#and the boys split up a bar brawl | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

itsstrange · 2 years ago

Note

Karl Urban/Reader

Reader and Karl are friends. Like each but dont say. Live about 6 houses away from each other with her shitty ex in-between. Reader goes to ex house walks in on him cheating. (You decide what) Runs out and winds up at Karl's house. But not home at the moment. He comes home to find reader sitting on his porch.

He takes care of her. Maybe confess attraction to each other other . Fluff and smut and sweetness if all possible

**idea came from something that happen to a friend of mine . They had someone always there.

A/N: Another Request Delivered. I actually debated on writing this one because I wasn’t sure how other people would view me as. But just wanted to leave this out in the open, in case your friend is not comfortable or not happy with a story being written in regards to her past experiences and would like to be taken down I would gladly do so, not many people would want others to know what they’ve been through. So Again, feel free to lmk and I’ll right away take it down! ❤️

ANOTHER NOTE: Everything that has been written is NOT what actually happened in the real events, all of it was created by me! I did Not write anything that was related to the situation! In fact I have no idea what exactly happened, but I will again remove this story if the requester’s friend is not comfortable with it. Sincerely, ItsStrange ❤️

Treat You Better

Fandom: The Boys

Relationship: Karl Urban x Reader

Word Count: 7k

Warnings: (Yess-ish?) Toxic Relationship, Mention of Verbal Abuse, Arguments, a Little Bit of Physical Violence, Hurt Reader, Protective Karl, Confessions, Smut, Kissing, (You Know The Smut Tags)

Like in Mendes words: “I know I can Treat You Better, Better Than He Can,”

————

Enjoy! 🔥

————

——————

“Need another?” Russel’s deep voice startles you from where you’re focused was on your bandaged hand, fingers gently prodding at loose strands of strings,

Your bloodshot red eyes meet his light brown orbs, concern and a hint of anger we’re hidden behind, but no words of said feeling we’re displayed at you. Even if that’s all he wanted to do, let you know how he feels of the certain situation that you are currently in, let you know you are better off, that you deserve better and should have just dumped the fucker from the beginning, but he didn’t. Because from the years that he’s known you, he knows expressing his own feelings and opinions on the subject would not help, yes maybe the you deserve better would be appropriate to let you know, but the rest of what he has banging in his throat is not appropriate. Nor is it a humane thing to say, at least not right now.

Hell, the things he wanted to do to that son of a bitch for hurting you yet again were not humane. Just from your expression alone when you came strolling in his bar let him know something had happened, but when you finally told him everything as he bandaged your bloody hand, pure rage was igniting inside of him. Especially at the condition of your hand, it hand bruises already forming, split knuckles with dried blood smeared throughout your skin. If it wasn’t from the explanation you had told him he would have thought you had just came back from a brawl.

So from what you had told him, you were just coming back from the studio, your first album after two years of taking a mental break was finally coming out which you couldn’t be more excited. Everything you’ve been through, all the losses you’ve had the last couple years, the struggles you were going through were being put into your new album, and you couldn’t wait to share it to the world, to let your fans know it’s okay to feel low because at some point you find that strength to rise up once again.

Yet, despite of your excitement about your upcoming project, there was always that dark cloud hovering in the back of your mind, reminding you of reality, of what waits at home for you. The first couple of months that you had given him a second chance were great, they were amazing, perfect even, but it was the last two months we’re everything started to fall back into old habits. The constant arguments of the smallest things, the jealousy between you two was stronger than before, the cruel words that were exchanged on a daily bases were just insane. You two were not working, again, and you weren’t happy, but for some reason you just couldn’t leave him, you couldn’t call it, you couldn’t decide if you should end it or give it more time to see if he’d fucking change some how. But he never did.

And it was tonight that proved to you he will never change.

It had been a long day at the studio. All your frustrations and stress were put into the studio, into your music that you hadn’t realize it was nearing one in the morning. Not only did you also realize you were completely drained, both physically and mentally, but you also noticed it was passed your limit to keep the room, so after saving everything, packing everything up, you bid your farewells to your team before following Tim, your bodyguard, to the suv to drive you home. You honestly didn’t want to go home, knowing what waited for you, pure disappointment and a pointless awaiting argument. Just the thought of him waiting in the entrance of your shared home, probably drunk off his ass made a headache form. You wouldn’t doubt it, he had been blowing up your phone since you left that morning in hopes to stay away from him. And Lordy did that bring ridiculous accusations from the idiot. Claiming he knew why you left the house so early on a Sunday morning just like you have been the last couple of months, which you couldn’t help let a scoff out before ignoring the rest of his stupidity messages.

You could have easily told Tim to take you to a hotel, but you honestly didn’t want to rise suspicions from him, nobody knew of your on again off again struggles with your toxic boyfriend, not even your own family, because you knew what they’d say. So, to prevent any words that you don’t want to hear you hid your toxicity relationship from them and only displayed a fake happy couple for family gatherings or public appearances. Because you honestly don’t think you’ll be able to deal with all the prying questions from people left and right. So hidden it stays.

After hours of driving in comfortable, peaceful silence, something you knew you wouldn’t have for the remainder of the night, you finally arrive at your house. Thanking Tim and relieving him for the night to catch some sleep as well, you slowly make your way towards the black wooden door. You noticed how all the lights have been turned off, which is a rare thing to see when the lowlife is home alone and drunk. It was even more rare when everything seemed quiet as soon as you stepped inside, maybe he left to drink with his moron friends, you remember thinking to yourself as you shut the door. But the silence that engulfed the entire home was soon cut short with a muffled moan coming from upstairs. You remembered the way your body froze at the sound, both at the fact that it was not a pained moan nor was it a man’s moan, no that sounded way too pitched to be a man’s moan.

The event played clearly in your head. Heart hammering in your chest, hands trembling from the rage that was quickly rising in your veins as you slowly walked up the stairs, feeling the way your hairs from your arms rise when the muffled grunts and moans sounded much clearer as you stood on the second floor. Breath picking up its pace as the rage only seems to grow when you made your way to the white door that was slightly ajar. You believe you’ll always remember the way your veins boiled with rage at the sight in front of you.

The familiar tattooed back facing your direction was clearly oblivious to your presence by the door as the asshole was too busy making the female underneath him cry out of pure pleasure. Your hands shook by your sides, slowly forming into a tight fist, however, it wasn’t until Bryan, that piece of shit had leaned his head back that caught his attention to the mirror, recognizing who you were he immediately turned to look at you but was sent falling back against the bed, crushing the girl. Pain traveled up your wrist, but you didn’t care, not with the rage blinding you, the moment he went back against the cushion you finally let your bottled up emotions on the man. Sending blow after blow, some connected with his face while others missed just passed his head.

‘Y/n stop!’ You remember him pleading to you but was cut off with another strong blow to his jaw, that literally sends him off the bed and onto the ground with a groan,

The moment he touched the wooden floor, you bolted out the room without another word. Not even when he pathetically calls after you, scrambling on his feet gathering whatever clothing he can get as he tries to reach you, but just as he steps outside the door you were already in your car driving away.

Hot tears slid down your face, both from hurt and rage, all you saw was red. The things that you wanted to do, the pain you wanted to inflict on him, your mind raced as you blindly drove down the street.

It wasn’t until you had reached a red light where you realized the one person you truly wanted to cry to was not an option right now, Bryan knew that’s where you’d run off to, so in order for that not to happen you knew you needed to be somewhere far away where he wouldn’t be able to find you.

Which leads you back here, sitting at Russel’s bar, with a possible broken hand. Your old man’s best friend, or as you like tell everyone to know, your uncle Russ, was your second choice to hide away for a couple minutes, maybe an hour or two. You honestly don’t know how long it has been but from the empty glasses of shots in front of you, you know it’s been at least passed an hour.

“Kid?”

Russel speaks out again, grabbing your attention once again. Your (E/c) eyes meet with his own, brows tightly knitted as he observes you with that familiar dad stare. Shit.. what did he ask me again? Oh right..

“Yeah.. I’ll take one for the road,”

The older man eyes you for a second, watching the way your mind wonders once again as you look down at your empty glass, but goes ahead and reaches for the Jameson bottle that you’ve adopted since you arrived at his bar.

“Where you headin?” Russel asks as he pours another pour for you, hoping you weren’t going back to that nightmare of a man,

Cradling the glass in between your hands, numbs playing with the rim of it, you think of his words. You knew where you were going, but didn’t know if it was safe to go, considering his house was only a few blocks down from your shared home with that son of bitch. Then again, it has been an hour or so since you’ve left and the constant messages you’ve received from him only shows he has no idea where you are. Thank god you never introduced him to your families bar, a decision you had made a while back after your first breakup, he knew where your mother lived, knew where your siblings lived, knew where your close friends lived, so you knew you had to have one spot to hide away from him, and Russel’s bar was the place.

Russel never took it to heart on why you never brought him over, in fact he rather not have him anywhere near his bar, he never did like him from the start, which you never took it personal because you couldn’t blame him. Jesus.. you knew why Russel never accepted him and yet you still decided to be with that piece of shit, and for what? You don’t even know why and that alone brings a soft snort from you, catching the bar owners attention.

“You should wait up, let the Jameson cool down,” Russel claims, picking up the shots in front of you and placing them in the basket to wash later,

Your eyes lift from your now empty glass, which… you apparently had drank, and look at the man who takes the glass from your hands before replacing it with a large glass of water.

“Drink and sober up,” He demands, knowing you weren’t exactly on the right mental state to be driving with alcohol in your system,

Even if he knew you were able to hold your alcohol pretty well, he still didn’t want to risk your life, neither one of your family members would ever forgive him if he’d ever let anything happen to you under his watch.

After chugging the large glass of water, eating some salted cashews and watching a rerun of some football game for a good 30 minutes or so, you begin to climb off your stool. Just as you reach in your pocket for some change you feel a cashew hitting you directly on your forehead causing you to flinch.

“That better be you fishing out your car keys and not money,” He points at you with a long finger,

“Russ-,” You try but was cut off,

“Don’t Russ me. Go. Go to your mom’s and rest up kiddo, and when mornin comes, you better give her the whole story so she can personally kick his ass,” You roll your eyes with a short chuckle as you steal another cashew from the bowl to throw it at him,

“Alright, G’night Uncle Russ,”

“Night kiddo, get there safely,” He pleads as he walks around the bar to give you a tight hug before walking you out the building,

You wave at him before making your way to your car, where you sit in the drivers side for five minutes, debating whether you should just drive to mothers home instead of his, it was pretty late nearing three in the morning, but if you were being completely honest you didn’t need anyone else other than him right now. It was him you needed, his soothing words, his warmth, his comfort, him.

You just hoped he wouldn’t be too upset with you for dragging your problems to him so late at night.

++++

As you rounded the familiar street, you turned off your headlights just in case Bryan was still awake, despite him staying six houses down, knowing him he’d still know it’d be you pulling into the street. So after turning the lights off, you pull into his driveway where you notice his 2018 black Hellcat sitting there, indicating he’s either home or he took the Mustang for the night. Your thoughts are answered when you went to knock on his door only to receive no answer after the fifth knock.

So with an exhausted sigh, you go ahead and sit on his front steps. At this point you should have just went to your mothers house, at least there you had keys where you can easily walk in instead of waiting on the front steps like a loser. Which speaking of, the longer you sat on the steps and each yawn that escaped from you only pulled on your exhaustion even more. Making you realize just how tired you were, both physically and mentally, all you wanted was sleep. Sleep until the night vanished, until you weren’t in this moment, sleep until you wake up feeling happy for yourself again instead of feeling such pain and frustration. It’s all you wanted at the moment.

However, before you can actually allow yourself to fall asleep on his steps like a total loser, you hear the familiar roar of an engine driving down the street, then bright headlights blinding you for a second before coming to a stop right next to your rs7. Lowering your head down to rub away the spots from your vision, you hear the engine shutting off right before hearing the drivers door opening and closing.

Than that beautiful deep rich accent filling your ears.

“(Y/n)?” He calls out your name, causing you to look up at him, a small smile tugging on your lip as you bring down your face again, slightly avoiding his gaze for now,

“Where are the boys?” You ask, starting small talk as you pick on dead skin on your thumb,

“With their mum. Just came back from the pub,” He responds as he slowly walks closer towards you, what you didn’t see was the way his brows were tightly knitted together as he observed your hunched frame on his steps,

They only knit tighter and his worry only grew when you respond with a small nod, along with a whispered ‘nice’ as you continue to look down at your lap, avoiding him. However, just as he’s within reach he notices the dried tear stains on your cheeks, but what really makes his blood boil was the way your right hand was bandaged up, starting from your wrist to your knuckles. Clenching his jaw, he crouches in front of you, getting a slightly better view of your face. Although, as you continued to avoid his gaze, he softly places a finger underneath your chin before gently lifting your face, where your red eyes finally meet with angry hazel orbs.

“Where is he?” Is all he says, hazel eyes never parting from yours,

Dropping your gaze from his, you slowly shake your head as best you can in his grip, “I don’t know,”

Of course you’d lie. And of course he knew because without another word he grips his keys in his hand before rising and darting back towards his driveway.

“Karl stop,” You call out to him, slowly walking after him,

“Gonna kill that cunt,” You hear him snarl over his shoulder, but before he can reach his lawn your small hand wrapping around his forearm stops him from going further,

“Stop,” You tell him, hand still holding onto his arm with a loose grip,

“That fuckin’ cunt crossed it,” He claims, voice laced with sharp venom, hazel eyes shining with rage instead of his warm, welcoming orbs,

“I know. But he’s not worth getting in trouble for,” Your own eyes held a firm look as you gazed up at his angered orbs, then, with an exhausted sigh you close your eyes, “Can we just..,” Another sigh, “Can we please just go inside,”

Karl’s anger and frown slowly fades away as he reads the exhaustion on your face. Just how long were you sitting out here for? Why didn’t you give him a call? He asks himself, but rather than prying you with such questions he simply nods at you before letting you lead him up the stairs. After fishing out his keys, opening the door he lets you walk in first before following right behind. Once shutting and locking the door, he makes his way to the living room, where you quietly stood by the entrance. Just lost in thought or possibly replaying the nights event.

“Here, sit down,” He offers, gently walking you to the couch, “I’ll make coffee,”

You let out a soft chuckle as you sit down, eyes looking up at him, “It’s nearly four in the morning Karl,”

It was then you realized his form and outfit of the night. Hair slightly tousled, grey t-shirt, green leather jacket on top, faded jeans with some brown boots on his feet. He looked absolutely handsome, just like any other day.

A small smile tugs on his lips at the realization, “Tea then,” and with that he makes his way towards the kitchen,

Leaving you alone with your thoughts. You sat there, fingers playing with dead skin on your thumbs while your mind drifts once again, thinking about it, about him, about how much time you’ve wasted on him. How much energy you’ve physically and mentally drained from yourself by simply being with him. Then realizing just how stupid you were for even considering on giving that piece of shit another chance, realizing just how much of a fucking joke you made yourself look. You sat there blaming yourself for all the shit you decided to go through, for having faith that he would change, for believing he’d actually love you and care for you.

But now look at you. Back to square one. You wouldn’t have been in this situation again if you hadn’t given him another chance. You wouldn’t be feeling like a fucking joke if you hadn’t given him the okay a few months ago, nor would you be sitting in Karl’s couch with dried tears and smeared makeup if you’d just told him no.

‘No you can’t come back, no this wouldn’t work, no we just aren’t meant for each other, no you are a fucking waste of time.’ If only those were the words you had told him, you wouldn’t be in this situation. Again.

After about four to five minutes of brewing the tea, pouring a good amount into two mugs, and putting one spoon of honey into your navy mug (which of course he knows it’s the only way you’ll drink tea). He finally makes his way back to the living room, where he finds you sitting with your feet up on the couch, arms hugging your legs towards your chest, with your cheek resting on your knees. However, the sound of your soft sniffles has him reaching the couch in two long strides. Placing both mugs on the coffee table he settles right next to you before hugging your hunched frame, which you immediately hide your face in the crook of his neck.

The tears that rapidly slid down your cheeks weren’t from heartbreak, it was from anger, embarrassment, shame, and disappointment. Not from him, but from yourself. You were angry at the fact that he cheated on you again, angry at that fact that you trusted him again, angry at the fact that you were so stupid in giving him another chance. Embarrassed at the fact that he made you look like a fool again, embarrassed that the whole world will once again know he cheated on you, embarrassed that you are going through this shit again. Every emotion flowed through you, consumed you that all you can do is just let it out through rapid tears. Your hands gripping tightly onto Karl’s shirt as you try burying your face deeper into his neck, as if that’ll shield you from the total embarrassment that you are facing at the moment.

“I’m so fucking.. stupid!” You sob against his skin, hands clutching tighter onto his shirt,

Karl is quick to shush you with a shake of his head. Tightening his hold on you as he lets one hand sooth your back, awhile slightly rocking you both on the couch.

“Shh.. no you’re not,” He mumbles on the crown of your head,

“I n-never should’ve..-,” The words get stuck in your throat as another angered sob leaves your lips, “God.. I should’ve fucking known!”

“Shh,” He continues to soothe you, body slightly rocking you, hugging you tighter and closer towards his chest, “Just let it out love. Everything you feel right now, just let it out. I’m right ‘ere,”

And you do. You let the hot, angry tears slip down your cheeks, let the bottled up emotions fall past your lips, your broken, frustrated, angered sobs filling the quietness of his living room.

It wasn’t long when the tears had stopped falling down your cheeks, when you’ve calmed down and simply just laid your head on his chest as he laid back against the cushion. Hand cradling and gently massaging your head, soothing you and comforting you. Yet, his fingers come to a halt at your sudden words.

“I’m sorry,” You whisper, fingers playing with his grey shirt, feeling guilty for burdening him with your situation, “M’sorry for.. bringing my shit to you,”

His brows knit together as he glances down at your head, “Don’t be,”

“I am,” You argue back, voice slightly quivering and breaking due to the crying session not that long ago, “If it didn’t happen, I wouldn’t be here. Bothering you.”

Karl stood quiet, weighing his words that he wants to tell you. That he’s been wanting to tell you, ever since your first breakup, he wanted to let you know but was never given the chance. Then before he knew it, it was too late, he had lost the opportunity to let you know but now, now he won’t let it slip. He was scared before, fearing it would ruin things between you two, he’d lose you for what he reveal to you and he couldn’t have that. He still doesn’t want that, but you have to know. No matter what happens, he just has to let you know.

“You’re right,” You hear him say, feeling the way your heart slightly shatters at his agreement, but before you can even begin to pull away from his hold his voice stops you from doing so, “You shouldn’t be going through this. You shouldn’t be runnin’ from home, shouldn’t be crying at my steps at the three in the mornin’… fuckin hell (Y/n)..,”

He curses with a frustrated wince as he slightly forces you to sit, forcing you to stare into his eyes as he continues, “You deserve more. You deserve the whole fuckin world, every happiness there is. You deserve to be treated like you should be treated. A goddamn queen,” His hazel orbs bore into yours, not once parting, not even with his next words,

He hesitates for a second, but pushing the fear down he finally says, “Any guy would be lucky to have you.. and believe me when I tell you… I’ll do anything to see you smile. I’d give everything to bring you nothing but happiness and love. I’ll Treat You Better. Because that’s what you deserve,”

You stare at him in shock, tears slowly building as you take in his words. Never in a million years did you think this man, your closest friend, a talented well-known actor who gets to travel the world for his work, gets to meet and have dinners with other well known actors and actresses—who by the way are some of your all time favorite people— would ever make such a deep confrontation to you. Who would share the same feelings you have been desperately trying to stow away for multiple reasons, fearing if you ever gave into said feelings you’d lose him forever, so you went ahead and kept those feelings to yourself and try to distract yourself by putting so much effort in trying to fix a relationship that just wasn’t meant to be mixed nor was it meant for you.

As tears slowly slide down your cheeks, you feel a warm hand resting on the side of your cheek, then a soft thumb gently brushing away a tear. Hazel eyes locking with your own, not once parting away.

“Let me love you like you deserve to be loved,” He whispers, thumb still wiping away fresh tears,

No words were said, just a simple nod from you was all he needed to finally let his lips latch onto yours. The kiss was soft but firm as you both poured your hidden emotions into it. Fresh new tears slid down your cheeks as you kissed him, relief is what they were. Relieved that you finally gave in to those feelings, relieved that he too shared those feelings and that alone caused the tears to come out as you cherished his warm lips.

The kiss soon picked up its pace when he gently prods your bottom lip with the tip of his tongue, which you gladly accepted. The moment his tongue sweeps with your own, it has you melting against him like no other, has you forgetting about everything around you, forgetting about that asshole, the pain on your hand, everything. All your focus was on him and only him. The way his mouth collides perfectly with your own, the way his hands gently run along your hips, legs, towards your lower back before maneuvering you onto his lap.

“This okay?” He asks in between kisses, hands respectfully waiting on your hips,

“Yes, please,” You find yourself begging him, but he doesn’t tease you about it, nor does he laugh at your neediness because hell, he too was desperate for you,

Without another word he dives back to your lips, letting them collide much rougher and firmer. Letting your tongues battle with each other before allowing him to take control. A moan and a groan can be heard between you two when you slightly rock your hips on his lap, making you feel just how much he wants you at the moment. Yet, it was another firm rock of your hips that has him rising from the couch, strong arms holding you against him as he makes his way towards his bedroom. Once there he quickly walks towards his bed where he gently lays your frame against the cushion. He hovers over you, lips still connected with each other as he teases back with a thrust of his own hips, causing a small gasp to leave your lips when you feel the way his hardened member presses against your covered core.

He didn’t tease for long considering he’s waited for this very moment for as long as he can remember. Not wasting another second he slowly begins rising your shirt up your body and off your frame, tossing it to the side of the bed he lets his warm lips press feathery kisses along your skin, causing goosebumps to travel throughout your body with every kiss he placed on new piece of skin. You then feel the way his hand slips beneath you before feeling your bra loosen around your chest, then feeling the way he slowly removes it from you. Large hands cover your breast, emitting a low moan when he grips and massages them before allowing his mouth to wrap around one of your already hardened buds. A gasp once again escapes from you at the sensitive feeling.

Yet it soon fades when he averts his mouth from your breast to your lips, pecking them once, twice before letting you remove his own grey shirt from his frame. Your hands land gently against his toned chest, then letting them travel down his torso, watching the way his toned stomach flexes at your nails ghostly scraping against his skin. Your fingers land on his belt where they begin to undo it from its place. Once unbuckled, button and fly open, your eyes are locked on his when you slowly reach inside his pants, watching the way his lips turn to a firm line as a deep heavy sigh slips through his nose at your touch. Feeling the way his harden member slightly twitches when your rubs become firmer.

However, what emitted a broken grunt from the man hovering above you was when you let your fingers slip past his dark briefs to grip onto his thick heated shaft. A shuddered sigh escapes past his lips at the first tug you make, hazel eyes slightly disappearing behind those eyelids as he tries to keep his gaze on you with every stroke you give him. After the fourth tug he bends down to plant a kiss on your lips before pulling away from you to let his own hands undo your jeans. Once your shoes had been removed, your jeans were next, following your navy underwear, leaving you completely bare to him. You hear the way he sucks in a deep breath through his nose as he observes your naked frame, hands gently rubbing up and down your beautiful thighs.

“Ātaahua,” Karl whispers huskily under his breath, hazel eyes scanning your naked frame before locking them with your own,

Heat rises up your cheeks at the familiar word, yet before you can even decided on hiding from him he quickly bends down to peck your lips before rising once again to remove the remainder of his clothing. Now that his jeans and briefs were off him, leaving him bare to you, your eyes grow wide as you scan the rest of him.

Yeah you felt him a few seconds ago, knew he was thick from touch alone, but now, seeing it up close and personal you didn’t think he’d be that thick and.. big.

His member stood proudly in between his legs, pre-cum leaking beautifully and deliciously from his cherry tip. Veins visible underneath his shaft, looking like a fucking master piece and definitely causing your mouth to go dry from the sight alone.

“See something you like love?” He

responds above you, voice lower than usual, smirk proud on his lips as he stares down at you,

Speechless is what you we’re. No words were able to form nor spill out your mouth, so instead you glance up to meet his eyes, which were laced with lust as he towered over you. Even under the moon light shining brightly through his window, you can see just how much he craved you.

His smirk slowly fades away as he begins lowering himself where he latches his lips on yours once again. A soft moan vibrating through your lips as you feel the tip of his cock rubbing beautifully against your core, then a loud gasp filling the air between you two at the sudden feeling of firm fingers rubbing circles against that bundle of nerves. Causing your back to slightly rise off the bed with parted lips, which Karl immediately dives his warm tongue into your mouth, freely exploring your warmth.

“You are perfect,” He whispers against your lips, fingers still moving between your legs, collecting your wetness and spreading it along your mound before letting two fingers push past your folds,

Earning yet again another gasp and a moan from you. The feeling of his fingers slowly dragging in and out of your heated core has your eyes closing shut, breath picking its pace and grip on his shoulders tightening with every thrust of his hand. The moment he adds his thumb into the mix, it’s like a hurricane begins building at the pit of your stomach, your breath hitches in your throat when he speeds up his movements, your nails dig into his skin when the coil nears its end.

Once snapped, he didn’t even hesitate in pushing his aching member inside of you, nor did he warn you as he begins moving his hips into you. The feeling of his thickness stretching your walls with each pull he’d make only electrified your orgasm, nearly knocking the air from your lungs from how strong it had hit you.

“Fuck,” Karl groans at the sight of you; eyes tightly shut, mouth wide open with breathless moans slipping past those raw lips of yours, completely melting under his hold,

Something he hoped to see one day. And here you are, all for him and only him.

Once he had eased up with the slow thrust of his hips, letting you calm down and catch a breather for a few seconds, you signal him to keep going with a small nod which he complies with a much firmer thrust, earning a breathless gasp from you again.

“Aroha ahau ki a koe,” You hear him whisper breathlessly in your ear over and over with each thrust he sends you,

Causing the same tears of joy, relief, and love to slip down your cheeks from the amount of emotions your were feeling at the moment. The feeling of your second orgasm approaching quicker than you thought, the way those words repeated in your ear every so often, reminding you and showing you just how much he meant his feelings towards you. Showed you just how much he’s longed for you, with everything combining into one the emotions become too much that you couldn’t help the tears to slip out.

One hand gripping onto the back of his dark locks, you gently but firmly tug on his hair, just enough to slot your lips with his. Allowing them to mold into one once again. Breathless pants were shared between you too as you both neared your peak, which didn’t take long. With one slight maneuver from Karl, the new position gave him the opportunity to plumage his member deliciously against that spot, causing you to once again melt under his hold. Nails digging painfully but beautifully against his skin, leaving red marks along his broad back as he continues with his thrusts.

“Aroha ana ahau ki a koe,” Was all you needed to whisper back for Karl to reach the end of the line,

With a loud, choked groan, he slams his hips into you one last time before feeling his own orgasm overpowering him. Sending him in a blissful state. Strong arms shook before him as they prevented him from crushing you, breath coming out in quick choked puffs through his nose as he rode it off, grunts rumbling in his throat every so often until he’s calm down.

Slowly and gently, he guides himself out of you, earning a faint whimper to vibrate in your throat at the empty feeling then a chilled feeling to rush through your entire body when you feel the way his seed drips down your raw core.

After a second or two of gathering your breath and coming down from your high, you open your eyes only to see his own closed shut. Hands still plastered on the bed on either side of your head to keep him upright you watch him as he takes in deep steady breaths through his nose before exhaling. A short smile tugs on your lips as you watch him, observing the way his hair slightly falls down his face, sweat glistening beautifully against his skin, making him look absolute stunning. Even under the dim light.

With no words, you let your left hand reach up, letting your fingers run through his dark beard until they reach his slightly damped locks. The gentle massages that your fingers apply against his scalp has those hazel eyes of his to finally be on display. They held sweet love in them the longer they lingered on yours, then watch as a small smile tugs at the corner of his lip before letting one hand cradle your cheek, thumb gently rubbing against your skin.

Still smiling down at you with hazel orbs locked with your own he whispers, “Toku ao,”

Your brows slightly furrow at the unknown word, but a smile still tugged on the corner of your lips, “I don’t know that one,”

A faint chuckle fans your face. Hazel eyes not once leaving yours as he speaks once again, which not only widens your smile but also has your heart erupting from pure warmth and happiness with his next words.

“You’re my world,” Those beautiful hazel eyes of his that crinkle at the sides stare at you with so much love and light,

Bending down he closes the gap between you two, placing two long pecks on your lips before maneuvering himself to lay on his side where you are quick to cuddle right next to him. Your head on his chest, arm across his abdomen with one leg draped over his. You both stood awake for another ten minutes or so just talking about anything and everything, from sharing when exactly you both had realized one’s feelings to how was work to random topics really before finally falling asleep.

The way Karl would gently draw invisible shapes on your shoulder blades had you drifting away in matter of seconds, and the way your steady breathing would invade his ears Karl followed soon after. Leaving you both in a peaceful sleep while still holding onto each other.

Not once letting go, even when you both had moved during your sleep, neither one had slipped up. Karl knew this because around somewhere in the afternoon, his eyelids slowly open, the back of your head being his view. Hair surprisingly looking nicely combed and beautiful even through the night it had been through.

The thought of going back to sleep to get some more rest laid heavily behind his eyelids, but just as sleep would overtake him again the sound of banging on the door has him lifting his head from the pillows. Brows tightly furrowed as he wondered who can possibly be knocking at his door. Another rough bang against his door has him averting his eyes to your still sleeping frame, completely unaware of the intruding noise, showing him just how exhausted you must’ve been.

So with slow and careful moments he’s untangling himself from your hold before slowly climbing out of bed. Grabbing his briefs from the floor and slipping on some black sweats he quietly makes his way towards the door, where someone was determined in knocking down his door with those brutal knocks.

The moment he swings the door open and realizes who’s behind it, his face instantly changes from annoyance to anger. Standing outside his home with a dark grimace on their face was your ex. From what Karl can tell he hadn’t slept all night.

“Where is she?” He demands, hands quickly forming into fists at his sides,

“The fuckin’ nerve you’ve got comin’ here,” Karl snarls back, one hand gripping onto the door handle as the rage slowly boils in his veins,

“Where is she Urban?” The man tries again, taking a step forward as if to intimidate him, but what he didn’t know was with each step he took was only getting him closer to his own grave,

Karl scoffs, removing his hand from the doorknob to face him directly, “Not at your house that’s for sure,”

It was at that moment he’d realized where exactly you’d be. After taking in his appearance; no shirt, just sweats, hair completely a mess, all signs were clearly visible.

“You piece of shit,” He goes again taking another step but Karl took one step forward, stopping him in his tracks as he over towers him,

Hazel eyes looking directly at those slightly frightened blues of his.

“You never deserved her mate,” Karl claims, eyes turning firmer as he continues with, “Now how ‘bout you leg it, before I make you swallow your own fuckin’ teeth,”

The threat made a cold shiver run down Bryan’s back. He still displayed a firm look, hands balled into fists at his sides, but both men knew it was all a cover. Bryan truly didn’t know Karl and but he knew at that moment, this man would risk his entire career for you. Which not only frightened him but also worried him on the lengths he was willing to go for you.

So, with a weak attempt of displaying a tough look, he holds his glare until he turns around to walk away from the man’s front lawn. Karl watches him walk back to his car then watches him burn rubber like total asshole before finally walking back inside, realizing just how much rage was riding in his veins. His hands shook from the amount of anger he had and from the tight grip he kept to prevent him from lashing out, but with a deep inhale though his nose he makes his way back to his room.

Where you remained asleep.

Slowly and carefully to not wake you up, he climbs back into bed. The moment he settles on his side, you turn in your sleep, facing him directly, his grey sheets slightly slipping off your shoulder, revealing that beautiful skin of yours, revealing your gorgeous face.

Just by looking at you did it subside the anger he had. The effect that you had on him. It was also at that moment he realized just how madly in love he was with you, how he’ll do anything for you, protect you, love you, give you anything and everything in the world just to have that beautiful smile of yours on your face at all times. He promised himself and you, that last night will be the last night you cry in front of him, it will be the last time someone hurts you, he promised you he’ll always be there, your very own shinning armor protecting and guarding you till his very last breath.

He knew he wanted you in his life for the rest of his life, but he didn’t know he meant it the other way until the words softly slipped from his mouth, a part of him freaked at the sudden realization, but the more he thought about it the more he realizes just how truthful and right the words felt in his chest. He repeated it again in his head then as he brought his warm hazel eyes to your sleeping form, he lets them fall again as a promise.

“Ka marena ahau ki a koe,”

I’m going to marry you.

—————

-Went overboard with this one so… hope y’all liked it!

-Also if it feels rushed towards the end I sincerely apologize I was desperate to just finish this one and give it to y’all already.

-Another thing, I definitely do not speak Māori. So if anyone speaks it out there I deeply apologize if it’s not the right wording 😬😬

- Another, @butchers-girl hope it came out the way you requested, Ik you were constantly asking me how it was going and I appreciated it and I’m sorry I had you waiting this long but.. was definitely taking my time with this one to make it better. So again. Hope you liked this one and can’t wait to publish the rest of your requests! 🫶❤️❤️

- Lastly, MERRY CHRISTMAS PEEPS. LOVE EVERY SINGLE ONE OF YOU. ✨❤️

-Turn On Post Notifications!! 🔔 For More Updates!!

————

Word Bank:

Ātaahua: Beautiful.

Aroha ahau ki a koe: I love you.

Aroha ana ahau ki a koe: I love you too.

Toku ao: My World.

Ka marena ahau ki a koe: I’m going to marry you.

#karl urban #karl urban x reader #karl urban x ofc #Karl urban x you #the boys #the boys imagine #the boys tv #the boys x y/n #the boys x reader #the boys x you #billy butcher #billy butcher x y/n #billy butcher x ofc #billy butcher x you #billy butcher x reader #billy butcher smut

249 notes · View notes

everything2go · 4 months ago

Text

Chapter Four: Flirt, Fight, or Both?

Poison Ivy crossed her arms and leaned against the bar, staring at Willa like she was a particularly annoying weed. “And who exactly are you supposed to be?”

Willa placed a hand over her heart. “Wow. You wound me, Ivy. I thought we had something special.”

Harley snorted. “Red, I think she’s hittin’ on ya.”

“Obviously,” Ivy said dryly. “Which is why I’m debating whether I should strangle her with vines or let her embarrass herself more.”

“Ohh, kink talk already? I like where this is going.”

Ivy sighed and looked at Harley. “Why do I attract lunatics?”

“Eh, takes one ta know one, Red.”

Before Ivy could respond, the club doors burst open. Willa spun around, hands instinctively reaching for her swords, as a gang of masked thugs stormed in, guns drawn.

“EVERYONE DOWN!” one shouted. “THIS IS A ROBBERY!”

There was a moment of silence. Then Willa, Harley, and Ivy all burst out laughing.

The lead thug blinked. “Uh… what?”

“Buddy,” Willa said, wiping a tear. “You do know who you’re robbing, right? This is literally a supervillain bar.”

Harley was already cracking her knuckles. “You boys picked the wrong joint.”

Ivy sighed. “I was going to enjoy my drink.”

“Well, let’s get this over with, ladies.” Willa twirled her katanas and grinned under her mask. “Last one to finish their bad guys buys the next round.”

Harley whooped. “I LIKE YOU.”

And with that, chaos erupted.

---

The aftermath of the bar fight looked like an R-rated Looney Tunes episode. Bodies groaned on the floor, the walls were covered in bullet holes, and somehow, there was a man dangling from the chandelier with his pants missing.

“Okay, so technically that was self-defense,” Willa said, kicking over a guy who was trying to crawl away. “Right?”

Harley pouted. “Aww, I was havin’ fun.”

Ivy dusted off her hands. “Well, that was a waste of time.”

And that’s when the skylight above shattered.

Because, of course, it did.

Batman landed in the center of the room with the dramatic energy of someone who practiced brooding in the mirror.

Willa clapped. “Ooooh, 10/10 superhero landing. You practice that one?”

Batman ignored her, his glare sweeping the room. “What happened here?”

Harley grinned. “Nothin’! Just a little bar brawl, no biggie.”

Batman’s eyes narrowed. “I see twenty unconscious men.”

Ivy smirked. “And?”

His gaze landed on Willa. “And you.”

Willa put a hand to her chest. “Moi? Why, Bats, I am but a humble tourist in your fine, crime-ridden city.”

Batman growled. “You don’t belong here.”

She gasped. “You keep saying that! What, do I need a visa to be an agent of chaos?”

Batman stepped forward. “I don’t like killers in Gotham.”

Willa leaned in. “And yet, Joker’s still running around. Huh. Funny how that works.”

For a split second, Batman’s jaw tightened.

Bingo.

Before he could respond, his comm beeped. “Nightwing to B. Big breakout at Arkham. It’s bad.”

Batman took one last look at Willa, then turned and grappled away.

“…Did he just Batman away again?” Willa threw up her hands. “Rude! We were bonding!”

Ivy sighed. “Come on, Harley. Let’s get out of here.”

Harley giggled. “I dunno, Red. I kinda like her.”

Willa smirked. “Oh, we are gonna get along so well.”

And with that, Gotham’s newest headache strolled into the night, ready for whatever madness came next.

---

TO BE CONTINUED…

#batfam #dc comics #nightwing #red hood #red robin #robin #batman #deadpool #marvel #fanfic

20 notes · View notes

grizzly-bear-bane · 3 months ago

Text

WIP Wednesday - Yes, I'm back!

Arcane's got me so deep in my feelings, it brought me out of my years' long writer's block.

Jailbird - Young!Vander x Young!Silco

Summary: In this prison pit, Vander never wanted attachments and Silco is convinced he can handle himself. When Silco is put in Vander’s cell as his new cellmate, Vander knows that it is supposed to be as a reward to him for his fighting but doesn't know that it's a punishment to Silco for what he did to himself.

(from Chapter One: In the second month of his life sentence in the prison mines for murder, Vander is reflecting on the mistakes that brought him here when he gets a visitor)

When the rain did pick up, it followed Vander into his dreams, mixing with his memories like mud. It was bittersweet, how such a natural thing like rain could both wash away so much of the dirt and grime of the pit and yet drown Vander in his misery all the same, every time.

He was soaking wet under the downpour and the dim glow of lights outside of the Last Drop. It had already been a grueling day on the docks and the night wasn’t looking much better. It was foolish, he knew, getting plastered drunk at one bar just to stumble home to work at his family’s bar, but his folks would never let him drink this much of their own booze on the clock.

If only he’d just gone straight home to them. Instead he found himself deep in yet another drunken brawl with some rowdy patrons he’d had to toss out, catching the eyes of the enforcers on patrol. Perhaps he had actually hit one of them. Perhaps they’d seen some threat Vander hadn’t and had drawn their guns for that reason, but he’d never know now. All he knew was that his sister would have never come bursting through the doors… in her pretty gold and green dress and matching necklace with her violet hair braided with ribbons… and into that mess had he been where he was supposed to be, not out being a drunken menace clashing with trigger-happy enforcers who’d startled at the sound of her…

He was still drifting in and out of a light sleep when he first sensed that he was no longer alone in his cell. This cell whose key he’d fought hard for and guarded with his life for this very reason, so why—how—was someone else here?

It was dark when he cracked his eye open a sliver, his brow furrowing when he saw no one standing at the cell door but it was still slightly ajar.

Until the mattress by his feet dipped. He swung his leg, bringing his attacker down by surprise only to be as equally surprised when the person continued to roll themself right out of his grasp and onto the floor.

In the darkness with only the lamps from the outside corridor and the moon to lighten the shadows, Vander wasn’t sure who or what he was seeing. He’d felt a thin body in tight clothes for a split second and had nearly caught a fistful of too long hair before it had slipped through his fingers… Were there women in this prison somewhere? What possible reason could one be trying to kill him now?

He had no time for questions. His attacker was nearly to the door, a blade glinting in their hand. This was also new. So far no one had been bold enough to try to outright murder him. So close to the cell door, he could make out a face and form. A slim, sinewy body, petite, and a pretty face. Definitely pretty. Slipped loose from its knot, their hair was mused by the scuffle, but the voice was far too low for any woman.

“Easy, big boy,” that voice purred, with a deep richness and roughness that reminded him of a swig of whiskey after a long shift back home, but a little pitched with fear, still holding the blade out to stop Vander from charging. “I swear they never told me you would be this big or this fast. Otherwise, I wouldn’t be here.”

Vander echoed his panting, but wasn’t the slightest bit amused by any of this. “What the fuck are you talking about?”

“Oh, no need for alarm,” the man assured, putting the knife away in his boot. He waved his hand. “I don’t think they intended for you to be hurt at all, but rather anticipated that you would snap my neck and they would be done with me. Apologies. I’ll just see myself out.”

Vander launched forward, reaching over the frozen man’s head to catch the door before he could slip through. This close, he towered over him. This had to be a dream. He was obscured by the shadows, and by his dark hair covering some of his face, but those cheekbones, that high-arched and sharp nose, and those pouting lips, better suited for a brothel, not a prison… they were cut, healing from a couple mean hits that were too old to be Vander’s. He looked up at Vander with round puppy dog eyes that also had fading bruises from nasty hits, but underneath, Vander could see what he looked like when his face wasn’t a punching bag. In what world would a banged up twink be sent to come kill him and how the hell did he get down here?

In the low light, Vander could barely see the faded stripes under the patches on the trousers clinging to his slender legs. His t-shirt also looked to be a size too small, but the unbuttoned striped shirt over it was so oversized, the sleeves had to be rolled up. None of this made sense. None of this could be real.

The man took a breath and rolled his eyes, his voice softening in a way Vander didn’t like as he leaned his lithe, little weight against Vander’s side. “Tell me what I can do. Unlike being a hired killer, I am quite talented at making things like this up to men like you.”

Vander snorted, feeling his face flush. Definitely this was some kind of dream. Possibly from bad cigarettes. He stepped back to let the man pass. “You can get the hell out and make sure to tell whoever sent you to come in person next time.”

“Perfect.” He smiled with a wink, slipping through the gap. “Enjoy your evening.”

Vander meant to glare back at him, but the man was gone. “This fucking place.”

He searched for his smokes.

And searched more.

Emptied his pockets and shook out his pillow, even his boots before realizing, “That thieving little bitch.”

Silco only made it as far as he needed to be out of the lamplight before he collapsed as quietly as he could against the wall next to the cell. He held his breath, ready to run the second the man realized that his door was still unlocked, but as the minutes ticked by, no lumbering giant came barreling after him. He brushed his hair back, relieved.

For once.

He eased up the wall, a smoke from his newly acquired pack tucked between his lips ready for his lighter.

#vanco #young silco #young vander #zaundads #vander x silco #wip wednesday #young zaundads

16 notes · View notes

okdeedee · 2 years ago

Text

i have some more seven minutes in heaven with a pedro boy of choice as created/coined/prompted by @boliv-jenta, because i’m a goddamn comedian, and this is fun for me. thank you for thinking this idea up.

this is every pedro boy i have an opinion on:

javi p : 7 minutes pretending I have no idea who he is and treating him like your average joe, just so he gets a break from the incessant pablo escobar questions. i will however be unabashedly checking him out and complimenting whatever obscenely well tailored and bright button up shirt he has on that day.

marcus m: split the time in half. first 3.5mins? sorry i’m just gonna throw metal stuff at him (with consent) and test the magic metal powers. second 3.5mins? a little shoulder massage. he seems tense.

dave york: 7 minutes in Court Ordered Therapy. i don’t like him and i don’t like his hair. he gives me the heeby jeebies.

joel miller: i’ll be honest i’ve got 2 options. 1) sit on a porch and chill out with him and his guitar. serenade me, cowboy. i’ll serenade you right back.

or,,

2) do my level best to (with consent) give him life-changing-make-you-want-to-plan-a-future-with-me-level head. yeah. uh. next.

marcus p: let me at this man!!!! i want to play with his hair i want to be all curled up with him on a couch i’ll watch Casablanca! i’ll watch some movie from the 40s. do i like them? no! would i watch them all day (or in fact for 7 minutes) just to be in his presence? yes!

jack daniels deserves a nice one so here’s a nice one for him as well: 7 minutes at some near-empty bar in the early afternoon. maybe i steal his hat and put it on and maybe that holds implications. perhaps i am unwaveringly normal and complimentary and he’s taken aback by my lack of performance and abundance of genuineness and falls in love with me and ditches the whole arrogance and misogyny sort of act. i don’t know. just spitballing.

din djarin: 7 minutes to watch him train or absolutely decimate a group of ruffians in a brawl. i’d like him use his gadgets and his brute strength and proficiency. i’d start wanting to bite things. after? i’d give him orange slices or a cold washcloth or again, head,,,,. whatever he needs. i live to serve.

pero tovar: talking him through a 7 minute personal hygiene and skincare routine. i just have this feeling he’d really be into soap if he ever got the chance to use it. and then if there was time left over i’d re-do his eyeliner.

max phillips: i don’t much like him. think i’d follow him around with a UEBOOM playing various songs from the twilight soundtracks for 7 minutes. then get the hell out of dodge before he could ruin my life.

javi g: anything. i’d stare at him in that white singlet for 7 minutes. i’d let him wax poetic about nicolas cage. i’d go for a swim. i’m terrified of heights but i’d cliff-dive with him. i’ll let him talk me through the entire nicolas cage collection. hell, i’ll hang his laundry out to dry for 7 minutes. I just want to be in his presence. he’s my dream man. ugh.

ezra: since prospect was taken off netflix in my country and i haven’t been able to watch it in 2 years, ezra in my head is now more closely associated with either @oonajaeadira’s bookshop series or @frannyzooey’s in the dark

(this doubles as a shoutout to them for some gorgeous gorgeous writing in these series and in everything they do. i hope you don’t mind me tagging you in this!)

if we’re in bookshop? i’d like to coexist with ezra peacefully for 7 minutes. all domestic. surrounded by the smell of old books. talking about random things. maybe holding his hand and stroking the back of it with my thumb. something soft and loving. what a sweet and heartwarming series.

if we’re in in the dark i’m sorry, i would lean more towards getting absolutely railed into next week by him. god he’s hot. i’m not immune to a bit of an age gap and this one is done so well and so tastefully.

frankie morales: i think i’d enjoy spending seven minutes chatting with an alcoholic beverage while we’re grilling at the barbeque. so dad-coded of me, but maybe the sun is setting and it’s summer and it’s a taste of normalcy he hasn’t had in a while so it’s romantic. i like him. i like him a lot.

oberyn martell: i think i’d spontaneously combust in his presence. he’s just … wow. and ellaria is so gorgeous as well. I’m just one shy bisexual. i’d need the upper hand or at least to impress them. OK let’s set it that I’m like a travelling bard or something and I’ve come to Dorne. Therefore I’d sing for them. that’s my One Great Skill. and then they go oh nice! and i get a full time job just doing what bards do in Dorne. and maybe i am invited to their bed once in a while.

pedro across the street: forget apple originals - to me, PATS is from oonajaeadiras’ good things take time series. her work has a way of sticking in your brain. would love a 7minute non sexual massage from this one. my trapezius (?) muscles are rock hard.

surely that’s it. i feel like i’ve forgotten a big one. well. thanks for reading if you got this far.

peace out.

#pedro pascal character fanfiction #looked up the trapezius muscle after this and i was right #lesson: never doubt yourself

16 notes · View notes

sabraeal · 2 years ago

Text

Sic Semper Monstrum, Chapter 9

[Read on AO3]

Written for @sepalina's birthday, who deliberated for two days only to suddenly remember, oh yes right she has a favorite fic 🤣

That Seiran chick might have a princess’s pedigree around here, but there’s nothing dainty about the way she grips the metal bar at the end of each of their cots, twisting her wrists like she’s picturing flesh and bone rather than steel.

“You two have to be the biggest boneheads I have ever seen stuffed into a drive suit.” Her fingers clench, and Obi could swear the mental dints. “A bare knuckle brawl in the dome? At a time like this? Are you two insane?”

“Ah, well…” The Big Guy may have looked tough when Obi took him to the mats, a more solid anti-kaiju wall than anything the PDPC could toss into the Pacific, but he cringes just like any other mortal would when Kiki Seiran looms over him, all her disappointment honed to a point. “It wasn’t really a brawl. Just a…regulated spar, like usual—“

“Usual?” Her arms fold the way steel does into rebar, and oh, the princess is not amused. “Obi’s more bruise than bone.”

“Aw, Princess,” he croons, trying not to wince from the effort. “If you think this is bad, you should see the other guy.”

Her spine straightens, giving her all the extra inches she needs to give that glare of hers momentum, hitting him like a body off the Golden Gate hits the bay. “I can see the other guy. You’re both in the same infirmary, because you’re the same amount of stupid.”

“Actually, I’ve been wondering about the logic on that one.” He tilts his head, trying to go for that doleful dog stare that does wonders on sweet little nurses with hearts of gold. Too bad he’s got Yuzuri, who only wrenches his head back to the side, holding him still enough to swab when the skin’s split over his cheekbone. “Is this our— yikes, careful there, Florence— get along shirt or something? Two guys take some swings and you hope sticking us in a bottle sorts it out?”

“No,” she deadpans, taking a pen light out from the pocket of her scrubs. “I’m trying to quarantine the idiocy. You better be careful, Major” —she casts a long glance princess-side— “it might be catching.”

That regal mouth twitches, somewhere in the realm of amused. “Too late for me. No one ends up in a drive suit unless they’re born with it.”

“Ha, that’s for sure.” A light sears across his line of sight, leaving constellations in its wake. “As for you two, I didn’t see the point in sending you to your corners when you’re so friendly. Saves me space, and you can treat tonight like a sleepover. Braid each other’s hair and talk about cute boys.”

“Er…” How a big man like that can go through basic and still blush as easy as a school girl, Obi will never know, but it’s funny as hell. “I don’t really have opinions on cute boys…”

“Don’t worry, Big Guy,” he grunts, snuggling his shoulders into the pillows at his back. “I’ve got enough for both of us.”

That gets him a real side-eye from GI Joe, one that only ends when he swings those golden retriever eyes onto the real authority in this room. “Is there any way I get to go back to my bunk tonight?”

“Sorry, Major.” No matter what she says, Yuzuri’s shrug doesn’t give a single hint of regret. “Gotta keep you both on observation. SOP for rangers with head injuries. Last thing we need is for you guys to hare off and play hero just because you heard the dinner bell.”

He grimaces, all perfect teeth in a perfect face. Pity this guy fell into the military before someone could get him a magazine cover. Obi would have loved to hang that pin-up over his bunk. “Ah, right. That…makes sense.”

Of course it did. They might all be kaiju-fodder in the end, but they were the expensive, top shelf shit. The kind the PDPC wanted to stretch out as long as possible, not waste on some idiot who went into the drift concussed and had his brain melt right out his ears for the effort. Obi half surprised they haven’t been shoved into an MRI just to make sure.

“Aww, but you don’t really want to leave, do you, bestie? Not when we’re gonna have so much fun.” The target of his grin shifts from bed to bedside. “What do you think, Yuzuri? Think we could borrow some ManGo For It or Red Hot Rio?”

“I dunno,” she deadpans, not even looking up from her notes. “I think he’s more of Rosy Future guy.”

“Really? Still running your mouth?” Her Highness tosses her head, more pony than princess. “Did you not get beat bad enough?”

“What, this little mosquito bite?” Obi gives his jaw a good clench and turn, displaying his medal of honor at its best angle. Hurts like a bitch, but it’s worth it to see even Princess get squeamish. “Lucky shot. I got three hits for his one.”

Her mouth does that thing it does, that twitch, the one he’s starting to figure out is a laugh. “Yeah, and that’s all he needed to make you crumple like a tin can.”

“I already said I felt bad about that,” Big Guy grumbles, all folded in on himself like a teddy bear longing for a good squeeze. “I wasn’t trying to…well…”

“It’s okay, Superman, we all know you’re living in a world of cardboard.” Obi leans over, giving one of those meaty shoulders a good pat. Probably feels like a whisper to a man that stacked. “How can I blame you, when you were only defending milady’s honor—?”

Her weight shifts, no longer balanced parade-style between their cots, but sitting back in her hips, displeasure heavily implied. That man-sized mountain straightens so much it Obi can practically feel the plate tectonics beneath his palm.

“I was not!” Big puppy eyes swing right around to the ticking time bomb at the end of their beds. “I would never do that!”

One elegant eyebrow arches, and ah, now he can see why half the PDPC pisses itself when she punches the bag right off its chain. Most of the rangers the Academy rolls out are brawlers, the kind of guys that get in between a kaiju’s punch and the Pacific coastline, but this girl— her power’s in the application of force, the art of finessing a blow to where the bones can’t bear it. Can’t get into a brawl with a fighter like that and expect an old fashioned beatdown, oh no— when princess steps on the mats, she doesn’t fight, she dismantles.

Ha, and by the way she chucks her chin, all challenge, she knows it.

Now how about that. It’s a whisper in his ear, a hum across the million and one electric impulses in his brain, dangerous and fond. Remind you of anyone you know?

Knew, maybe. Bright blue smears over stark white when he closes his eyes; suits that stood out, even among halls that housed living legends. Eye-catching, the higher ups had called it, but it caught all the wrong eyes when it came to Sonisay. They all learned, of course; even now he hears the sickening crack of bone, sees the sweep of dark hair as she steps out of her spin—

Not just that. That laugh jangles his nerves, too close to his own and yet infinitely different, inimitable. Not just her.

There’s a boy too, too small, too skinny, too…not enough. Might as well be a shadow for how closely he clings to that same dance, to those same stances. Might as well be a monster for how easily the bones crack under his heels too, no remorse, no regrets—

A boy that shouldn’t exist. A boy that no longer does. Obi closes his eyes.

You can’t look away forever. Too many voices to count on that one. Watch me, only his reply.

“Let me make something clear.” Big Guy’s grunt grounds him, dragging him right back down to his bed, to the finger waggling at him. “Kiki doesn’t need me to fight her fights for her. If she wants to kick someone’s ass, she can make her own bodies.”

Ah, great. Got back just in time to witnessing Bloodbath Barbie over there desire Big Guy carnally. Not that he notices; oh no, the Jolly Marine Giant only has eyes for him, serious as a heart attack. Makes him want to mention that these rickety little med cots can’t handle two ranger pilots going at it, let alone three, but of course Yuzuri’s gotta make it a rain out.

“All right, all right, visiting hours are over,” she sighs, and oh, by Princess’s look, this is the first time someone’s tried to shoo Kiki Seiran out of anywhere. “These boys need some rest, not an audience. Just gonna rile ‘em up.”

This guy benches almost twice Obi’s weight, a monster of a man, but the second Yuzuri aims that scold his way, he’s all puppy. “But I wouldn’t—”

“You might behave, but he won’t.” She jerks a thumb back where Obi lounges, pointed. “And if he doesn’t want to play nice, he’ll find some way to drag you along with him.”

Sounds about right, hums a nuisance that has no right to throw stones. Not at this particular glass house, at least.

“Me?” Obi a presses a hand to his chest; harder to see it tremble that way. “Why, I was only going to take a small snooze. A cat nap, really. How could I—?”

“No sleeping!” Yuzuri glares at him, incredulous. “Didn’t I just say you could have a concussion?”

“Aww, come on,” he sighs, hooking his hands behind his head. “First no fighting, now no napping? What else are we supposed to get up to in here?”

Princess hangs in the gap of their curtain coverage, and oh, she may not smile, but that’s one masterclass of a grin. “Strenuous activity.”

“Kiki—!”

“None of that either!” With an officious wave of her hands, Yuzuri succeeds in doing what PDPC has failed to do for years: tell Kiki Seiran where to go. “Now, get. These two don’t need a bad influence.”

“Aww, c’mon, Flo! That’s no reason to shoo Princess out,” Obi whines now that his entertainment has sashayed right out of his evening. “I’m an even worse influence, so—”

“You don’t need to tell me,” she sniffs. “Now give it a rest. Or else I’ll call Shirayuki down here, and she can read you the riot act.”

There’s a time he might have laughed. Might even have let one shoulder and a wry eyebrow do the heavy lifting as he said, I’m sure the Good Doctor has better things to do with her time than worry about little old me.

But a week ago he woke up in one of these cots soaked in his own sweat, ears still ringing from a klaxon that never rang. At least, not in this dome, not that day; his stomach churning from the heady brew of trauma and military grade sedatives. He’d turned, half convinced he’d see either six bodies or and empty room, and instead—

It was her. Tiny ponytail and all, clumps of it making a bid for freedom from that poor excuse of an elastic. A borrowed one, all stretched out from trying to contain the fallout from Yuzuri’s nuclear-level event that she calls her hair, but it’s serviceable. Enough to bridge the gap between now and whenever Doc finally decides whether she’s gonna bite the bullet and grow it out again, or just chop the whole thing off.

That’s not the sort of stuff he knows about people. Not the sort of stuff he ever gets close enough to find out. But she was sitting right there, head tipped off the back of that chair, breath trembling the little flyaways splayed over her lips, and—

“Fine,” he sighs, settling back into his pillows. “I’ll play nice.”

Yuzuri snorts. “I won’t hold my breath.”

It’s when Big Guy lumbers out of their cozy little curtained love cave to go take a piss— or a shit; Obi might be nosy, but even he’s got his limits— that Yuzuri swoops back to his bedside, using his vitals as an excuse to say, “What the hell were you thinking anyway?”

None of her business. There’s a gruffness to that, a texture that implying barbed wire fencing with the prickly bits facing inside. Embarrassment, the kind a boy at the cusp of manhood couldn’t bear with any grace. Not that he had done all that well with other emotions either.

Could never bear being anything but the hero. A taunt, a snipe across the mess hall’s tables. Even in his head those two would never get along.

You can just admit it. Sonisay speaks the way silk would sting, if it could, a smooth stab with no mess left behind. A sliver beneath the fingernail, only noticed when it slips deeper. It’s not as if you were thinking of anything sexual.

Sure. There’s no need for the smile-like stretch over his synapses, too smug. But not from lack of trying.

He appreciates the honesty is the best policy shtick, especially from the girl who always spoke out both sides of her mouth as easy a breathing, but Obi settles on a nice neutral, “What?” instead.

Might earn him the sort of look that begs the question of just what is rattling around between his ears, but it’s better than having to explain that when he closes his eyes he sees red. Not spread out across his pillow or tangled in his fingers, but caught up in plain little hairpins, already slipping free.

“Are you kidding me?” Her gaze darts over the the empty bed beside his, pointed. Oh, so that’s what she’s asking about. “Did you somehow miss how big that man is? He could fit two of you between his shoulders!”

“Aww, Flo, he’s harmless.” Pain shoots up his cheek when he tries to grin, settling somewhere near his temple. Damn, that’s gonna put a real crimp in his game. “Big Guy’s a gentle giant.”

She stares at him. “Half your face is a bruise.”

Obi hasn’t had the pleasure of seeing himself in the mirror lately, but by the way one half of his face feels heavy enough to make him lean like a tower in Pisa, he doubts that’s an exaggeration. “He didn’t mean it though.”

“Doesn’t really make a difference to your capillaries whether he meant it or not.” One finger of hers brushes an eyebrow— yowch— and she scowls. “They’re broken all to shit anyway. God, you’re gonna be lucky if that smile of yours isn’t permanently lopsided from this.”

Already was, but she didn’t ask for his medical history. “I’ll be roguish.”

“You’ll be in PT, that’s what you’ll be.” She pulls back with a cluck of her tongue. “Lucky as hell that he didn’t break your orbital. Ugh, or your nose. That would have been a bitch to set. And your cheekbones—”

A cough, timid for how deep it is, rustles outside the curtain. “Sorry,” Big Guy starts, all doleful hound dog eyes as Yuzuri pulls them back. “I didn’t want to, er, eavesdrop, but…”

He’s smarter than to say, but you told us not to leave. Not to someone like Yuzuri, who’s already ruby red from the collar of her scrubs to her headband, ready to crack out of her shell like a crab left too long in the pot.

“You…I…” She slides out right around him, never once turning her back. “G-go. Lay down. Or something! Ugh!”

Big Guy blinks once at her back before swinging those hound eyes back to him. “Is she—?”

“Embarrassed,” he agrees. Yuzuri’s always happy to share her opinions, up until she get caught. “Big time. She’ll recover. But until then it’ll be your fault.”

“Oh…” He winces, though Obi can hardly tell if it’s from the thought of Yuzuri’s ill-wishes, or the kick he landed on his hip, making what should be an easy walk a bit of a hobble. “I am sorry about that, you know.”

That lantern jaw juts itself toward him, or more specifically, the shiner painted up one side. “This old thing? Don’t worry about it. Got worse from a mosquito.”

If Big Guy is impressed with his bravado, he’s got a funny way of showing it, looking all hangdog like that. “I just…I didn’t really mean to…”

Fuck you up is what the big guy can’t bring himself to say. It’s probably rude to tell him, I’ve had worse.

“No hard feelings, Major.” It’s half a laugh, half a groan as he hauls himself up his pillows, every muscle aching. “I did tell you not to go easy on me.”

A grimace is what he gets in reply, and a pained, “Still…”

The you didn’t know what you were getting into hangs in the air, heavy with implication. Like maybe he’s never fought a guy above his weight class. Like he’s never stood in front of a boy a third again his age, watching his knuckles crack beneath the cloth of his binds.

More like he doesn’t know how much he can mean it, a grim mouth huffs humorlessly. He will though. Give him a few months.

“Didn’t really expect you to try to kill me, though.” For a moment, he’s not quite sure who he’s talking to. He rubs at his jaw, pain scintillating beneath his palm, and, haah, yeah, he knows what fist laid a kiss on this cheek alright. “Damn, no wonder kaiju don’t walk away from you.”

“I wasn’t try to…” It’s funny watching a mountain hunch like that, shoulders riding up again his ears making him a whole range instead a single peak. “With someone who moves like you, there’s only two sure ways to win. I went with the one that relied on power. Wasn’t going to land many hits on you but had to make the ones I did count.”

“And then did too good a job.” That’s the thing with having a body that shares more in common with a jaeger’s chassis than human flesh; the fall back option is to just do everything more and harder. Obi had met more than a few men like that in his time, but none of them so friendly. “I gotta admit though, Big Guy, you got me curious. What’s the other way?”

Big lungs heave big sighs, and oh, this one feels like it could take a few trees with it before he settles back against the headboard. “Tire you out. Quick guys typically don’t have a lot of stamina when things drag on, so—”

“All right, all right, don’t let the ladies hear that one.” Or most of the men while he’s at it, even if Obi’s personal tastes tend more toward the techs tending the tin cans than the bodies they throw in them. “Don’t want anyone to get the idea that I can’t keep up off the mat either.”

That won’t be much of a problem. It’s rare to hear advice from that corner of his mind, but Buma’s habit always was to watch first and speak too late. Not with all the training you’ve done outside—

That’s Need To Know only. Obi casts a long glance over where giant feet nearly hang off the mattress. And I don’t think the Major needs to know.

“Anyways,” he huffs, the sort of quiet career boys get when they’re shy. “Sorry.”

“Aw, c’mon, Big Guy. I asked you to bring me a fight and you did! I’m hardly gonna blame you for that.” He turns his head, grinning at him across the poor excuse for a bedside table. “Besides, now I know what it’s like.”

Those puppy eyes blink, too innocent for a guy who could break him in half by breathing. “Hm? Do you mean—?”

His eyebrows lift —well, one of them tries to— enticingly. The wince probably doesn’t do him any favors. “Kissing your girlfriend’s ex-boyfriend.”

Oh, it’s a real treat to see a lantern jaw drop so hard it nearly shatters. Too bad Princess isn’t here to enjoy it. “What?”

“You know…” His fingers weave through some hazy dips and lazy dives. “I can see what was good between you and High Highness, or whatever. The way you’d could compensate for each other in the drift. But you and me” — his hand flicks between them— “we don’t fit.”

“Oh.” It’s a pleasure to watch his mouth wrap around that noise, to see him really wrangle with the meat of what his meaning. “Yeah. I get it. I think.”

“I mean, for one thing,” Obi says, so casual. “We’re both bottoms.”

“Come again?”

“Kidding, kidding.” Kind of, Sonisay hums, and oh, he could swear he feels that forked tongue flickering where she coils in his mind. I doubt he’d complain if that blonde woman took it into her head to—

Hey. Maybe if he had a mirror, he could give himself a warning look, the kind Doc was always giving him right before he took a joke too far. But instead he had to settle for just thinking louder, like trying to shout over a crowded bar. I still gotta talk to this guy with a straight face for the next twenty-four hours.

Sounds like, that too-familiar voice hums, a real personal problem.

It’s too bad Major Do-Right over there can’t hear the speculation of the peanut gallery; then he might no be so quick to let relief bring those shoulders relax, to settle back into those pillows with a sigh that speaks of a light conscience. What did Yuzuri say? If Obi doesn’t want to behave, he’ll drag you down with him…?

Well, he hates to disappoint.

“Or am I?” The cot nearly cracks down the middle from how fast the Big Guy turns on it, sputtering. Obi just tosses him a wink. “Don’t worry, Big Guy. I’m not the kind of girl who likes to kiss and tell.”

For all that their lovely nurse devotedly frets over the potential stupors they could slip into with even the slightest bit of shut eye, or sometimes even something like getting up too fast or breathing too easy, she’s sure eager to encourage them to piss all by their lonesomes one she’s sure they can make the walk.

“What, this doesn’t get you going?” Obi asks, peeking around the door. “I hear some people really get into—”

“I hear some people really don’t get jello at dinner,” she replies, shoving him bodily through the crack. “Wanna see if you’re one of them?”

“What if the stream’s too strong and I get vertigo?” He winces, hearing all those words echo in so small a space, but it’s worth it for the noise she makes outside the door. “What if I crack my head on the floor and get a double concussion?”

“Then at least you’ll be quiet.”

There’s a slam— a door. Not this one, the particle board so paper thin Big Guy could probably sneeze it off its hinges; but the heavier infirmary door, one meant to withstand a mortar shell, maybe even nuclear blast— but Obi doesn’t bother to bite back his grin. Maybe if he’s lucky, she’s run into Suzu on the way to the commissary and give him a full run down of all the ways she could make Obi’s death look like an accident. Some real romantic talk to keep a nerd warm at night.

With shake and a wriggle— how Big Guy managed to move around in here when his elbows keep cracking into the tile, Obi’ll never know— he wraps up his business, sauntering straight out onto the infirmary floor. With no kaiju to keep the place hopping, it’s dark, the only light coming from the lamp angled over Yuzuri’s desk, and from behind their ring of curtains. A nice way to find his way back; or at least it would be if he didn’t already count two shadows there: one hitched up on the bed, shoulder big enough to overflow the outline of the pillows, and the other—

The other’s standing, tall enough to make Big Guy seem normal sized, and radiating authority the same way the sirens do danger.

Ah, fuck. It’s the Marshal. Hide, a cacophony of whispers hiss, which— he’d love to, if there was a single goddamn place to do it.

“I take it this isn’t a social call.” Big Guy doesn’t have a deep voice, not the way the circumference of his chest would suggest, but he’s pitched it low now. Still too much to be contained by a curtain, though.

The Marshal cocks his head, wry. “Would you believe me if I said, ‘yes?’”

There’s a hesitation, a huff that might be something like humor. “No.”

“Then let’s not waste time pretending.” It might be a trick of the acoustics in this room, a little reverb on that tinny echo, but Obi could swear His Majesty sounds amused. “I’ve heard you’ve quite the rapport with our new ranger.”

Oh, hell. As if this isn’t the cherry on top of his shit sundae: not only is he stuck, standing right out in the open as the top brass talks Top Secret, he’s the topic they’re having tea over.

“News travels fast.”

“Danger of living in one of these little warrens.” The Marshal shrugs. “Rats like to chatter.”

Air hisses between Big Guy’s teeth, the way it did right before he threw his haymaker. “Not a lot of people eager to be on the wrong side of the mat from him. Not after the way he and Zen went at it the last time.”

“So you…what?” It’s uncanny how even the Marshal can make his voice; no inflection, no judgment, no answers. “Thought you’d help him keep his edge?”

“He asked.” There’s a rustle, a creak, and even though he can’t see it, he knows mountains are moving to make that shrug. “Not like I’ve got much to be afraid of.”

If one half of his face didn’t feel as ginger as the oldest wicker chair on some grandma’s patio, Obi might take some offense to that. That’s what you get for being so scrawny, a gruff voice scrapes over his ear, everyone underestimates you.

That, hums another, too pleased, is kind of the point.

“Good.” There’s something final in the way the Marshal says it, less like an observation, and more like an assessment. A test passed with much anticipated flying colors. “Keep doing that.”

Obi could cut the consternation in this room with a knife. “Excuse me, sir?”

“Was I not clear?” His Majesty’s tone conveys his confidence that he was. Maybe even too much so. “I’d like you to pursue this…relationship with our new colleague. Foster this tentative trust you have managed to build.”

Ha. Obi’s heart stutter hard enough— loud enough— that even the peanut gallery keeps their opinions to themselves. He should have known something like this would happen; sure, all the paperwork calls Hachimaru a failure, one that should have never flopped its way out of dry dock, but to someone like Izana Wisteria, well—

He’s got a reputation for ruthlessness for a reason. Enough of one that it escaped containment, slipping past the PDPC’s iron curtain of silence to spread around the streets of Sitka. Buildin’ a wall to keep the monsters out, one of the wallmen had chuckled over his pint, but no matter how high we do it, that one will still be in here.

Obi might have called that unfair, once. Sure, His Majesty wasn’t exactly a friendly guy, at least not with the rank and file, though there were magazines enough that showed him being chummy with the higher ups, but, well— pedigree might have put him in a pod, but it wouldn’t have pulled him a position so high above it. No, that only went to the corps' top minds, the ones who knew what it took out there to take your lumps and drag your metal coffin home. The ones who understood what they were asking when they dumped two men out into the Pacific and asked them to stop a natural disaster or die trying.

But if that guy is gonna meddle in his business like this, well, maybe once they finish building that wall, they can dump him over it. Lets the monsters sort it out between themselves. Knowing the Marshal, he’d still find a way to come out on—

“No.”

“No?” The way the Marshal wraps his mouth around the word sends shivers up his arms.

“I can’t do that. I mean, I won’t.” Big Guy snorts, like there’s a stench in the air he can’t quite get rid of. “I’d do a lot for you, sir, I would. Take a bullet. Die for the cause. But I’m not going to…to manipulate that man back into a jaeger for you. Not like this.”

A breath catches in Obi’s throat, nearly choking him. Big Guy’s got a heart of gold, but he can’t possibly be stupid enough to— to—

“Well well.” To his utter surprise, the Marshal laughs. “Good thing that’s not what I’m asking.”

Big Guy grunts. “Isn’t it?”

“If you couldn’t manage to convince my brother into the cockpit, I doubt you’ll have much luck with a man you barely know.” For how casually it’s said, there’s a bite to it, each word honed to sting. “I only meant that he’s not responding to the typically recommended course of therapy.”

Right. Because after that one session with Doc post-drift, all his peanut gallery clamoring to have their turn now that cat had clawed its way out of the bag, he hadn’t been able to drag himself back. And with all the dinners and hallway-run ins they’ve had since, Doc didn’t seem eager to sit him back down on her couch any time soon either.

“But he seems responsive to you, Major Lowen.” Or at least responsive to getting his shit kicked in, whatever that said about him. “Rangers are typically taciturn about their issues. I thought this route might be worth encouraging, since he seems amenable. Sometimes it’s easier for military men to discuss their problems with someone who has gone through the same ones. Especially” —Obi doesn’t need to see his smirk to know it’s there— “if they’re with the same person.”

Obi might not have stuck around under his dome once the dust settled, but he knew all about guys like Lowen. The regulation haircut, the closet full of BDUs, the fondness for field rations and boiled chicken— just a thin veneer of muscle and bravado over a reflex to ‘sir, yes, sir’ his way out of any problem more complex than picking which socks to put on in the morning. He might have stuck his neck out for something that twinged the weather vane that was his moral compass, but now that someone with stars and bars has explained to him that black is white, he’ll—

“That all?” Big Guy’s too nice to spit out the “sir?” but that little hitch before it, that small hesitation— well, sky writing would have been more subtle.

“Yes.” There’s no tone to that one either, no flavor. Just the implacable bite of subzero. “Unless, of course, there’s something you’d like to discuss?”

There shouldn’t be, his tone conveys, clear enough it could be heard in the hangar. Obi could swear he hears Big Guy’s teeth grind from here.

There’s a long stretch of silence, the kind that makes his skin itch.

“Just one thing, actually. Sir.” The bed creaks, and his shadow shifts, pulling straight. “Been noticing there’s a lot of hopefuls hanging around the past few months. Thought they might be clearing out now that all this business with Tyrannis is done.”

The Marshal hums, distant. “There’s hardly any rush, Major. A few sets of extra hands is always welcome.”

“Even when they don’t come with their own ride?”

For once, His Majesty hesitates. “Even then.”

“Even” —Big Guy almost savors his next words— “if they’re Hisame Lugis?”

“Dangerous times makes strange bedfellows.” The Marshal laughs, sour. “Especially ones like Hisame Lugis. Now if you don’t mind” — the curtain pulls aside— “I think our friend might like to use his bed. Isn't that right, Major?”

Ha, a voice tingles in his ear, busted.

#obiyuki #akagami no shirayukihime #snow white with the red hair #pacific rim au #my fic #ans #there is something about this arc in this fic where i keep thinking i'll never have enough words #and then I get there and I have to move like at least one or two major scenes to another chapter #and POV!#but this one was less of a surprised because all of the peanut gallery was added in on the second draft #which changed a LOT of Obi's narration #and made him more introspective than I usually keep him #I think next chap is a Shirayuki chap #and is possibly more shippy. BUT WE WILL SEE

15 notes · View notes

theodoradevlin · 1 year ago

Text

Theo's head is buzzing happily for two reasons

She's nearly half pissed with all the firewhisky coursing through her body.

There's a tingle of something pleasant on her forehead, and she is delighted to find a pair of shiny, new, growing horns. Or were they antlers?

As Theo reaches up to touch whatever Sebastian has just hexed her with, she means to be angry. She really wants to be. And yet…. She lets out a giddy laugh.

The antlers make her feel…. excited. So excited, in fact…that IF it was an attempt to satisfy her antler fixation, it had failed poorly because all it did now was make her greedy for more.

And more was….the big boys.

The ruckus of the full out brawl below barely registers to her, because all she has in her eye-line is the sight of her beloved and the most beautiful pair of antlers of all, shining majestically on the wall.

She hears the increasingly Scottish shouts from Sebastian, just as she hears the absolute unhinged laughter from Monty. But it was child’s play compared to what was on her agenda.

And anyway, if she did need to get down there to break up the fight..she knew what the quickest way down was.

And besides, what were friends for besides a very fun unsolicited trust fall? She wasn’t one to shy away from a leap of faith.

It was now or never.

She backs up before moving her body at a sprint, hurling herself over the bannister in a surprisingly deft movement. For a split second there is just air, and perhaps a curse from one of her friends below.

But she reaches, hands somehow finding the chain of the chandelier a she hangs for a moment before her feet find some type of grounding on its wooden spokes.

The wooden structure creaks as it spins with her weight, much like the wheel it looks like, and she cries in disbelief to find that she is not a flattened Hufflepuff….yet.

She almost wants to look down to her friends, but she can’t let anything stop her know.

She flexes her arms to lift upwards, using her weight and the tug of the chain to spin the chandelier into motion. It takes a quarter turn, and she doesn’t hesitate before launching herself again.

Perhaps Sebastian should have made her a flying squirrel instead.

There’s a minute she’s not sure if she’s going to make it. Was this all for naught?! Was she going to need to be mopped up with the rest of the mess of the bar? But her arms kept reaching outwards, fingers stretching...

Willing. It. Into. Existence.

Her body strains. Reaching, reaching. AND THEN….then her breath leaves her body as she slams into the wall, her hands making contact with the antlers. She lets out an exclamation of euphoria, despite herself, and for a moment she only hangs there. But she needs to move fast. There would be time for antler cuddles later.

She heaves herself up, and then with all the body weight she can throw, she tugs down on them HARD.

With a deafening groan, the antlers, and Theo, fall to the pit below where she lands ungracefully right on her behind. She crashes right next to where Monty is also laying, currently stuffed with a shirt in his mouth.

She looks over to him, with a crazy smile, not minding the bruises that are surely forming as she does. He’s so shocked he spits out the dirtied shirt. Theo glares. Nope. Not today Satan.

Before he can say anything else she shoves it RIGHT back into his mouth, groaning to right herself up with the prize held tightly in both of her hands.

Eyes alight with victory, she takes one quick look at Seb with a cheeky lick to the antlers. She didn’t have to explain it’s meaning.

They were certainly hers now.

She turns to hold the prize up, facing Allegra and Wren and Will.

“Might not have been a win for you tonight Montrose, but at least one of us is coming out on top.” She gives a cheeky wink and Montrose just glares at her and closes his eyes. Game over.

She can barely take her eyes off of her prize as she looks back towards Will and says:

“Good luck. He's your responsibility now...”

Theo already has her beloved after all.

@ask-elland-n-will @ask-andrew-montrose @ask-wren-zhang @adallegra @ask-sebastian

A Badger, a Snake, and an Eagle Walk Into a Bar

Theo was in the business of chaos this weekend, rather more so than usual. After all, when she was in such colorful company ...how would that not be the case?

She finds @adallegra and @ask-wren-zhang waiting for her by the North Exit, deciding to not announce herself but tackle them both from behind.

"Evening, duckies. Shall we?"

She loops her arms in both of theirs, linking them all with a tug towards Hogsmeade. The night air is cool and clear, much unlike their intentions for the weekend. She knew they had all been entirely too cooped up in the castle recently, and her professional opinion was that letting a little steam out seemed to be the best remedy.

Walking into the fine establishment of the Three Broomsticks was always like walking into a warm hug that may end up setting you on your behind by the end of the night, but was a welcome sight all the same.

The fire was roaring, there was a band already playing in the corner, and it looked like Sirona was behind the bar for the time being. The night was off to a good start with the conversations of various witches and wizards already starting to pick up in a cheery buzz.

Theo looks to Allegra and Wren, with one simple declaration to start.

"First round's on me!"

#THEO x ANTLERS #THEO WINS #MY ANTLERS #MINE #BEAUTIFUL #PRECIOUS #MY PRECIOUS #Spotify

68 notes · View notes

immajustvibehere · 2 years ago

Text

Spark (5/8)

Arthur Morgan x fem!Reader - Enemies to Lovers

Chapter 5 summary: You get injured in a bar fight and quickly need someone's help. Arthur seems to be the only one available.

warnings: scars, wounds, needles, talk about abuse

link to my masterlist

first chapter, second chapter, third chapter, fourth chapter

3300 words, 17 minutes reading time

To say that Arthur and you had become best friends was a bit of a stretch, but your bickering had become teasing banter by now.

It didn't take long until the gang had settled in at Clemens’s Point. Two weeks after the move, a handful of you decided to head for the saloon. Since the initial phase of setting up camp and finding a new role to play in this part of the country had ended, most of you just wanted to unwind for the night. Sean and Lenny had gone ahead and most of you joked that you'd find them shit-faced by the time you'd arrive. And sure enough, as soon as Arthur, Micah, Bill, Karen and you entered the saloon, you saw the two boys giggling at a table with some women.

All of you were having a good time. Time passed quickly and the group split up after drinking a couple of rounds together. Arthur had gone upstairs to ‘waste some money’ (as Micah had mocked him) playing Blackjack, Karen left with some fella, and you were stuck with Sean, who was talking nonsense. After a couple more shots, the smell of sweat and strong whiskey stopped to bother you, you were in for a fun night. The later the hour, the fuller the saloon. The floor was covered with the red dust from the street and the mood improved tremendously when someone started to play the piano.

Arthur had downed a couple of bottles of beer, filling him with reckless courage. It was just enough to feel tipsy and be braver when it came to betting on the Blackjack table, not enough to be a complete fool but make somewhat decent decisions. The last time he had seen you and the rest of the company, you were at the bar, drinking and laughing. He didn't know that by now, you were there alone, fighting off man by man that dared to make crude advances towards you.

"Care for a dance, Miss?", the man was suddenly so close, you almost jumped. He reeked of alcohol and his shirt was stained with bits of food and drink.

"I'm good thanks", you replied briefly, an annoyed tone in your voice. He would run off as quickly as the others, you thought, but you were wrong.

"C'mon I ain't asking for much", suddenly his sweaty hand was on your arm and as he attempted to pull you closer to some free dancing floor in the middle of the saloon. You kicked him strong enough to loosen the grip. The heat had become stifling and though your judgement was clouded, you felt the tension in the air. The movements in the saloon, the coughs, the cigarette smoke... You were drunk, a bit too drunk for that sort of confrontation.

"Get your crusty hands off of me!", you yelled. And already, you had a small group forming around you. They knew that this was going to become a fight.

"Why-", the man started with a grin, ready to drop a snarky remark.

"'cause I'll cut your damn balls off if you touch me again!", and because you let your hand hover over your knife, out of habit and sense of protection, your opponent saw it as an invitation and pulled out his hunting knife before you even had a chance to calm the situation. Not that you would have wanted to. You were boiling with rage by now.

Someone shoved you closer to your opponent and in the blink of an eye, the brawl was on. You were still fumbling for your knife when you had to dodge the first attack. As if being drunk didn't make it hard enough, the other bystanders weren’t content with just watching and cheering. You were constantly pushed by mostly drunk men in boots and sweaty shirts, who found it exhilarating to see two people fight for their lives. Hell - seeing a woman fight.

After he had landed a punch in your face, your focus was shattered and replaced by white-hot rage. It was only a matter of pure instinct, of fighting to survive. You stumbled backwards, still lashing out with your fist and knife as if for some reason you were hoping to do any damage that way. Your vision kept going black and you slipped on the dirty floor. Flashes of colour and movement intermingled with the cheering crowd and your screaming.

You couldn't tell how long it kept going, but you knew it was over when you felt something slice through your abdomen. Then, all of a sudden, you crouched on the floor face down and had to work hard to sit up. Not much time could have passed because...? You weren't sure. Nobody pretended like there was a fight anymore, but when your hand felt for the wet fabric of your shirt that was bothering you, it only felt slick blood.

"Shit...", as your eyes roamed the saloon, you found no familiar faces. You heaved yourself up the stairs in the hope of finding the only man who you knew was somewhat capable of helping you. You released a shaky breath as you saw Arthur's hat. He had his back turned towards you as he still sat at the Blackjack table. With all the strength you could muster, you stood up and stumbled closer.

"Morgan?", you tried to sound firm, but at this point you were fighting against losing consciousness.

"Not now. I got a good hand", Arthur stared down at his Blackjack in front of him, impatiently waiting for the rest of the players to make their moves, betting on the chance that he would be the only one with a blackjack in this round.

"Arthur-", you tried again, but he ignored you. It was only when the dealer halted to look at you that Arthur turned around, pissed for the intrusion.

"I said: Not now god damnit!", Arthur had barely finished scolding you when his eyes got big at the blood soaking your shirt at your side. Then he scrambled to his feet, as if someone had poked him with a hot iron.

"What happened?", he asked, approaching you quickly.

"I lost a fight", you grunted.

Arthur carefully peeled your hand away from the wound to assess the damage: "We gotta get ya to a doctor."

"No! No doctor."

"That wasn't a suggestion, y/n", Arthur stated firmly.

"Please", you whined, "You can manage that, can't you?"

Arthur looked you up and down before he offered an arm for support and led you down the stairs: "Where are the others? Where's Karen?"

"Went off a while ago."

"Micah?"

"I have no fucking clue."

"Len-", Arthur started but you interrupted him by yelling, "I don't fucking know!"

"Christ, calm down woman", Arthur demanded in a harsh tone. He was stressed. He would have much preferred to have Miss Grimshaw here to look after you. Suddenly, your vision went black and you missed the last step of the flight of stairs. Arthur was there to catch you and quickly picked you up into his arms. At this point, you were too weak to protest.

Arthur hurried to the bar.

"Got a free room?"

He felt his blood pressure rise as he watched the bartender lazily scanning his book for a free register.

"2b", he finally said, and Arthur released his breath, "But if you get it dirty you pay the cleaning fee!"

"Sure", Arthur mumbled with his back already turned towards the bartender and hurrying off to the room.

"Have you got something on you to stitch you up? Some first aid kit?", Arthur asked while he struggled to open the door to the room with you in his arms.

You only shook your head.

"What? Not even on your horse?!", Arthur seemed perplexed at you confession. He lowered you onto the bed, surprisingly carefully.

"No", you grunted. You rested on your side with the deep cut on top to give Arthur better access. Your hands were still clutching the wound through the shirt.

"Why?!", Arthur asked befuddled. If he asked stupid questions to annoy or play with you - you weren't having it. You fought for your dear life to not pass out. The truth was, Arthur was just damn apprehensive. Helplessly and distressed he looked around in the room before he took a breath and squatted next to the bed.

"'mkay let me have a proper look at it", he mumbled with a sigh. You felt like you couldn't move at all, but the man seemed to understand and carefully peeled your hands off, squeezing them lightly as he placed them where they wouldn't be in the way. Then he lifted your shirt, rolling it up high enough to have a good look at the wound.

You watched him in the corner of your eye, trying hard to make sense of his expression.

"I'll get the med kit from my horse", Arthur explained calmly, a concentrated and cold expression on his face. A whimper made him halt in the process of standing up.

Arthur wasn't sure if you had said something, but he thought he had seen your lips move.

"What?", he asked, looking down at you.

"Don't leave", you whispered in a shaky voice.

There was nobody in the world that could have convinced you that Arthur was going to come back. No, getting the med kit from his horse surely was an excuse to leave, to leave you here to slowly bleed out. Because if you were being honest, why should he help you? Nobody had ever helped you just for the sake of it.

Arthur thought that he had never seen you so pathetic. He had never dreamed about seeing you this desperate,...this dependent.

"You want me to stitch you up or not?", Arthur asked.

"You aren't coming back", you complained, totally sure of it.

"You might deserve to be left bleeding out, but that doesn't mean I'll let that happen", Arthur teased. When he saw you were in no constitution to take a joke, he went on: "I'm jus' joking...I'll be back before you count to twenty."

And with that said, he hurried out of the room. You closed your eyes, still not convinced that he'd be back...but you weren't sure if you had passed out for a minute or if you had just blinked real slowly, but when you opened your eyes again, Arthur was right there in front of you, moving and shoving your body to get you into a good position.

"Ya can't read, can't count. Hell, I'm wondering if ya have something in that brain of yours worth savin’", Arthur smirked when he finally had you the position he needed you.

Though his words were harsh and teasing, he didn't handle you like that at all. When he cut open the shirt that was covering parts of your wound, he was nothing but gentle, careful to not have his cold blade touch your skin or yank on your shirt. With half-lidded eyes you watched as he went to wash his hands in the little water bowl on the table and then soaked a towel fresh in alcohol.

"This gonna hurt a little. Won't be the worst part, though", Arthur warned before he started to clean your wound. You answered with some painful huffs. When you groaned as he poured some alcohol on it, staining the already red coloured bed sheet he mumbled a: "Don't start enjoyin' this too much."

You grinded your teeth, hissing: "Like I want your dirty hands on me!"

"I can always stop if ya'd prefer that, Missy", he said, briefly stopping his actions, though the burn of the alcohol still lingered.

"Fuck you, Morgan", you groaned.

"Besides, my hands are now cleaner than I've ever seen yours so why don't ya shut up", Arthur stated, concentrating on getting the needle and thread out.

He had a point. Your hands were dirty most of the time, but not because you didn't wash them. Because you were hard working. As soon as you had gutted an animal for Pearson, you'd be called to search for herbs around camp. Then you played with Jack in the mud and later cared for your horse’s coat. Admittedly, your hands were in a particularly rough state at the moment. Bloody from holding your stomach and bruised from hitting your opponent. For a brief second you wondered how he had ended up and if you had caused some damage.

Arthur's hands were...warm, you noticed. One of his hands rested on your hip to keep you steady, though you hadn't moved in a while, the other one held the needle. There was no reason for his hand resting there, it just did. It grounded you. It made your breathing calm down. And besides the pain and anxiety being overwhelming, you still felt it.

"Listen, I'm gonna start now. Uhm- you got a bandana on you?", he asked as he scanned your clothes, finding none. You managed to shake your head weakly.

Arthur put down the needle. Then you felt his hand leave your body, what remained was a warm spot on your skin that quickly cooled down. You watched as Arthur took the bandana off which had been around your neck.

"Ya need something to bite on", Arthur explained and makes a little ball of the fabric.

"As if I'm not suffering enough, now I gotta choke on your sweat too", you whispered complainingly.

"Trust me, it's better than biting your lip...", Arthur considered for a second. Your lip was already fucked up, apparently the gentleman you were fighting with had landed a good blow, but he chose to ignore that: "Don't ya worry, I'm not thrilled about you drooling all over it too."

And with that you opened your mouth willingly for him to place the bandana in, still lying on your hands.

"This gonna hurt but ya keep still", Arthur stated matter-of factly. If Arthur had felt the effects of the alcohol while he was spending money gambling, he felt more than sober now. All of his skill and concentration was required, and he was relived his body was doing its part to make that happen when he finally poked the needle through your skin.

The pain was excruciating, a white-hot agony that seemed to spread from the wound to every nerve in your body. As the needle pierced your skin, you were glad you had some fabric between your teeth or you would have surely gritted them hard enough to make them shatter.

You were only half-conscious, the whiskey you'd been drinking earlier seemed to have left you completely, doing little to dull the pain. You felt the blood trickling down your skin, your sweat that poured off your forehead blurring your vision even more than the pain already did.

All you heard was Arthur. You couldn't make out a single word he was saying. Your mind blurred everything around you. But you understood his gentle tone. His hands moved swiftly and carefully. When you dared to look down, you saw them working with precision, as if he had done it a hundred times before. And he probably had.

"Ya know yer damn stupid for not having at least some bandages on you", suddenly his voice wasn't that gentle anymore, and suddenly your mind decided to let you understand him again.

"Why would ya do that? You know in this line of work...", Arthur went on and looked at you for a moment while you were glaring back at him. His eyes were telling a whole god damn story, a story you were to knocked out to decipher.

"You look like shit", he said friendly. He knew you couldn't talk back, you couldn't fight back, hell, you wouldn't even complain because he was in the process of saving your life. You threw your head back in protest, rolling your eyes as another piercing pain spread through your body.

It was a slow and painstaking process, each stitch feeling like an eternity of agony. You could feel yourself slipping away, the edges of your vision turning black as your body tried to escape the pain. And then you felt a hand lightly slapping your cheek.

"I'd like that back", Arthur murmured as he waited for you to open your mouth more so he could pull the bandana out. When he held it between two fingers, you smiled tiredly. Him complaining about your saliva while his hands were covered in your blood was somewhat ironic, enough to make your lips curl into a smile. Then suddenly, your face dropped.

"I don't want to die", you whispered hoarsely.

"I'm afraid you'll make it", Arthur answered. He takes a wet but clean end of the towel to gently wipe your face, cleaning it from sweat and blood.

"Yer an idiot for going around and starting fights you can't win", Arthur said as he stood up to wash his hands.

"Well I thought I'd win", you answered weakly. Breathing out and feeling the pain it caused in your abdomen.

"I always knew you had a terrible sense of judgement", he chuckled.

It was surprising that after he had cleaned his hands he came back. He slowly sat on the bed next to you and his hand rested on your back. You felt him drawing small circles with his fingers. It was quiet in the room, besides your heavy breathing and the bustling saloon behind the door.

Arthur halted when his fingers felt a scar on your back. You couldn't stop him from leaning back and looking.

"Jesus...y/n", he commented. You sighed.

Your back was full of scars and old wounds, you knew that. Arthur hadn't known, obviously, only a few people really knew about this.

"What are those?", he asked. His hands intriguingly wandered all over your back which was scattered with small burn marks and scars. They weren't particularly huge or nasty, but they were there.

"You try growing up as a girl in the Bell family", you murmured with half-closed eyes staring into the nothingness of the room.

"Ya tellin' me that Micah-"

"Some of them. But they are old. Doesn't matter", you stated briefly, "besides, I now got a new one to worry about."

It came in waves, the pain. Just after you had said your last sentence, you thought you’d finally drift off to sleep, but then it shoots through your body and almost makes you scream in agony. Arthur’s hand took your smaller, beaten up ones, held it tightly and mumbled: “It’s gonna be okay.”

You knew you didn’t deserve this. Arthur sat there like the babysitter you had always mocked him not to be, and yet he wiped your face ever so often to get rid of the sweat and tears which you couldn’t stop from forming in the corner of your eyes and rolling over your cheek.

“Why are you still here?”, you managed to ask after a while of fighting another wave of pain off.

“Jus’ checking if ya make it through the next hour”, Arthur answered sarcastically. He knew he’d never see the end of it if you caught on to the fact that Arthur had felt an unusual strong fear of losing you. A couple of weeks ago, when the two of you had fought, he had felt guilty for sending you away and was glad to find out you hadn't wandered off, but this was different. You had almost died…in his care.

The man swallowed as he observed you. Your eyes were now closed and your chest barely moved with your weak breathing. He had never thought when he first met you, that you could be this fragile and vulnerable. You would slap him for even thinking that, Arthur thought and smiled at the thought. He wanted to be there for you, to protect you.

"'Course...why the one who'd draw on me for feelin' like that...", he mumbled to himself.

So he’d sit there for a while and hold your hand, check your breathing ever so often and hope that some of the colour would return to your face.

The next morning you would wake up alone in the blood-stained bed. And someone would knock and come in to collect you – Miss Grimshaw and Charles. And you’ll find that all the expenses have been paid and that Miss Grimshaw was perfectly filled in on the happenings of last night, so she kept scolding you while you had not enough stregth to fight Charles carrying you to the wagon they had brought. But your thoughts were somewhere else entirely.

-x-x-x-x-x-x-

taglist: @xclovers @photo1030 @cowboydisaster @stilinskiwitch @globetrotter28 @unbotheredbeeeee @eyelovie @ashjbu @lovrgirlsstuff @how-the-heck-would-i-know @urfavjanalein

next chapter: here

#arthur morgan x reader #arthur morgan fanfiction #red dead redemption 2 #arthur morgan #red dead redemption community #rdr2 #rdr2 fanfiction #arthur morgan x female reader #rdr #rdr fanfiction

212 notes · View notes

asmoswhoreandmore · 3 years ago

Text

Pt 2 of angst with Mammon

So this is a pt 2 to the shitty angst I wrote earlier lmao

TW: mentions thoughts of suicide, edgy as hell, Mammons a bitch, drinking, derealization kinda happens, hangover, traumtized MC

Again chapter two:

You turned around slowly and seeing Mammon made your stomach flip for a second a time. But you held it in, staring at him now it was like seeing a stranger.

The beautiful boy who you loved looked so foreign?

Was that really your boyfriend? The smile he flashed looked sickly sweet.

Then suddenly the whole world felt wrong like you were on a different plane. Mammon spoke to you but his words morphed together.

Was he really speaking or was this another imaginary scenario you made up?Maybe Mammon wasn’t real, but then his hand was around your waist.

And someone's fingers were waving in your face.

“ Oh, Mammon, “ you thought, a reminder that this was all really happening.

“What ya don't recognize me or something?” he looked almost mad.

What right did he have to be mad? You felt incensed, the shock spread across your face with a glint of hatred in your eyes. Before you could pretend you felt fine he saw your expression. His grip on your waist loosened, the panicked look in his eyes only you could notice. He paused for a moment, time seemed too slow. The world went dark as if you were the only two people in the room. If no one was there, you might’ve challenged him to a brawl. All you felt was unbridled rage and, a sort of emptiness that made you feel like it was a good day to die.

Then you smiled, just for a moment, you wanted to be his without all the pain. Tears formed in your eyes as your heart prayed and you felt human hope. He saw the light in your eyes die and be reborn. At that moment he pulled you closer than you ever wanted to be to him again.

"Hey mammon what’s up my man?' Some demon called out to him causing him to kiss you quickly and leave to whatever they had to ask. He tasted like cherry lipstick, your chest started to ache and you felt a desire to go wash the taste out. A moment that felt so infinite ended so fast, when did people change so easily?

This was all a bit too much, maybe just for tonight, you can make yourself feel alright.

Passing out at the bar was not what you had in mind when you woke up the next morning in the school lounge. The killer headache was not much to sneeze at either. Vision going blurry as you tried to tell the time of day. Your eyes squinting, it was all too bright to comprehend. The light drifting in the windows felt so intense. After a minute of grumbling to yourself, you seemed to realize the severity of the whole situation either you broke in or school was already in session.

How did you even get here? Questions swarmed your mind adrenaline and anxiety started to run. You sat up feeling alert, but man your back hurt like hell too. When your eyes finally adjusted to the light, you saw no one. A breath of relief escaped from your throat.

“Thank fuck no one saw” Then it hit you. You broke into the school black-out drunk. “Fuck fuck fuck this can't be happening,” you thought to yourself. You rubbed your temples agitated at the thought of getting caught. What would Diavoblo say? Lucifer would hang your ass to the ceiling, and it did not look that great when you saw it happen to Mammon.

When you finally tried to stand up, you felt yourself blackout for a split second. You started to stumble out of the school. After you got out of the lounge you quickly said a couple of spells to reverse the damage. You sucked in a long breath and hoped the spells got rid of any traces of your crime.Exhaustion started to hit you immediately after you left the school, the adrenaline leaving your body.

All you could seem to think was

“This was gonna be a long walk home.”

The walk home was hard, but having to sneak in filled you with dread. Lucifer would want the full story and well, your full story was full of questionable decisions at best. Your stomach starts to sink, as you creak open the door. Somehow the door was too loud and the house of lamination was too silent. Even the steps you made sounded guilty and had the house aching, and creeping with opportunities to bust your little sneak in.

One last door, five more steps until you were home free. The quickening of your heartbeat seemed to be only speeding up as you approached your dorm. Suddenly you were in front of your door, you took a deep breath puffed out your chest, and slipped inside your room.

As soon as you closed the door your body crumpled to the floor, not even daring to move. It felt like life had been sucked out of you. At first, a tear slid down your face then, it was deep heavy silent sobs that rolled out of you like a wave. The feeling of wanting to sleep forever was the only comforting feeling you had. Everything else consumed you and all you wanted to be.

You wanted to light him on fire, you wanted to pull him close, you wanted to push him down from heaven again. You wanted to feel nothing and forget that you ever loved one person so much there was no room for two. And you started to feel a crack form inside of you, as your humanity crumbled beneath you.

Maybe there was a point to being less than human, one thing was for certain you had less to lose.

#obey me mammon #obey me angst #toxic relationship #vent fanfic #emotional damage lol #fucked up mc #this gets messy #it only gets worse from this point on im sorry for bringing this into the world lmao #mammonobeyme #mammon angst #toxic mammon

85 notes · View notes

nagipops · 4 years ago

Text

KONOHA ELEVEN IN A ZOOM CLASS!

FEATURING: naruto, sakura, shikamaru, ino, choji, hinata, kiba, shino, neji, rock lee, and tenten

WARNINGS: mentions of food

NARUTO

definitely has forgotten that he was unmuted multiple times

or his camera was accidentally turned on

you could just see him sprawled on his bed with a bowl of instant ramen on his lap and a blanket wrapped around himself

EARRAPE SLURPS!! rip headphone users.

sometimes he notices that his camera’s turned on and you can see him freak out and scramble to turn it off

but he accidentally unmutes himself too and so you just hear panicked yelling

his device topples to the floor with a loud crash and he screams so loud istg

the next thing you see is naruto’s face hovering over the camera in fear just before his camera turns off and he’s muted again

the teacher is so confused?? naruto should i call an ambulance

but when he’s not eating in class, he’s sleeping in class

too busy sleeping to leave the zoom at the end of class so he’s always the last one left in the meeting besides the teacher

always asks sakura what happened during the zoom and she is FED UP

SAKURA

enters the waiting room 15 minutes before class is actually supposed to begin

spends the next 15 minutes rearranging her work area, making sure she’s prepared for the day

sits properly at her desk with her hair smoothed down and her face positioned perfectly in frame

if no one else has their camera on, she’s the only one with it on

seriously, she ALWAYS HAS IT ON

and she never leaves the screen somehow

diligently takes notes, uses the “raise hand” feature every two minutes to ask a question

sometimes it can get a bit annoying, even for the teacher

but she almost always gets perfect marks

acts like in angel in class, but after class... no promises, naruto!

SHIKAMARU

this man can barely stay awake during missions, so during a zoom? HECK NAH

shikamaru is literally me,, half asleep during lessons but somehow gets amazing grades

everyone’s either pissed at or envious of him (especially naruto)

obviously does not have his camera on

and rarely ever unmutes

uses the chat feature to answer the teacher’s questions but this man is basically asleep so its so incoherent

“shikamaru, what is a hyperbole?”

in chat: “a hyeprbole is a exsaggerayed phras,e”

teacher definitely thinks he’s cheating on tests

INO

either a) daydreaming about boys or b) checking herself out in the zoom camera OR c) secretly fuming at sakura’s know-it-all behavior

the two girls definitely compete to see who can raise their virtual hand first

"ahem, ahem- sensei? could i answer this question?"

her voice gets all sickly sweet and sakura HATES IT

the two of them totally got caught insulting each other in the private chat

100% the type of student to rewrite her notes after classes with various markers and colored pens and pretty fonts and patterns and whatnot

loves doodling flowers in her notebook during boring lessons!

CHOJI

another strong contender for the Loudest Student award!

not on purpose though, he just forgets that space bar = unmute, and plays some jumping game in another tab (like the no internet dino game!)

also,, rip headphone users

c r o n c h munch munch munch

are you kidding this man's chews are loud enough in person, but with a HEADSET?! hoo boy.

has conked out several times during class

just imagine the name Choji Akimichi with a profile picture of a bag of chips light up with the green box around it with a thunk

the teacher and class is so confused

but then you hear mumbles of "barbeque... chips... barbeque..."

and you realize that the man fell asleep onto his keyboard

he sleeps through the rest of class

HINATA

shy bb has never ONCE turned on her camera

the only time she's ever unmuted was to say "here" during attendance on the first day of school

if the teacher ever takes attendance again, she just uses the raise hand feature

what if naruto-kun thinks my voice is ugly? what if i accidentally turn on my camera? what if the teacher thinks i'm not paying attention? what if-

poor baby is too busy worrying about showing herself on zoom to actually pay attention

actually gets good grades though and her classmates wonder if she’s even there

her zoom pfp is definitely just a purple google “H”

KIBA

has the CUTEST zoom pfp hands down

it’s a selfie of him grinning cheerily with baby akamaru

100% has his camera on the whole time to show off his pup

he loves seeing everyone’s faces on screen melt and aww at the lil big doggo

sometimes akamaru just walks in front of the camera and blocks kiba from view and you just see a massive wall of white fur on screen LMAO

even though kiba’s muted, you can see him and akamaru bickering about who knows what

or even play fighting,, these two get into full on BRAWLS during class

just imagine akamaru shoves kiba into his desk and his camera crashes to the ground overturned so you see the ceiling and the occasional dog tail wagging in the corner

seriously, can the teacher ever catch a break with this class?

the answer is no.

SHINO

his zoom pfp is just a tick.

a singular tick

totally answers questions in chat with proper capitalization and punctuation

shikamaru’s improper answers tick him off

“A hyperbole is an expression that is greatly exaggerated. They are used in order to create emphasis.”

has never unmuted in his life either

he’s so unfazed by everything that goes down in class that it’s funny

if anything the slightest bit RELATED to bugs comes up during class, in 0.00238 seconds this man has an entire essay about them posted in chat, almost like he had it copied and READY to paste

everyone's definitely shocked that there’s actually a human listening behind a tick profile picture

NEJI

a very diligent note taker

seriously, this man writes like a printer; perfectly even handwriting that looks like a font, a million words per minute

everyone asks him for his notes after the zoom because they’re so neat (especially naruto, to neji’s dismay)

he gets excellent grades since he’s so organized and focused

just wishes the zoom would be over so he can work alone in peace

really hates unmuting so he often gives one-word answers in the chat

“Yes” “47” “Present” “Goodbye”

has used a zoom reaction ONCE in his life and he has never wanted to crawl into a hole and perish more

it was a complete accident,, mans was just trying to open the chat to type in his answer, but in a cruel twist of fate he clicked on the 😂 reaction

and he just sat there for ten excruciating seconds in complete and utter shock and shame for ten excruciating seconds as he prayed for it to disappear

tenten would never let him live that down

ROCK LEE

Zoom Reaction Enthusiast

😂😮👍🎉❤️ 24/7

naruto accidentally unmutes himself? 😮

choji falls asleep on his keyboard? 😂

neji answers something correctly? 👍

tenten received the highest score in class? 🎉

akamaru appears on screen? ❤️

unmutes whenever he needs to, but he thinks the little emoticons are so silly and cute

otherwise, he is EXTRA FOCUSED and EXTREMELY DETERMINED to learn all of the things

he’s the first to unmute whenever the teacher asks if the class can see the screen share, hear them correctly, etc.

never takes his eyes off the screen!! he could be missing out on important information

I FEEL LIKE,, i feel like he would totally keep his camera off when he’s muted but whenever he unmutes he would also turn his camera on

so when he says a quick “yes!” his camera turns on but before his camera can adjust properly to the light he mutes and turns his camera back off so his face is just super dark for a split second LMAOOO

tell me im wrong

TENTEN

exasperated by this entire class

thinks her and neji are the only sane ones in the class and it’s true

wants to tell sakura and ino to stop competing and just focus on learning, since they’re the only other girls in the class besides hinata

plus she’s just fed up with all the lazy boys

takes great pride in passing every assignment, test, or exam with flying colors

teachers pet, but the quieter type who stays after every zoom and sends lots of emails regarding assignments and grades and whatnot (unlike sakura and ino who rub it in the teacher’s face)

doesn’t like helping other people besides neji, girl’s got a soft spot for him since they have a mutual respect for each other

but if you’re a handsome prince, maybe she’ll help you out!

if you enjoyed this post, likes and reblogs are much appreciated :) feel free to request here, and make sure to read the rules first! have a lovely day everyone <3

553 notes · View notes

the-iceni-bitch · 4 years ago

Text

I Fear We’re Facing A Problem

Pairing: Carol Danvers x enhanced!Fem Reader

Words: sorry, laptop is still being a bitch so it’s another mobile

Summary: You convince Carol to join you on a night out and a good time is had by all!

Warnings: WLW, explicit language, explicit sexual content (spanking, oral sex (f receiving), mentions of using a dildo), violence (but nothing too gory, just standard canon stuff), SMUT, 18+ ONLY!!!!

A/N: Another from my WIP folder and my second WLW fic! (Which I really need to write more of btw cus this was a real treat). I also may have accidentally stumbled on a little something that I had never thought of before but that is most likely going to be coming in the future, see if you can pick up those hints! 😉

Check out my masterlist and join my taglist if you want!!!

Carol dodged a beer bottle as she stepped into the bar, cursing to herself before scanning the room for additional threats.

And boy were there a lot of them.

When you had drunk dialed her 20 minutes ago, noting your intention to start a fight with some chauvinist assholes, she hadn’t really believed you. But there you were in the middle of a full on brawl, punching some idiot in an army uniform in the mouth before grabbing a pitcher and breaking it over his head.

Carol moved forward as one of your victim’s companions grabbed you around the middle and lifted you off the floor. She tossed aside some moron in a leather jacket easily as he came at her with a broken bottle before wrapping her arm around the neck of the jackass that had you in a hold.

He choked and released you, his hands scrabbling at Carol’s forearm. She ignored him as you launched yourself over the table and kicked another of the army boys in the face before turning and shooting her a grin.

“Hey Danvers!” You said, grabbing another assailant by the back of the neck and tossing him across the room with a shrug of your shoulders.

“Y/N, what have I told you about drinking by yourself?” She said, dropping the man she was holding with a thud as he had finally passed out. She ducked as someone across the bar threw a stool, catching it in midair and hefting it back at him.

“I wasn’t by myself.” You said as you ripped a leg off one of the tables and cracked it across some guys back. “Thor was here, and he brought some bomb-ass mead.”

“That asshole left you here by yourself after getting you drunk on Asgardian mead?” She was going to have to have a talk with that idiot next time she saw him.

“Unlike someone, Thor knows I can take care of myself.” You said with an eye roll before breaking a beer bottle and plunging it into the thigh of some new moron.

“You’re not the one I’m worried about, sweetheart.” She scolded as she caught the leg of one of the idiots and threw him across the room.

“Oh, it’s sweetheart now?” You said with a snort before head butting someone.

“I am so not having this discussion with you right now.” She said before punching some asshole in the ribs.

“We gotta have it sometime, though.” You laughed as you caught a fist in your palm and drove your other hand into the idiot’s elbow until you heard a snap.

“Well maybe if you tried asking me out when you were sober, we’d get somewhere.” She said sarcastically, dodging a punch and throwing the puncher one handed into the ceiling.

“What?!? Y/N, I leave to get you sustenance and you start a fight?” Thor thundered, absorbing a couple of blows before picking up one of the army brats with one hand and striding towards you, hefting the grease soaked bag above the fray.

“Thorsie baby, you got my burrito!!!” You said giddily, tossing the man who was trying to stab you aside as you hopped on a table and pounced on the Asgardian, making grabby hands at the food.

“I can’t believe you left her unsupervised after giving her mead.” Carol said as things finally started to calm down as the bar patrons eyed the god who had just strode in with wariness. She slapped down a giant wad of cash on the bar, hoping it would be enough to cover all the damages.

“She was hungry and getting insistent, I didn’t think she could start anything in half an hour.” He said with a bit of a pout as he ignored your eating, your legs still wrapped around him as you moaned around your burrito.

“You’re a fucking enabler, Odinson.” Carol said with a shake of her head. “Did you forget about Helsinki?”

“Ha, that was a good time!” You said around a mouth full of burrito.

“It was an international shitshow, Y/N.” She said as Thor guffawed. “Poor Nat had to do damage control for a month. What am I gonna do with you?”

“You could make me your housewife.” You said teasingly before taking another giant bite of your burrito, slowly unwrapping yourself from Thor as you arrived at Carol’s Jeep.

She rolled her eyes at you as you gave her the most ridiculous doe eyes she’d ever seen. “You’re so fucking manipulative.”

“Please, I’d be a damn amazing housewife.” You grumbled, waiting for Thor to crawl into the backseat. “Isn’t that right, Thorsie?”

“Her pancakes are delectable.” Thor said with an appreciative nod.

“See?! I’d make you pancakes everyday baby!” You whined as you buckled yourself in.

She just shook her head at you as she started the engine and pulled out.

You stuck out your tongue at her before turning to Thor over your shoulder. “Well, since Danvers here has a fear of commitment,” you said, ignoring her scoff. “ you want to make an honest woman out of me, Odinson?”

He threw his head back and laughed heartily before clapping a hand on your shoulder. “I would be honored to have you for my queen, Y/N.”

“Alright, that’s enough you two.” Carol growled. She was starting to get annoyed with your antics.

“Oh, are you jealous?” You said as you turned back to her, grinning like an idiot. “Cuz just say the word babe and I’d leave Mr. Asgard in a heartbeat, sorry Thor.”

He just chuckled at the two of you as Carol finally pulled into the compound, a scowl on her face.

“Let’s get you back to your room, Y/N.” She said resignedly, climbing down from the front seat and shaking her head at you.

“Are you gonna take advantage of me in my inebriated state, Danvers?” You teased as you stumbled out of the vehicle, Thor catching your arm and steadying you as he followed. “Cuz I’m down.”

“I’m gonna sober you up so you’re ready for the shitstorm that’s coming your way once your little bar brawl hits the news.”

“Ugh, lame!!!” You said with a roll of your eyes as you followed after her.

The three of you made your way to the living quarters, Thor holding you steady as you wobbled on still drunk legs, grinning and laughing with him as Carol marched in front of you. She shook her head at you two as you reached the door to your room. You leaned against the wall with a huff and a pout as she worked on unlocking your door.

“I’ve got her from here, Odinson.” She said as she got the door open, swinging it onwards and giving him his own look of reproach. “And don’t think your getting off easy, I already apprised Rogers of your role in this fiasco.”

“Ha, the Captain doesn’t scare me!” He said, doing a piss poor job of hiding the flash of worry that crossed his face. He turned to give you a grin and a kiss on the forehead before turning to leave. “Have a good night ladies.”

You turned to give Carol a knowing grin before she shoved you inside and followed after you, slamming the door behind her.

She finally let her face split into a massive grin now that the two of you were alone, a hearty laugh ripping from her chest that you reciprocated as she stepped into you.

“So, Thor knows then?” She said as she ripped off her leather jacket and tossed it aside, working on unbuttoning her flannel.

“Of course he knows, babe.” You said as you wrenched your tee over your head, moving to unbutton your jeans. “Pretty sure he figured it out as soon as it happened.”

“You didn’t tell him then?” She asked you with a cocked eyebrow as she stepped out of her boots and kicked them aside.

You rolled your eyes as you bent to untie your sneakers. “No, I don’t know why you want to keep it a secret though.”

“Mmm, I just like knowing that I get to do all these filthy things to you and no one has any idea about it.” She said as she watched you straighten back up, wearing nothing but your bralette and thong. “Now bend over the couch.”

“What?!?! Oh c’mon babe, we weren’t serious when we made that deal!”

“I was absolutely serious, sweetie. Now bend over and take your punishment like a good girl.”

You pouted and did as you were told, supporting yourself on your elbows as you presented your ass to her.

“Spread those legs further.” She ordered, tapping her toes against the inside of your ankle until you complied. “There she is. You’re lucky I’m feeling generous, we’re only gonna do 10 tonight, since you managed to keep your antics local.”

“Yes ma’am.” You said grudgingly, a shiver running up your spine as she ran her fingers up the back of your thigh.

The first smack jolted you forward suddenly, almost sending you tumbling over the couch as you dug your hands into the cushions. Carol ran her hand soothingly over the red handprint that she’d raised on your left ass cheek before bracing her other hand over your back and grinning down at you.

“That’s one.” She said, her fingers brushing over your clothed core and making you whine before she slapped your other cheek just has hard. “Two.”

She made the same soothing gesture over your right cheek before spanking you directly above your clenching pussy and making you scream.

“Ooh, three.” She said, biting her lip as she rubbed her hand in a big circle over your sex, feeling the dampening cloth of your panties with a satisfied smirk. “Fuck, baby.”

She gave two more slaps to each cheek in a quick succession that had you whimpering and sinking into the sofa, your knees starting to give out. Her next smack was over your core again, and you whined as a fresh rush of arousal flowed out of you and started to leak down your thighs, the fabric of your panties now soaked completely through.

“Love how wet my baby gets.” Carol cooed before shredding your panties with a quick twist of her wrist and flinging the ruins aside. She sucked in a breath as she got a look at the mess between your legs; plump swollen folds flushed with heat and pulsing with need as juices flowed out you. “Just two more. Think I can make you cum from just a spanking?”

Her ninth slap was right over your entrance and made you twitch as she kept her hand curled over your mound, just pressing against you as she felt the muscles of your core throbbing under her fingers. She took a layer of slick with her when she withdrew her hand, and you peeked over your shoulder to watch her suck your arousal from her fingers.

“Carol...” you whined, your breath coming in needy little pants as you waited for her to give you your last spank.

“Such a needy little baby. You better ask me real nice sweetie, otherwise I might just tie you up and leave you all frustrated. Maybe I’ll make you watch me fuck myself on that stormbreaker dildo you’ve been keeping secret. Would you like that?”

“Fuck, Carol! Please, please fucking spank me! I promise I’ll be your good girl!” You moaned, trying to press yourself back into her hand, desperate for release.

“Aww, but I don’t want you to be a good girl.” She said.

Her final spank was a direct hit to your clit, and you screamed as your entire body spasmed. Your fingers dug into the couch cushions as you squirted all over Carol’s hand, your knees finally giving out as you sobbed with pleasure.

“Oh, I knew you could do it baby.” She said as she started to press soft kisses down your back, her hand still in between your legs rubbing in big, slow circles over your pussy with just enough pressure to drive you crazy. “Love making my bad girl fall apart. Don’t you dare start behaving now.”

“Yes ma’am.” You sighed into the cushions as you came down.

Carol ran her lips and tongue over the swollen marks she’d left on you, her hand an your core starting to press into you harder. You gasped when she suddenly pulled you apart, her fingers spreading your folds and barely giving you a chance to adjust before her tongue ran over your slit in a heavy stripe.

“Shit!” You cried as you thumped your first against the sofa, your cunt clenching around nothing as Carol lapped at your sex like it was the first drink she’d had in weeks.

She grinned against you, slipping a finger inside you and making your keen as her lips wrapped around your clit. You had to fight to stay upright as she slipped in a second finger, scissoring them inside you and stretching you open as she suckled at your tiny button, making you clench around her.

You let out an inhuman shriek when she added the third finger, thrusting yourself backwards into her face and fucking yourself on her hand as her mouth still worked at taking you apart. She shook her head to bury her face even deeper and you lost it, sobbing as your body tried to curl in on itself as your orgasm crashed over you.

Carol brought both hands to keep you from collapsing at the same time she pressed the flat of her tongue over your pussy, moaning as you throbbed against her face and she caught your release as it squirted out of you, swallowing it greedily as her lips wrapped around your sex.

Your body finally stopped shaking and she stood up behind you, curling over your back and turning your head so she could press her lips against yours. She teased your lips with your tongue and you opened up to her, whining into her mouth as you tasted yourself.

“Mmm, how you feeling baby?” She asked with a grin as she pulled away from you, taking your breath with her.

“Pretty fucking fantastic.” You said, beaming back at her. You flipped yourself over until you landed on the couch with a huff, making her roll her eyes at you. “Really wanna make you feel good too, beautiful.” You said with a wink.

“Yeah? How you gonna do that?” She said as she watched you reach under the couch, searching for something.

“Oh, I’ve got a pretty good idea.” You said as you straightened back up, placing a long black box on your lap. “I don’t know how you found out about this, but it’s gonna blow your fucking mind. Say hello to the stormbreaker.”

You opened the box to reveal a massive, pretty realistic looking dildo and Carol let out a guffaw as you wiggled your eyebrows at her suggestively.

“I love you sweetheart, but I’m not letting you fuck me with a dildo based off one of our best friends!”

“Don’t be such a square, baby!” You said, standing up to chase after her as she headed into the bedroom. “He’d be flattered!!”

Tags!!!

@slothspaghettiwrites

@starlightcrystalline

@bonkywobble

@chrisevanscardigan

@chubbybuckydumpling

@msmarvelwrites

@sweeterthanthis

@blackestpinkworld

@wandering-spiritash

@muzzyandbusy

@slytheriin2002

@isysen

@kaleeelizabeth58

@amerikakapitanyy

@lizette50

@daughterofthenight117

@obsessivereaderchick

@drabblewithfrannybarnes

@stargazingfangirl18

@jack-skellingtons-stuff

@chrissquares

372 notes · View notes

wesimpforxiao · 4 years ago

Text

Say My Name and I’ll Be There: Chapter 9.4

Xiao was sick to his stomach. The idea that Childe turning out to be an ally to the group disgusted him--and don't get him started on the thought of Zhongli possibly falling for that act a second time. It would be an understatement to say that he wanted nothing to do with that harbinger ever again. But of course he just had to deal with him for awhile longer, and it was for your sake only.

"You mean..." Aether was still processing Zhongli's confession alongside the yaksha. "You tricked us? Again?"

"You're just as bad as Childe if you lie this much!" Paimon huffed in obvious disappointment before poofing out of the conversation.

"Forgive me for not informing you sooner; I made a grave mistake for trusting him the first time, but I will not leave you in the dark for a second." The former archon bowed his head in a deep apology after revealing what really happened in Fontaine all those weeks ago.

"And you knew of this, Xiao?"

"He informed me in a dream while I was still unconscious."

"I-I'm still wrapping my head around this," uttered the boy. "And now Childe is making the same move again? What're you going to do?"

"I think it's time to make our final move." The archon eyed the couple of Fatui agents walking past their table, careful to keep his voice lower than usual.

"As much as I want to, you can't join us. You'd be breaking your own contract. Isn't that a problem?" Zhongli didn't answer, so the traveler then turned to Xiao. "What do you want to do?"

"I..." The yaksha averted his eyes. I want to rescue her, he thought. I want to, but if she's not in contact with me, she won't be affected by my karma. Zhongli noticed the sour expression on Xiao's face and piped up.

"We do not need to decide our move right at this moment. A situation so dire cannot be approached lightly."

"She should stay where she is," Xiao muttered under his breath after Aether and Paimon ran off to do some commissions.

..............

"Are you just gonna stare at me or what?"

You were sitting with your back against the far wall of an unfamiliar cell while your hands were carefully placed on your lap to avoid touching the scummy floors. On the other side of the cell bars stood what was probably the shortest of the eleven harbingers.

Scaramouche didn't answer you, electing to deepen his scowl instead. His glare fell to the vision at your hip like he was trying to understand why the Tsaritsa refused to give him the order to confiscate it. Your gaze followed his until the faint glinting of the vision's glass was all you could focus on.

Why didn't she take it this time?

And that wasn't the only thing that was different about your second imprisonment. Your cell was painted in what you assumed to be anti-adeptus sigils like Xiao's cell had been. Maybe this was to prevent you from calling for Xiao; the threat of his capture seemed to weigh heavily on your shoulders, but something about this cell felt off and you couldn't put your finger on it. Why take this precautionary measure if she knew you wouldn't call for the yaksha for his own safety?

That question was answered a little too-quickly for your liking. One of Scaramouche's underlings brought in what looked like a toolkit, only to reveal a plethora of presumed torture objects inside.

"Is this really appropriate for you, my Lord? We can take over from here; you don't need to participate in an activity that would insult y--"

The harbinger shot him a dangerous look. "I don't remember asking for your input. Get out."

"Y-yes, sir. Excuse me!" The guard doubled over in an apologetic bow before scrambling out of the prison as fast as he was able to. Then Scaramouche's glare returned to you as he reached into the bag.

....................

I'm gonna kill them all. I'm gonna kill them. They'll all fall at my hands.

A blood trail tailed behind you as Fatui guards escorted your weakened body into the frigid throne room for the third time this week. They threw you to the tile floor, while your vision clinked unhappily against the hard surface. She still hadn't bothered to remove it; it was like she was taunting you with the illusion of power, and she shot you down every time you thought you'd take her by surprise.

I'm going to kill her, Xiao.

The coldness of the unwelcoming floor seemed to welcome you into your repeating nightmare while the hot blood that pooled in your mouth dripped onto the surface. Unlike the other times you were dragged in here, Childe wasn't present. It was a shame that the one who so badly wanted to be involved in the brawl was about to miss out. The tapping of a fingernail against metal prompted you to push yourself up to your knees.

She'll fall at my hands.

"Bow before Her Majesty, the Tsaritsa."

You just coughed up more blood without obeying. Twitching fingers were the remnants of Scaramouche's torture.

"The perseverance of humans truly is something to witness," the cryo archon muttered in distain. She had run out of patience; you were nothing more than a nuisance if you refused to work with her any longer, and it was a miracle that she put up with you longer than she would with her own men. "Very well. You'll die here. Any last words?"

"Y-You threatened them."

"If you wish to be heard, speak up."

"You threatened them," your voice raised loud enough for everyone to hear despite the fact that your throat was sore from the amount of screaming Scaramouche managed to get out of you. A small groan left your lips as you forced yourself to your unsteady feet. Blood coated your lips and chin, and soaked into your tattered shirt. "You threatened my friends, you've threatened Xiao, and you're ultimately responsible for my Granny's death. Your crimes against us and the people of Teyvat will never be forgiven. What do you have to say for yourself?"

"Hm." A hint of a wry smile was quickly overshadowed by hatred and disgust. She had heard enough of your disrespect, and it was clear beating you into submission wasn't working.

You caught the subtle twitch in her hand before she flicked her wrist and hurled an attack in your direction. Defiant feet remained planted, and a counterattack almost as quick as the Tsaritsa's was thrown her way. You didn't feel the blast of her magic reek havoc against your body, but subconsciously heard the sound of shattering glass right before you initiated your counterattack.

The Tsaritsa waved off the guards that readied to restrain you while hiding the beginnings of fear from her face. She'd kill you herself. The temperature dropped lower and lower until the entire room froze over and your fingers began to go numb. Of course, this wasn't because of your magic; you could drop the temperature below zero, but this was on a completely different scale.

"You've earned your friends' deaths as well!" The archon raged and stood from her seat with the intent to kill you on the spot. Shards upon shards whirled around her before shooting at your frail exhausted figure. "Morax's yaksha will join you in death for your disobedience. Thus is the punishment for disrespecting the will of your master!"

"You will not harm anyone!"

BOOM! The palace walls shook violently as the force of a shockwave ran through them--with you at the epicenter. A brilliant light shone from your eyes for a split second, though it made no difference in your tunnel vision of determination. This time, you were the one to lower the temperature. A growing layer of frost enveloped your skin in a warm embrace. Your power was a mix of ice and stormy gales that tore through the throne room at a vicious speed, sending Fatui agents and harbingers alike running for cover as the palace became an unstable battlefield.

............

Two days before.

"What kind of a suicide mission is that?!" Xiao growled out to the open night air with frustration, though he knew you couldn't hear nor feel his response. "This recklessness will be the end of you!" He took a deep breath to regain his composure and his gaze fell to his hands, which were enveloped in the fine black mist that was his accumulated karma. He couldn't keep his thought process of protecting you from himself if you were practically asking to be killed by the cryo archon. He wouldn't let that happen no matter what risks his karma may bring.

Days of grueling torture unlike anything you've faced before haunted his ears. He could tell that you never meant to pray to him these past several days, but somewhere in your delirious state of mind, clouded by pain, you called his name. Not for him to come and rescue you, no. That was a trick you weren't going to fall for and he wasn't rescuing you out of respect for your wishes.

But hearing your cries, you sobs, was a torture method in and of itself to Xiao.

After the first three days your agony turned to resentment, then to rage. You plotted. You schemed. You planned until you settled on what was probably the dumbest 'solution' to your problems. And Xiao heard every word.

"FOOL!" Overcome with frustration yet again, Xiao impaled the nearest tree with his polearm. The winds whipped violently through its leaves until he let out another aggravated sigh. He looked down to Liyue Harbor and the sunrise that began to chase away the shadows. Yelling would result in nothing and it was immature of him to do so. He would go to Zhongli, and summon Aether. There was no time to waste.

............

What awaited them at Zapolyarny Palace was nothing short of stupefying. They were met with a stampede of shaken guards that were so disorganized and distraught, they didn't even notice that intruders had broken into the palace. The three of them exchanged knowing glances before Zhongli led the way to the throne room. It was then that a powerful shockwave--loud enough to be a sonic boom-- nearly threw them into the wall behind them as the doors flew open.

"You will not harm anyone," muffled words reached the ears of the intruders. "Not me, not Zhongli, not Aether, and certainly not Xiao!"

It took a moment for Xiao to process what he was looking at; the snowstorm that raged on was barely contained in the throne room, and white obscured the battle for the most part. He didn't need a clear image of you to pick up on your words.

A new light appeared above you and this time you caught sight of it. Six star-like objects lit up a similar color to Xiao's hair and connected to one another. You paid no mind to it, as it disappeared as quickly as it came. The storm grew violent, and much like your most recent confrontation with Childe, your power was harming yourself. Icicles shredded your worn-out garments. The wind turned so sharply that it bit into your skin.

"That shouldn't be possible," Zhongli's widened gaze lingered where those stars had appeared above your head.

"So you saw that too," Aether mumbled in bewilderment as he also stared at the same empty air. I thought the people of Teyvat needed Stella Fortuna to unlock their constellations? He snapped out of his daze quicker than Zhongli. "Let's go, we need to help her!"

Xiao blocked their advance with his polearm. "Wait."

"You think we should wait?" Paimon hissed. "She needs our help!"

The yaksha ignored their hesitance and kept his narrowed eyes on the blurry image of you in the distance. Rely on me. Call out my name. If he was allowing himself to be vulnerable with you now, risking your safety from his karma, then it was your turn to do the same. Call out my name, and I'll be there when you call.

"DIE!" The Tsaritsa waved her hand through the air and summoned a glade of ice that was meant to slice you in two.

"I won't succumb so easily!" A blast of wind erupted from your side, and it cut the ice in half before it could reach you.

Wind? Anemo? Zhongli sent a glance to Xiao's figure. Could this be...

You pushed off the ground with the aid of the wind, and a flurry of snow hurled towards the Tsaritsa. She shot shards through it, and they impaled the ceiling after clearing the fog. You weren't there.

The archon spun around and was met with the devilish amber eyes of an adeptus and the cocky grin of her weapon of war. This power--The wind kicked up the accumulated layers of snow from the floor and blocked her line of sight again. A sharp pain sliced through the backs of her knees, and she crumpled to the ground. The speed of your movements was unlike anything your friends have seen from you before.

You landed before her and relished the feeling of having a literal god kneeling at your feet. Maybe you weren't so unlike Childe after all; if this sight made you feel that good, then one could understand the harbinger's obsession with battle. The three friends behind you--who you had yet to notice--took note of the Childe-like expression on your face. You summoned your iced polearm. Or...tried to. A quick glance to your hand confirmed it was still empty despite your attempts. Instead, a cold breeze playfully weaved between your fingertips. Huh? Did I exhaust myself? I feel fine...

"Ha...haha...Hahahaha!" A wicked cackle sent chills down your spine, and you returned your attention to the god that was hunched before you. "You may have picked up on my Childe's arrogance, but you wield it like a weakness." You anticipated her next move from the growing of sheer cold, but with your current position, there was no way you'd be able to dodge it in time. She swung her arm out to you.

The name fell from your lips without thinking. "Xiao-!" WHOOSH! The blast of air knocked you onto your butt, and your vision cleared to view an unsettlingly-silent battlefield. For several seconds, the cyclone calmed.

"Tch." The sound of a struggle made you look up. There was your yaksha, neck-at-neck with the cryo archon. He held his polearm in a blocking position, and it rattled uncomfortably against the force of the ice sword that pushed against it. The pair were staring daggers at one another.

"Xiao!"

"Took you long enough. Leave the killing to me. Leave, now."

"There's no way I'm leaving you by yourself!" You pushed yourself to your feet and ran towards them.

Xiao picked up on the sound of your footsteps, and glanced back at you for a split second. "Get back!" He could almost feel the grin that spread on the god's face as you got closer. "Move!" Panicked, Xiao pushed back against the Tsaritsa before dashing through the air and pulling you with him just in time to avoid what would've been a devastating blow of the god's power.

The sharp movements made your stomach do a flip or two, but you didn't have time to puke. The Tsaritsa levitated towards the two of you, who were now standing side-by-side with Xiao's hand placed lightly between your shoulder blades. Your eyes met his, but you couldn't tell what he was thinking. Instead, you nodded in encouragement just in case he wasn't on-board with you still being here with him.

The yaksha seemed to understand on some level, and nodded back before returning his eyes to the god above you. "Now."

#xiao x reader #genshin impact #genshin x reader #genshin impact xiao #xiao genshin impact #xiao fanfiction #genshin fanfiction #wesimpforxiao #say my name and ill be there

146 notes · View notes

sirius-archive · 6 years ago

Text

Bite Marks (The Mandalorian x Reader) SMUT

Pairing: The Mandalorian x Reader

Warnings: Unprotected sex (don’t be silly, wrap that willy), Dom/Sub, Rough sex, Oral sex (Reader receiving), Swearing. IF YOU’RE A MINOR, KINDLY FUCK OFF

Word Count: 3.6k? I think? Who knows at this point

A/N: Nothing sexier than Jealous!Mando, amirite?

***

The bounty was supposed to be easy.

All five mercenaries were dudebro fuckbois with high prices on their heads and a habit of pissing off the wrong people. They were all expected to be at the same club, too, which meant that you just had to flaunt some skin and purr honeyed promises and they’d be in the palm of your hands.

The bounty was supposed to be fucking easy .

It wasn’t.

***

The Mandalorian is suspicious. He always is.

“What are the chances of all six of our targets being in one place?” He says, “Seems suspicious. Could be a trap.”

“I considered that, too,” you remark from over your shoulder, searching idly for an outfit, “That was before I realised it was a Solastice festival. Literally hundreds of thousands of people rock up to this sleeze fest. No one wants to miss out on the free booze and the orgies,” Your fingers skim across a velvet mermaid dress, “How about this?”

Mando huffs out a grunt, “I should come.”

You toss the dress aside and search for another, “Who’s going to look after the Child?”

The Mandalorian stares long and hard at the Child, who blinks owlishly back at the Mandalorian, his inky eyes filled with adoration, “I know someone.”

“You sure you can trust them?”

“She’s taken care of him before.”

You give a noncommittal hum and hold out a lacy, navy-blue dress, “What about this?”

“That’s it?”

“What? You don’t like a bit of lace—?”

“—you’re not going to argue about me coming on this bounty with you?”

“It’ll be fun,” you smirk, throwing the dress away, “Besides, I like watching you in action. You’re sexy when you fight.”

Mando tilts his head. His expression is impossible to read but you suspect he might be amused, annoyed or confused.

Beaming excitedly, you flatten a sleek, backless dress with a plunging neckline against your body, imagining how the dress will hug your curves and flaunt your cleavage. A long split down the side will give you access to the blasters and daggers strapped to your thigh holster too. It’s classy with just enough sexy to keep the imagination stirring.

The Mandalorian doesn’t say anything for a long, measured moment. Somehow, perhaps ironically — the silence seems to whisper his approval.

You untie your silk dressing robe, letting it fall to the ground and pool around your feet. The Mandolorian averts his gaze. suddenly taking a keen interest in the small plant you’ve been watering. You wish you could see his face. Is he blushing? Is he horrified? Is he aroused?

Sliding into the dress, you turn and gesture to the zip kissing the small of your back. “Do you mind?”

The Mandalorian hesitates at first. Somehow, you can almost hear the clink of his thoughts colliding, like he’s mentally solving dynamical system calculations and differential equations. Finally, he stalks toward you and you feel the hesitancy begin to thaw as his gloved fingers twitch around the zip and tug.

His ghostly, featherlight touch lingers on your skin, following the line of your spine until he reaches the thin straps sitting elegantly on the knob of your shoulders. Summoning every ounce of your ex-assassin courage, you slowly turn to face him and stare deeply into the slit in his helmet, imagining the colour of his eyes. Are they a dazzling shade of blue? Or a lovely, rare shade of teal green? Perhaps a smokey umber or steely grey? Or were they like yours; a kaleidoscope of colour always shifting and changing and never one distinct shade?

The air thickens, electricity crackles.

Suddenly, the Mandalorian nods stiffly and stumps away, leaving you alone with your thoughts. You sigh, realising that there’s more than Beskar armour hiding his thick, prickly layers. Perhaps... , you muse, in that childishly naive way that only deep affection can stir, ... Perhaps I’ll find a way to pry it off.

***

Outside, the festival rages.

The dancing crowd of celebrants are like a splash of vibrant colour against the bland backdrop of the surrounding buildings as they flood the streets, filling the air with hoots and cheer and vivid shades of life .

You perch on the barstool, keeping an eye on both your targets and the festival. The Mandalorian is sitting at a table in the far corner, close to the exit in case the targets are as dumb as they look and decide to make a break for it.

The bartender slides yet another drink your way from a hopeful suitor. You smile and take a sip, winking at the nervous, young man stealing furtive glances at you.

“My, my...” a greasy voice says from over your shoulder, “What’s a beautiful woman like you doing in dump like this?”

You spin in your stool and smirk.

The lead dudebro of the fuckboi boy-band is trying to make a pass at you. He thinks he sounds smooth but his pick up lines are equal parts cliche and cringy and they come off polished and second-hand, like he’d heard it from a grainy, amateur porn movie and decided it was a winner.

“Hoping to find myself a handsome fella,” you purr, flashing him your most alluring smile.

Dudebro leans against the counter, reeking of smoke and sweat and virile fuckboi testosterone. He trails a lewd gaze from your eyes down past your neck, spilling indulgently between your breasts, along the sloping curve of your hips, down to the skin of your thigh peeking out from where you have one leg crossed over the other.

“How is that working out for you?”

Your lips tilt into a cat-like smirk, like a spider watching the squirming wreck of their prey struggle against the sticky fibres of a carefully designed web, “You tell me.”

“Beautiful, clever and single? Seems too good to be true.”

“Yet here we are.”

A dodgy grin hooks around Dudebros chapped lips. He slides a calloused hand along your thigh, his grip bordering on possessive.

“Here we are.”

You pause, stretching out a silence to create tension. Dudebro slides his tongue over his bottom lip.

“You should know that I give generously to women who know how to please a man,” he says, “And you look like you know a thing or two about that...”

You lean over, your lips ghosting over the shell of his ear, “Why don’t we get a room and you can see for yourself.”

Dudebro shudders. You’ve got him.

Suddenly, a blur of grey and silver charges toward dudebro, slamming his head onto the counter. Dudebro crumbles into an unconscious heap by your feet.

The Mandalorian has swooped in to save the day. What a knight in shining fucking armour.

“What the fuck was that about?” You hiss, incensed, “I nearly had him!”

The Mandalorian doesn’t answer. Instead, he’s twirling his blaster between his fingers with well-practiced movements.

The other dudebro’s jump to their feet, steeling themselves for a fight.

Chaos erupts.

***

You’re quiet on your way back to the Razor Crest.

Your blood is boiling, your throat itchy and dry from all the insults you want to scream into the dull, black, bottomless void. The Mandalorian’s anger is an icy contrast to your fire; his broad shoulders steeled and his posture hard, unforgiving, like he’s still hunting down a bounty.

Your temper spikes as you watch him pay Peli Motto, your jaw clenched and your lower belly fluttering with a confusingly irritating concoction of venomous seething and hot, syrupy desire.

“It didn’t have to end in a fucking bar brawl,” you snip, waspishly, as he closes the hatch to his ship, “Thanks to you, though, it did.”

The Mandalorian gives you his usual response: silence.

Your nostrils flare.

“Three dudebros nearly escaped. It was lucky I was able to catch them before they raced off.”

Still no response. He’s too busy scaling the ladder up to the cockpit. You stomp up to the ladder and call up to him.

“You undermined me! And for what, exactly? Because some guy was getting a little touchy feely?”

You hear the engines roar to life and feel the ship rise, hover, then launch into the air.

Fuming, you pace the length of the ship, clutching the daggers in your thigh holster and hurling them in quick procession. They lodge themselves into the bullseye, trembling from the force of your strength.

“You’re making dents in my ship.”

Your jaw clenches, molars grinding as you storm toward the daggers and pull one of them out.

“So now you want to talk!” You snap, scathingly, wheeling around to face him.

Mando’s helmet tilts as though he were evaluating you. He takes three deliberate steps forward, forcing you take a surreptitious step back.

“I’m not exactly a conversationalist,” he states, his voice clipped and tight. He makes no effort to disguise the anger in his tone.

You ball your fingers into a fist, clenching and unclenching, “So you’re not going to explain to me why you nearly let three of our bounty’s escape?”

There is a crackle and whir from the modulator as he speaks again, low and even with an intensity that sends shivers traipsing down your spine.

“You don’t know?”

You squint at him, wondering what he’s playing at. He acted rashly and impulsively; in a way that he’s never done before, betraying his years of careful training and defying all common sense. His timing was peculiar, too, just when you had suggested finding a room...

It hits you like a blaster to the chest, “You were jealous.”

Mando takes another step forward, neatly eliminating any space you had tried to regain. Your back is pressed against the wall as he takes another step closer, closer, closer , his arm reaching out grazing against your cheek, caging you in, closer, closer, closer—

He grips the handle of your dagger and pulls it out of the wall beside your head with a strong tug. The dagger dances between his fingers as he twirls it then parts the split in your dress just enough to slide the dagger back into its holster. His fingers glide along your inner thigh and you gasp, his touch electric.

“Not exactly,” he says, “Just a little protective.”

You exhale slowly, evenly, your chest fluttering with a thousand hummingbirds, “Is there a difference?”

He pulls his gloves off and trails his fingers along the delicate skin of your inner thigh, “I suppose not.”

The tension in the air is almost sentient, alive with a frantic, crackling energy that’s hotter than a heatwave in Tatoonie. Mando’s fingers dig into the spot where dudebro fuckboi had his hand back in the bar. Slowly, slowly, his hand snakes up your thigh, grazing across your hipbone, tickling the sensitive skin...

“You’re such a fucking asshole,” you sneer, your upper lip curled.

“I guess I am,” he admits, his eyes boring holes through the visor of his helmet, “But you’re no angel, either.”

With that, he whirls you around and pushes you up against the wall, your flushed cheeks pressed up against the cool metal of his ship. You moan when he drapes a bandage across your eyes then tugs tightly at your hair. You hear him pull his helmet over his head, dropping it onto the ground with an obnoxious clang. Then he’s behind you, his voice in your ear, sultry and thick.

“You waltz around teasing me with those looks and that body of yours,” he grips your ass through the fabric of your dress, squeezing with bruising strength, “You drive me absolutely fucking crazy.”

He presses a searing kiss to your neck, teeth clamping around the flesh. You moan and arch against him, desire pulsing through your veins like velvety liquid chocolate.

“Then I saw you with our bounty, the way he eyed you, like he was undressing your right then and there,” the Mandalorian grazes his teeth along your neck, biting and nipping hard enough to draw blood, “Only I get to look at you like that. You’re mine.”

With a sudden burst of strength, the Mandalorian grips you by the waist and spins you around, pressing your back against the wall. He crashes his lips onto yours in a searing kiss, teeth scraping and tongues clashing, his mouth ruthless and bruising in the most delicious of ways. He kisses you with the hunger of a starved man, as though he’s deciding whether to savour you or swallow you whole.

The Mandalorian spills his lips down the column of your throat, biting and sucking and bruising, planting blossoming purple roses in your skin. Bite marks swell beneath his lips; a brand you’ll wear proudly for the next few days. It’s ironic how being claimed by the Mandalorian can make you feel so liberated.

He pulls away from you and clutches the zipper to your dress, tearing it from your body. You gasp, the cool air caressing your exposed skin. You feel the prickle of his eyes travelling across your body, capturing and collecting, memorising every detail.

And then he’s on you again, kissing your lips fiercely, stealing the breath from your lungs, swallowing your gasps, your moans, trapping your bottom lip between his teeth and biting. Your hands roam through his hair, tugging the roots, letting it melt between your fingers like honey.

The Mandalorian reaches behind you and rips off your bra followed by your panties, pulling an involuntary gasp from your lips.

“You’re going to have to pay for those,” you pant, “They weren’t cheap—“

You trail off into a moan as you feel the Mandalorian’s hot lips close around one of your nipples, teeth scraping and nibbling. You arch into his mouth, massaging his scalp as you play with his hair. His hand paws at your other breast, rolling the soft flesh in his palm, sending shivers throughout your body.

“Consider it payback for denting my ship,” he counters, and you hear his armour clink against the ships floor as though he were kneeling.

You’re about to ask him what he’s doing when he begins pressing butterfly kisses down your stomach, tasting the salty sweetness of your skin, tongue mapping out the canvas of your body. You moan when he bites your hipbone then travels lower, lower, until his hot breath is hovering over your slick entrance. He slings your leg over his shoulder and inhales your scent as though he were taking mental notes, cataloguing your natural fragrance with everything he knows about you, and then—

He dives in, curling his tongue over your clit, rolling the sensitive pearl of nerves as he drinks you in like sweet nectar. You moan and gasp and whimper his name, your voice hoarse as your lower belly crackles with ethereal-like energy; a nest of frayed, live wires sending currents of azure-blue electricity through your body.

Thick fingers push into you; first the index, then the middle finger, then both. Your back arches and your fingers fly into his hair, gripping hard enough to draw a groan from the back of his throat. It doesn’t take long for you to climax; you cry out his name as you shatter into oblivion, coasting a high that jolts you into hyperspace.

The Mandalorian kisses his way back up your body, and then he kisses you deeply. You slide your tongue over his lips, tasting yourself. Your head spins into a state of euphoric delirium.

“Your pleasure belongs to me,” he snarls, transforming your spine into a quivering live wire, “I’m in charge. Understood?”

“Yes, sir ,” you whisper, light as air, tone teasing.

“Good girl.”

The Mandalorian breaks away, the absence of his warmth leaving a ghosting greyness where he once stood. You shudder as you hear armour clicking and the whirr of zipper teeth being pulled apart. Then you feel his hands tug on the knot behind your head, keeping your bandage together, and the fabric falls away, returning your vision.

You blink, eyes adjusting. The Mandalorian stands before you in his armour, including his helmet. His codpiece is discarded; the lump of metal sits abandoned on the floor near your shredded clothes. You trap your bottom lip between your teeth as your gaze dips to his huge, thick cock.

“Wow,” you gasp, “You’ve been holding out on me, Mando.”

The Mandalorian steps toward you again, hooks his arms around your thighs, and hoists you up against the wall. The cold metal bites into your back, penetrating your skin and crawling down your spine. He presses his cock against your entrance.

“Maybe if you weren’t such a brat...”

Without further ado, He pins you to the wall of the Razor Crest with his long, thick girth, sinking into you with a loud groan and a roll of his hips. You cling onto the pieces of his armour and rest your head on the cool metal of his shoulder as the Mandalorian sets a pace. He rocks his hips slowly at first and you move your own hips against him, for once perfectly in sync.

“Fuck,” you curse, wrapping your thighs around his hips and pulling him further into your warm depths.

The Mandalorian snaps his hips against you, building up a fast, unrelenting pace. His movements are steady and deliberate, his grip plunging into your thighs, shooting sparks of pain and pleasure throughout your entire body. He’s silent for the most part, occasionally grunting and gasping in your ear when the muscles in your pussy contract.

“Yes,” you cry, biting into the fabric of his shoulder, “Just like that, don’t stop.”

A familiar tightness begins to curl inside your lower belly again, sloshing around with the chemical cocktail of champagne,

dopamine and serotonin. The feeling rolls and crashes within you, filling you up like seawater and sunlight and bright, glittering gold.

“Every time a man lays his hands on you, I want to cut them off,” he growls, each word punctuated with a sharp thrust, “Each eye that follows you makes me want to dig them out of the socket.”

“I never — oh — never knew you felt like — Ah, fuck yes — like that.”

“Bullshit. You knew...you’re just such a — fuck — fucking tease .”

“So what are you going to do—do about it?”

The Mandalorian groans and increases his pace, slamming his cock inside of you. He balances you with one, strong arm while the other snakes between the two of you and reaches up, up, up, his fingers wrapping around your neck, flexing gently. The added pressure makes you moan as you crest higher and higher, scaling the wobbling, tipsy-turvey ladder of a crashing crescendo—

Suddenly, the tight coil inside you snaps, spirals, sending pleasure surging through you, fluttering in your chest, pulsing through your arms and legs. Your pussy quivers around him, hugging his cock as the muscles spasm and quake with the force of your climax. The Mandalorian follows you over the edge, gritting his teeth and growling your name as he buries his twitching cock inside of you and comes, pouring his seed deep inside of you.

The air around of you smells like sweat and sex and grease and is filled with your combined pants. After a few lingering moments, the Mandalorian slides out of you and places you gently on the ground, tucking himself back into his pants. Your thighs are sticky with his dribbling cum and your head feels like it’s been crammed with fluffy cotton buds but your entire body tingles like light dancing off the ocean.

“That was—“

“Incredible...” you finish, biting your lip. The Mandalorian’s faceless mask stares down at you, but you have a sneaking suspicion that he’s gazing sheepishly at you, perhaps shy or maybe even aroused. Maybe he’s like you — an amalgamation of conflicting emotions, some old and nostalgic, some surprising and new.

***

Morning light drenches the Mandalorian’s quarters, shimmering like gold dust. You moan gently, consciousness slowly returning to you. You become aware of your surroundings, recognition settling in, delicious memories of being tied up and blindfolded while the Mandalorian worshipped your body...

The gentle caress of a warm kiss tickles your inner thigh.

You moan as the kisses dot along your thigh, climbing higher, teasing around your entrance, licking and nipping like he can’t get enough...

Your fingers fumble then clench around the bed sheets as his tongue finally laps at your clit, swirling and sliding in tantalising rhythms. You gasp and mewl, whispering words of encouragement as the Mandalorian feasts on you, plunging two fingers into your slick entrance. You begin to draw closer and closer to your climax, your toes curling as you throw your head back and moan—

A small whimper suddenly jolts you back into the present.

You sit up on your elbows and gasp, clambering to cover yourself as the Child stares up at you, distressed by the sound of your moans. His bottom lip trembles, his large eyes unusually glassy as he waddles up to you.

Beneath you, the Mandalorian shifts, and you turn away from him as he slides his helmet on.

“Hello baby,” you soothe, reaching down to scoop him up with one arm, “It’s okay, mummy’s here.”

The Child coos in delight as he snuggles into your embrace. You gently turn on your side to face the Mandalorian — who is now wearing his helmet — and place the Child between your bodies. He stares up at both of you and beams; his smile could light up a thousands suns.

When the Child begins to doze, you gaze up at the Mandalorian through your lashes, bracing your head on your hand bent at the elbow.

“I think he was jealous,” you whisper, stifling your giggles.

You hear the amusement in the Mandalorian’s tone, “Of you or of me?”

You shrug, leaning down to press a tiny kiss on the Child’s head, “Who knows?”

#the mandalorian #star wars #the mandalorian x reader #the mandalorian smut #baby yoda #star wars imagine #the mandalorian x you #the mandalorian x y/n #the mandalorian fluff #fluff #smut #star wars smut #star wars fluff #fluff & smut #jealous #imagines #georgie writes

6K notes · View notes