulk, as you continue to dreadfully stare out across the vicinity beyond the car window. You could suspect Aegon's side glances towards your stoic direction, as he sensed the tension oozing from your stiff body.

"Y/N, baby, you know I'm only fucking with you, right?" Another glance exchanged between the road and you, you'd silently shrugged to Aegon's words.

"Y/N-"

A large hand gripped your chin firmly, pulling your face towards his direction.

"I mean it. I'm certain they are going to love you, baby, how could they not?"

His sweets words, earned a half-hearted smile from you, as you further leaned into his touch. His grip releasing from your chin, now reached over to your closest hand, as he pulled it over for a quick peck. Giving you a reassuring squeeze, before resuming the wheel, you felt a calm wash over, easing your worries for now...

****

"Aegon, that was fucking terrible. That went to shit pretty quick!" You vexed, as you aggressively smacked your clutch down on the dining table, Aegon silently following you behind as you entered your shared apartment. The car ride home felt long and painful, you both remained quiet, no words exchanged as you pondered over your vivid thoughts, emotions tense. You felt sick to your stomach, for the family dinner did not go accordingly, nor as Aegon had desperately hoped. The words he'd shared with you just moments before arriving to his family's place, now meant nothing, fuelled with delusions.

"Y/N, I-I'm sorry-" Aegon softly uttered, followed by a sigh, as he undid the tight buttons of his shirt, plopping himself defeatedly on the couch, as you removed the fine earrings you'd donned.

"It's not your fault, Aeg... They ripped into you just as much as much as they did me."

It was unfortunately the truth...

The moment you'd even entered the grand home, gifting the backed good to Alicent, who carefully eyed it, you'd already managed to trigger some spiteful side glances from his mother. As she closely eyed your figure up and down, beside her eldest son's side, her lips pursed in an almost disappointed look.

Aegon's father unwell, his health declining, as Aegon had pre-warned you, only managed to stay for a quick greeting, before resuming to the comfort of the bed. He seemed rather pleasant towards you, and rather wished for him to have stayed in place of Alicent, however, he too had a pre-dispositioned distaste for his eldest son, from again, what Aegon had disclosed to you.

"Forgive us, Aegon often rushes the girls out of the house, not bringing them in to be introduced, so this could be the first of many," Alicent spat, exchanging a smirk that you felt was fuelled with spite. Almost as though it was her jab at reducing you to the same type of 'company' Aegon would previously seek out.

"I should've known they would have acted this way, baby. A-As if they're trying to test me," Aegon exhaustedly stuttered, rubbing the furrow of his brows as he rested his head forward over his hands.

"And I just had to drag you into their fucking shit."

"Mother- You said you'd play nice... Now, this- This, is my darling, Y/N, Y/N this is everyone-," Aegon teased and hastily proceeded, a poor attempt of trying to alleviate his mother's harshness, as he gently pushed you forward.

"Helena, Aemond and Daeron-" Aegon continued as he gestured toward each sibling, you shaking each of their hands cordially. Respectively, Helaena too, seemed pleasant enough, although withdrawn and uninterested in the evening. Upon, close examination of her interactions with her own mother, it seemed the poor girl remained closed off towards her too, probably as means to not mingle with such bitterness. Daeron, Aegon's youngest brother, immediately succumbed to the distraction of his phone, silencing the conversation at hand with his costly looking headphones.

Aemond, on the other hand, showed no interest nor the slightest inch of a smile, as he stood self-assuringly by his mother's side, exchanging a private word with her as they guided you into the dining room, where the meals had been set and prepped already.

Questions had been asked about your studies, job and general background, although you felt they were said more out of obligation than the actual itch of wanting to know.

Aegon gradually grew rigid as the minutes went by, his mother and brothers, exchanging quick jabs at the eldest for his indecency, lack of dignity in his ventures and poor choices. You felt for Aegon deeply, wounded mutually by their brutal words, for it seemed as though they were reluctant to get to know the reinvented version of himself. Stubborn in their perceptions of him, deeming him "incapable of change" as Aemond insisted, in the confinement of the kitchen as he aided his mother in the dishes... You had overheard their private conversation, although refused to mention such things to Aegon, for it would upset him even more.

For a while, Aegon continued to divert the conversation onto you, wanting his family to optimise the opportunity to know you, although it seemed his efforts were pinned against him.

After revealing that Aegon and yourself had met mutually at a party, you'd witnessed a sly, haste exchange between Aemond and his mother, before Alicent coughed up the audacity to say:

"So I see you are not so different from where my son finds his usual tastes."

"Aegon, you didn't know-" Slowly walking over towards his dejected side on the couch, tenderly rubbing small circles on his back.

"If anything, they were quite volatile to you too, baby."

"Yes, but Y/N this is nothing new for me...If I'm being honest with myself, I gave them all the reasons in the fucking world, to hate me, but you?-" His attention panned towards you, as his hands cupped your tearful face in his instinctively, a saddened look struck upon him as he noticed your hurt one.

"How could they say such awful things about you, my sweet, sweet angel-" Aegon leaning in closer, closed the short distance between you both, as he planted a passionate kiss against your soft, lipstick stained lips.

"I truly am sorry about their behaviour, baby- I'm going to have a real, hard chat with them tomorrow, trust. Let's just get ready for bed." As you nodded your head in agreement, you both stood up, Aegon following you closely behind, holding one hand, whilst the other cheekily spanked your ass, as you gracefully walked. Turning swiftly to face him, now a sly look strewed across your face, you knew that Aegon deserved some sort of reward for putting up with tonight.

****

Nonetheless, you fucked him real good, it seemed it greatly helped to relieve the tension built up from the night prior, for the both of you. Having been drained mentally from the dinner, and physically exhausted from the long, sensual rounds of sex, you awoke the next morning to Aegon's missing figure from his usual side of the bed. Your arm reaching out only to be met with cold, empty sheets, instead you reached over for your phone. The unlocked screen had already displayed an unread message from "Aegon."

"Gone to speak to my family, angel. Don't wait to have breakfast, I'll be back for some more fucking as my reward. I love you."

You couldn't help but smile, for despite how belittled Aegon was, he was considerably resilient. He never hesitated to defend those that he cared for, those that he sincerely loved, and you were nothing less.

He had retuned an hour later, and disclosed the exact discussion that had taken place. From what you'd heard, it seemed Aegon had plentiful to say this time, whereas his mother and Aemond, remained to be the ones biting their venomous tongues. Giving them the ultimatum to apologise, or he'd refused to see them once more, Alicent immediately insisted he bring you over for another attempt of a family dinner.

Aegon and yourself agreed, however on your terms. You'd be the ones to arrange the date and time that best catered for yourselves.

And just as he'd mentioned and liked to remind you, you had rewarded Aegon with a generous amount more of fucking, before lounging around in each other's pleasant company. Warmly embraced in Aegon's arms on the couch, as you nestled in, to watch a cringe rom-com, the night before slowly became a blur.

It was the small, precious moments that mattered most...

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k-femdove · 1 year

Text

Ruin Me | L.TY

pairing :: sub!omega!Taeyong x dom!alpha!reader and slight kun x reader

warnings :: Professor Taeyong, college student reader, taeyong has a pussy bc he's an omega, the reader has a dick, kissing, slight exhibitionism (door is left open), fingering and oral (ty receiving), two orgasms, using a lava lamp as a dildo, feminization (reader calls taeyong a girl), slut shaming, major degradation, taking photos without proper consent, no aftercare (always do aftercare!!), sex for better grades

word count :: 2.8k

synopsis :: After your affair with Kun, Taeyong tries to confront you. It doesn't go quite the way he expected it to.

playlist link here or listen to gaslighting by onlyoneof

For the first time, Professor Lee Taeyong drew a blank. He was an intelligent man with the wisdom and patience of an elder. No matter what people asked him, Taeyong would have a quick answer.

When his close friend and TA Kun showed up to class with a noticeable limp, Taeyong was concerned.

At first, Taeyong brushed it off as a good night. They were unmated adults, so what was the harm in having a little fun?

The more he thought about it, the less likely it got. Kun isn't the type to fool around like that, especially not before work.

A week passed, and Taeyong's concern grew. Although Kun got better at hiding it, Taeyong saw how he winced every time he moved too much. Not only that, but the limp never seemed to go away. Kun isn't big on sex and isn't in heat, either. They'd have to be fucking like rabbits for him to be sore all week.

Strange, huh? Taeyong sighed, shoving a few papers in his bag, and glanced at the clock. Five hours after his last class. Kun had left a little before that to meet you for tutoring. Speaking of which, how was that going?

Taeyong's stuck uncomfortably as he plays a game of never have I ever with a group of friends: Johnny, Kun, Doyoung, Taeil, Ten- you know, the usual.

Personally, Taeyong did find it a little childish. A bunch of thirty-year-olds getting drunk over a game of “Never Have I Ever” sounded stupid.

At first, the questions were innocent. The drunker they got, the more sexual the questions became.

“My turn!” Says Haechan, Taeil’s little brother. He's the only one that's still attending college.

“Never have I ever... Kissed a student?”

Taeyong frowns. What kind of question was that? They’d never-

Ten laughs and pours himself a shot. Right after he drinks it, he pours another and smiles mischievously.

“I think there's someone else that should drink here.” He says and hands it to Kun, whose eyes are wide with disbelief.

Collective gasps fill the room. Taeyong’s jaw drops.

“Wait, whaaaaat?” Johnny said.

“Kun, don't let Ten defame you like that!” Taeyong exclaims, turning to Kun’s flustered face. “You didn’t, right?”

Instead of denying it, Kun sighs in defeat, taking the shot.

“How’d you know?” He asks.

Ten scoffs. “I didn't even think you were trying to hide it! Your obvious limp, attachment to them, and weekly ‘tutoring’ sessions are all dead giveaways. Their place reeks of strawberries.”

Kun buries his head into his hands, mortified. Taeyong looks around, confused as to why everyone was being so casual about this.

“Hold on, who are you guys talking about?” Haechan asks, now wondering if he knows who they're talking about, but Ten waves him off.

The game is forgotten as the night continues, and everyone becomes wasted. Everyone except Taeyong, that is. Most of the others had gone to sleep, and he was stuck with a drunken Haechan.

“Oh, man.” Haechan groaned, stretched out on the couch. “I can't believe I'm spending my weekend with a bunch of old men.”

Taeyong can't even bring himself to be offended. His mind is already on something else.

You and Kun. Kun and you.

Although he was against it, Taeyong wouldn't report something like that yet. You were both adults, so it technically wasn't wrong. The issue was that it was affecting Kun’s performance. He wasn't as diligent in class and spent way too much time by your side. Taeyong was convinced that you were coaxing Kun into it for better grades, and he was about to put a stop to it.

You smiled as you sat in Taeyong’s office. His smile appeared slightly strained.

You took a look around the office. It was a decent size and relatively neat. Bookshelves lined the blank wall and a miniature lava lamp sat on his desk.

“How are things going with Mr. Qian?” Taeyong asked, starting lightly.

“It’s going great,” you respond honestly. “He's a very thorough teacher.”

Taeyong frowns. He's going to get this confession out of you.

“I see that you have a very nice... relationship.”

You hum in response. “I guess you could say that.”

Silence fills the air and you begin to understand what this is about. Your dismissive expression morphs into something serious. Taeyong grows uncomfortable as your gaze pierces him.

He suddenly becomes hyper-aware of your scent, overpowering his own. The omega in him struggles to ignore the faint smell of mandarin oranges and freshly cut wood, deep and arousing.

Taeyong wants to bang his head on the table. Damn him and his stupid omega body. He continues the questions, eager to get this over with.

“I just don't understand why you need to do this. I feel like it’s more beneficial to study.” He confesses.

Your eyes narrow. “Are you accusing me of sleeping my way through your class?”

Taeyong sighs. There isn't a way to sugarcoat it. “I'm not accusing you...”

“Well, rest assured that I and Mr. Qian’s relationship has nothing to do with my grades.” You say, defending yourself.

Taeyong stands and leans over his desk. “I'm sorry, but there is no reason for you to be doing it otherwise.”

You stand too, leaning closer to him. “Why don't you loosen up a bit, Mr. Lee?”

Taeyong takes a step forward, refusing to back down. All of his professionalism goes out the window. “You have everyone falling at your feet. What could you possibly be doing for all this attention?”

You inch closer, looking him in the eyes. If you were thinking logically, you would've sat down and avoided being kicked out of the class.

“I swear.” He continues, glaring at you. “If you even had the chance to try me, I doubt that you’d earn a better grade.”

You scoff, now centimeters away from his face. “And if I win you over?”

It surprises both of you when Taeyong envelops your lips in a kiss. Just as he realizes what he’s done, you pull him closer, kissing him back. Your hand meets his crotch, and he pulls away quickly, eyes wide in disbelief, but the damage is done.

“I can still leave before this becomes something we’ll both regret.” You tell him.

Taeyong hesitates. He was genuinely curious, and he had two hours before his next class. If he let you do what you were about to, it could provide him with valuable information as to why you were so popular. If it was for research, there wasn't a problem, right?

When you're met with no response, you turn away. You open the door a little before a hand grabs your wrist.

His breath catches in his throat for a few moments, as his mind suddenly goes blank. His face is as red as a tomato, and suddenly, it’s a lot harder for him to stay calm and composed. He tugs on your sleeve as he speaks out, his voice shaking, clearly full of nerves.

“Show me what you can do.” He whispers.

That’s all it takes for you to grab him by the waist and crash your lips against his.

Taeyong whimpers as you unbutton his shirt. You pull away from him, breathing heavily. The door is still cracked open, but that can wait. You know that no one was on this floor of the building around this time. All the other teachers and students had classes.

You sit him in a chair before removing his pants and leaving them on the floor.

“Bend over that desk for me.” You say.

He complies eagerly, knocking over a small cup of pencils. His white panties are positively soaked, turning slightly see-through. Biting your lip, you move closer. Taeyong’s brain goes foggy because fuck, this is happening.

You kneel to grab him and inhale his clothed pussy. He releases more of his scent, driving you crazy.

His scent is mostly tart and fruity blackberries, complimented by husky cedar wood and the floral undertone of bay leaves. It's by far the most masculine scent you've smelled from an omega, but that only makes you more aroused.

Taeyong seems to sense your fascination with his scent and mewls when he feels you nudge your nose against his underwear.

“Eager, are we?” You laugh, slowly taking his panties off.

He whines as you pull them down to his ankles before licking his cunt. His taste is somewhat stronger than his scent if that’s even possible. You don't wait before you slip your tongue into his entrance, tasting his walls. A hand reaches up to rub his clit in small circles.

The sensation lights a fire in Taeyong's stomach, sparks coming off of it in little bursts of pleasure. The contrast between your hot tongue and the cold air of the office makes him shudder.

To your surprise, Taeyong is a moaner. He's so absurdly loud that despite there being nobody on this floor, you wouldn't be surprised if someone heard him.

Replacing your tongue with fingers for a moment, you tut.

“Shush, pretty. People are gonna hear you.”

Getting back to work, you continue to please him. Taeyong flushes, quickly covering his mouth with his hands. He desperately tries to silence his noises, the sound music to your ears. In exchange, you delve deeper, savoring every bit of his nectar. A muffled cry escapes him as he cums around your tongue. You lap up all of his juices, not leaving a single drop.

When you pull away, Taeyong pushes his ass out more. He says a few words you can’t understand, but then it clicks.

“More?” You ask, smirking.

You see what he wants, but you can’t fuck him yourself. It takes much longer to stop cumming when you’re buried deep inside a cunt like his- the body knows you’re trying to breed. You can tell that Taeyong knows this as well.

Halting your actions for a brief moment, you ask him a question.

“Do you have any toys around?”

“No, but...” He starts, then pauses.

“But?” You inquire, wondering what he would say.

“The lamp...”

You turn to your left, eyes landing on the lava lamp sitting on his desk, unbothered.

Taeyong starts to burn up, a blush painting his cheeks.

“I knew the prestigious Mr. Lee was just a desperate slut.” You tease, reaching for the pink and orange lamp.

You slide it between his folds, watching the tip grow wetter as Taeyong leaks in anticipation. A soft gasp escapes his lips once more as reality sinks in. Even knowing what's coming, he can't help but blush again.

The gasps turn into moans when you thrust it in without warning. You slowly fuck him with the top, inching closer to the middle with each thrust. Even though your thrusts are slow, Taeyong can feel the stretch.

Eventually, you reach the middle, the widest part of the lamp. You watch as it disappears inside of him, stretching him open.

As soon as he’s a centimeter past that point, you pull out your dick, dripping with precum. You begin to jerk yourself off before harshly thrusting the rest of the lamp into Taeyong, hitting his G-spot.

The only part of the lamp that isn’t in him is the metal base you use to control the lamp, thrusting it into him.

Taeyong whines as you thrust at a snail’s pace, intentionally missing his sweet spot before pulling out until only the tip remained inside him. You watch in amusement as he desperately tries to fuck himself onto the makeshift dildo.

“Aw, poor baby.” You say mockingly. “Stupid slut will fuck anything, won’t she?”

Taeyong whimpers, shaking his head no. Despite his protests, his hips continued to roll against the lamp, desperate for satisfaction.

“You say no, but your body says otherwise.”

You pull out completely. Tears begin to form in Taeyong’s eyes.

“I suppose that’s all sluts like you are good for.” You say, thrusting the lamp into him mercilessly.

He moans, tears falling from both stimulation and shame, his whole body shaking and quivering from the intense sensations that were running throughout his body. He tried his best to hold in the moans, but the most primal and basic of noises escaped him.

“With a body like that, you could seduce anyone.” You continue as Taeyong’s moans grow louder despite his hands. His body and thoughts are both burning hot, endlessly aroused by your actions.

“That’s why you got the job, right? Sleeping with dozens of old men? Whoring yourself out to students and begging them to fuck your omega cunt?”

Taeyong cries out in humiliation. I’m not a whore! He wants to yell, but arousal pools in his stomach, and slick gushes out every time you degrade him.

You lean over the desk, whispering in his ear. “I could leave you in class like this. You’d like that, wouldn’t you? Bent over for all your beloved students to breed you until you're full of hundreds of pups like the cocksleeve you are?”

Just like that, Taeyong is clenching around the lamp, thighs pressing together. He swears that he saw stars when his orgasm hit him, stifling a scream. Wave after wave of pleasure washes over, enveloping him in a burning fire of desire. His climax seems to startle him, a most yelling at the sudden and abrupt feeling.

Pulling the lamp out, it doesn’t take long for you to jerk off at the sight. Taeyong’s whimpers paired with his used body push you over the edge, releasing all over his used pussy with a soft moan. Even though you didn’t fuck him, there was still an absurd amount of cum. You pull his panties up a bit before shooting the remaining sperm into the crotch of his underwear.

Taeyong pants heavily, unable to move from his position. You grab your phone from your pocket, taking a video of the ridiculous scene.

His nameplate is visible, placed next to his ass. “Lee Taeyong, Ph.D.,” it says, written in a fancy font.

You caress his smooth legs, making your way up to his hole before zooming in. He whimpers as you lazily finger your release into his cunt, making sure to get it in deep.

The man sucks in a breath as you pull his cum-soaked panties back on him before flipping him over. After snapping a couple more pictures of his disheveled appearance, the phone is discarded on the table.

You hear a peculiar sound, jerking your head to look at the door. Before you can properly look, Taeyong wraps his arms around your neck, gazing at you with glossy eyes.

“Kiss me. Please.” He pleads, leaning into your touch.

You grab his tiny waist, kissing him in a way that felt much more sensual than anything you’d done earlier. More of his tart scent releases, captivating you.

He practically melts, a shiver going down his spine as he tastes himself on your tongue. He’s never been this needy for someone, and he isn't sure it's a good thing.

Taeyong whines when you pull away. Desperate for your attention, he grinds himself against your now-clothed cock. The cum in his underwear presses uncomfortably against his skin.

“Is my little girl still worked up? What a cockslut.” You tease, hand placed on his thigh. “I'd love to stay longer, but your class is in 20 minutes.”

Taeyong groans in response, nearly fucked dumb. You toss him his pants, not sparing him a second glance. His heart hammers in his chest as you leave, the sudden ache in his legs growing more prominent.

It's nearly midnight, but Taeyong is still wide awake. His fingers moved in and out of his soaked pussy, dirty, wet noises filling the room. He bites down on his dirtied panties to stay quiet, the taste of his slick and your bitter cum spreading across his tongue.

Your degrading words and lustful touch play on repeat in his head, pushing him closer to the edge. He picks up the pace, imagining calloused hands on his smooth skin. The hands groped him all over, treating him as if he were a toy. Your hands are all over his body, feeling him, pleasing him.

Taeyong's eyes are glazed over when he cums at the mere thought of you touching him, his release trickling down his trembling thighs. Still, he plunges his wet digits into his sensitive cunt until he's almost faded. It's only then that he absent-mindedly takes the panties from his mouth, rising with shaky legs to clean himself up in shame.

The next morning, you open your laptop to find your most recent assignment returned to you, an A+ in the place where your B- was the day before.

You really did win him over, didn't you?

#sub!idol #sub!nct #sub!kpop #dom!reader #nct #nct x reader #dove's works 📝#sub!taeyong #sub taeyong #sub idol #sub kpop #taeyong smut #taeyong x reader #nct smut

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thetriumphantpanda · 1 year

Note

Saw you were taking prompts again, how about Javi G and "I don't have time for distractions right now." Please and thank you

ANY opportunity to write for Javi G is alright with me, I love this man with every fibre of my being - thanks for sending in this prompt request.

I'm still accepting prompt requests, check this post and send me any you want to see!

Pairing | Javi Gutierrez x writer F!Reader

Word Count | 1k

Warnings | Javi being a diligent lover, oral sex (F receiving) but nothing else.

The warmth of the Spanish sun and the sounds of the ocean licking at the walls below you had done wonders for your writer’s block. The deadline for the first draft of your book was due in just a few days and although the invite from your lover Javi to join him at his mansion had been a welcome one, he was far too distracting for you at this moment in time.

For the past week he’d tempted you away from your laptop with expensive champagne, dinners on the balcony that spread into the late evening and then long nights spent wrapped up in the sheets together. You couldn’t deny you were having fun, you truly were, but your advance payment depended on this first draft, and you couldn’t afford anymore distractions.

Almost like he could read your mind, Javi appears behind you, placing his hands on your shoulders. He presses them down, you hadn’t realized you’d tensed them up so much, and begins rubbing his thumbs with a delicious pressure that has your neck rolling to one side and a relieved groan falling from your lips.

“Stressed, mi amor?” He speaks lowly as his hands continue their impromptu massage.

“I need three thousand more words to reach the required threshold and I need them by tomorrow,” You groaned, throwing your head back to rest against his stomach, “I’m doomed.”

He chuckles, stilling the pressure of his hands to dip his head to your neck, placing chaste kisses that has your arousal pooling in your lower belly almost immediately.

“Javi,” Another groan, this time tainted with lust, “I don’t have time for distractions right now.”

“Who said anything about distractions, dulce niña?” You did love it when his affections for you fell out in Spanish, “Scoot your chair out a little for me.”

Without thinking, you did exactly what he asked, the chair scraping back slightly, leaving room between the table and your chair, enough for him to slide his body in front of you and drop to his knees.

He slowly worked the material of your dress up to bunch in your lap, using his mouth to press kisses to your exposed leg, all the way from your knee to the top of your thigh. You knew exactly what he was doing, your legs widening of their own volition at the ministrations of his mouth on your skin.

“Ah, ah,” Your head shoots down as his fingers grip your thigh, “You have to write, or I’ll leave.”

A groan of frustration leaves your lips, you didn’t like this side of Javi. You preferred him pliant and agreeable, the man who would hang the moon if you asked, the man who looks up at you with pleading eyes when he’s begging to cum on your tongue when you’ve edged him for too long, not the man calling the shots between your thighs right now.

Your hands fly to the laptop on the table, trying to remember the pivotal moment your characters were at when you left them, reading the last few lines as you shift your hips forward in the chair slightly, allowing the skirt of your dress to settle enough to reveal your aching pussy to Javi’s face.

Your fingers start typing, no doubt writing absolute nonsense, and you’re rewarded by Javi licking a firm strip with his tongue along the seam of your pussy. You test the waters, stilling your hands from typing and his face moves from you, far enough away that you can’t feel his breath on your skin any longer. You let out a frustrated groan but go back to doing as you were told, diligently typing away.

Javi’s hands spread your pussy this time and he does the same motion with his tongue as before but this time the spread of your pussy meant his tongue teased across your clit, causing a buck of your hips and a ragged moan. You could feel him chuckling into your skin as his tongue focused exactly where he knew you liked it.

He was flicking the tip of his tongue softly against your clit, his hands were gripping into the meat of your thighs, and you were desperately trying to move closer to him, needing more pressure. You couldn’t handle this teasing.

“Javi please,” You begged, one hand moving to fist your fingers into his hair, “Stop teasing me.”

He moved away from you just enough to speak, “Get back to writing and I’ll give you exactly what you want, querida.”

You took a deep breath and tried to ground yourself, eyes looking into your screen with your fingers flying across the keyboard, writing anything that came to your mind first. You were rewarded with Javi’s lips locking around your clit and sucking. An indecent moan fell from your lips as he began switching between teasing your clit with the tip of his tongue and sucking in earnest.

Sweat was pooling along your skin and the ability to type was becoming almost non-existent, so you opted for just slamming your fingers across the keyboard to convince Javi you were working. Damn him and the extra editing he was going to cause you.

“Javi, please…” You whimpered, “Fingers, inside me, I’m so close.”

He obliged, slipping two of his fingers inside you with ease, the slick of your pussy making a delicious friction as he pumped them in and out of you. You could feel your orgasm gathering inside of you and once Javi curled his fingers inside of you, continuing the movements of his tongue on your clit, it was slamming into you with full force.

Your hands flew to his hair, abandoning your work, as your thighs squeezed around his face, and you called out his name into the hot evening air. His mouth worked you through your orgasm, licking softly as you shook through the aftershocks before he placed soft kisses to the inside of your thigh.

He stands in front of you and places one solid kiss to your forehead before walking away, throwing over his shoulder as he leaves, “One thousand words and we can have dinner.”

#Pedro Pascal #javi gutierrez #Javi Gutierrez x you #Javi Gutierrez x reader #Javi Gutierrez x female reader #Javi Gutierrez x f!reader #Javi Gutierrez smut #Javi Gutierrez fanfic #Javi Gutierrez fic #the unbearable weight of massive talent #JG drabbles

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mixelation · 10 months

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reborn au notes 2 self, chunin exam edition

on kushina: i want to write her as a badass, but in light of the recent minato oneshot, i've decided that while she is a badass, she was actively kept from the frontlines of the third shinobi war because oooh ahhh our precious jinchuriki!! so she's not actually like... very well known internationally. so what this means

both itachi and deidara are like "well if she was any good i would have heard of her" and then ideally both of them would have separate "oh god what the fuck what the fuck WHAT THE FUCK" moments because actually she has an OP bloodline limit, is a fuinjutsu master, and has insane chakra/stamina. and this is BEFORE you factor in the fox

iwa denies minato entrance for the chunin exam tournament despite it being traditional to host foreign kage because they're terrified of him planting a hiraishin seal. they're then iffy about letting his wife in with fuinjutsu supplies. but they too are like "well if she were worth knowing about, we'd have heard of her"

on kisame/mangetsu: i forgot i pitched the idea of kisame being there to babysit bby mangestu entering??? i think i'll keep this element. nothing i post on tumblr is "set in stone" but this change probably wouldn't affect the written pieces very much. so the tourament is

First round:

Tori vs Some Chump (opening match -- expected to be underwhelming and supposed to give people time to find their seats -- Tori finishes it in less than 30 seconds)

Itachi vs Kurotsuchi (Itachi wins)

Deidara vs Some Chump (Deidara wins)

Mangetsu vs Some Chump (Mangetsu wins)

Second round:

Tori vs Itachi (Itachi wins but in a complete reversal of her previous match, Tori draws it out)

Mangetsu vs Deidara (Deidara wins but the bloodline limit is ANNOYING)

Final: Itachi vs Deidara (Itachi wins)

i'm not 100% what mangetsu at 13's personality would be, but i like the cracky idea of of him having a weird little crush on tori. mostly because i think it would make both her and kisame like (INTERNAL ALARM BELLS GOING OFF) but also for plot reasons*

tori: idk what to do i've only ever had weirdos be attracted to me???

deidara: only weird-- tori he sneezed too hard and turned into a puddle. he IS a weirdo

*basically i'm toying with the idea of tori going SOBBING to mangetsu that iwa kidnapped her mentor, because kisame will report to kiri that they did this, but mangetsu's more emotional testimony will sell it to kiri. i decided with the piece i just posted that it makes more narrative sense for tori to pull herself together and make moves on a plan rather than waiting for deidara and itachi to solve it for her. so she's like: okay, im confident we can get to her, but how do we prevent a fourth war in the event iwa decides to claim WE attacked first? witness from another village. okay here i go~~

kisame has no personal stakes in doing anything about kushina or their mission so he's not going to physically help with that, but he does consider itachi his ally so he'll happily go and tell the mizukage that he was presented with strong evidence that iwa tried to hold the hokage's wife ransom after she and her team diligently obeyed all their stupid rules....?

on the hiraishin seal that the utano** clan picked up at the very beginning when tori was 4: originally i had the idea she'd use it to take down oto somehow. like she gets her hands on it and chucks it around until minato comes to check it out or something. but instead i decided it's better if she just figures that out on her own. although NOW i'm debating if she leaves the hiraishin seal out in the open in the hopes konoha comes ot check it out and take care of any degs for her. <3 the consequence of this is that she's on minato's radar before they ever meet, but i'm noooot sure i like this

either way i think i'm going to use it to very slowly foreshadow hiraishin!tori. but also maybe. out of spite, and because she spent a lot of time studying one when she was a kid.... she paints a couple hiraishin seals in iwa as payment. as a little treat <3

(this is NOT the most politically savvy move so even if minato privately thought it was funny, i think he's reprimand her. even when she's like "no i ARRANGED for kiri to back us up, they're not going to do anything because they CAN'T." but alternatively maybe she writes a note that she hid one.... can you find it? <3 <3 <3)

**i know i originally wrote it as "uta" but "utano" looks more like a name so i'm changing it lmao

#reborn au

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natalisdragon · 1 month

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Cooking, love and home(1.5)

I shared an updated version of this analysis in a Twitter thread. I had my doubts about doing it here too, but I want to avoid misunderstandings, and I also notice that new people are slowly joining in, so maybe it's not such a bad idea. Also, I feel indebted to this community

This new version is focused on Arajin and Matakara, to adding a couple of extra things(It's not exactly the same as the previous one), after all, Bucchigiri had not yet finished when I shared the first analysis. If you prefer the previous version, don't worry, it's still there

Many surely know that cooking and everything that it implies along with food and sharing the table is a whole language that lends itself to multiple interpretations, and I was pleasantly surprised to see that Bucchigiri knows how to speak it unexpectedly well.

One of the things that cooking is usually associated with is maturity and independence, since we are talking about a skill that is considered important for adult life.

Curiously, this is something that we can notice a little in Arajin, who, although he's still someone with questionable behavior, also has the responsibility of helping his mother with the restaurant, which he fulfills diligently, being one of the few occasions in which we can see the character in a more positive light, showing us in a subtle way that there are redeemable things in him

It's also important to mention that his ability to cook is something that his mother has taught him, showing her love through her guidance, it may not seem like a big deal, but we will see that it says more than it seems.

This is a complete contrast to Matakara, who despite living with his relatives, seems to have had no such support, It could be argued that he had his brother, but let's remember that the age gap between the two is not too much, so it's normal that despite his efforts, Mitsukini didn't have enough tools to properly guide his younger brother.

Knowing this, we can talk about the scene in which both friends cook together, since it is where we can really appreciate this contrast more, represented by the gyoza, seeing how Arajin makes them with ease and skill, while Matakara fails every attempt, showing us how there is a gap between the two, not only in their friendship, but also in the availability of tools to be able to move forward with their lives, as well as the support received from their family environment and an important clue about Matakara's background.

It's from this that we can address the next point. Cooking and eating are also associated with a deep and sincere gesture of affection, few examples are as evident as Arajin's lunches, it is simply impossible to deny his mother's love in each dish, again contrasting with Matakara who simply buys his lunch, and in both cases, it's something the show goes to great lengths to highlight.

However, in the particular case of Matakara, there is much more to say in this area, because if we pay some attention, for him, cooking is deeply linked to the people he loves most, Arajin and his brother, even having a scene with each one of them.

Which doesn't happen with his friends in Minato kai, with whom although he shares lunch in his room, again, they are purchased lunches. It could mean that although he appreciates them, it's a friendship that is not yet strong enough, something we will see later.

This love is also reflected in the party he wants to prepare to welcome Mitsukuni, where he wants to make sure he eats something he made, which is why it makes him so happy that Arajin suggests that he be the one to teach his brother how to make gyoza.

All this opens the door to another topic, cooking and the warmth of a home. I think it's obvious what I want to point out with this. I already said it before, Arajin's lunches are a clear sign of his mother's love, or to be more precise, that Arajin comes from a home where he is loved.

Matakara on the other hand, we know how to cook is intimately linked to those he loves, and we NEVER see him have that kind of interaction with his relatives, neither cooking, nor even eating together, nor any other significant appearance, basically telling us that Matakara doesn't share any real bond with them, or even worse, that he doesn't feel loved in that house.

And I put emphasis on the word "house" because that is for him, it's just the place where he sleeps, it's not his home, and that's extremely important, because that feeling of home translates into safety, and we see that when he looks for Arajin after what happened with his brother. He goes with him because he feels safe at his side.

Much of this were clues that the anime left through how both protagonists relate to cooking, and it's no coincidence, because just like fighting, cooking is also a way of relating.

In fact, it's not for nothing that the last scene that both friends share after the final battle is cooking together, and although everything happens too quickly, there are things that we can notice if we look carefully.

Arajin and Matakara are cooking to welcome the two gangs and their leaders. They are preparing gyoza again, but we can notice that Matakara has finally managed to make one, and not only that, unlike the last time, they are close to each other

and they both look happy, clearly showing that the gap between them has fallen. Furthermore, it is evident that Arajin has been teaching his friend, representing how from now on he will be there for him.

Another extremely important element is that Matakara is cooking for others for the first time, showing how he is finally willing to open his heart.

#bucchigiri?!#matakara asamine #arajin tomoshibi

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juniper-sunny · 11 months

Text

A Knight to Remember - Part 3

Medieval AU | Knight!Silco | Silco x Female!Reader | No (Y/N) | Romance | Slow Burn | Eventual Smut | Fluff || SFW | WC: 5.75k | art by @designfailure56 (full piece here) | beta: @deny-the-issue

ao3 || Part 1 | Part 2

Your knight is forced to draw his sword once more, a prospect which worries you greatly…

taglist (open): @sherwood-forests @ilikemymendarkandfictional @ursawastricked @quirkykaty @let-the-monster-out @ariaud @silcoitus

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Mealtimes were always an awkward affair in your father’s hall. The discomfort was less amplified during feasts, but dining with just your lord father and lady mother was more unpleasant. It was their attitude towards the servants that you could not abide. They were treated as living furniture that your parents only acknowledged if they wanted their ale refilled or dessert brought to them. Other than that, they might as well have been as inanimate as the torches that illuminated the room.

Your knight was the sole exception, as he had been granted the cringeworthy task of tasting your meals for poison before you ate. After a bite of each dish, he would retreat to the wall behind your seat where your father could observe him closely for any signs of poor health. Besides your doubt that there were assassins in the kitchen, it bothered you that your knight was not invited to sit next to you even after the tastings. Overall, it was an injustice that he and the other servants responsible for providing such delicious food were not allowed to dine in the same comfort and excess that your family enjoyed.

In the whole span of your knight’s employment, he had never tasted any poison in your food. It did occur to you once to play a joke on your father by pretending to choke and fall to the ground, convulsing melodramatically. The likelihood of your knight landing in trouble due to your antics was unlikely. Still, he would not deserve the potential scolding your father could mete out. Although your knight might find amusement in the lecture your mother would give you on your unladylike conduct.

“Have you grown used to your knight, child?” your father asked. Of course not bothering to ask your knight if he had grown used to serving you.

“Yes, he serves me well. Thank you, father,” you said. If only you could turn in your seat to smile at your knight as you said that, but the backing of your chair was too high to do that comfortably.

“Perhaps he could accompany you during your voyage overseas,” your father said. “I may have been too hasty in forbidding you and your mother from traveling. After all, this year has passed peacefully, has it not?”

“Yes, it has,” your mother said. “I have spent entirely too much time in this hall, darling. I am only reminded how much I should appreciate you after spending time away.”

“And I love you all the more after your absences,” your father laughed. He reached out for your mother’s hand and grasped it lovingly. She smiled and leaned in to kiss him on the cheek.

They were often prone to such displays, as their affection had seemingly never diminished since the early days of their courtship. You and your brother had often looked upon them with comical disgust, but now you looked on with wonder. Would you ever find something like that with someone?

Could you find something like that with your knight—?

Your lord father called out your name. “I thought you would be pleased to travel again. The ship and crew are still available to escort you to your original destination.”

“I am, father, thank you,” you said hastily. The place you had hoped to visit was a week away by ship, an ocean away with foods and flora you had never seen before but only read about. The language of their people was foreign to you, and you had studied it diligently to gain a better understanding of their culture. Much time had been spent on preparations for the trip, so you were understandably quite upset when your father canceled it.

Now, though… you still could not turn to face your knight as your father was looking at you expectantly. You sipped from your cup before speaking, “Actually, I was hoping to travel north. There are forests there that remain green even through the winter. I should quite like to study a land where spring reigns eternal. There would be no need to travel by sea,” you added.

“Really?” your mother asked, looking at you skeptically.

You nodded and continued eating, keen to put an end to the conversation. If your parents questioned your true motives for changing your mind, then they might think of your knight’s fear of water as incompetence.

“Then it would please me greatly to take your place on that voyage, child,” your mother said. “It sounds like quite the adventure.”

“Is staying home not enough of an adventure for you, my dear?” your father asked.

“Of course. Being married to you is the greatest adventure one could ever have,” she teased. They both laughed. Your knight cleared his throat, which he only did when he was trying to suppress a chuckle.

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Traveling the world was already very exciting, but having your knight’s company in a new land was another prospect you were looking forward to. The gloomy, heavy gray skies could not dampen your good mood. A week later on one of your clandestine trips into the woods, you were about to ask him if there was anywhere he would like to visit. But he spoke first before you could ask.

“My lady,” he began. His tone was cool and calm as always, but there was a gleam of anticipation in his good eye. “Would you allow me the privilege of choosing where we go today?”

Your knight had never requested anything of you before. It was quite a surprise, the nature of which piqued your curiosity. “Of course, sir knight. Please lead the way.”

He smiled at you, a soft feather of a thing, so precious that you would hold it close if you could. Then he walked off into the woods at a measured enough speed that you could keep up easily.

How strange it was to be the one following instead of leading. Cold winds blew through you as if they were eager to trail him as well, rolling clouds heavy with impending rain across the skies. Curiouser still how he lead you on a path you had not taken in over a year— east towards your favorite river. You said nothing yet. What could his intentions be? You walked carefully in the mud, exercising the utmost caution. A misplaced step could dirty your dress and lead to interrogations and scoldings on where you went, what you did, and why. All very tedious conversations you hoped to avoid.

With his sturdy boots and thick trousers, your knight had no such reservations. He forged ahead relentlessly. He did look over his shoulder at you once or twice and you smiled at him. It was an instinct now, to smile at your knight whenever he looked at you. It was a hard impulse to curb when you were surrounded by other people with watchful eyes that might turn the smallest, most innocent actions into salacious gossip.

He stopped at the edge of the river, where the rocks still lay on dry land before they disappeared under the water’s surface. He rolled a small pebble under his boot before kicking it away decisively. It bounced over other rocks before landing in the water with a splash. Then, he turned to you with a determined expression.

“My lady, would you close your eyes for a moment?” he asked.

You nodded hesitantly, the world falling dark as you raised your hands over your eyes for good measure. You held them there even as a singular raindrop landed on your shoulder, the initial herald to oncoming rains. It was more important to demonstrate compliance with your knight’s request. But the waiting dragged on in boring agony with nothing to look at and almost nothing to listen to, save for the babbling waters.

After a few more minutes by your estimation, he still had not called out to you. What was he doing? You opened one eye and peeked cautiously through a gap in your fingers—

He was standing with his back turned to you. Waist deep in the water.

“Sir knight!!” you yelled, shocked. You ran clumsily over the rocks and crashed into the water. Cursing how it impeded your speed.

He turned just as you reached him. He caught you by your elbows as you grabbed his upper arms, a look of surprise on his face. The current swayed strongly around the two of you, disturbed by your hasty charge into the river.

“My lady,” he chuckled at your panic, ever the picture of serene stillness. “Do not be afraid. All is well.”

It was true. There was no need to rescue your knight from drowning when the river only came up to his waist, his head higher above the surface than your own. In your sudden realization that he was fine, your face flared in heat from embarrassment. Burning hot enough to counter the cold of the weather and the water. You would have looked away in mortification, but the sight was too wonderous to turn away from: He was standing there unbothered and was in fact smiling at you. Such a drastic change from how he acted over a year ago when he first followed you here.

“Please do not avoid the river or traveling by sea on my account, my lady,” he said. “I am no longer afraid.”

“How— but— the water— are you alright??” you asked breathlessly, the cold and exertion robbing you of air. He gently squeezed your arms in reassurance, his thumbs rubbing the inside of your sleeves. The churning waters around you calmed, holding you both gently as if in a cupped palm, the skirts of your dress floating around you.

“I let a weak man die,” he said. “To end the fear of pain, so that it could no longer control me. I am strong now.”

“You have always been strong, sir knight,” you reminded him. “To survive everything you endured until now… there are very few who could bear it.”

“But now I am able to serve you fully.”

“You have always served me well,” you protested. “There is no need to subject yourself to undue distress.”

He shook his head. “I am now able to see the truth you speak of, my lady. There is peace in water… just as I find peace with you.” His smile was so tender, so open.

“Sir knight…” you said, swallowing hard. Stammering as you tried to find the right words to say. He let you stew in your awkwardness, his smile never fading the whole while, his sincerity changing into teasing at your expense.

When you first met, he did not seem capable of such vulnerability, much less sharing it with you. He needed only to carry out the duties you and your lord father assigned him. But to go above and beyond to indulge your desires that you had suppressed for so long… no one had ever shown you such kindness. It was a truly moving gesture.

“Sir knight…” you started again. “I do not have the words to properly convey the depths of my gratitude… Thank you. It must have been quite the ordeal to overcome your fear.”

“You could pass a lifetime without ever facing a challenge like that,” he said. “But it changes you forever. For that, I thank you, my lady.”

You pinched his arm, frustrated at how he was deflecting credit away from himself. “I played no part in your accomplishments, sir knight. Your success belongs solely to you.”

“I believed I had already reached the peak of my strength. You showed me how much stronger I could become.”

“I never meant to give you the impression that your fear of water was a weakness, sir knight. That was not my intention,” you cringed at yourself. “I am sorry.”

“Please do not misunderstand. You did nothing wrong—” your knight was interrupted by water falling on his brow. He blinked in surprise. The scattered sprinkle turned into a consistent splatter, then heavy sheets that drenched you both. Your dress was already soaked from the river, but water was now running down your head.

He let go of you. Just as you were about to mourn the loss of his touch, his hand alighted on your wrist. Pulling you gently but firmly as he trudged out of the river, the surface now hammered by the falling rain. You grabbed a fistful of your skirts and lifted them as high as you could, following him onto land.

He never let go even as he slowed down, allowing you time to carefully navigate over the slippery riverside rocks. As soon as you were clear of them, he sped up again, heading towards the forest. Intent on finding shelter under a tree. Your knight pulled you to his side, his shoulder pressing against yours. Still keeping hold of you, no longer gripping you but just grazing the end of your sleeve, his hand a loose bracelet around your wrist.

You instinctively turned to him. Perhaps he felt the same impulse for you met each other’s eyes at exactly the same time. You laughed as water dripped off his hair to land on your face. “We have been blessed with luck, sir knight. I was afraid we would have no suitable explanation for why we are both sopping wet.”

“I am quite blessed indeed,” he murmured, looking deep into your eyes.

What on earth did he mean? Your face flushed, heat tingling in your cheeks and ears before you could compose yourself. You let the damp locks of your hair fall in front of your eyes as you looked down, busying yourself with pulling your kerchief out of your pockets. Suddenly shy from the look he was giving you.

“May I?” you held up the kerchief. He nodded, and you proceeded to dab softly at him, wiping away the trails of water that trickled down his face. He closed his good eye as you wiped his brow, his cheek, and the bridge of his nose, so gently as to not accidentally prod or poke him. Water had pooled in the bow and scar of his lip, an invitation to touch him in that most intimate of places…

It was too frightening a prospect. You quickly swiped at his mouth, flinging water off his face. He chuckled and opened his eye, but all merriment drained from his face when you made to lift his eyepatch.

“Thank you,” his grip retightened around your wrist, not painfully but in an undeniable warning. “That’s enough.”

“Are you sure? It is quite soaked through. Please, at least let me wring it dry.”

“My lady… I fear that the sight may frighten you. It is not pleasant to look at.”

“Nothing could frighten me, sir knight,” you said softly. “Not if it’s you.”

His good eye widened at your declaration, his piercing gaze returning to determine the truthfulness of your words. When you did not waver or recant, he nodded slightly, closing his eye again.

The eyepatch was large and triangular with a thick band that covered almost the entirety of his left eyebrow. He had owned this particular eyepatch long enough that it molded to the shape of his cheekbone, curving concave to end level with his nostrils. Its color was the deepest black, embroidered with smooth scarlet thread at its edges. Your family crest was embroidered on the patch itself in light gold, as beautiful as reflected sunlight on the river’s surface. The thing was too precious to manhandle, so you patted it dry as best as you could before turning to his face.

His scars were extensive enough that the accessory could not completely cover them. They crawled outwards from his eye to beyond the edge of his temple, jagging through his hairline. You had seen the scars that ended on his lip before; they were not a collection of smaller cuts as you previously wondered, but part of a long line that flowed uninterrupted down from the eye socket. Another scar parallel to it curved towards his chin. A spiderweb of cracked lines concentrated most intensely where the lower lid of his eye would have been were it not missing entirely. The skin itself was ruined, unevenly colored an ashy gray that would not wipe away to match the same, healthier pale tone of his body.

Then there was the eye itself. The upper lid was missing as well, revealing a sclera completely colored black. The shape of the iris was amorphous around the edges, shapeless clouds of ink in water. For such a thin ring, the iris was many brilliant shades of orange, bright flickering flames in a bed of coal.

The ruin of his face was less frightening than what it represented. For such a gentle man to experience such a horrific injury at the hands of a loved one was too painful to bear. A lump in your throat arose as you resumed patting his face dry. Conscientious of starting at his hairline first before moving down to his brow. Did he experience pain when water dripped into the unprotected eye?

“It’s alright, my lady,” your knight said patiently. “You need not look at it any longer than you wish to.”

“Please do not misunderstand, sir knight,” you whispered. “I only hate to imagine how you must have endured so much pain and fear that day…” More frightening still was the irrational but not impossible prospect that your knight could face similar violence in the future. The fact that your knight’s entire tenure was peaceful did not quell the anxiety that threatened to choke you.

“And yet I am strong now,” he repeated, voice low and soft, a whisper of wind over gravel. “Just as I am always meant to be.”

Your knight’s face was as dry as it could possibly be given the circumstances. You raised your free hand as high as you could above him, hoping to shield him from any errant raindrops that might fall from the branches above. You took an unconscious step forward as his hand glided down to your elbow, holding you close. Your hand holding the kerchief cradled his face… such a thin layer of cloth preventing you from touching him unhindered, skin-on-skin.

He was close enough to see and perhaps feel the heat of your blush on your face. Could he also hear how your heart hammered away from both anxiety and anticipation? It was a fearful excitement that would normally have you running away if you were not rooted to the ground, bound to your knight by some invisible compulsion.

To be bound to your knight would be bliss. He was quite literally within arm’s reach. He leaned into your palm, raising his own hand towards your face—

“We should return home,” you blurted out, jumping back. You shoved your kerchief and his eyepatch into his still outstretched hand. “There is no telling if the rain will end soon.”

You turned and scurried away, pulling your dress off the ground with both hands. Not waiting for your knight to readjust his eyepatch. But the sound of his footsteps followed behind you soon enough.

Because of course he was still loyal to you. Even if you might be wedded to someone else in the future. Even if he was dedicated to you, you could not pledge the same to him.

You would do better to remember that.

───────────────── ●◉◎⚜◎◉● ─────────────────

An illness fell upon you in the days to come. It was nothing serious, only a slight cold from your time in the river and rain. However, your lord father did once again treat it as a disaster. You were confined to your bedchamber and only a select few were allowed to visit you. Unfortunately, your knight was not included among them.

He had only come into your service less than two years ago. But now you could not imagine a life without him, and the days with only your handmaidens and father for company were quite lonely indeed. But on one trip to the washroom, late at night, you found a bouquet of your favorite coneflowers at your doorstep, wrapped in your kerchief. You grabbed it and held it close, clutching it to your chest. In the morning, you placed it close to your window.

Your mother had already departed for her travels before the day you followed your knight into the river. In his haste, your father had sent word of your sickness to her, for which she came back early.

“I am sorry, mother,” you said as she sat next to you on your bed. “You needn’t have returned home for my sake. I am almost entirely recovered now.”

“That is quite alright,” she said, placing the back of her hand on your forehead. “I am only relieved that you are better. There is something I wish to share with you.

“In my time abroad, I attended a sword-fighting tournament. It was quite exciting,” your mother said, eyes bright with giddiness. “We will be hosting one soon for my birthday and I intend to have your knight participate.”

“WHAT?!?” you shouted angrily. You would have said much more but you exploded into a fit of painful, hacking coughs.

Your mother held up a cup of water for you to drink from, disregarding your outburst entirely. “I thought you would enjoy seeing one. It has been quite a while since the last one.”

The last time you attended one was years ago during some celebration you could not recall exactly. You had enjoyed it no more or less than any of the other festivities that day. It was just like your lady mother to impose what she wanted onto others without consideration for anyone’s feelings but her own.

“My knight will not join. I forbid it,” you said as sternly as possible in between your coughing.

She merely looked upon you dismissively. “I must test his capabilities, child. If he is not a worthy fighter then I shall have another join your service.”

“Has he not already proved himself to you? He did save your life, mother,” you pointed out.

“And yet my daughter deserves only the best. This is the only way to determine his competence.”

“You are only interested in watching every able-bodied man of these lands fight,” you accused. “If you are so keen to witness some swordplay, why not take up the blade yourself?”

“Why, I am much too old and delicate to take up arms, child,” she laughed good-naturedly. “And this is much more fun.”

There was nothing more you could do to sway your mother. You were still fuming when she tucked you in and kissed you goodnight.

Another week passed before you were fully well again, and then another few days dragged on when your father insisted you continue resting. You were therefore quite eager for your next chance to find some private time with your knight.

In your time apart, he had accumulated some bruises on his face and neck and moved with a stiffness that spoke of sore muscles. It had taken all your restraint not to descend upon him when you first saw him at breakfast, surrounded by your family and other attendants.

Now in the privacy of the meadow, you fussed over him.

“Are you well now, my lady?” he asked.

“Never mind that,” you said impatiently. “Are you alright??”

“I am fine, my lady. These injuries are not serious,” he said. “I have merely resumed training. In this time that I have served you, I have not raised my sword once. I must not dishonor you with my negligence.” “You could never dishonor me, sir knight,” you protested. “And I care very little for my ‘honor’. I only wish to keep you safe from harm. If only my mother prioritized your safety over her own amusement!!”

He would have replied but was suddenly interrupted by a yawn he could not suppress.

“Are you tired? You should return home—”

“No, my lady,” he said. “I wish to stay by your side.”

He was stubborn, immune to your further attempts at persuasion. So instead you laid on your back, fully stretched out and staring into the sky. “Lie next to me, sir knight, if you insist on accompanying me.”

He raised an eyebrow at you but laid down obediently. As soon as he lay flat, his good eye began to shutter from weariness. You said nothing as he succumbed to slumber, not wishing to disturb him.

───────────────── ●◉◎⚜◎◉● ─────────────────

You seemed to be the only one who was not looking forward to the tournament. If you could magically summon rain and thunder with your bad mood, then you would have flooded the town. As it were, the sun was shining bright and merrily on the first day of celebrations. A low wooden barrier was erected in the middle of town, carving out a circle for the arena. Tents had also been set up for the participants’ use where they could prepare in privacy.

The last opportunity you had to speak with the knight was the night before. Then the morning had been filled with preparatory work of your own, imposed by your lady mother who insisted you wear your finest dress and jewelry for the occasion. Then breakfast had been a feast in and of itself, with many other lords and ladies who had traveled from afar to attend. Forced to play the part of the obedient daughter, you offered as much hospitality as you could while glancing around frantically for your knight. He was nowhere to be seen.

Now, seated next to your father outdoors on a raised wooden platform overlooking the arena, the first match of the day was about to start. At least your mother had the consideration to only have your knight participate in a singular exhibition match, the first one of the day. He would not have to fight in multiple rounds, but that did nothing to quell your uneasiness.

Your knight’s opponent stepped into the ring first. He was a younger man named Finn, just as tall and broad of shoulder as your knight, but more muscular. Brilliant green eyes shone through under his dark hair, cropped close to his ears. He seemed more of a showman than a fighter in the way he stalked around the edge of the arena, arms outstretched and soaking up cheers and applause, banging his sword against his shield to encourage more noisemaking from the audience. His wide smirk grew into a sneer as he turned and pointed his sword at your knight, who had only just entered the ring.

Your knight’s entrance was much more understated. He walked calmly towards the center of the arena in long and confident strides, with a straight back and a proud, dignified bearing. Ignoring his opponent’s attempts to mock him with words you could not make out.

The two men circled each other a fair distance apart. Finn swaggered and jeered, feinting lunges at your knight to intimidate him. Throughout it all, your knight never flinched, stepping at a steady pace, sure and confident. Crouched low behind his shield with his sword raised level, pointing at his opponent. The tip of his weapon tracing small circles in the air.

You gasped when your knight’s shield came into view: he had painted your favorite purple coneflower on it, a dark orange seeded heart on the center disc while long straight petals unfurled outwards, filling the entire shield to touch the rim. If you could have run into the ring to pull your knight to safety, you would have.

Finn charged. Not another feint but a leap and a heavy swing of his sword at your knight’s left eye. An understandable move as the eyepatch would have fooled anyone into believing it was his blind spot.

But your knight raised his shield just in time to catch the blow. Finn’s sword glanced downwards. Quick as a flash, your knight slashed at Finn’s exposed side and jumped backwards. Almost dancelike with how quick and graceful he was on his feet.

The younger man swore and glared at your knight. Dropping all pretense of playing as he snarled, raising his sword and shield once again. Crashing his shield into your knight’s. But your knight never stumbled, still calm and unshakeable.

Another downward slash from Finn. Your knight blocked it with his sword. Then Finn slashed again and again, raining down a flurry of blows. All of them were blocked skillfully by your knight. But he was forced to walk backwards as the sheer barrage of Finn’s attacks pushed him closer and closer towards the edge of the arena.

Your knight was backed up against the barrier. He was forced to dodge Finn’s next blow by jumping sideways. Finn rammed his shield into your knight’s side, sending him tumbling to the ground. A kick to your knight’s wrist forced him to drop his sword.

Finn kicked the blade out of your knight’s reach, dropping his shield to snatch it for himself. He crossed both swords overhead, yelling in triumph. The crowd cheered along while you gasped in horror. Your knight leaped to his feet just as Finn shoved the discarded shield towards him. A surprisingly chivalrous gesture from Finn. Leaving one fighter with two swords and the other with two shields.

Your knight crouched low as he raised both shields. Peeking out over the tops of them. Finn laughed as he charged again, raising both swords high. But it was another feint— just as your knight raised the shields to block again, Finn turned and slammed his shoulder into the shields. Your knight held strong, staying on his feet.

Finn seemed to realize his mistake. Your knight was now a moving wall, made impenetrable by the second shield. He matched Finn’s speed move for move, blocking each attack perfectly. Waiting for his opponent to tire himself out.

A spinning slash from Finn. His back was exposed. Your knight charged into Finn, sending him crashing to the ground. The younger man dropped the swords and rolled onto his back. Only for your knight to pin him to the ground with a knee. Shield rim shoved under Finn’s chin.

Finn struggled but your knight did not yield. Whatever your knight was saying to his opponent was inaudible from so far away. But it seemed enough to make the younger man drop his head to the ground in frustrated defeat. Boos and cheers in equal measure exploded into the air as the victor got to his feet. Bowing in your direction before walking off.

You slipped away from your seat before anyone noticed, ducking into the tents. You passed through several, catching their occupants by surprise.

Finally, you found him. He turned to face you just as you entered.

He was shirtless, his chainmail shirt discarded on a nearby table. His eyepatch was missing as well. Leaving him the most exposed that you had ever seen him. Sweat dripped down his long neck to pool in his collarbone, then traced the contours of his thin but wiry arms. His toned chest rising and falling with each breath. Scars and bruises alike smattered irregularly under his skin. Large veined hands slinging a cloth over his shoulder. Trousers clinging to his tapered waist. Every muscle and sinew threading together to form his handsomely slender physique, tall and elegant even without clothing.

Oh. “I am so sorry—”

“My lady,” he said, surprised. “I did not expect to see you so soon.”

“I wanted to see you,” you said, squinting at the ground.

“Forgive me,” he said. A rustle of cloth, then the sound of him patting himself down. You looked up to see that he was now wearing a loose shirt. The deep V of the neckline ended above his ribs, giving you a tantalizing glimpse of his nakedness that you had so enjoyed.

“There is nothing to forgive, sir knight,” you said after clearing your throat. “I am sorry for interrupting you at such an inopportune moment.”

“All is well, my lady. I wanted to see you too. Please,” he gestured towards a wooden stool, inviting you to take a seat.

You smiled at him, finally relaxing from the stress that had built up since your mother’s announcement. “No thank you, sir knight. You need it more than myself. You fought valiantly! Are you hurt?”

“Thank you,” he smiled back. “It is nothing that a good night’s rest will not cure.”

“I am sorry my mother put you through this,” you cringed at her childishness. “I wish I could promise that she will never do so again.”

“As your father’s wife, I am obliged to serve her whims as well,” he said diplomatically, to which you snorted. “I am glad that she will allow me to remain in your service.”

“Thank goodness… you are the only one for me,” you sighed, then hastily added, “Another knight would be quite unnecessary.”

He raised an eyebrow at you in puzzlement. “Strange… your mother told me if I lost, I would be relieved of my duties entirely. If I had known they would only be halved then I should have been less afraid of defeat.”

Your jaw dropped at your mother’s audacity. Then you ground your teeth, doing your best not to cuss at your mother out loud.

“I should hate to lose the pleasure of your close company,” your knight said, even as he chuckled at your fury. “But I am glad to have your mother’s blessing.”

“Would that I could order you to give her a taste of your blade,” you grumbled. “Thank you for the flowers, sir knight. That was very kind of you.”

“Not at all,” he said simply. “I missed you.”

What a strange thing for him to say when you were standing right in front of him. But perhaps the tournament had weighed just as heavily on his mind as it did on yours, what with your mother threatening to end his employment.

“I missed you too,” you said softly. “I hope to see you again soon, sir knight.” As much as you preferred your knight’s company over your mother’s, it was time you left to rejoin her.

“My lady,” he said by way of goodbye, nodding once. He watched you closely as you departed. Hopefully, it would not be long before you were reunited with him again.

Part 4

#Arcane #Arcane fanfic #Silco #Silco x Reader #Arcane Silco #Silco Arcane #Silco fanfic #my writing #A Knight to Remember #AKtR

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femdomliterature · 5 months

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FemLit 0565 - Let’s talk FLR: How to handle a husband who wants femdom (A must read for all the women)

Nine times out of ten, or maybe 99 times out of 100, it is the man who brings up the idea of male chastity and his fantasy of being denied.

The woman’s reaction will vary…. from complete disgust…. to obvious disinterest…. maybe mild curiosity…. all the way to emphatic embracement.

No wonder it can be nerve wracking for a guy to broach the subject of male chastity to his partner.

Her reaction will make or break his day!

Keep in mind that he would not have brought it up if it wasn’t important to him, so it’s a good idea for the woman to keep her wits (if she possibly can!) and carefully consider her initial reaction.

The smart approach is to calm down, collect her feelings and then suggest a time for a lengthy sit-down discussion.

A short ‘on-the-spot’ superficial little chat will not do the subject of male chastity proper justice!

Scheduling the discussion for later will buy her some time to not only reflect on his desires, but allow some time to do some preliminary research into male chastity, so she has a better idea as to what she’s dealing with.

During the sit-down discussion, it’s best to let him do most of the talking while she encourages him to bare his deepest and darkest secrets.

Listening and asking questions will give her some valuable insights into what is actually going on here.

Her final question to him should be….

What’s in it for ME…

She should listen to his answer very carefully as it will help her out later.

Time For Some R&R

No, not rest and relaxation. If you’re a woman that chooses to embrace a male chastity lifestyle, there will be plenty of opportunity for that later on.

R&R in this case stands for ‘research’ and ‘reflection’.

This 2nd step to living a male chastity lifestyle is all about the woman doing her due diligence, rolling up her sexy silk sleeves, and doing some research as to what makes her man ‘tick’.

The more she can get inside his head and find out what he really wants and needs, the better this lifestyle will work for both them.

A little investigation into the mind of the man who craves being put into a chastity device and denied will reveal something very important to the woman.

She needs to realize that if she doesn’t have a mean streak in her now, it will serve her (and him) well to allow the cruel side of herself to blossom.

In order to deal with all of the bullshit that will soon be coming forth from him, it will be mandatory for her to be (at times), tough minded, mean and yes….

…. even somewhat of a bitch.

While her research will enlighten her to all of his male chastity fantasies, she will need to adopt a tough-minded attitude in order to effectively use those fantasies to her benefit.

Now for the 2nd part of the R&R…. reflection.

It’s time for her to reflect on his answers to What’s in it for ME…

He undoubtedly gave her some excellent ideas as to what she will get out of the tedious task of training him to be locked away in male chastity.

But his ideas are just a start. What about her deepest and darkest desires?

How will she benefit from this arrangement?

She should take some serious time to reflect on this as it will come in handy soon.

She Makes the Rules!

Now we’re getting to the fun part…. where she gets to make up the rules.

Okay…. You’ve had your sit-down with each other.

She’s finished with her research assignment.

Now it’s time to make up the rules as to how you’re going to play the male chastity game.

Although he’s got plenty of ideas of his own for ‘rules’ as to how he would like all of this to play out, in order for a male chastity lifestyle to work seamlessly over the long term….

…. there can really only be one rule-maker… HER

It’s just the best way to make this male chastity thing work.

In coming up with a set of rules, she will of course take into consideration his male chastity fantasies that he revealed to her during their initial discussion.

She will also factor in the information she uncovered during the research phase.

The reflection time she spent on sorting out her fantasies and desires will also play a major part in making up an appropriate set of rules.

But the first rule of male chastity and the most important is this one….

Every subsequent rule made by her is to be followed explicitly and directly by him with absolutely no questions asked or allowed…

If he can’t deal with this over-riding theme of Female Supremacy, FemDom, FLR, D/s, Female Keyholder or whatever you prefer to call it, then she simply refuses to be involved any further and expects no further mention by him of male chastity.

It’s imperative that she holds all of the cards for this game to work.

There can be absolutely no exceptions, wiggle room, backsliding, second-guessing or topping from the bottom.

None of that bullshit!

This one rule firmly and succinctly sets the tone and direction for a fulfilling, fun and exciting male chastity experience.

From then on, she makes as many or as few rules as she wants. She can add, delete, change or modify any rule, anytime at her whim…. with no prior notice.

If she’s in a benevolent mood, she can even entertain suggestions from him as to the nature of the rules.

This predominant position puts her in a place of prodigious power.

And this level of power will pay off in big benefits.

Time For Lockdown Mode…

There are many factors you should consider when looking to buy a male chastity device.

» Type: chastity cage or belt? » Material: plastic, leather or metal? » Security: used with a piercing or without » Custom made to order or off the shelf? » Price? » Manufacturer: reliable customer support

Let’s go over these considerations, one-by-one.

If this will be your first chastity device, it’s best to stick with a cage type. Chastity belts are very secure and look sexy but they do have their drawbacks.

They are usually custom made so will take longer to receive, plus they are on the expensive side. A chastity belt can also be harder to hide under certain types of clothing.

As far as material, leather looks sexy but is not very secure (it can be cut easily) and is not particularly hygienic.

Metal is definitely sexy looking and usually quite secure. But devices made from metal are obviously heavier, harder to get used to, and pose a problem with airport security.

Plastic is the way to go when first starting out.

Most chastity cages, whether made from metal or plastic are pretty damn secure! Although there are men who can finagle their way out of them, my experience has been that when properly fitted, they won’t be coming off without a key.

For added security, many modern chastity devices can be used with or without a penis piercing.

Custom made chastity cages are typically of the belt variety or made from metal. Like I mentioned above, they are usually expensive and can take quite a while to receive. Also, initial measurements are critical to achieve a good fit.

Off the shelf chastity devices come with different sizes of rings and spacers that will ensure a good fit. It is usually necessary to experiment with different combinations of spacers and rings to come up with a comfortable fitting device.

As far as price goes, an off the shelf, plastic chastity cage such as the very popular CB-6000, while not cheap, is well within the budget of most.

You can find cheaper, Chinese knock-offs on Amazon but the quality is not to be trusted…. they crack and break a lot.

On the other hand, custom chastity devices can get quite expensive and are best left for when your chastity lifestyle has been allowed to season a bit.

Male chastity is becoming more popular all the time which brings more designers and manufactures into the arena with new and innovative products.

These manufacturers can come and go like the wind so it’s always wise to pick a chastity device made by a company who has been around for awhile in case you need customer support or replacement parts and accessories.

There is a reason devices like the CB-6000 are so popular.

It’s affordable, secure, comfortable and hygienic!

Unfortunately, it’s not as simple as ordering a male chastity device, locking him up and embarking on a fun and exciting male chastity lifestyle.

There is a critical process that must be carefully navigated before the mayhem can begin.

This is what you’ve been waiting for? Your male chastity device has arrived and you cannot wait to get started.

Break him in…. Slowly but surely

Whoa boy (or girl). Take a deep breath, relax and read what I have to say on this matter.

Before wildly embarking on this male chastity adventure it’s necessary for an adjustment period….

…. a physical and emotional one. He needs to be slowly but surely, ‘broken in’.

First, take a little time and make sure you get a good fit, not too tight, not too loose, but just right.

Once that’s done, lock him up for 24 straight hours.

After a day, you’ll both have a good idea as to how things are fitting down there. A little initial discomfort along with some minor pinching is to be expected.

No big deal, at least not for the keyholder anyway.

Any major discomfort can now be dealt with at this time. A larger ring, a different sized spacer, shaving the genitals, applying lotion.

Now go for another 24 hours. If everything is hunky-dory (aside from the minor chafing, pinching, etc.) then it’s time to go for 72 continuous hours (Yes, 3 full days) in lock-down mode.

He will now be getting used to and/or moving beyond any minor discomfort.

He will soon find it more practical to sit down on the toilet and pee like a girl.

He will get used to the feeling of not being able to touch his dick.

He will begin to experience a yearning feeling deep inside his balls (as well as his mind) that comes with sexual denial.

The next phase is to remove the chastity cage, re-shave, re-lube, re-adjust rings and spacers and lock him back up for seven straight days!

This is the phase where any final physical adaptations will take place and more importantly, where the psychological process begins.

This is where the fantasy begins to morph into reality.

He now will be getting what he asked for and begins the transformation from a macho man to a compliant and devoted husband or boyfriend.

Seven continuous days of no whining, complaining or cumming marks the point when your relationship is ready to take on a new level of meaning.

It’s now time to make a very big decision!

Now that he’s adapted, both physically and mentally, to being locked up for seven straight days, he’s proven that he can ‘handle’ things.

The big decision

In order to set the proper ‘tone’ of how the relationship is to eventually evolve, a mandatory (and lengthy) lock-up and denial period will have to be agreed upon and then strictly enforced.

This ‘conditioning phase’ is necessary so that both partners are fully committed to the idea that male chastity is no longer just a fantasy or a mere game, but a lifestyle decision to be taken seriously.

This ‘lock-down’ phase should be anywhere from a month (bare minimum), to a full year. Three months seems to be the ‘sweet spot’ for most couples.

This may sound like ‘harsh’ treatment but is absolutely necessary in order to instill the proper mindset in the male.

This lengthy stretch of total denial will also empower her to be tough-minded during some tough times.

She will also use this time to thoroughly train him to sexually please her without the use of his now caged-up cock.

He will become adept at transmuting his feelings of frustration and denial into the satisfaction of providing for her needs and desires.

During this training period, it’s wise to tease him un-mercifully in conjunction with verbal humiliation and an occasional whipping session, if she’s into that.

Nothing can approach the emotional intensity of her being licked to orgasm-after-orgasm by a locked-up and denied male right after he’s being worked over with a riding crop.

At the end of the ‘conditioning phase’, she will have elevated herself to a position of complete control and power while he will have learned to happily (for the most part) take on the role of a subservient sexual slave.

At the end of this period of lock-down and denial, his input into matters will no longer be necessary.

She may ask for his thoughts, but it’s now all about her! She makes all the rules and he simply answers, “yes Dear”.

His ‘Cumming Out’ Party

He is now perfectly primed and positioned for his first release in quite some time.

It’s been soooo long since he’s experienced an orgasm. Perhaps maybe a wet dream, but that doesn’t really count now, does it?

A firm benchmark has now been established within the relationship.

He’s proven (with her help) that he can endure a long period of sexual denial, all the while attending to her ever escalating sexual desires.

Denying a man while you are free to experience sexual ecstasy is an incredible turn-on and power rush for a woman…

She, on the other hand, has become capable of maintaining a disdainful demeanor to his ‘predicament’ all the while providing him with the necessary ‘guidance’ (which can sometimes be cruel and humiliating) without flinching.

But now that he has ‘paid his penance’ and she had become sufficiently empowered, it is time for her to decide on how his future orgasms will be ‘managed’.

The first area to consider is how often he should be allowed to cum.

Most women opt for a set time interval…. but it should never be more often than every two weeks!

Once per month is better. In my experience, once every two to three months is optimal.

Some keyholder’s choose to keep their men guessing; orgasms are allowed only at her whim, and he never knows when that might be.

That sounds quite cruel but some women get off on the look on a male’s face when she leads him to believe that the time is near, only to change her mind at the very last minute.

This tactic is suitable for women who prefer to emotionally ‘break’ a man down and render him as a mere shell of his former self.

For most women, this is ‘over-the-top’ and they prefer to let their man hold onto a portion of his self-dignity so that he can still function effectively out in the ‘real’ world.

And then there are women who prefer performance based or ‘earned’ orgasms.

An ejaculation can be conditional upon completing chores, performing tasks, maintaining proper behavior standards, losing weight, hers-to-his orgasm ratios (100:1), chastity games, etc.

One important thing to remember; the time between orgasms can always be extended because of ‘bad’ behavior on his part.

Once the woman has established a fair frequency for his orgasms, she must then decide on how he will be achieving these rare ejaculations.

This is where things get incredibly fun but quite spicy and dicey.

We now know the when…. What about the how?

Now it’s time to consider how he will be cumming. This is the fun part, especially for her.

After going through the ‘conditioning phase’ he has had plenty of time away from regular intercourse. If she has a penchant for penetrative sex, a dildo or a strap-on (for him) solves that issue.

She may decide that his days of fucking are over. No big deal for her since she has the options above at her disposal.

Many women choose to deny the male the privilege of traditional intercourse as a matter of principle.

It is quite common for a woman holding the key to insist that any of his orgasms are of the humiliating variety.

I have a friend who handcuffs her husband’s hands behind his back and then just tells him to go for it.

He inevitably winds up humping the hardwood floor in the kitchen, then meekly licks up his mess afterwards.

I’ve heard of one woman who has her man hump one of her girlfriend’s legs while she hurls degrading insults his way.

Other women are particularly amused by, and have become masters of, the ruined orgasm.

One particularly cruel acquaintance of mine insists on performing an emasculating prostrate milking in front of a girlfriend, boyfriend or sometimes both.

I’ve witnessed a pro-domme at a party order a man to polish a pretty girl’s high heeled boot with his cum, followed by his tongue, while she whipped his ass from behind with a riding crop.

My favorite? Instructing him to cum on her ass followed by a thorough tongue clean up. Ummmm.

It can also be exciting to incorporate some sort of ‘dice’ or ‘spin-the-wheel’ type of game, leaving the matter of ‘if he gets to cum’ and the manner in which he does it, up to pure chance.

You’re really only limited by your kinky and perverse imagination.

Now that you’ve both settled in and become comfortable with your personalized version of a male chastity lifestyle, it’s time to reflect on an extremely important matter.

Once everything has been set-up properly within a male chastity lifestyle, everything should now be smooth sailing.

Not So Fast

The reality of enforced male chastity typically does not measure up to the fantasy he once had about it.

The fantasy was much more erotic than the stark reality of constant denial and severely limited orgasms.

Now that he’s securely locked up, with no release on the horizon, second thoughts on this course of events begin to haunt him.

But it’s a completely different story for her!

The reality of male chastity for the woman is much more powerful and fulfilling than the initial fantasy ever was.

At first, it was about his fantasy. Now it’s all about her reality.

Now that she holds the key to his manhood and has the situation well under control, she can’t understand why she was ever hesitant to begin this in the first place.

Sure, she has had to initially expend some major time, energy and effort with all of the rule setting, conditioning, attention to detail, discipline and compliance issues. To be honest, this is no small feat and is not for a weak willed woman!

But she will have emerged from the back-end of this process with superior self-confidence and complete sexual liberation.

He, on the other hand, has relinquished his ability to orgasm, something so importantly powerful that he can’t help but wonder if he has made the right choice.

He will, at some point, inevitably began to start ‘missing’ his frequent orgasms, the ones he had become so addicted to for most of his adult life.

If she acquiesces to this inherent weakness that resides within most all males, the lifestyle that they have expended so much effort to build, will began to fold like a cheap lawn chair.

When the subject rears it’s ugly head, she will need to firmly put her high heeled foot down and say no!

There can be no going back. She is living the perfect, pampered life that she deserves while he, for maybe the first time in his life, has found some real peace, even though it’s of the frustrating variety.

If he continues to complain and have regrets about his situation (the one, by the way, he so desperately lobbied for) she has several options, including but not limited to….

» institute a policy of permanent orgasm denial » increase his chore/work load by 50%

» a severe cock caning or whipping session » make an appointment to have his penis pierced » discontinuance of all male chastity activities » threaten to leave the relationship

Any unreasonable demands on his part should be firmly countered with strict and swift consequences.

It’s really only matter of time when she will need to draw a bold line in the sand and not put up with any questioning of her authority.

Consider this to be an honest and fair representation of possible ‘fall-out’ issues when embarking on a male chastity lifestyle.

Male Chastity is not for every couple…

To successfully incorporate it within a relationship, both partners will need to have the courage to move beyond traditional sexual and romantic roles that are played out by most couples.

Social conditioning, as it pertains to relationships, is powerful stuff and can lead to feelings of guilt, fear and inadequacy where none should ever exist.

Both men and women instinctively know who they are at a ‘gut’ level. Being in tune with that inner knowledge and living your life exactly how you want, results in true happiness and freedom.

If you’re a guy who is sick and tired of being in control all of the time, then maybe it’s time to let go.

If you truly adore a woman and enjoy treating her like a Princess, elevating her pleasure above yours, then go for it.

If you’re a woman who would like to see how it feels to ‘turn the tables’ and be the one who wields the power in a relationship, why not give male chastity a try.

Freeing yourself from all household duties (or just the ones you dislike) while experiencing exquisite sexual ecstasy, precisely the way you want it, when you want it, cannot be adequately expressed in words.

A man that can provide all of that for her, and then some, will evoke emotions that will reverberate all the way down to his inner core.

Training a male to accept his new life of being denied is a fun, frustrating (at times), and extremely rewarding endeavor. You will need to get a chastity device early on in the training process.

#female led relationship #femlit

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