#i think i might focus on some soft asks when i get back onto writing ive been doing some blog theme work rn bc its been on my to do list | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

petit-etoile · 7 months

Note

Oh oh I have an AU I haven't had the chance to write anything for. It's pre-vampirism magistrate Astarion and criminal tav who is incredibly well-versed in law. They keep committing crimes and getting caught in purpose just to see Astarion who fucking hates their guts because he can't ever convict them of anything bc they find loopholes and somehow manage to evade the law. It's an "at each other's throats" kinda romance and they kiss with teeth between cases

darling, if you love me say it back

pairing . ⊱ astarion x tav wordcount . ⊱ 3,604 content warnings . ⊱ canon compliant temporary character death, tav isn't a human but can be whatever else you like, astarion isn't a vampire yet, tav is gender neutral other tags . ⊱ canon compliant, canon temporary character death, introspection, p.orn without plot, oral s/ex, desk s.ex, inappropriate use of a cravat, c.reampie archiveofourown . ⊱ here.

taglist . ⊱ @azrielshadows1nger, @pandimoostuff, @faevi, @microskies, @foreverthemaraudersera, @queenofthespacesquids, @claryvoyantfray, @6doodlaang14, @anne-isnotokay, @itshimbotime, @yeeteth-the-raven, @sessils,@8-opossums, @worryknotdear, @abirdaboxandachippedcup, @ghosts-and-ink, @b4um3pfl4um3, @gunslingerorchid, @hypopxia, @m0ssytrees, @erysione, @odette-attackattack, @catching-fire-in-the-wind, @ashrio20, @wills-mental-illness, @queenofcarrotflowers-s, @kirahlene be added . ⊱ here .

summary . ⊱ The Magistrate Judge Astarion Ancunin has a soft spot for you. You like to exploit that fact.

‘I need to see you in my office,’ Astarion hisses — and the tips of his ears are so red you think they might catch flame. He grabs you by the elbow roughly and tugs. ‘Now.’

‘Let’s do it, baby,’ you say smugly. ‘I know the law.’

Knowing the law might be an overstatement. You have studied the law for only one purpose, and that purpose you know like the back of your hand. So when Astarion presses you, you don’t argue. You do as the magistrate says and allow yourself to be dragged across the court. He admonishes you like one would get onto a dog who misbehaves. You can’t help but laugh.

It isn’t like Astarion isn’t a super serious magistrate with a focus on criminal prosecution. He wants to nail you for your sins, for your crimes. The only catch is that no matter how amazing Astarion is at his job, you’re simply better. If you’ve stolen something, you’re more than capable of hiding the evidence. If you’ve murdered someone, you know all the best ways to hide a body. It comes naturally.

Astarion is wearing that ever familiar frown as he marches through the elegant halls. It’s a frown that says you’re in trouble and there’s nothing that I can do. But that isn’t necessarily true. Astarion will do anything you ask so long as you ask nicely, and you’ve been getting good at asking nicely lately. He prides himself in training you even if it isn’t that simple. He calls it rehabilitation. You call it sex.

‘You can’t keep doing this, you know,’ Astarion snaps at you. ‘At some point you must give it up!’

He isn’t good at whispering when he’s riled up. He runs his free hand through his curls in anger, pushing them away from his face like his bangs being wild make it hard to think. It makes him more attractive.

‘You don’t mean that,’ you say with a shrug.

‘I do,’ he says, ‘very much mean that.’

You grin. ‘You would miss me,’ you tell him lasciviously, and he groans. ‘I know you would.’

He huffs. ‘The only thing that I would miss is the peace after the headache you’ve given me. It’s as though you aren’t even aware of how vexing you are.’

You laugh, and the fine line of Astarion’s temper snaps. He all but throws you in his office and locks it behind him. He’s annoyed with the way you stagger dramatically to one of the velvet couches before his desk. You lean over the arm and kick your feet up.

‘Does the idea of cuffs around my wrists excite you?’

You look over your shoulder. Astarion clenches his jaw. It must hurt to frown as hard as he is. You pull yourself onto the cushions and sit demurely. You study him. His rigid lines, tense gaze. He comes and sits on the edge of his desk, pressing his forehead into his hands as if that will relieve him of his headache. You’re determined to make it worse.

‘I apologize,’ you say sweetly. ‘I’ll behave from now on.’

‘We both know that you are not capable of behaving,’ Astarion says thinly.

He shouldn’t have said that. You can’t help yourself, but most of the time, Astarion makes it so easy for you to dig into his weaknesses and exploit them. You stare at him with wide, innocent eyes.

‘You should teach me,’ you suggest.

Astarion’s patience snaps. ‘I beg your pardon? Have some decorum, please!’

‘Having decorum is so boring,’ you say, pouting. ‘Life is much more fun when you live freely.’

‘And committing crimes is your definition of living freely?’

‘What is the point of living if not to live?’ you ask. ‘Why confine myself to rules of good or bad when I can choose what makes me happy.’

‘What exactly makes a criminal like you happy?’ Astarion asks bitterly.

You’ve always been possessed by a sense of otherness. You rise from the couch and carefully twist your fingers in his cravat, tangling yourself in him as he has become entangled in you. The Silverymoon lace tickles your skin. You pull Astarion closer and he begrudgingly caves to your strength. Your lips barely brush against his and already you can sense it. The barely contained restraint. The hunger. Astarion longs for you. He’s carefully hidden it beneath the scent of bergamot.

Slowly, you slide him free of what pressures him most. The cravat slides from his neck easily. It excites Astarion. His eyes glitter like you’ve never seen before. Being a magistrate isn’t about caring about the laws he’s vowed to uphold. It’s about power. You give it to him. You hold your wrists together with a wicked grin.

You balance the fabric on your fingers. Astarion swallows. Being proper isn’t really his thing. It’s thrilling to watch as he changes his mind. You annoy him — he detests you, wishes you gone. You are the object of all his improper late night dreams.

But as if he’s moving through water, he takes his cravat from your hands. You almost think it’s going to be a rejection. Astarion bundles your wrists together with an expertise that suggests he’s done it before. The binding becomes tight but not too tight and you relish in the way it twists your wrists. He fastens the knot into a pretty bow.

And then he kisses you. He grabs you so roughly by the back of the neck that your teeth slam together, but Astarion sighs so prettily against your mouth you decide you could withstand anything.

It’s a passionate kiss made up of teeth and spit and tongue. Astarion is both pushing you and pulling you. He can’t make up his mind. Does he want you and the stain you’ll bring to his reputation? A magistrate with a weakness for a criminal is such an interesting dynamic, but Astarion is a proud man. You are almost certain he would throw you into harm’s way if a situation ever occurred that deemed it necessary. You would do the same given the chance. This is simply a tryst.

You like to pretend it is, at least. You hate coming across as a romantic. You chase a freedom so exquisite no one will ever understand it, but when Astarion pushes you towards the couch, you don’t complain. You fall across the cushions with ease and catch him as he falls between your thighs.

‘You,’ Astarion accuses hotly, ‘are an irrevocable annoyance I may never be cured of.’

‘You are so very frank in all the ways you despise me,’ you say, moaning softly as he kisses your neck. ‘I think you’re capable of being freed after all.’

‘I am glad to see you are finally aware that it is hate that drives me,’ Astarion murmurs thickly. ‘It repulses me that you think you could possibly be endearing.’

You laugh and Astarion sucks a bruise into your collarbone. He’ll pretend to be aloof and noncommittal to your very presence, but he’s invested. You can feel the weight of his pleasure against your thighs even as he denies his feelings for you. Astarion doesn’t bother with your shirt or his own. He clings to your waist as he finds the lace of your breeches and tugs you free.

Astarion pushes his hand inside of your smallclothes and touches your flushed skin, spreading his fingers so that he can touch every inch your body has to offer. The fervor of the motion is what causes you to gasp. He’s a man on a mission, and he touches you at your core so adoringly it makes the bite of his words all but disappear. He fondles you like he’s never touched your skin before. Your gasp turns to a sultry whine, and he bites your neck like a punishment. You almost think he’s going to admonish you, that he’ll say your silence is worth more. He doesn’t. If anything, the echo of your voice spurns him to go further.

Astarion presses two fingers inside of you and the laughter dies in your chest. He’s trying to rearrange you through a perverse method. If he fucks you good enough, crime’s appeal will turn to dust within your mind. It makes you wonder what it would be like to dote on a magistrate. Would it be enough? Could it be enough? Sinning feels just as sweet.

He curls his fingers against your core and your back arches prettily off the velvet cushions. You bite your bottom lip and try to quell the pining, but then you catch a glimpse of him from beneath your eyelashes. Astarion is watching your every move. His lips are parted. His pupils are dilated. His cheeks have colored at the sound of your voice. He is torn between watching your face for your reactions and glancing down at his hand underneath your breeches. You meet his gaze bravely, chin lifting, and smile.

He adds another just to watch you struggle. The angle, the curve of his wrist, and the situation are enough to make your thighs squeeze together, but Astarion doesn’t let you. He roughly throws himself between your legs so that you can’t, and it’s hot, too hot that you cry weakly. He grins at the sound like he always does, like he always will. It’s his victory this evening.

But as quickly as Astarion deigned to touch you, he releases you. He stands up and drags you by the wrists, turning his cheek the other way when you try to taste his skin.

‘The prosecutor is ineffectual — ’

You snort without meaning to, and Astarion digs his fingers into the swell of your hip. You allow him to maneuver you, bending at the waist while he presses you forward, chest against the chilled wood of his desk. You have to rise on your toes to stand comfortably.

‘Is that what you’re thinking about?’ you ask breathlessly.

‘I’m thinking about the necessary reform,’ Astarion snaps.

You press your cheek into the wood and stare at his door. The prosecutor, the defense. It doesn’t really matter, does it? Astarion is the only one who cares. You’re somewhat glad he does. It means he’s taken your case to interest, and when he presses himself to your lower back, you’re excited. He shoves your breeches to your ankles.

‘Are you going to take me here?’ you murmur. ‘On your desk. Where is your propriety?’

‘You dare speak to me of decency?’ Astarion snorts.

‘The weight of my sins will be forever embedded on your desk,’ you say. ‘You flatter me, your honor.’

‘Do you ever stop talking?’ Astarion asks. You can hear his patience snapping.

‘Well, you’re just so boring,’ you say, laughing. ‘Why don’t you do something that — ’

Astarion kneels down behind you and shoves his way between your legs. You shiver when he presses his lips against your core. He mouths at you hungrily. He grunts low in the back of his throat and digs his nails into your thighs. It steals your breath away. He’s so determined to change the very essence of your being that his tongue and mouth searching where his fingers first were makes you go weak in the knees. You whine.

You press your fingers into the dark, rich mahogany of his desk and try to keep focus. You want to taunt him. You want to tease him, but that wanton desire is almost forgotten entirely by the way Astarion feasts upon your flesh. He parts you with his thumbs and groans against your skin and you almost forget who you are. This is what he wanted. He wanted to pull your desires from you and replace them with his own.

You let him. He works you up as easily as anyone can be worked up, his fingers and his mouth exploring every inch of your skin that’s exposed. He goes to slide a finger in curiously, but you twist your hips away. Astarion is all work and no play. He will tease you relentlessly as it suits him, and he will do what interests him. You interest him more than he’s willing to confess. That’s why he works so hard for your pleasure.

When he’s done with you, he kisses the base of your spine soothingly. Your legs tremble beneath you. Astarion smooths his hand across your hip. You glance at him.

‘Perhaps I can fuck some sense into you now,’ Astarion mumbles.

He has the audacity to sound inquisitive. It’s not like it’s possible, but he seems determined enough to try it out regardless of his intuition. His hands are warm against your skin, and the excitement only builds in the pit of your stomach as you feel Astarion’s skin touch yours. You hear his clothes rustle and his breath catch in his throat. You hide a smile against your arm.

When Astarion slides into your core, it’s like a possession. The breath steals from your lungs. His touch is a familiar constant — you would recognize him anywhere by scent alone. You cry weakly. Your toes crunch from the angle, but there’s nothing you want more at this moment than to learn to be good.

Astarion hums behind you as well, his fingers digging into your hips as he tries to steady himself. The desk crunches uncomfortably against your belly but it’s a welcome pain. It keeps you focused. You still have the energy to wiggle back against him as his cock slowly pushes in until there is no more room left to explore.

‘Be good,’ he whispers, ‘and I will give you what you deserve.’

What do you deserve exactly?

It’s hard to say. You enjoy your life of crime almost as much as you love the way Astarion bends you over his desk. You’re good at stealing, you’re good at killing, but you’re good at being soft and pliant as well, giving in to that sentimentality that keeps you coming back from more.

At first it was an elaborate game. What could you do to ensure that Magistrate Judge Astarion Ancunin looked your way? He was a noble elf, and your hands were covered in fresh dough from the baker you stole from. There was a curious glint in his eyes when he looked over you, yet somehow the gods had deemed the yeast and honey on your fingers was not honest enough to be proof.

You are smitten. You bounce taller on your toes with every aggressive thrust, arms struggling to support your weight. Astarion fists his fingers into your hair and pulls until your throat is exposed. He wants you to sing for him, so you do. You arch your back and moan loudly. The sounds of it bounce around his little office.

‘You wouldn’t shut up before,’ Astarion says breathlessly, a hoarse laugh.

‘Do something — worth talking about — ’

Astarions laughs incredulously, but he does fuck you harder for it. He releases your hair without much flourish and focuses on dragging your hips back onto his cock, punching forward so hard you see stars. It’s wonderful, it’s powerful. If Astarion’s entire goal was to make you forsake the world, he’s done a good job of turning your life around. The cravat rubs against your wrists as you try to seek purchase on the desk. Your fingers drag across the polished wood, and you shudder as you clench down around his cock.

You sound so breathless and silly, groaning while he fucks you against his desk. He fills you full until you’re certain you can take no more. You press a hot cheek against the wood and try to catch your breath. You hook a foot around his ankle for support, twisting on his desk. You tuck your arms beneath your chest. You feel as though you’re coming undone. All your years of villainy, and it comes undone by the consistency of Astarion’s presence.

Your arms are stiff from constantly being up, but you’re almost grateful when Astarion pauses. He helps you turn on top of his desk so you’re on your back instead, and even though the edge digs into your lower back, you prefer that to anything else.

You meet Astarion’s gaze. He tells you he hates you, that he wishes you were out of his hair, that he despises you, but the gentleness of his eyes tells you otherwise. He slides back into you with a small moan, and you wrap your legs around his hips to guide him in further.

‘It’s good,’ you gasp. ‘It’s good, you’re good — ’

Astarion doesn’t say anything. He doesn’t have to. You can see it clear as day in his eyes. Astarion won’t say he loves you, that in his ardent fervor he seeks you out, but he knows that you know. Why else would fate lead you back together? You reach for his face with your hands, and his eyes flutter closed to avoid the wistfulness. He leans into your touch.

You cry softly as Astarion begins to grind into you again. He helps carry you as he does so. And it feels so good, feels so overwhelming that you briefly consider the fact that he has changed you for the better.

A spirit that slides into your very marrow. Astarion is hauntingly beautiful, and if he is a spider then you are a fly tangled in his web. He calls you a pretty thing and you give into the struggle. You press your wrists against your forehead and strain against his cock, unable to hide from the waves of crashing pleasure.

Astarion finishes inside of you with a low moan. He presses a rough hand against your belly to stabilize himself, and shyly, you touch his wrist with your bound hands just to feel his pulse. As soon as he’s caught his breath, he releases you from your bonds.

You almost miss him when he pulls away from you. He uses one of his hanging cassocks to clean himself with and is kind enough to do the same for you. You’re almost certain that your legs won’t work, so you sit up on his desk to rest and damn his paperwork to the hells. You kick off your breeches from around your ankles and sit, legs crossed, while Astarion tries to fix his reflection in the mirror.

‘You are truly an astute teacher,’ you say casually. ‘The art of lockpicking is all but gone from my mind. Thank you, your honor.’

Astarion snorts and shakes his head, torn between ignoring you and giving into your wiles. He curls his hair back into place and then walks back to you, leaning forward until you’re nose to nose.

You think he won’t kiss you, but then he does. His lips taste like summer oranges and you taste him until it’s the only thing you can think of. He hugs you tenderly. It isn’t the same as when he admonishes you. It makes your chest feel warm. You almost feel weaker for it. Your bite is being taken away.

‘I can’t keep protecting you,’ Astarion says softly against your cheek. ‘You torment me day and night. When I lie down in my sheets, I find myself consumed with worry.’

‘You think about me?’ you tease. ‘In your sprawling manse?’

‘Move in with me,’ he murmurs. ‘Then you can be inferior yet vain inside my sprawling manse.’

Astarion is not there that evening. You try to wait as long as you can without seeming suspicious. There are maids, family members, and their admirers who come inside and out throughout the evening — but not Astarion, never Astarion. You wait until the sun sets and fireflies light up the streets of the Upper City but eventually, the malaise of abandonment guides your feet away. You walk the streets aimlessly until a shiver runs down your spine. A chill so violent turns you away from the courthouse.

But in the morning, there’s a fuss. It draws you back into where you left and you can’t help but to lose yourself. Astarion is dead. His mother sobs. The members of the city watch who bear the bad news look equally as morose. Astarin’s father nearly falls to his knees in despair.

When you break into their manse that evening, you look for one thing. You steal a cravat from his wardrobe and tie it around your neck.

Then, you leave Baldur’s Gate.

You aren’t sure where your feet are going to take you.

Part of your yearns for the Underdark. Baldur’s Gate is a cursed city, you decide. You wander back to it after two hundred years of avoiding it like the plague, and not an hour within the city are you spirited away on an adventure you never longed for.

You have changed. You can’t really remember who you were all those years ago, or the hopefulness you might have felt in your chest once. You’re different now. A folk hero. You used to steal from the rich and give to the poor before the mindflayers fed you their parasite and stole that part of you. But you aren’t alone this time. You wander the beach for hours searching for anything that can be of use and pause over a love letter that makes you sob.

It isn’t all bad. You meet a half-elf who scowls as much as she mumbles to herself.

On the other side of the beach, you meet a ghost.

His eyes are different from what you remember. The warmth he once looked upon you with is gone and replaced by unfamiliar sanguine.

#astarion #astarion ancunin #astarion bg3 #astarion x tav #astarion x reader #astarion x you #astarion x oc #astarion smut #bg3 smut #from ，carcosa .#my fic #hyliandreso #you know i hit the prompt square on & then threw in a plot twist #is it really a carcosa fic if there isn't a plot twist somewhere #* say what you want，even if it's bad

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thedovesaredying · 9 months

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Hi I'm hyperfixated over your zombie! Ghost and I've been reading it every hour since it was up, it's the idea of him only acting upon his own primal urges get me going 🤤 i don't know if your zombie! Ghost is a dead person who became zombie or just an infected living human but either way I'm so down!!

I thought about what if reader leaves the muzzle on him all the time and do the usual stuff, pull him by it when they walk about looking for food and medicine, loosen it a bit when he tries to eat whatever is in his zombies menu and of course tugging it backwards as you ride him 🩵

- 🌋

Anon! Your brain!!

I’m glad I’m not the only one weak for our Zombie lad. I actually have a bunch more I want to write about him, so feel free to request more for him at any point uwu

A little snippet for you below the cut <3

Words: 780

Rating: NSFW

Warnings: Teratophilia, PnV, Unprotected Sex, Muzzles.

Reminder, this is an 18+ account!

Ghost has been in quite a huff with you recently or, at least, you think he is. It’s a little difficult to tell given his difficulty stringing full sentences together after the infection ravaged his brain. He’s still cognisant and able to get his thoughts across to you (even if most of those thoughts involve being hungry or wanting to fulfil certain urges).

However, his attention span isn’t the greatest and he’s constantly getting distracted by things in your surroundings. Wandering off like a toddler at every new sound, checking to see if there’s food or a potential threat hiding around every corner. No matter how many times you ask him to try and focus, he’ll inevitably end up finding trouble.

The other zombies aren’t much of a problem since he can chase them off with a few well-placed swipes and growls to remind them of their place. It’s the other survivors you’re worried about. It’s a lawless land out here and anyone that’s survived this long knows to shoot first and ask questions later. This doesn’t bode well for your zombified partner. He’s an enemy and when he has his sights on a potential meal there’s little you can do to deter him from attacking.

Hence, it’s easier to simply keep him at your side. The muzzle works wonders for when you need to gently steer him away from distractions, even if he occasionally gets a little grumpy at having to be pulled around by his face. He can’t nose his face up against you properly when it’s in place which often makes him grumble and sigh a tad overdramatically.

You take it off when you go to sleep, after all, it wouldn't do you any good to have your guard dog unable to use his best weapons. Ghost doesn’t require sleep anymore, so he makes an excellent protector for when you’re in your most vulnerable state.

He stays with you all throughout the night, his body pressed up against your back and his arms caging you to his chest. His lips are dry and completely missing in some parts, but that doesn’t stop him from trying to lave every inch of you with kisses. A soft rumbling sound always accompanies his affections, almost a purr.

But the uses of a muzzle don’t stop at simply helping to direct your companion whenever he starts to drift away. It’s particularly useful for manipulating his face to exactly where you want it, be it away from something he wants or toward the places you require his attention.

Riding him is only more intense when you’re able to grip at the thick leather straps keeping his muzzle in place. He tries to press his mouth to your throat, but you hold him back, forcing his milky white eyes to stare directly into your own as you slowly sink down on his cock. It’s beautiful, the way his eyelids flutter and a frankly sinful groan escapes him.

“Good boy,” you coo, earning yourself a rough jerk of Ghost’s hips. He starts rocking his body up and into your warmth, his gloved hands raising to grip at your waist.

He pulls you down and onto him over and over again in time with his rapid thrusts, snarling and growling all the while. Ghost might not be able to shift his gaze from your blissed out expression, but that doesn’t mean he’s any less in control. The pace he sets is downright brutal, bullying his entire length into your sopping cunt until it nudges at your cervix.

Even when you gasp at the sensation and one of your hands grips at his hair he doesn’t faulter. Your noises seem only to urge him on, his panting breath heavy as he endeavours to draw out at many sounds from your lips as physically possible. His intense gaze from where you hold his face only heightens the experience, his eyes scrutinising each and every expression you offer.

You grow close to orgasm almost embarrassingly fast, but all it takes is a raspy, possessive, “mine,” snarled at you to have your pussy clamping down around Ghost’s cock.

With your body growing weak from coming so hard, Ghost takes full advantage of your distraction, pushing you down and onto your back without missing a single beat in his current rhythm. He keeps going all through your orgasm, the slick from your tender hole only helping to easy his way. He doesn’t let up with his desperate chanting of, “mine, mine, mine,” right up until he spills deep inside you.

Your attempts to dominate him hadn’t exactly gone to plan. Perhaps next time you should use some handcuffs as well.

#writing #call of duty modern warfare #simon ghost riley #simon ghost riley x reader #simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley x you #simon riley x you #reader insert #terato #ask dove #dyingdovefics #🌋anon

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bby-deerling · 7 months

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Hi, can I request Shanks + gone too soon?

hi anon, please please forgive me both for the angst AND for the twist ending i got it in my head and couldn't not write it.

shanks + gone too soon (sfw, but a teeny bit suggestive, so mdni!)

wc: 1.1k, masterlist

Cheeks burning red from the taste of alcohol, the music playing in the hole in the wall bar in the East Blue begins to pound in your ears. The man who has been buying your drinks all night slides you another beer, sly grin on his scruffy face. He had been entertaining you with his bombastic personality and stories of his journeys at sea all night, and in return you had given him small snippets about yourself; however, he seemed to want a bit more out of you, asking you probing and personal questions.

“Ever been in love before?” he asks you, seemingly out of the blue. The question brings a tipsy, bittersweet grin on your face.

“Once. Years ago.” you reply, eyes falling to your drink as you fidget with the mug.

“Tell me about it, doll.” he presses, eager to get a handle on what makes you tick.

Swirling in feelings that you had never quite processed properly, you decide it might be in your own best interest to indulge him.

***

You were young—on the greener side of nineteen—when the Red Force docked on your island. Warnings and talk of danger buzzed around your village, but they seemed far from menacing as they hung out at Makino’s bar, doing far more drinking than looting. Talk of the town was they had even taken that little dark-haired boy who was constantly eating all the food from street vendors under their wing, entertaining him and treating him like a little brother.

It was safe to say you were curious.

Foolish as it was to go to a bar alone as a pretty young thing, part of you was secretly hoping to catch some attention, especially from the pirates with slowly creeping bounties on their heads that had captivated the whole village.

Fidgeting with the short hemline of your skirt, you sit at the edge of the bar, slowly sipping on your cocktail and observing the drunken merriment unfolding before you. A man with blonde dreadlocks—Yasopp according to his bandana is cleaning up in darts, devastating anyone who dared to challenge him. An intense, wide man with long dark hair sits at the bar drinking and observing the rest of his crew. As for their boss, the famous Red-Haired Shanks, he was sitting on the floor, laughing hysterically with a bottle of rum in his hand.

Despite being the picture-perfect image of the dangers of alcoholism, he was simply captivating to you—from the soft red hair framing his face underneath his hat, to the way his charming laugh rang out in the bar, making you swoon.

You bide your time and stare for a while, slowly turning your focus back to your drink, trying to think of a decent way to approach him. He beats you to the punch.

“What’s a pretty thing like you doing in a place like this?” he croons, leaning onto the bar—his line is cheesy, but the sheer charisma radiating off his beautifully tanned skin makes it forgivable.

“Drinking, same as you.” you say, motioning to the glass in front of you on the table. “The real question is, what does a pirate want with a sweet thing like me?”

Your face turns as pink as your drink when he ghosts a finger along your leg. “A piece of these thighs, for one.” he says, smirk plastered on his face. “But before that, just a bit of your time.”

He buys you a frozen margarita, and you’re surprised at how quickly he opens up to you. A propped open book ready to read, you probe him about his past, his present, and where he wants to go next. In return, he becomes increasingly more brazen with his touches to the point that you two become the laughing stock of the bar. Once he eventually drags you out of the bar, his attention turns to you during pillow talk, eyes gleaming as you ramble on about your comparatively mild and mellow life.

Initially expecting to be nothing more than a one-night-stand, you’re pleasantly surprised when he sticks around; he takes you out to dinner, plans picnics on the beach, and keeps you around the boat enough that the crew starts calling you “the boss’s girl.” Naïvely, you even secretly pack your essentials, hoping he would ask you to go out to sea with them to their next destination.

He does not.

“I’ll be back before you know it, sweetheart.” he reassures you, smothering your entire face with kisses, the taste of booze strong on his breath. Tears in your eyes, he cheerfully waves as the boat disappears over the horizon.

Shanks makes good on his promise to return to you not just once, but a handful of times; he showers you in beautiful gifts and treasures, spends long nights laying out on the beach with you watching the stars and the crashing ebb and flow of the tides.

He even tells you he loves you.

You knew it was only a matter of time until he left the East Blue for good and moved on to bigger things—his potential shone so brightly it was hard to ignore, and was beginning to encompass your time together, hanging like a large storm cloud overhead. However, when he did leave for good, you expected to go with him; you had talked about it together and agreed upon it.

That’s why it shocked you so much when he disappeared from your village so suddenly, leaving both you and his arm behind to rot by the sea.

As the Red Force leaves for the final time, without a trace or so much as a goodbye, you realize how far out of your orbit he truly was. You felt foolish for letting your walls down, for thinking that getting entangled with a pirate would end any differently than it did.

***

“He’s not coming back for you, I hope you know that, doll.” your drinking partner says, brushing a few blue flyaways away from his face as he takes a swig of his drink. “Just be grateful he didn’t leave you with some rugrat in your belly before he took off.”

His words bite, but you know there’s truth to them. You likely were far from the first woman that Shanks has left high and dry, and you knew you wouldn’t be the last; even still, no matter how silly it was, you kindled a space for him in your heart, hoping his thoughts, and by extension his ship, would drift back to you.

However, when Buggy the Clown puts his hand on your thigh and asks you back to his room, you think that, just maybe, spending the night with one of his dearest friends might not be a bad consolation prize.

#one piece x reader #x reader #shanks x reader #mdni #buggy x reader #this ones a bit unhinged i know

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yawntutsyip · 1 year

Note

okay request! aonung with fem metkayina

aonung takes notice that you have bloomed, from a shy reserved girl to slowly gaining confidence and coming out of your shell. he comes to find he isn't the only one that has taken notice, and gets slightly agitated when one of the popular hunters voices his interest during their return from a hunt one afternoon.

Aonung, not one to bite his tongue for long, says something to him. The other boy realises that aonung has a soft spot for you. To bring in some comedy, they both have a stare off before racing back to the village. Competing on who has the larger catch of fish, or who has the biggest fish.

They both stumble onto the sand, racing towards the village, the other boy getting ahead of anoung, in a rush aonung didnt see you, and you with him, as you were also rushing. You bump into each other, hard for you because of his strong chest, but it sends you both stumbling.

This sends the necklace you had just made go flying into the water and sinking. You were too shocked by being so close, he almost doesn't realise its you from frustration. But you quickly notice the necklace is not in your hand and give him a quick look, which he returns in shock. He is cut off from saying anything when you dive into the water out of view. Of course the other boy, just had to witness this and starts laughing with some others from afar, Roxto joins the crowd before assisting aonung.

Turns out the necklace you made was for aonung, but he would never know, because either you didnt find it, or you did and couldn't find the game to give it to him after that embarrassing encounter.

1st alternative if reader doesnt find the necklace, she speaks to tsireya about it,explaining it was important, she found the perfect shell and such to gift someone, tsireya tries to find out who but reader wont budge.

2nd alternative if reader does find the necklace she also speaks to tsireya about it, asking for advice on how she can gift it to someone who she might not have a chance with. Tsireya goes off naming boys, but suddenly comes to ask if its her brother. Tsireya could recall one day when you joined her group of friends for the first time, they started gossiping about boys, and you gotten quiet and kept focus on something else when aonungs name was brought up.

Idk about an ending and im sorry if its too long or not detailed enough. Or even a boring idea

Warnings: none 🤷‍♀️

AN: I hope you liked this , and this was what you were hoping for, tysm for requesting. sorry if there’s mistakes I’m writing this at 2 am in the morning 🧎‍♀️I’m tired asf. ❤️ ily tho

The necklace:

The village was alive and happy as they had been throwing a celebration for the hunters that had returned from their trip successfully and safely. The sound of drums pounding, woman singing, rattles shaking, and children’s laughter with the complimentary sound of the ocean in the background.

You stayed by the fire dancing in your own world, swaying your hips to the beat of the drums and humming along to the song. It was as if you were one with the music, letting yourself free from any problems. Unbeknownst to you, you had caught the eyes of a certain chief's son. Ao’nung.

He had been staring at you with hungry eyes from afar ever since he saw you get up and start dancing, the way your hips swayed to every beat, and how your hair gracefully blew against the wind. He was entranced by everything about you since you guys were younger. He had watched you grow from a shy little girl that was always too scared to talk to anyone into a young beautiful woman, finally out of your shell and not caring about the eyes around you. “(Y/N) is probably one of the most beautiful girls here, you know I’m thinking about asking to court her, treat her all night if you know what I mean ayeee”

The voice of another hunter nearby catching Ao’nung’s attention moving from you to land on Äenlu, even his name made the boy's blood boil. Ao’nung didn’t like the way he talked about you, talking about ‘treating you all night’ yeah right. No one was good enough for you…besides himself.

“You won’t get the chance to ask her, because I’m asking her first Äenlu” Ao’nung said staring at the other hunter, saying his name with as much venom he could muster up. This caught Äenlu off guard, making him realize he wasn’t the only one about to make a move on you. Both Metkayina boys stare at each other, looking as if they were about to pounce any second waiting for the other's next move. “Bro! Go grab the fish you had caught earlier and ask (Y/N) hurry! This is your chance” Rotxo nudges his friend with his elbow.

Immediately Ao’nung stands up and books it back to his hut, finding the biggest fish he and his father could catch ready to show it off and impress you. Äenlu doing the same shortly, as he had heard the boys advise. He wanted you badly to be his mate and just because Ao’nung was the son of the Olo’eyktan doesn’t mean he would go easy. Unfortunately, when they both came out of their family’s Marui they both noticed they had about the same size fish. Now, this was serious. Giving each other one last look they both ran back to where the celebration was being held, racing to see who could get to you first. They both stumbled in the sand nearly dropping the big fish in their hands.

For the people who didn’t know what was going on, they just looked like mad men running with fish, almost falling on their faces. It was quite embarrassing but they didn’t care. There was only one thing on their mind and that was you.

While all that chaos was going on, you stopped dancing and went back to where your friend Tsireya was. “Well~ are you gonna do it tonight? I think it’s the perfect moment!” She tells you with a teasing grin on her lips showing her dimples. Blush finds its way upon your face as you can’t help but smile back and nod. “I am. I even made him a necklace….do you think he’s gonna like it?”

You grabbed the necklace that was in your pouch and lift it to show Tsireya. It had taken you all night to put it together from weaving the string to diving for shells and pearls to make the beads, then having to shape them…it was a whole process but every moment was worth it as you made sure to have only good intentions while making it.

Tsireya’s eyes widen and stared at the necklace in awe, it was beautifully made and had taken much time. This made the girl curious as to who this boy was you were trying to confess to, you haven’t told her but only said it was someone you’d had your eye on for a while, as much as the girl wanted to pry and find out she knew not to push you and would wait for you to tell her yourself. “It’s incredible (Y/N)! Whoever this boy is, is very lucky!” She boasts and hugs you. She was happy that her friend mustered up the courage, she couldn’t wait to see you happy lily together with your future mate.

“Okay! Wish me luck…I’m gonna go find him!” You stated and took a deep breath in before bidding Tsireya goodbye and walking away. ‘Now where in the world could he be?’ You think to yourself and walk along the shore to get a better view of everyone.

‘hm…well he’s not dancing that’s for sure’ your eyes trailed over to the people that danced near the fire with their mates, hips swaying together in sync with bright happy smiles on their faces. You silently wish that to be you and him soon, you’re back against his chest with his hands on your hips getting lost in the tunes. The blush from earlier quickly finds its way back to your face along with a light fluttering feeling in your stomach.

Removing your gaze from the dancing you look in front of you and see the one person you had been looking for. Ao’nung. A smile finds its way on your face as you rush forward to the boy not realizing he was running towards your way. “Ao’nung?” You call out but it went unheard, you tried stopping yourself before you were about to crash into each other but it seemed like Eywa was not on your side today as your feet only slid in the sand sending you forward and knocking into Ao’nung…and down you both went, tumbling, you closed your eyes accepting your unfortunate fate, preparing to have a face full of sand. The fish and necklace in both your hands flew up and were tossed somewhere in the water.

When you opened your eyes, you look down and meet a familiar pair of aqua eyes staring back at you with shock, realizing who it was, your face soon held the same reaction. “(Y/N)?” He questioned with his eyebrows furrowed together.

Laughter begins to fill both of your ears pulling you guys out of shock and realizing a small crowd had begun to surround you two witnessing the whole thing. ‘Oh god how embarrassing…how am I supposed to give him the necklace now!?’ the thought wonders in your mind, you look to your hand and quickly sit up now sitting on his waist realizing it was gone.

‘No no no no’ you swing your head to look around the sand to see if it was anywhere, but there was nothing until you look to the water and see something shiny slowly sinking. Pushing all your weight into your hands you stand up and rush to dive into the water before it sinks to the bottom or before some fish swallowed it, the groan coming from Ao’nung completely goes unknown to you.

Rotxo runs over to his friend and helps him sit up while snickering to himself. “Well…you either made her flustered or she hates you-“ “Rotxo! Why would you say something like that?!” He cuts him off with a worried frown looking at this friend and then back to the water where you had dived in. “Bro! I’m just joking!!” Rotxo stops laughing as he sees how serious Ao’nung’s face was. He really liked her huh? This was the first time he’d seen Ao’nung so serious about a girl.

Eventually, everyone left back to the celebration, Äenlu decided to give you some time and would ask you later while Ao’nung and Rotxo went back to where they were chatting earlier, Rotxo was reassuring Ao’nung that you didn’t reject him, maybe you got scared? To be honest he didn’t know either and to him and everyone else it looked like you had rejected him but he wasn’t gonna say that to him.

After fighting with an ilu for the necklace you were able to get it finally after a game of tug of war and swam to the surface taking in a loud breath of air. You angrily stomped your way back to the shore and let out a tired sigh and sat down, feeling all the sand stick to your leg, bringing your knees to your chest and resting your head on your knees.

Well now your whole plan was ruined, how were you supposed to show your face in front of him now? He probably thinks you’re embarrassing or something. Oh, great mother, you messed up this time.

A groan of frustration slips past your lips as you throw your head back, gently dropping the necklace next to you. “(Y/N)?” Someone calls your name, already knowing who it was by the sound of their voice you don’t bother turning around and only send them a short hum in response. Tsireya frowns and sits next to you, the girl looks down at your hand and notices the necklace still with you. ‘uh oh what happened…?’

“…did you get the chance to give it to him?” She said quietly while folding herself in the same position while staring up at you from her knees. “not exactly…I messed it up ‘reya. I embarrassed myself in front of him and a couple of other people…and then I lost the necklace and had to fight with an ilu to get it back…oh Eywa it was such a mess….what do I do now?” Tears clouded your vision as you sniffle quickly wiping them away with the back of your hand.

“(Y/N)….who is this boy anyways? I’m sure he doesn’t think differently! Everyone has their moments silly” she wraps one arm around your shoulder and pulls you closer into a side hug. “I’m embarrassed to even tell you who it is…..” you mutter under your breath while looking away.

“hmmm…is it Aìäkx?” Tsireya starts by listing the names of all the boys in the clan. You said nothing but shake your head no. “Yutxo?…. Poewn?…no!? Hmmm…. Suotue?….. Kutxä?!” Your eyes widen as you let out a loud gasp when she said the name. “Tsireya! He’s so much older than us! Why would it be him?” Kutxä was one of the younger warriors that was always by the Olo’eyktan’s side, about a few years younger than Tonowari. “I’m just joking~ he is pretty hot though you gotta admit that- that auntie is one lucky girl-“ she begins and both of you burst out laughing.

“Okay okay…..hmm is it Rotxo?” Tsireya continues, your face scrunches up in disgust. “He’s like a brother, that’s gross to think about”

“Sorry sorry, what about Äenlu? I’ve seen him looking at you a lot lately agree he’s cute! Is it him?!” You smile and shake your head no once again. You did notice Äenlu here and there but he just wasn’t the one for you, he was also kind of a player and you knew once you reject him he would most likely move on to another girl the next day, that’s just how he was.

“What?! I’ve named every boy in our village! unless you are going after an older man- which I’m not hating on at all…I don’t judge but I do think it’s a little risky-“

“Tsireya! It’s not anyone older!” You shout and bury your face in your hands from embarrassment. “the only other person I haven’t named is!-“ Tsireya pauses her words and finally realizes who it’s been the whole time. Now that Tsireya thinks back to a certain memory of when you and she and some other girls were all talking about their crushes, they had all gone around saying names but when it came to you, you glanced at Tsireya before telling them you didn’t like anyone…it all made sense to her now.

“(Y/N) do you like Ao’nung?” Tsireya made sure to pay close attention to you, watching how your tail started thumping against the sand behind you and how your ears twitched at her brother's name. “would you be mad if I said yes?….” you shyly asked her while looking up at her as if you were ashamed. “Of course not! You should’ve told me and I could’ve helped you out!” She exclaimed while sitting up pulling you with her and grabs the necklace beside you shoving it in your hands. “You have to go tell him now! You have no idea how long he’s had an eye on you!”

“Wait! Tsireya- I don’t know…I mean-“ before you could finish she was already pulling you towards the gathering, both of you making your way to Ao’nung where he sat with his back against a log talking with Rotxo and a couple of other people. “Tsireya- how about I just wait till tomorrow or maybe like next month?…” “no you are doing this now! you have been preparing for this forever, it’s now or never”

Now here you are with Tsireya standing in front of Ao’nung and his group of friends. The group stopped talking and had attention now on both of you. You look to Tsireya and shake your head no backing away but before you could she pushes you forward to Ao’nung and gives you a thumbs up. “Uhm….Ao’nung…” you start while looking down at your feet. It’s been a while since you felt this shy, you thought you had finally gotten over it but being in front of Ao’nung, his presence was intimidating as his eyes trail up and down your figure before reaching your eyes. “(Y/N), I’m sorry for earlier! I should’ve been watching where I was going earlier-“

“(Y/N)! I saw what happened earlier! I was actually gonna ask you if you wanted to “ Äenlu interrupted by pulling both of your hands in his but before he could finish his question Ao’nung swiftly gets up and picks you up in his arms with you letting out a squeak in surprise. Everyone watches as he runs with you away, they all stand in shock as it happened so fast. “That’s not even fair?! What the hell?” Äenlu shouts as Ao’nung and your figure gets smaller and smaller, he was about to chase after you but Rotxo and Tsireya held him back shaking their head no with a glare.

“Ao’nung?!” You ask as you stared wide eyes at the boy in front of you who had just carried you away somewhere. “Will you allow me to court you (Y/N)?” Ao’nung said getting straight to the point, staring down at you, waiting for any response, when you don’t say anything he started to get worried thinking he just made a fool of himself until he sees you pull something out from your hand. A necklace, a beautiful one at that….was this when you were gonna tell him you had made it for Äenlu-

“I was gonna ask you the same thing…I made you this necklace….when we bumped into each other it fell in the water…that’s why I dived in! I don’t want you to think I was being weird or anything!-“ Ao’nung’s tense shoulders instantly drop with a sigh of relief, he wraps his arms around you and pulls you close to him.

“Oh thank Eywa- I thought you were gonna tell me you made it for someone else, it’s beautiful (Y/N)” a shy smile falls on your lips as you look down trying to hide the purple hue that crept its way onto your face. “So…you don’t think I’m weird?”

“I don’t think you’re weird at all don’t worry” Ao’nung smiled sweetly at you. You lift your head back up and hold the necklace to his face. “Well? You wanna put it on? Do you accept my courting gift?”

“How could I ever decline, love”

“Good. I had to fight an ilu to get this back for you..”

“You did what?!”

perm. tag list: @gender3nvyy @eywas-heir @kenzi-woycehoski @ilovejakesullysdick @fanboyluvr @definitelynot-here @buckyb4rnes

I’m sorry to the two 😩 idk why I can’t tag you

#yawn’s req. 📂#avatar x reader #aonung x reader #atwow x reader #ao’nung x reader #atwow

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believesthings · 1 year

Text

Different Kind of Touch// Ted Lasso x Reader

Summary: After seeing your boyfriend, Ted Lasso, roll out his new “Led Tasso” method at training, you have an unexpected response and you’re surprised to come home one day to find that your boyfriend has decided to bring this new method into the bedroom.

A/N: I haven’t written smut in like 7 years but I really wanted to write this. (and just like our man Ted says “training makes perfect”) so I figured there was no better way to get comfortable with writing smut again except to just dive into it. Also shoutout to @calzone-d, since her message of encouragement is what pushed me to complete this. Full disclosure, you might have to suspend some disbelief for this piece. It’s hard for me to say what would be in character for “Led Tasso” since we only have one scene of him in the show. But what is fanfiction but the deepest desires of our imaginations?

Warnings: Smut, Panty gagging, fingering

It was a complete coincidence that you showed up to training the same day that Ted decided to unveil his Led Tasso method. You and Ted had both been so busy lately and you wanted to surprise him at work. You didn’t see him down in his office when you arrived, however, Beard was there with a signature football book propped open, absorbing the tactics like a sponge.

“Hey Beard. Where’s Ted?”

“Getting ready for training.”

Nate chimes in - “Apparently, we’re using Led Tasso today.”

Looking between the two men you ask, “What the hell is Led Tasso?”

“The last resort, apparently.”

Sitting a couple rows behind Dr. Sharon, you see your boyfriend come out onto the pitch, grumbling and throwing a cup up at the stands. He flips over the drink table and it certainly startles you, it’s pretty rare to see aggression from Ted even if this is still pretty goofy.

Watching the team lean down and touch their toes - and then touch each other’s toes, you couldn’t help but laugh.

Even though the whole thing was certainly absurd, it was definitely doing something for you.

Watching him flip over a table, telling Collin off for running his mouth, and when he picked up the ball and started talking about the ‘air hole nub,’ you were embarrassingly close to squirming in your seat; the whole thing reminding you all too well what it felt like to have his own fingers on you.

Beard snaps him back to reality and there is again - sweet Ted. He waves up at you, “Hey there Darlin’! I wasn’t expecting to see you today.”

“I know - I was a surprise. I figured we could have lunch together today.”

“What a sweet surprise you are. Course we can have lunch together, come on.”

Making your way down to him, he wraps his arm around you and presses a kiss to your temple.

“So, Led Tasso, huh?”

“Yeah, you know like we were tellin’ the doc, sometimes you just gotta try different methods, you know? You never know what will help.”

“You’re the best coach I’ve ever seen, Ted. Keep doing your thing and I’m sure it’ll all work out.”

______________________________________________________________

“What is all this?”

Ted looks up at you, smiling. “Well, I figured we’ve both been so busy lately it was time for us to have some much needed time together, alone.”

Candles and soft lighting decorated the room, a very romantic atmosphere. However, you could also see a stash of towels on the bed which said to you - your needs were going to be thoroughly taken care of tonight. You were already practically squirming in anticipation of what was to come.

Ted makes his way over, taking your face in his hands and kisses you. “I won’t lie to you, darling. I’ve been craving your body all day. I could barely focus on training cause I was thinking about you so much. Beard had to snap me back to reality a few times.”

He pulls back, drinking you in. “You are an absolute vision, you know.”

His hands roam down grabbing you by the waist as he makes his way down and starts kissing your neck. Murmuring against your skin, “You’re wearing too many clothes.”

Rolling your eyes and chuckling lightly at him, you reply, “I’m wearing shorts, Ted.”

“Well, they’re in the way.”

“They do come off, you know.”

He lifts his head up and locks his eyes with yours. “Can I take your clothes off, sweetheart?”

“I thought you’d never ask.”

Lifting your shirt up over your head and throwing it to the side, he wastes no time pressing kisses on your now exposed skin. His lips and hands making their way leisurely down your body until he reaches your hips. He pulls your shorts down and you kick them out of the way as you step out of them.

“Would you do me a favor and kneel on those towels for me, love?”

You drop a knowing gaze to the bulge in his pants and he chuckles at you. “Oh, believe me darlin’ I wouldn’t be opposed to you taking care of me like that, but tonight is about putting your pleasure first.”

Which was funny to you, because with Ted every night was about putting your pleasure first.

“Here let me lie down behind you.” You settle down on the towels and he pulls you back into his chest. “Just like that. Can you close your eyes for me?” He whispers in your ear.

You let out a sigh as you feel Ted’s large hands roaming over your body. “I want you to clear your head and focus on my touch, okay?”

Nodding your head, he whispers again, “good girl.”

You let out a whimper at the clenching you can feel in your core at his words.

He cups your breasts in his hands and rubs his thumbs over your nipples, feeling them harden under his touch. “I love the little noises you make.” he says as he starts kissing your neck.

“Can you spread your legs open for me, baby?”

You comply, opening your legs and raising up off the towel as Ted slides your panties down and places them off to the side.

“There you go. Just like that.” You begin squirming against him and he presses his hands against your thighs, holding you still. “Shh, keep your eyes closed.” He runs one hand up and down your inner thighs while the other hand reaches up and gently grabs your neck. He’s back in your ear again, “I’m going to take care of you, darlin’.”

Of course he was. He always did.

“Now, a little birdie told me that you uh-” He clears his throat, “you really enjoyed the show you got out on the pitch the other day, that a certain someone really grabbed your attention.”

Since you’ve only made one recent trip to Ted’s work, it didn’t take long for you to figure out what Ted was talking about. His alter ego, Led Tasso.

Your eyes shoot open and come face to face with his own hazel irises gazing back at you. “How did you - “ A little birdie told me. “Oh, I’m going to kill him.”

“Now honey, there’s no need to go gettin’ mad at Beard. I could tell when I saw you that day that training obviously had an effect on you. You looked more nervous than a long tailed cat in a room full of rocking chairs. All beard said was that you mentioned that it was doing something for you. But I had mostly figured that out on my own, he just gave me the verbal confirmation I needed to be sure.”

“You don’t need to be embarrassed, you know. You should always tell me what you like.” He goes back to kissing your neck.

“I want to know everything.”

Kiss

“Everything that gives you chills.”

Kiss

“Everything that flusters you.”

Kiss

His voice seems to drop an octave when he says, “Everything that makes you wet.”

“Ted-” You whimper out.

“Do you trust me, baby?”

“Of course I trust you Ted. Always.”

He gives you a soft kiss on the lips. “Just relax. I’ll be right back, okay?”

Before you can even fully process it, he’s getting up and stepping into the bathroom. You lie back and try to catch your bearings. Ted had barely even begun touching you and you were already about to lose your mind. You and Ted had played with Dom/Sub dynamics before but Ted bringing out this persona in the bedroom was a whole different ballpark.

When he emerges back into the room, the atmosphere shifts. Even though he looks like your Ted, you can feel the difference almost instantly.

“Close your eyes.”

It’s direct, his voice taking on an authority that your body seems to naturally respond to.

Once your eyelids have dropped, you can feel two of his fingers tracing along your bottom lip. “Open your mouth for me.”

Feeling his digits press against your tongue, you gently close your mouth.

“Suck.”

The anticipation you’ve been feeling seems to go off like a rocket. You get to work on the task at hand, wasting no time in swirling your tongue around his fingers.

“There you go, don’t hold back now. Gotta make sure they’re ready for where I’m gonna touch you next, yeah?”

You moan against his fingers at the thought of him finally giving you what you need.

“Oh, you like that?”

Nodding your head as he pops his fingers out of your mouth you can hear a slight tsk tsk tsk coming from above you.

“Use your words. We’re not moving on til you do.”

Your voice slightly cracks as you answer him, “Y-yes coach.”

There’s a brief pause and you wonder if you’ve already done something wrong. But he ends it quickly. “Good girl.”

He gently cups your pussy and you can feel his fingers caressing your folds and working their way towards your, now, incredibly sensitive clit.

But he doesn’t touch you there yet.

“Look at you. Your breathin’ is getting nice and heavy. I love teasin’ ya. Love hearing you making all those needy little noises.”

Your breath catches in your throat as you feel his fingers finally dip down and draw little circles on your clit. Finally giving you the touch you crave.

“This is the best part, isn’t it? I love getting all these little reactions out of you., making you melt with my touch, making you shake, turning you into a desperate mess. Making you beg for release. Do you want more?”

Gasping out an answer, “Yes, please.”

His other hand joins in as he gently slides in two fingers, while his other hand keeps playing with your clit.

The feeling was more intense than you anticipated and you let your eyes roll back while you moan out for him.

“Now, you gotta be quiet for me.”

You whimper in protest at this and he draws his fingers away.

“I asked you to be quiet.”

“No, please -” You whine.

He chuckles lowly at you, “Now, I think I might have been wrong about you. A good girl would follow directions like she was told. I guess you’re more of a naughty girl than I thought. Looks like I’ll have to help keep you quiet since you can’t do it yourself.”

He reaches over and grabs your panties.

“Open your mouth.”

He’s hovering over you, stuffing your panties in your mouth, nice and tight.

“There you go, now you can moan and whimper all you want. Let’s see how quiet you can stay if I just add another finger…”

A third finger slides its way into you and you begin moaning against the fabric in your mouth. You could feel your own wetness on your panties against your lips and you would be lying if you said it didn’t serve to just turn you on even more.

Your moaning only gets louder once you feel him increase the pace.

“That’s how you want it, huh? You want me to go a little harder, a little deeper?” He leans down and starts kissing on your neck again and lightly biting on your skin.

“I knew I was right about you. You are a naughty girl. Don’t you dare think about closing your legs. Need you to keep them wide open so I can properly give you my fingers, isn’t that right?”

He doesn’t say anything but you can feel him begin to slow his fingers and it’s becoming apparent to you that he’s waiting on a response from you before he’ll pick up his pace again.

You muffle out a “mmhm” against the fabric of your panties.

“You feel so good. So wet. I can’t wait to sink into that perfect pussy later. But right now, it’s not about me, is it? Right now it’s about making you cum as hard as you can. But you don’t do it until I say so, okay?”

He curls his finger in just the right spot and your hips buck up against him.

“I’ll even give you a little countdown. What do you think? I’ll only count from five - I won’t torture you too much. You’re too much of a greedy girl to be able to handle much more, aren’t you?”

You were so desperate for release and you didn’t care how much it showed at this point. Moaning and writhing at how close you were to falling apart. Tears were pricking the edges of your eyes as you looked up at him. He wasn’t speaking and you couldn’t read him well enough under this persona to tell where his head was. You didn’t think you could hold on much longer and you prayed he would start counting down soon.

He keeps his eyes on you and you can make out the light smirk forming on his face. “Alright - I’ll go easy on ya.”

“Five”

Oh, thank god.

“Four”

You could feel it building.

“Three”

Almost there…

“Two”

So close

“God you’re so beautiful when you’re desperate.”

Jesus Christ. You were so close. So much for going easy. Just one more number and you could have relief.

He removes his fingers from your pussy and lazily circles your clit while he sucks on your neck.

You groan against the gag in your mouth at the loss of contact.

“Alright, I’ll have mercy on you.”

“One” he says as he plunges his fingers back into you and your eyes roll back at the feeling.

“There you go, that’s it.” He talks you through your orgasm as you feel the wetness soaking his fingers and the towels beneath you, thank god he had the foresight to lay them out.

He removes his fingers and reaches up to take the gag out of your mouth, you grab his fingers, licking your own arousal off of him. You remove his fingers from your mouth with a pop and sit up on the bed, facing yourself in front of your boyfriend.

You clap your hands in front of him two times just like you saw from Beard on the pitch and just like magic, your sweet Ted is back - and a little flustered.

“Hey there darlin’ you ok?”

You nod at him, still trying to get your bearings and fully come down from your high.

He gets up and goes into the other room. When he returns, he holds a glass of water out to you which you gladly accept. You take slow sips while Ted peppers you with soft kisses. “What do you think about running a bath and getting cleaned up?”

He holds his hand out to you as you attempt to stand but your legs are shakier than you expect. “I got ya, darlin’”

He lifts you up and carries you into the bathroom, sitting you down gently on the side of the tub while he gets the water ready.

“Thank you for tonight, Ted. That was one of the hottest things I’ve experienced.”

“Thank you, honey. For trusting me to do all that. I thought it was pretty incredible myself.”

You step into the bath and lie back against his chest.

“Still feeling a little dizzy sweetheart? That’s okay. We can take all the time we need to relax.”

“Love you, Ted.”

He presses a kiss against your shoulder blade. “I love you too.”

#ted lasso x reader #ted lasso #ted lasso imagine #ted lasso fic #Ted lasso fanfic #ted lasso smut #Ted lasso reader insert #smut #ted lasso fanfiction #led tasso

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deepouterspacecandy · 4 months

Text

The Wolf and the Fox: Part 2

This chapter is a teeny bit spicier than the first. I hope you enjoy reading it because, as always; I had a great time writing it. Please give me all the fluff. I really love it when writers treat strong female characters softly, especially as a woman who is heavily involved in bodybuilding. Cheers! 18+ only. Violence and sexual content.

While Abby may not rank you among her top three favourite people, she walks you home after your track date and she doesn’t ask for her jacket back even after the heatwave of the stadium halls strong-arm you into unzipping it. Truthfully, the two of you become too engrossed in debating the coolest places you’d explore if you weren’t bound by obligations to the WLF, imagining yourselves as carefree wanderers.

“I hear you, but I still think a ghost town somewhere overseas takes the cake,” you say, fumbling for your keys. “You need to think bigger.”

“Every place is a ghost town, though. That’s what I’m trying to explain. I can drive you fifty miles in any direction—boom! There’s your ghost town. You’re welcome.”

The conversation becomes more intriguing as you approach your door, forcing you to decide between lying about where your suite is and walking until you run out of things to say—or fess up to her after you’ve gone too far and need to turn back.

You fiddle with the zipper, twirling it between your fingers, while she shoots a curious sideways glance at you. Slow down or keep going. Stop or keep going.

“It’s just that we’ve never been to say—Japan or India—and the beauty of the landscapes and architecture alone makes your idea look like a macaroni necklace in a museum.”

“Have you even been to a museum?”

“No, but it’d still shock the hell out of me to find a macaroni necklace.”

There’s this funny thing she does when she’s really frustrated and confused - her hands fly up to shield her eyes, and she ends up doing a spontaneous half-turn, facing the other way.

“I can’t stand you.”

“Bye!” you shout.

You’re trudging along, not knowing where you’re headed—probably some random old lady’s doorstep where you’ll scare the living daylights out of her by pretending to walk in—when Abby wrenches her arm around your neck and yanks you into her.

“So, tell me why my idea sucks, then,” she says.

“Abby, you said Costco.”

She ruffles your hair and gives you a playful push, letting you find your own footing instead of stumbling into hers.

“Right. So, basically, a museum for weapons, food, and probably Lego—but okay. Totally lame.”

“Is that all you care about? Food and guns?” you tease.

“Have you seen me?” she chuckles, playing with her fingers in lieu of her missing jacket cuff.

She directs her focus to her feet, and a small, lopsided smile forms on her lips. A calm silence envelops you before you realize you’re probably making it harder for her to self soothe.

“Oh, sorry. Here,” you say, taking off her coat.

She casually shrugs, leaving you awkwardly clutching it between you.

“Hang onto it for me. It’s too hot in here,” she says.

She’s right, it’s sweltering inside and you’re certain you’ve likely drenched it with your sweat. It might do some good to let the thing air out before she slips it back on.

“Is that really where you’d go?” you ask, hoping the change of subject will ease the knot twisting in your belly.

You’re not convinced. Behind Abby’s eyes, there is a depth you can almost feel, despite knowing very little about her. It stirs a desire to get to know her further and to release some of the preconceived notions you’ve taken on.

Her soft gaze turns to alarm as she fixates on your thigh. Your body tenses as her hand moves closer.

“Are you hurt?”

Before you remember your thievery, you pause for a moment to connect the dots.

“Cherries,” you say, explaining the stain before she panics and drags you to the infirmary. “See?”

You reach into your pocket and pull them out, all except one squished beyond recognition, and present the jumbled mess to her.

The juices spill through your fingers, running down your wrist in a deliciously sweet stream. Hurriedly, you slurp at the sticky liquid to prevent it from slipping down your forearm to stain her coat.

“Why do you have cherries in your pocket?” she asks, as she plucks the only redeemable one from your palm and pops it into her mouth.

“Found them in the gardens.”

Humming softly, she swallows the fruit, her wicked grin widening as she spits the pit back into your outstretched hand.

“You’re disgusting,” you groan.

“And you’re a bad girl,” she says, gesturing to a nearby garbage can. “I should report you.”

“Technically, you’re an accomplice,” you point out, scraping the remains into the bin. “I’d think twice about that.”

You hold your ruined hand away from your side until you can get home to wash it.

“I ate the evidence. I’m covered,” Abby says.

With her perceptive wit, you can’t help but revel in her antics, filling the hallways with your shared laughter as you swap tales of the countless stealthy misdeeds you’ve both accomplished throughout the years. Isaac has given her far more reprimands than you would have thought possible for someone of such a high rank.

“This is me,” Abby sighs, her hand resting on the doorjamb as she comes to a stop in front of her place. “I figure since you’re being all secretive about where you live, one of us needs to call the shot.”

When she gazes at you, tongue mirthfully peeking between her lips, your cheeks burn.

“I’m not being secretive.”

“No?” she asks, her voice filled with mischievous skepticism. “Do I need to get you a compass?”

“You saying I’m lost?”

Her long, taut body flexes against the doorframe, and it makes your mouth go dry. The rough and tumble demeanour she exudes completely fades as you take note of how stunning she looks in a baggy shirt and sweatpants. Given the way her eyes languidly rake over you, it’s impossible for her not to notice your admiration, causing your flushed face to become even hotter.

“Do you want to come in?” Abby asks.

To ensure your well-being, and for no other reason, it wouldn’t be awful to have a sink for handwashing. Perhaps some water to guzzle, mostly to avoid collapsing from sudden dehydration when returning to your barracks. It’s enjoyable to be in her company, and it’s a relief that the animosity has dissipated. But the longer she studies you with those intelligent blue eyes, the harder it becomes to control your senses.

When Isaac forced you together, you suspect his intention wasn’t for you to swing the pendulum all the way over.

“I should get home,” you say, loathing the words the moment you hear them out loud.

“Bummer,” Abby whispers. “Next time, then.”

----------------------------------------

In the kitchens, there is a flurry of activity as the news of a potential treaty between the Fireflies and the WLF spreads. Abby hasn’t come by to harass you for a few weeks, and you hope it’s because Isaac has her swamped with work, not because she’s purposely avoiding you.

You can’t even fathom the darker possibilities that arise from her absence.

No one in your circle has deliberately made efforts to find her, but if you’ve been going to the track every night after work hoping to bump into her, or discreetly seeking her out every time you finish a set in the gym, it’s something you’ll take to the grave.

Abby’s bomber jacket hangs forlornly on a hook by your gym bag, the sharp tang of freshly cut pine hitting your nose at the end of each day. Just thinking about wearing it around the compound makes your stomach churn, but you find comfort in having it around. In the off chance it makes her uncomfortable running into you with it on or it fans the flames of the rumour mill, you have committed to abandoning the garment by the door for now.

“I’ll take a hundred blueberry pancakes, please.”

The mess hall is now devoid of any occupants, save for the colossal tower of pots and pans awaiting your diligent scrubbing, enabling Abby’s gravelly voice to travel across the kitchen unimpeded.

“Strange,” you blurt exuberantly, pretending not to see her powerful form in the entryway. “I swear I heard a voice asking me for pancakes, but I just don’t recognize it!”

“Oh, I see,” she chuckles, her eyes sparkling as she moves confidently into your personal space. “We’re twelve years old now and Abby’s a spooky ghost.”

Your lips press together painfully, concealing a smile that threatens to break free.

“You have been gone a long time,” you say.

The sink is on the brink of overflowing with suds as you scramble to turn it off. The never-ending cycle of dirty dishes continues as you reach the third round. Armed with a scrub brush, you start chipping away at the grime.

Abby joins you with no hesitation, despite the exhaustion reflected in the dark circles under her eyes.

“It’s okay if you missed me,” she teases while rinsing a pot and splashing both of you with soapy water.

“If you didn’t spill more water on the floor than on these dishes, I would miss you even more.”

After placing the pot on the drying rack, she reaches for the next one.

“So, you did miss me, though?”

You shake your head, amused by her youthful pestering, and pass her another pan to rinse.

“I think I liked you better when you were mean to me all the time.”

You’re kidding around, but this joke seems to hit a raw nerve with her, unlike the others. Setting the next few dishes onto the rack, she lets out a discontented sigh and leans her back against the sink.

“I still owe you a proper apology for that.”

“You really don’t. I’m just messing with you. It’s water off a duck’s back.”

Abby’s fatigued disposition is visible as she fusses with the hem of her shirt, her posture hunched. Seeing her yawn, one that engulfs her whole body, you decide to send her home to get some much-needed rest.

“Will you come by when you’re finished here?” she asks.

“Tonight? But you need to sleep.”

With a tender plea, Abby reaches out and gently guides your wrist towards her, tracing the ridges of your damp hand with her thumb.

“Just wake me up, okay?” she murmurs. “There’s something I want to show you.”

---------------------------------------

When you finally arrive at her door, it dawns on you that it’s late and she might still share the place with a roommate who values a solid night’s sleep more than she does. For a solid two minutes, it prevents you from knocking, leaving you loitering outside. Once you summon the courage, you’re wound up like a spring. Your soft knocking is so faint that only someone with supersonic hearing could detect it, making matters worse.

A voice behind you nearly sends you through the roof.

“She sleeps like the dead,” Manny says, waggling his brows. “Do it like this.”

The force of his thrashing is astonishing, making you wonder how the door holds up against such abuse. For the sake of her neighbours, you feel an instant sense of remorse.

The door opens and Abby emerges, dressed in only her boxers and a sports bra. While she’s still half-asleep and rubbing her eyes, you entertain the idea of slipping away to conceal the restless energy bubbling up inside you. Manny is the first person she spots, and she immediately fixes him with a withering glare.

“You live here, asshole. Where’s your key?”

Manny sucks his teeth at her and jerks his thumb at you.

“Someone needs to teach your squeeze how to enter the dragons’ lair. Shame on you, leaving women in the hallway for me to rescue.”

As soon as her eyes lock onto you, they widen in surprise, instantly jolting her awake.

“There she is,” Manny snickers, shouldering past Abby and into their apartment. “It’s a miracle you’re able to get any action.”

Abby blushes from head to toe, squeezing her eyes shut at his comments, as she bashfully welcomes you into her home. You’re still reeling from the echoes of Manny’s noisy commotion in the hallway, making it hard to focus on anything he says or to fully appreciate how adorable Abby looks in her disheveled state.

As he shoves some belongings into his duffle bag, he continues, “I had no clue this was your thing, cuñada. Are you my competition now?”

“Stop talking,” Abby groans, glancing at you apologetically. “I thought you were gone for the night. Did your chick boot your ass out again?”

While they argue, you take advantage of the distraction to observe your surroundings and gather your bearings. Large windows undoubtedly invite ample pools of natural light inside during the day, complementing the open layout. Resembling a cluster of distant stars, the stadium lights glow in the night, saturating the room with a pleasant, amber shade.

Abby has spruced everything on her side of the room, except for her bed, which is cozy and rumpled. Above, she has meticulously organized her books, and you’re delighted to find a harmonious mix of romance novels. Nestled next to her pillow, one book in particular catches your attention.

“Have fun, ladies,” Manny says as he goes, his footsteps echoing down the hallway.

“I’m so fucking sorry about that,” Abby winces. “He’s actually pretty chill once you get to know him.”

“It’s fine,” you say, plopping down onto her mattress. “What’s this?”

On her bedside table, a stack of polaroids waits to be flipped through. She nods at you to pick them up and see for yourself.

The first shot captures a sun-drenched beach with boats lining the shore and log cabins in the background. The second is a medical bay, stocked to capacity, a fully equipped haven for healing.

“Who’s this?” you ask, holding up the next photograph.

“That’s Mel and Owen’s rug rat,” Abby says, giving your leg a quick squeeze. “She’s pregnant with their second one, if you can believe it.”

“How whimsical,” you croak, slipping the photo to the back of the stack.

Abby tries to conceal her amusement by averting her gaze, but neither of you can help but break into chortles at your pettiness.

The rest of the shots showcase a community that is unfamiliar to you, yet it appears to be thriving and operating smoothly. As you look closer, you notice the intricate patches on their clothing.

“Fireflies,” you say.

“Yes, ma’am.”

“The rumours are true, then?”

With a tired smile, Abby rises from her spot to grab drinks for the two of you.

“There’s this thing Isaac wants me to attend,” she calls out from the kitchen. “A gala or some shit like that. Mingling with the rival to make nice and whatnot.”

“But those are your people.”

“My people are here,” she says, handing you a cup. “But the fewer groups he expects me to fight, the better. I don’t know how much of that I have left in me.”

With her old group rising from the ashes and becoming a formidable force, the pressure she’s under is beyond comprehension. It’s impossible to imagine that she hasn’t contemplated reuniting with them.

“Gotta run it by Isaac first, but I was hoping you’d come with me.”

Throughout the years you’ve lived under the WLF, there hasn’t been a single event even remotely resembling a gala. In an effort to prevent morale from completely fading, they hold markets for a week during the summer, providing a casual setting for people to gather and trade. Last year, they treated the crowd to live music for a few hours, adding a delightful twist to the event, but they tasked you with security detail, anyway.

“You’re asking me to be your date?”

“Something like that,” Abby grins.

“I feel like we’re going to give Isaac a freaking heart attack.”

“Lucky us.”

It is more distressing to think of her being taken in by the Fireflies than to avoid her at the stadium and still have the knowledge that she's nearby. It’s selfish, but it’s niggling at you. She's convinced she won't want to go back to them, but what happens when she sees their community firsthand?

“So, doing a little light reading before bed, are we?”

Even with her sleep-tousled hair and wrinkled clothes, she maintains an impressive level of composure as she grasps the significance of your findings. It’s not the content of the literature that surprises you, rather the smuttiness of it. When it comes to lesbian reading material in the FOB, the one that she holds dear before falling asleep is the most enticing you can think of. You’d be open to indulging in a thorough exploration of her theories on it.

With a shy sweep, Abby moves her hair to one side, baring her neck. While toying with the chain there, she inadvertently drifts to her collarbone, running her fingers along the hard dips and smooth curves.

“That usually goes under the bed,” Abby laughs nervously. “I passed out so quick when I got back. Are you freaked out?”

“No, not at all. That’s um—that’s right up my alley,” you say.

With a gentle bump, her knee meets yours, and she keeps it there. Even Abby’s prickly calves are so lovely that they send a frenzy of flutters through you.

“I wish you would’ve told me when everything went down with Owen.”

You considered it. But the gossip circulated too rapidly, and you had kept it to yourself until then. It didn’t feel like the right time to pour out your heart, especially if everyone would assume you were lying to preserve your reputation or something equally awful.

“Would you have believed me?”

“I really hope so,” Abby whispers, the weight of her optimism and concern stark in the deep lines that settle on her forehead. “If I could go back and handle it differently, I promise I would. I’m sorry that I made you feel unsafe around me.”

Her glossy eyes hold a genuine kindness that tugs at your heart.

“You’re scary when you’re mad,” you say, teasingly knocking your knee harder into hers, hoping to lighten the mood. “But I can hold my own.”

“I know you can,” she says, her voice transforming into a deeper, more authoritative timbre. “You’re the only person who has ever dared to go toe to toe with me like that. It’s impressive. That’s why I saw you as a threat, I guess.”

“How do you see me now?” you ask.

Abby’s gaze lingers on the shared contact between your knees, then travels up your thighs to your chest, before finally locking onto your soul.

“If you could read my mind right now,” Abby says as she shivers, her hands instinctively moving to find warmth between her thighs. She squeezes them tightly together as if warding off a sudden chill. “I’m not sure if you’d run or come closer. It terrifies me.”

The absence of contact leaves you with a peculiar emptiness, steering you to seek a means of reestablishing it. You’re tempted to inch closer to her, but the weight of the moment holds you back, knowing that any sudden movement would be irreversible.

“Which one terrifies you?”

"Both," she says with a breathless chuckle, her cheeks flushed.

“Well, good thing I suck at running,” you say, mustering up the courage to extend your trembling hand towards her.

Without hesitation, she eagerly reaches for it. The room fills with the choppy sounds of your breathing as her nails graze each groove in your palm, her fingertips tracing every thin line.

“I’ll only ever chase you if you want me to,” Abby says, lips parting to make room for her short, panting breaths.

“I want you to.”

Standing up from her mattress, you walk backwards towards the tall, backlit windows, carefully avoiding the dumbbells on the floor. Biting her cheek, she leans forward as you move away, tempting her to close the distance.

“I’m fast,” Abby warns, hands flexing at her sides.

“But are you clever?”

Resting your head on the chilly windowpane, you willingly make yourself a spectacle for her to hunt, arms stretched above your head in a deceptive display of tricksy submission. She rises from the bed with such slowness that it blurs the edges of your surroundings, shattering your anticipation of her sudden aggression and leaving you momentarily thrown.

“You’re cute,” Abby sighs, her voice barely audible as she steps closer to you, stealthier than you’ve ever seen. “I’m onto you, though.”

“You think so?”

She presses her body against yours, gently pinning you against the window, her hands gliding up your arms and interlocking with your fingers. They go lax in her sweaty grip as every muscle relaxes into her warmth.

“I know it,” Abby says, lifting your chin with her knuckles. “Beautiful girl.”

“Kiss me.”

Her pouty lips glisten as she licks them, reminding you of the sweet cherry juice you shared. Lowering a hand, she pulls you closer, the heat of her touch spreading through the small of your back. The taste of her is somehow sweeter as she teases your lips open with the tip of her tongue, a constellation of bright sparks dancing behind your eyelids.

#abby the last of us #abby tlou #abby x fem!reader #abby x reader #abby x you #tlou abby #lesbian

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vashatxt · 11 months

Text

blade x reader - period s3x

imagine: you're not feeling too hot, on your period and suffering in bed, but you have a generous boyfriend called blade who knows exactly how to get you to sleep.

if you would like to request a fic/send a prompt, please read pinned and head to my ask!

there is no obligation to send any tips but if you feel like passing on a good deed, my kofi is https://ko-fi.com/idolelysia

cw: period sex, piss mention, oral sex, ass play.

the worst thing about your period, aside from how little you’re able to get done and the moodswings, is the pain. you’ve always suffered from horrendous cramping, heavy bleeding, bloating, and every other symptom under the sun.

there are days during that week of the month where you can do nothing but curl up into the fetal position, clench your legs together, your hand not resting on your crotch for anything nefarious, just comfort.

one afternoon, after showering to freshen up with no relief from the misery, you resign yourself to a nap. your boyfriend is already in bed, cosy in his boxers and a sweatshirt, his long hair tied up in a ponytail.

You smile at him and then start to pout. "don't be mad, but i think i need to accept the fact today is a write off."

"get in here." you gratefully climb over him onto the bed, curling up and letting out a deep sigh as your head hits the pillow. your tampon is only making you more conscious of your flow with how it would leak within an hour, and that wouldnt make for a peaceful nap.

"i'll change the sheets later...," you mumble. "don't worry about that," blade shushes you, his voice soft and gentle. you nuzzle into his shoulder. "It's okay, my girl." "mhm."

blade lowers the volume on the television while you assume your usual position, hand between your thighs. You try to focus on your breathing to allow yourself to fall into a deep slumber, but it's no use.

the cramping pain that extended right down from your abdomen to your legs is just intensifying. You moan as and wriggle around, trying to relieve it any way possible.

"babe?” blade mumbles.

"mhhm? im sorry, i know i'm disturbing you-," "you're not at all. i just...," blade slips his own hand between your thighs. "maybe an orgasm could help you sleep?"

"i...," you aren’t a blusher, but for some reason, you feel embarrassed. "i promise i wasnt trying to.... be presumptuous and initiate something-,"

"i know," blade presses his hand down onto your much smaller one, and smirks when you gasp. your hand is the only barrier between your cunt, and blade’s touch. "but you sound like you might need it." "b-but you know i don't like to make it gross...,"

"do you think its gross when i fuck you and my cock and my fingers come out covered in blood?" blade blinks, wide eyed and innocent. it takes everything for you not to moan at the words alone. "no... i think its hot."

"so do i. selfishly, this is one of my favorite times of the month." a grin flashes across his face, before he gently retracts his hand and uses it to roll you onto your back. "spread your legs."

he's gone down on you on your period before, but never while you were freely bleeding this heavily. but you don’t have time to feel self conscious, because the minute blade slips two of his long fingers into your pussy and gently pumps in and out, the lubrication from the blood and cum making it too easy for him to make you feel full. "more," you moan, but blade just laughs. "you're so fucking soaked, you slut."

blade is positioned on his knees between your spread legs, and makes sure to make eye contact before lowering his head, painfully slowly, like you have all the patience in the world. he doesn't break the eye contact until he has to, and he burrows his whole face into your warm cunt. the hand he was using to fuck you is now digging into your hip, keeping you restrained, and the other slips underneath your butt, fingers itching to play with your asshole. but eating you out is the main event. as blade’s tongue swirls inside you and he licks at your clit, just gently enough for it to be considered a tease, you are squirming. You’re sensitive at the best of times, but this is actually threatening to humiliate you with how quick you could climax. You muster the strength to start grinding against his face. "you ok?" blade pulls back, looking at you again.

"what?!" "you're being a brat." You narrow your eyes. "are you for real?"

Blade loves winding you up, but you can't do it today. you’re destroyed. Blade’s face is soaked, the sun shining in through the window making it absolutely clear that his face is coated in not just blood, but clear, thick cum too. "kiss me," you demand, and blade knows you’re feeling better already - but isn't going to complain about continuing to take care of you. You’ve forgotten all about your reservations regarding mess, and you clumsily climbs on top of blade, diving in for a sloppy kiss. You taste yourself, and fuck, there is something so hot about it, if you do say so yourself. You suck on blade’s bottom lip and cup his face to smear the blood further across it. he looks like an animal after devouring its helpless prey. and blade is licking his lips. Hungry for more. "leave some for me," he pouts. "not fair, babe." "you cant get enough of my taste, can you?" "you really are an insufferable little bitch."

You kiss him again, blade’s hands are around your waist and pulling you closer, while you fumble underneath his sweatshirt to start flicking and twisting at his nipples - you know how much he gets off on sharp pains like that - “fuck, you’re a desperate little thing.”

"always, baby," blade moans. "please. please please please." "please what?" "i wanna taste y-you... please... i wanna .. i wanna breathe you in... i want to drown in your cunt...i want every drop of you i want it i want it."

You shift forwards and lower yourself onto blade’s lips, blade dutifully supporting you from behind which has the added benefit of being able to pull you down further onto his face.

"this'll shut you up," you mumble, and it's not quite true, because though slightly muffled, blade is louder than ever, louder than even you were. there's something about a boy moaning into your pussy with his hot breath that drives you insane, and you know you won't last long, you’ll spill while still sitting on his face like its a throne made just for you. but thats how blade worships you, after all. he falls apart for you, so he deserves a good view of you falling apart for him.

"you feel what you do to me?" Blade presses his tongue into you in response. of course he can't penetrate much, but it's enough. You ride his tongue, closing your eyes and your hips rising and falling, throwing your neck back. You let the cusses and the whimpers and the "blade"s fall out of your mouth until the moment his lips latch around your throbbing clit and his tongue wraps around in weird and wonderful directions, you cannot even figure out what he was fucking drawing on you in his mind (blade tells you later it was the word "mine"), and when he refuses to stop stimulating your urethra when you warn him to not, you don’t have a choice - "fuck," you yell “blade, blade, bla--," You tremble into the orgasm, feeling the familiar warm sensations of a gush of blood, squirting, and a trickle of piss all while blade digs his fingers into your ass so hard that you can't move from his face.

then, finally, you can roll off him and fall asleep in seconds, this time to the soundtrack of blade jacking off beside you under the covers, not being able to keep your name out of his mouth as he does.

#blade hsr #blade x reader #hsr x reader #blade imagines #blade smut #hsr x you #blade x you

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lacyscabinet · 9 months

Note

Ghostface Natalie!!!

Angsty, cause I can't think of to much fluff rn:

1. She ends up stabbing R (reader) instead of the victim. And immediately crumbles grabbing onto them and falling to the floor sobbing she removes her mask begging for help from the others but their all to scared of her, as she panics trying to stop the bleeding. I don't like R death but just having Nat panic and feel bad is ❤️

2. Since people like sister Nat from you (with your beautiful writing!) Let me get this out of the way, she's like Sam Carpenter. Older, half sister. Her dad was a killer before her and she just lost it and started killing. But one night at a costume party, she's dragging some asshole of a dude away in the crowd of drunk teens with loud music. And just after she stabs him, right in front of everyone but no one seems to notice, the guy pulls her mask off, she looks up only to see her little sister caught her. (Gonna be an awkward discussion at home ngl 🏃) can also be like non sister, I just know people like her as such.

3. Natalie was staying in your room, she always had to sneak in through the window. She left her lover R, to go with her partner in crime (you pick) to "take care of something" anyway long story short she ends up stumbling and falling through your window on her way back, she was stabbed. Her mask in hand the only person she could think to seek refuge with was her girlfriend/partner/lover, but now you have to face the fact not only is she bleeding on perfectly good carpet, but she's killed people. Your friend's (mostly assholes let's be honest) but you don't want her to die.

Also could I ask for an emoji? To just sign with? I think I'm gonna end up sending a lot of things 😭 (if that's ok!) I love your writing!

A/N: OMG I WANNA WRITE EVERY SINGLE ONE (AND I WILL MAYBE 🤭), but I think I'm gonna start with your first idea!! Actually now that I think about it I might create a little section just for ghostface!au requests. And you can totally have an emoji!!! Just let me know what you picked! <3

Not proofreaddddd

MASTERLIST

Scream

"Natalie!" You happily squealed as soon as you saw your girlfriend walking into the room.

You were at Jackie's house for a sleepover with the whole team and a couple of mutual friends.

Natalie smiled, dropping a heavy backpack on the floor and instantly opening her arms for you "Hi baby" she mumbled while kissing the top of your head. You and the girls planned a fun and quiet night, but what you didn't know was that you currently stood in the arms of the mysterious cold blood murder Ghostface, and you also didn't know that one of Jackie's friends, Matt had a reputation to be a bit of a fuck boy.

And Nat couldn't stand him.

So as soon as everybody arrived at the party, she started targeting him from far away, monitoring his moves.

"Nat! Nat! Stop! Don't tickle me!" You said in between laughs, the two of you were cuddling on the couch "Okay okay I'll stop babe, actually, I forgot to tell you I need to go home earlier" Natalie said with an apologetic look "My mom...I need to check on her" she knew that you were very empathetic of her family situation, and she also knew that if she pulled that card you would let her leave without further questions.

That leads us to this moment, Nat changing outside of the house, from her grungy clothes to black coat and mask in hand along with a sharp knife.

Sneaking back inside, she could hear all of you messing around in the living room, a movie playing combined with soft music.

Nat peeped from the almost closed door, you sat near Lottie and Matt "Pretty" she thought when you smiled at one of Van's jokes "focus nat".

The lights were dimmed and you were distracted, so it was easy for her to sneak in and hide behind the bookshelf.

That's when she decided to attack.

Revealing herself, all the people in the room started screaming and running as far as they could, the adrenaline pumped in Nat's veins, and then she stabbed.

But in the chaos she didn't realize who she stabbed.

At least not until she heard you scream, scream like you never screamed before, it wasn't fear, it was gut wrenching pain.

Your body fell on the floor, blood, lots of blood splashed everywhere and Natalie's eyes widened

"no no no" she mumbled in panic while getting closer causing you to scream more, at that she instantly took off her mask "No no no baby it's me, it's just me I didn't mean to... I...let me help please, please baby..."

At that you could believe your eyes, your beautiful, kind and loving girl was ghostface? Like THE ghostface, a murderer!?

And just like you, everyone in the room was shocked, so when Nat asked, or more like begged them to help her they all just stared at her paralyzed.

You were so weak and the blood wasn't stopping, she cradled you in her arms for a while, until you passed out, and she cried and cried terrified that she just lost you forever.

You woke up in a hospital bed, beeping of machines and the smell of sanitizer lingered in the air, your mind was blurry and the memories of the night scattered in your head, but you did remember one single thing clearly

Natalie was the ghostface.

And you didn't know where she was now, if she was arrested or if she ran away, either way, you stared at the white ceiling, thinking of everything that happened and everything that changed in the moment ghostface pointed her knife at you.

#natalie scatorccio #yellowjackets #natalie scatorccio x reader #nat scatorccio #nat scatorccio x reader #nat scatorccio x #natalie scatorccio x y/n #yellowjackets x reader #yellowjackets x you #writers on tumblr

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mywritingonlyfans · 9 months

Note

hello uuu💓!! I love your writing so much and I hope you’re doing wonderful. I don’t know if you saw but Alex’s gf got a nipple piercing, and I would just die if you could (most importantly if you want and are in the mood for, if not totally understandable) tell us your thoughts or write something along the lines of Alex seeing your nipple piercings/reaction, how would he treat them. I just can’t get that idea out of my head

Omg omg omg omg 😭 I literally just woke up and read your message and went on Instagram to see this jesus. (HELLO YOU! babe)

I'm sharing thoughts, but I'll try to use that in a narrative soon because this is so good pls 😭 tthxx for sending this!

Alright, imagine telling him this before doing it. You're sitting on the edge of the bed, and he's between your knees. Your hands are on his jaw, holding him close to you as if he would consider looking at anything else but your worried eyes. Your fingers are sliding down his neck (and soft baby curls) as you contemplate how getting a nipple piercing could boost your self-esteem, and it could be an idea, but you want to hear his opinion first (even though you'd do it the same way, and you know he wouldn't mind). And he's looking at you cautiously, hanging onto every word before giving you lovely smile, seemingly caught off guard but not failing to shower you in repetitions of how hot you are and how you'll get even hotter as he tightens his grip on you and kisses you. (Like, please, the way he would be fixated on sucking and nibbling them, and how it would intensify afterward – maybe you'd even feel more confident after and pushing his mouth to them at any opportunity.)

And then he goes with you, your eyes watery with the prospect that it might hurt. He holds your hand, running his thumb over your skin to soften it and try to trick your synapses. Or better, he stands by the door, looking at you without your baby tee shirt. You're smiling and confident about it as he holds his jacket between his hands and watches you because you said you wanted him there. He feels happy to see you happy and a bit numb as you get up from the chair, push your hair back, and ask him to look at how it turned out. (He's already drooling over you.) Your face holds a smile between your teeth, knowing he won't hold back when it comes to complimenting you once you're alone. And yes, he would listen attentively about how to take care of and clean the area to do it for you whenever you'd like.

He would be so careful during the healing period, so you would always be on top. Unable to lavish the intensity with which you took care of him on your breasts, he would certainly focus more on other areas, like thighs and waist (squeezing, biting, marking and everything). And of course, seeing that you enjoy that, it would become a recurring thing. And you getting there, feeling exhausted and a bit frustrated, only for him to hold you and kiss away your tears while you're whimpering that you needed this to pass quickly because you missed having his mouth around them. He would clearly chuckle but feel the same way, even knowing that the wait would be worth it, and then he would nibble and kiss the skin around to try to soothe you a bit. And he would say that you would have to wait a bit longer with some laughter. Oh, he would clean the area for you, you know? Wipe away the sweat and put you in one of his tank tops that he usually wears under his button-down white shirts, then give a kiss to each one over the fabric and hear you moan softly because it was still a bit sensitive.

Around people who were close to you both, like the boys and girlfriends, I think he would kiss them over the thin fabric of your blouses. Maybe you haven't seen each other since the morning, and he's seeing you for the "first" time after having spent energy from you first thing in the morning and then he pulls you by the waist, wrapping his wide hands around you, lowers his head and kisses them with a good (lots of) pressure and he can see your body growing soft or just tense because your cheeks getting too hot at it. (If he's having a good day, he'll even bite to hear your muffled sighs in your hands). Oh, he would certainly stare at them from time to time whenever you were braless and they were showing thru your t-shirt. It would be like magnetism, even if he tried or disguised it, you would notice. Or touching and squeezing them when no one is watching just to have you snuggle up to him and say, "not here" even though the voice didn't hide that you liked it.

And okay, if it's a surprise and he's going to see it for the first time after you've already done it, I think it would be a case of you not being able to wait to show him. You would certainly have to take him to a calmer place or maybe in the car and tell him that you want to show him something and he feels a little red in his cheeks and ears when he sees you opening the buttons on your shirt, his bright eyes on you, meeting the metal slightly illuminated by the light light of the car. Your pretty nipples stiff from the cold wind and him licking his lips, sighing contentedly and unrestrainedly as he didn't utter words even after you let out a smile and whispered, "did you like it, Al?" with a calm tone and without perspective on the thoughts he was having at the moment. Let's say this happened while he was on tour, so at this event your nipples had been pierced for a few weeks and safe. So soon, Alex's reaction would be to run his thumb over your happy skin, making you let out the same sighs he had let out minutes ago and after rubbing them lightly and seeing that everything was ok, he would hold your waist and kiss them cautiously until he decides he would like to bite them and then leave the skin below your breast chewed and marked. (and yes, this is in the car, minutes before you need to go out and meet people. The windows are cloudy and you hold the back of his head in light pulls and moans, not being able to verbalize well a tiny, "I'm glad you liked it, my love.")

#als asks ❤️#alex turner x reader #alex turner smut #to the 💌

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pinkskytwst · 1 year

Text

SYMBIOTES

Octavinelle - (Octatrio/Prefect Romantic Poly)

As often as the Prefect worked at Mostro Lounge, they spent just as much time in Octavinelle just hanging out or studying. They might have had one of the smartest and clever lovers in NRC at their beck and call, but that didn’t mean they could have Azul take their tests for them. That meant that when they weren’t spending time with the other first years in Ramshackle or various clubs, they could typically be found in Azul’s office – whether that be bent over the coffee table with stacks of text books or sprawled out on one of the couches together with Floyd and Grim enjoying a movie on their phone.

That night was study night, however, as a unit test was going to be given on not just Alchemy but also Potions and Astrology within the next couple of days. Alchemy and Potions were the easier of the two – even though they weren’t actually all that easy when they had to learn at least fifteen years of basic background knowledge that the other students all absorbed during grade school – but Astrology was the bane of their existence. It was vague and dependent on so many different variables that they had to understand at least ten different aspects of what they were trying to figure out before they could even begin to decode the answer.

What kind of subject made you figure out the QUESTIONS as well as the ANSWERS!?

It’s only saving grace was that they didn’t have to actually be able to use magic to do it and so their grade would be counted on it’s own merit instead of lumped in together with Grim like some of the other subjects.

It didn’t make it any easier to remember how this or that constellation could mean this or that influence on this or that kind of event but ONLY if these certain criteria were met and if the criteria wasn’t met it meant something COMPLETELY DIFFERENT. Not to mention you had to take the ‘star signs’, ‘sun signs’, and ‘moon signs’ of not only the person you’re seeing for but also YOUR OWN because of COURSE your celestial markers effect how the ‘messages’ could be read.

“Ugggggh.” They groaned, dropping their head onto their arms. “I feel like my brain melted and is going to leak out my ears.”

Jade glanced up from where he was seated across from them on the other sofa, legs crossed and poised as ever while the human felt like a withered gremlin that hadn’t seen the sun in years. His lips spread into an amused grin, but his eyes were rather soft as he set aside the books to reach out and pour the other a fresh cup of tea.

“Aw, does Koebi-chan need a cuddle brake?” Floyd teased from beside them on the floor where he was also using the coffee table for writing and the sofa behind them for a backrest.

Grim had long ago fallen asleep on his own book, stretched out and snoring softly. He was so cute and he had honestly been attempting to focus on studying for a while so the Prefect didn’t have the heart to wake him.

“I need a new brain.” They grumbled, allowing themself to be tugged closer and into Floyd’s lap, going limp and not even caring as their tactile lover had fun curling around their docile form. “Think Azul could make a deal with me for one? I don’t even need a luxury one, a discount brain would be better than what I’m working with now.”

Jade couldn’t help chuckling and slid the cup and saucer closer to the two for them to take.

“I apologize, angelfish, but our dear Azul isn’t in the business of human organ trafficking.” He said with ‘regret’ in his tone.

The Prefect peeked one eye open at him from where they were smooshed against Floyd’s shoulder.

“He’s in the business of NON-human organ trafficking?” they asked dryly, feeling Floyd cackle against the back of their neck.

Jade’s smile didn’t change but he didn’t answer the question either.

“Is there something that might help you besides tea?” he asked instead. “I wouldn’t mind making a snack. Azul should be getting back soon from club with Idia. Something to eat may be of benefit to your energy levels.” He said, checking his watch.

The Prefect just groaned again and nudged Floyd until they could move enough to reach out and take the drink and start sipping at the lightly steaming liquid.

“No, don’t think I can handle eating anything right now.” They admitted with a soft sigh, letting their head fall against Floyd’s shoulder once more. “I’ve been dealing with a headache since yesterday and it’s kind of making the thought of food the absolute worst right now.”

Jade’s brow furrowed at that and he stood to make his way around the coffee table and kneel beside them on the floor.

“You took medicine when you first arrived, though, yes?” he asked, though it was more confirming since he specifically remembered them asking for a soda to make the pills go down easier. “It has been at least two hours since then. It should certainly have worked to reduce your pain by now if not get rid of it completely.”

He reached out to brush some of their lover’s hair from their face and gently check their temperature with his wrist. Merfolk might have had lower body temperatures than humans but he was familiar enough with the Prefect’s normal vitals to know that if they had a fever it was a very small one.

“It’s alright, I’m pretty prone to headaches and migraines.” They admitted, leaning into his touch before draining the rest of the tea and letting Floyd set it back down on the table. “Stress can cause them, bright lights too. I’ll be alright after some sleep.” They assured the brothers.

“It is hardly alright if you’re in pain.” Jade pointed out firmly. “I know human bodies are not the same as merfolk but I doubt prolonged periods of pain are healthy.”

The Prefect shrugged a little. “There’s nothing really I can do about it. It probably won’t go away until after I’ve had a chance to chill and recover from the tests and I can’t exactly stop studying when I’m trying to keep my grades at an acceptable level.”

“Azul can make a potion for you.” Floyd said, his expression and tone missing the humor from before. “He’s like, the best at those besides maybe the seastar.”

Their lover shrugged slightly. “Yeah but I’ve had a few of those already and I don’t think I can take any more today.”

“What?” Jade said sharply, eyes narrowing. “You mean to tell me that you have consumed so many potions for pain that you can safely take no more and you DID NOT TELL US and proceeded to spend multiple hours here doing precisely what could make it WORSE?”

The Prefect blinked at the sudden vitriol in the eelmer’s voice along with the tension that had shot through Floyd’s hold on them.

“I mean, it’s really not that big of a deal. I have them all the time.” They insisted, nudging Floyd until the taller male reluctantly allowed them to stand, quickly following. “It’ll go away eventually and then-“

Jade’s hands snapped out to grab their arms just in time to catch them when they stumbled. The color drained from their face and the two instantly guided them to sit on the couch.

“Koebi-chan!” Floyd fretted, his hands worryingly gentle as he was always afraid he was going to accidentally harm their human when they were hurt or sick.

“Floyd, go get some water and a cold compress.” Jade said seriously, ignoring when the Prefect tried to wave their hands at them.

“Guys, stop, I’m fine!”

Of course, their words were undercut by the sudden, warm crimson that began trickling from their nose and over their lips.

Floyd made a strangled noise and vaulted over the back of the couch to hurry out towards the kitchen.

Jade’s eyes narrowed and he kept a supportive hand on their back while tugging a handkerchief from his pocket pressing it to their nose.

The Prefect blinked up at him a bit sheepishly.

“Okay, so maybe I over did it a little.” They said weakly, trying to joke off the intensity of the Vice-Housewarden but Jade’s gaze only hardened.

“I believe the word you were attempting to find is actually: ‘foolishly’ or perhaps ‘carelessly’.” He answered in a cold tone that made them flinch a little, a clear indicator that he was not going to be letting them off easily.

Thankfully, Floyd returned a moment later with a glass of water, a cold compress, and tissues that he quickly shoved onto his brother as he took their lover’s other side once more.

“Koebi-chan is in a lot of trouble.” He said darkly, though his hands unendingly gentle. “Koebi-chan should have told us they were feeling like shit.”

The Prefect gave a small, muffled sigh behind the handkerchief. “Sorry.”

A frustrated look flickered over Floyd’s face, however, and he made sure to support them as Jade began pulling out tissues to replace the silk that was already starting to bleed through. They repeated the apology again when they saw the expensive accessory now a red stained wad in their hand.

“It is a bit of fabric, dearest, nothing more. What is important is ensuring that you rest and recover.” He said firmly.

“Don’t apologize when WE should have noticed. We’re your symbiotes after all.” Floyd muttered angrily to himself.

“It’s really not your fault, guys.” They said softly.

“Floyd, if you don’t mind, please text Azul and notify him that we will be having a sleep over tonight and to return if he hasn’t already left the board games club.” Jade said, ignoring their words as they continued to help hold the tissues to their nose and then pass them the glass of water to sip at for a moment.

“Got it.” Floyd said, pulling out his phone with one hand and sending a quick message to their other lover while Jade gathered the Prefect into his arms.

“Please bring Grim as well once you’ve notified him. Angelfish will likely need something to eat that is easy on their stomach also if you would see to that while I settle them in our room.”

Floyd nodded, bustling around to do what his brother suggested as Jade carried the Prefect from the Lounge into the Octavinelle dorm proper and to the room that the twins shared.

“Aa…I’m kind of in trouble, aren’t I?” they muttered as Jade used his magic to open their door and carry them inside towards the large bed that had replaced the two twin ones that had originally been there.

“Dearest, you are our partner, not a child.” He said with a small sigh. “But, yes, you are indeed in trouble.”

The Prefect gave a small snort as he set them gently down on the bed and made sure they were steady enough to sit on their own before turning and starting to gather the extra sleep clothes for them that had ‘conveniently appeared’ for their first time staying the night. He helped them change out of the uniform, tossing them into the laundry basket to take care of later.

Jade was adept at removing blood from clothes now, after all.

“Be prepared for Azul to fuss and this time I will not be rescuing you.” He said mercilessly, earning a groan from them as he helped them move onto the bed better and sink into the plush pillows.

“Cruel, cruel fishie you are.” They lamented, still a bit muffled as Jade exchanged the tissue for a fresh one and checking the amount of blood before throwing it away.

“If I must be cruel to ensure that you learn to share with us when you are feeling poorly, then cruel I will be.” He gave a sharp smile, picking the compress he had brought along and placing it over their forehead. “Now, why don’t you tell me what exactly you’ve been experiencing and what you have taken before Azul arrives, hm? I would hate to interrupt his worried hysterics.”

They couldn’t help the small, smile that mirrored the warmth in their chest from just how much care and concern the three were showing. It grew even more when Floyd entered the room not long after with a groggy Grim hanging limply over his shoulder and a tray of food items. They didn’t even have time to properly get Grim settled beside them on the pillow before they heard swift footsteps and then the Prefect was being checked over by a fretful octomer.

Deciding that it was safer to indulge them, the Prefect just smiled fondly and let themself be taken care of.

They could worry about studying later.

--------------

Written for Aviagax! Hope this helps with your study stress! <3

Hope you guys like it. <3

#pinkskytwst #twisted wonderland #twst wonderland #twst prefect #twst fanfic #azul ashengrotto #disney twst #octavinelle #twst azul #azul x jade x floyd x prefect #jade leech #floyd leech #twst jade #twst floyd #@aviagax

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pedroshotwifey · 8 months

Text

Favorite Bounty Chapter 4

Series masterlist

Pairing: Din Djarin x Reader

Chapter W/C: 7.3k

Chapter tags/warings: angst, ouchy, no use of y/n, reader being a horny cuss, canon-typical violence, PLEASE READ AUTHOR'S NOTE

Summary: All it takes is a beskar-covered bounty hunter and his little green child to transform your life completely. Settling into life on the Razor Crest is easy enough, but what happens once the tension between you and the Mandalorian gets to be too much? Will you be able to handle the conflict that keeps getting thrown your way?

A/N: Hey, I'm going to go ahead and put it out there that these first few chapters will not be the best. Favorite Bounty was the first thing I ever wrote, so please keep that in mind. I have gone through and edited the small things so there is a bit of improvement from when it was originally posted to ao3. After chapter 4 is out, every chapter after that will be brand new and will have better grammar/writing. Thanks for reading! :)

***

The first thought in your head, when you woke, was that it was fucking cold.

The second, coming in right after the first is that you are alone in Mandos empty bunk — that hit you like a ton of bricks. Ignoring the chill racking over your body, you look around the dark cot, trying — and failing — to spot a gleam of Beskar. The tears that suddenly well up in your eyes are involuntary, and you shake your head, trying to will them away quickly so you can pretend like it never happened.

You really shouldn't be disappointed, but you can't help but feel upset, and the freezing temperature is not doing much to help your case. To be honest, you don't know whether to focus your anger on Mando for not being able to decide how he feels, or at yourself, for convincing yourself the man can choose a side. Turns out, you are both fools.

You find that you are able to get the tears to stop almost as soon as they came, though that might be because they turned to fucking ice on your cheeks. The cold makes you want to bundle up in the thin blanket wrapped around your shoulders and hide in the bunk all day to conserve body heat, but you know that's not an option. At the very least, you are going to have to find Helmet Head to ask him when he plans on fixing that particular issue. Fuck.

You take a deep breath and close your eyes to try to calm the sudden buzz inside of you. Whether it stems from anxiety, anger, or disappointment, well, that's anyone's guess. Kriff, it’s probably some twisted combination of all three. Before Mando, nobody had ever caused you to have to think like this, to have to rack through your brain for answers on how you are feeling.

Sighing, you sit up, tugging the blanket further around you as you start to pry the bunk door open. The damned thing is about a million times harder to open than it used to be now that the control panel is busted and the edges are iced shut. Soft curses slip out through your grinding teeth as your muscles strain to pull the hunk of metal up and open.

You are actually starting to warm up from all the movement by the time it flies open, surprisingly just giving away all at once, causing you to lose your footing and be knocked onto your back. You mutter another curse as you stare at the sliding door that now rests in place on the ceiling. Maybe you should just leave it open so it can mold there instead, fuck whatever Mando has to say about it.

You only lay there for a few seconds before you lift yourself back up to get out of this icebox, and when you do, you suddenly forget about the cold, because the heat that rises to your cheeks is enough to melt you almost completely. As you peer out of the opening and into the hull, you lock your gaze on Mando, who is standing right outside. He probably heard your pathetic attempts to get the door open and took pity on you by lifting it himself. That would explain why it just unjammed so suddenly. You can feel your face growing red with embarrassment.

Neither of you say a thing as you stare at each other, the silent battle only broken when Mando turns around and starts to walk away. You can hear a voice in your head screaming to stop him, but you find yourself unable to act on the command, glued to the spot where you still sit on the bunk. You thought at the very least that he would have the decency to say hello to you, but you've landed yourself all the way back at square one. Complete fucking strangers.

You aren't sure how much of this back-and-forth you are going to be able to take. For a second, you consider the possibility that The Mandalorian may quite literally be two different people, and you almost laugh at how silly that thought is. Your brain is trying to make excuses in any way possible to rule out the truth — that Mando is genuinely just an asshole. What kind of guy decides it is any kind of okay to flirt with you when he’s bored and then cast you away as soon as he gets his fill? All of a sudden, a new line of thought brings itself to light, one that you wish would have stayed away. What if it was you?

What if you're the reason he decides not to acknowledge you? What if he finds you annoying, or clingy, or rude? What if he doesn't find you attractive? What if he thinks that you went too far last night? What if he thought of you as no more than stress relief? What if he regrets keeping you on his ship in the first place? You try to shake the ideas from your head, but they just keep coming, pulling you down until you feel like you can't escape them.

You close your eyes in concentration, trying to push the thoughts away. You decide at this moment that you aren't going to let that bastard get to you. No matter what, you won't let him see how he makes you feel. It takes you a second, but once you feel like you will be able to keep a level head, you push yourself out of the bunk. Your shaking resumes as soon as your bare feet hit the cold durasteel floor of the hull.

****

You find Mando up in the cockpit, laying on his back with his helm set under the dash, seemingly working with some wiring. He has one leg kicked straight out and the other is bent with his boot flat on the ground. You can see the child sitting on his torso, his back resting on Mando’s bent knee, distracting himself with a small metal ball. If you weren't so determined to be upset right now, you would probably smile at the domestic sight.

Before you move any further, the child peeks his head around Mando’s thigh and catches you standing in the doorway. The shiny ball falls forgotten onto the floor as the kid coos excitedly and pushes himself up to half-waddle, half-run to you. He throws his tiny arms in the air and extends his fingers, wiggling them up at you expectantly. Okay, now you’re smiling. You at least manage to hold in a laugh out of spite as you respond to the kid's grabby hands and pick him up, settling him on your hip.

When you look back up you see that Mando has pushed himself out from under the dash and is now sitting up against it, watching you interact with the kid. You will yourself not to blush when you find yourself at a loss for words. On the way up here, you had planned out a conversation so that it wouldn't be awkward when you inevitably had to talk to him — clearly, that didn't work out how you had hoped it would.

“Hey,” you say, averting your eyes back to the kid. Really, that's the best you’ve got? The Mandalorian just nods back at you and sets the tool that was previously in his hand down. You watch him as he gets up and walks over to you, stopping somehow both closer and farther away than you would like. There is a moment of silence before you look back at him, tilting your head so that you can stare into his visor.

He says nothing as you stare, but he shifts in a way that suggests he is getting ready to speak. You’ve noticed that he does that a lot — gives away when he wants to say something. When he does so, you usually find yourself trying to predict what he’s going to say, and you’re quite good at your little game, if you do say so yourself. However, this time, you have no idea what might come out of his mouth. It may be selfish, but you find yourself hoping that whatever is said, is in the form of an apology. Actually, you would take a simple hello, maybe a good morning, possibly a question of how you slept — any form of fucking acknowledgment will do.

You want to slap yourself for thinking like that, for lowering your standards to the dirt below your feet in hopes that this man might make up his mind and take you for his own. Maybe it's the fact that you’ve been without company for so long, or maybe it’s that you simply had missed general intimacy, but whatever it may be, you’ve realized that you miss belonging to someone, and them belonging to you in return. You swallow down a lump in your throat as you try not to let your feelings show in your expression. The last thing you need is for the Mandalorian to see how pathetic you are when you feel alone.

“I have to leave again,” the Mandaorian tells you as he stops shifting. Now, you do feel your face fall, and you can’t even find it in you to care. His voice seems colder than usual, and it feels like an extra punch to the gut. He almost sounds pained to have to talk to you, and you suddenly feel the urge to throw up. You messed up that bad, huh?

“What do you mean, why do you have to leave?” you try not to sound panicked as you question him.

“The town that I went out to find yesterday was deserted. They had close to nothing in terms of food, let alone fuel,” he pauses as he searches your expression, waiting for you to butt back in again, but you stay silent. “I should have better luck with this one, but it is farther away,” he finishes. By the way he says it, you have a feeling you aren't going to like the answer to your next line of question.

“How far?” you ask him, your voice quieter now. He looks at you, and then at the ground before answering, like he doesn't want to have to look you in the eye anymore.

“About two days there, and two back if I choose not to stop and rest.” He turns around and starts to collect his tools into a bag, leaving you with a worried expression. How does he suppose you’re supposed to refrain from freezing to death while he goes out again? And to add to that, how does he expect to stay warm outside for so long? You swear the man just doesn’t fucking think sometimes.

“Mando,” you say when you are able to form a coherent thought in the fog of your mind. It comes out a little harsher than you intended, and you see the Mandalorian flinch ever so slightly in response, but you do nothing to correct your tone. “How in kriff do you expect any of us to not freeze our fucking asses off while-”

“I have a backup generator,” he says simply, cutting you off. You continue to gape at him, waiting until he turns back around to face you before you roll your eyes and put your free hand on your hip. At this point, you don't even care if you seem childish — he really plans on leaving you and the child on the Crest with this supposed “backup generator” that is probably older than the ship itself, in the middle of this icebox planet while he runs off to some town that probably doesn’t even kriffing exist. Great, just fucking great.

“You’ll be fine,” he says with a finality that makes you flinch. Yea, you probably deserve that. He keeps talking as he resumes his cleanup. “There should be enough food to last you and the kid at least a week, and I'll be back before then no matter what.” You just watch him with slanted eyes as he continues to answer all of your unspoken concerns. The air of confidence in his voice as he speaks is so apparent that it makes you want to punch that stupid bucket right off his stupid head.

“The generator should last just as long, if not longer, and the kid tends to want to sleep more when he’s cold, so you won’t have to worry about him causing too much trouble,” he finishes up his cleaning and walks back to you, stopping just as close as last time. “You’ll be fine.” Again, he says it in a tone that makes you wish you had never confronted him in the first place. You have nothing more to say to him, so you nod and turn on your heel, taking the child down to the kitchenette for his breakfast. You notice as you leave how silent the kid had been during the whole interaction between you and Mando, as if he could sense the tension between the two of you, and it almost makes you laugh… almost.

****

Less than two hours later, Mando is walking back down the ramp of the crest after setting up the generator — which is doing little to warm the ship, much to your chagrin. There were no words spoken since you left the cockpit other than Mando telling you to shut the ramp behind him and to stay on the ship. You had simply nodded and followed to watch his descent back into the snowy abyss. So now you’re a prisoner? Great.

Once you could no longer see the gleam of beskar through the flurries, you did as he asked and made your way back to your own makeshift cot for some much-needed alone time. The kid is asleep in his pram, and with Mando gone, the Crest is almost eerily silent, save for the quiet buzz of the generator coming from somewhere above you. You are thankful for the strange comfort that it brings, the soft hum just enough to lull you to sleep. As your eyelids slip close, you register the fact that you probably shouldn’t be sleeping this much, but at the moment, you can't find it in you to care.

****

You are only able to sleep for about an hour before you are woken by the kid. His soft coos and yawns make their way to your cot and you can't help but smile as you get up and go lift him out of his pram. You can immediately tell that he's hungry, his big eyes boring into yours, begging you for food as if he hadn't eaten for days. You tuck him into the crease of your arm as you make your way to the kitchenette.

“Oh, you poor thing,” you play into his game. “I bet you must be starving.” He looks up at you and gives you a pitiful nod, and you have to bite your lip to hold back your smile. After you set the kid down, you turn to the cabinet and reach for the top shelf, struggling to reach the desired package as you stand on your tip-toes. Eventually, you are able to maneuver your fingers enough to grab onto it and pull it down. Your nose scrunches as you read the label; Carrots and Frog. The child seems to have the opposite reaction, suddenly squirming in his seat and reaching out for the box.

You laugh as you pour about half of the package out into a bowl, heating it up before setting it in front of the kid. “Here you go, honey,” you give him a knowing look. “I’ll have to talk with your daddy,” you laugh again as he immediately lifts the bowl to his mouth and starts to slurp it down, some of the broth trailing down his little chin. “Clearly, he’s neglecting you,” your tone is playful as you sit down next to him and wait for him to finish. As you sit in silence and watch the kid slurp up his meal, you realize how much you have come to care for him. If anything ever happened, you would break you to have to leave him.

You frown as you think about that even being a possibility. You know that Mando has been acting a little differently lately, and your stomach drops as the thought again comes to mind that he is sick of you. Surprisingly, it doesn't bother you in the sense that it makes you insecure, but instead, you find yourself panicked at the thought of being kicked off the ship. If he makes you leave, you would likely never see the little womp rat again. You realize that you have become way too comfortable living on the Crest, to the point where you consider it home. You quickly shake that thought off before it can consume your thoughts and further ruin your day.

After the kid finishes up his breakfast you introduce him to hide and seek, which he likes a little too much. You end up playing the game nonstop until dinner time rolls around. He ran out of new places to hide after about an hour, so it was pretty much just a guessing game between the same handful of spots. You drew it out of course, but it was repetitive enough to wear you out more than it would have if you had a bigger space to work with. The kid finds it absolutely amazing that you keep finding him, and the toothy smile he rewards you with each time is enough to keep you playing.

He only stops to eat dinner that night after you promise you can pick the game up first thing the next morning — which you do, of course. This ends up being the routine for the entirety of the time Mando is gone, and by that time you almost find yourself regretting telling the child about it. You know deep down that you’ll do anything to keep him happy though, so of course that's a lie.

Well, until you can’t find him, at least. Of course, it’s on the day that Mando is scheduled to return that the kid finally finds somewhere new to hide. You had checked all of the usual spots with no results — twice. You didn’t panic at first, using the logic that he was probably just moving around at the same time as you. But after about an hour and a half without so much as a giggle, you start to worry. There's no way he could have gotten off of the ship without the ramp alerting you, and you’re pretty sure he can’t fit inside the walls — but that doesn’t stop you from unscrewing a few panels just in case.

You waste another thirty minutes like that, looking in places you never would have thought he could reach. Even though the Crest is still cooler than usual, you find yourself sweating when you realize you honestly have no idea where he could be. Mando should be back likely within the next few hours, and he’s going to come back to his missing child. He’s going to fucking kill you. He trusts you with one kriffing thing and you somehow screw it up. How do you manage to lose a whole ass child?

Just as you’re about to go up to the cockpit and com for Mando — which is probably a bad idea in retrospect — you hear a soft pang come from behind you. You spin on your heel and walk slowly towards where it came from, trying to open your ears in search of another.

“Kid?” You call out softly and get a coo in response. The relief that washes over you is as if someone dumped a bucket of water on you. You call for him a few more times, inching toward his responding sounds every time he giggles or bangs against something. You feel like a kriffing idiot when you end up at the door or Mando’s bunk. You never even thought to check here. You made a habit of keeping out of there when he’s out, and you didn’t realize the kid had enough strength to open the still-broken door on his own.��

You quickly spring into action, putting all your weight into lifting the door and sliding it back, watching as big eyes are slowly revealed to the hull. He doesn’t seem to have hurt himself, but you do notice that there are quite a few drawers and cabinets open. The kid had clearly been digging around, likely looking for something else to play with. You sigh as you take in the small mess he made, knowing you’re going to have to clean it before Mando gets back. For now, though, you need to get the child to bed.

“Oh, honey,” you tell him as you climb into the bunk. “We can’t be in here, sweetie, this is your daddy’s space and I don't think he would appreciate us looking through his things.” You lean down to scoop the kid up, ignoring his adorable babbles of protest. He always gets extra grumpy this time of day, though that's usually a good sign. If he’s grumpy, he’s worn out, and if he’s worn out, he’s tired — making your job of getting him to sleep much easier. You giggle and plant a kiss on his wrinkly little head. “Oh, don’t be mad at me, little man,” you say, stroking one of his comically large ears. “It’s your bedtime anyway.”

Before you leave, you let yourself glance around Mando’s room — the kid isn’t the only one curious about the Mandalorian, and you didn’t get a chance to look around since it was so dark when you had been inside it. You’re almost surprised to see little trinkets linking the shelves above the cot and small signs of wear and tear on the cabinets that tell you the room has been lived in. It's like you had expected everything in the bunk to be completely sterile and unpersonalized — much like the shiny armor he dons 99% of the time. You don’t know why you thought that, it’s kind of a silly assumption. Mando may be a warrior, but he is still a man after all. You shake your head and flip the light off as you retreat back to the hull with the child starting to fall asleep in your arms. Now that you're sure the door won't freeze again, you slide it back down into place.

You only take a few steps into the hull before you hear the kid snoring. He shifts in your arms and you make a point to move as carefully and quietly as you can towards his pram. Thank the maker for the way too hard-core hide-and-seek sessions, this might be the quickest you’ve ever been able to put him to bed. Normally, you have to sit for him for a minute and hum softly or tell him a story before he starts to drift off. Opening the pram, you gently unravel the snoring kid from your arms before placing him into the crib, covering him with a blanket up to his tiny chin. He looks so peaceful that you have the urge to stand there and watch him for a minute, but that plan is surrendered as a shrill pinging noise makes its way through the Crest.

You initially jump as the sound breaks the silence, but quickly calm yourself as you recognize that it’s not a noise the Crest would make. At least you know that there's nothing wrong with the ship itself, but what he actually kriff could that be otherwise? You hit the button to close the kid’s pram before you start to follow the noise. It takes you a moment, but eventually, it starts to get a little louder when you begin retracing your steps to Mando’s cot. For some reason, it almost sounds like the pings are picking up speed with every step you take, each noise coming in faster than the last.

The rapid beeping brings you to a stop in front of Mando’s closed bunk, and you hesitate before lifting the door again. The blaring noise seems to get ten times louder by the time you get rid of the barrier to the room. You push yourself onto the cot and immediately spot the source — a small round object laying by the head of it near where the kid had been rifling through the top drawer. The trinket looked to be too flat to have much wiring involved, so you ruled out the possibility of it being a bomb, Plus, why in Mustafar would Mando ever keep something like that where the kid could reach it — he’s far too careful to do something like that. You know he has a weapons locker, if he ever had a need for an explosive, he would keep it there with his blasters.

You quickly snatch it up and examine it, trying to find some kind of a button. The noise is almost ear-splittingly loud now and the small red light coming from it is blinking in rapid succession. When you can’t find a way to turn it off, you start to panic. Mando told you that the kid’s pram is soundproof, but he didn’t tell you how much it could withstand before sound started to leak through. The last thing you need right now is to have the child crying on your hip as you fumble with the ridiculously loud object. The thought to set it on the ground and crush it beneath your boot crosses your mind, but you shove that idea aside when you think about the fact that it – whatever it may be — belongs to Mando.

You, for one, don’t want to damage any of his property, and, for two, don’t want him to think that it was you snooping through his things when he discovers that it’s missing. Your second idea is to find something to smother it with to dull the sound. Your makeshift cot jumps to mind, the blankets you had stacked on top of each other should work perfectly. You quickly scramble out of the bunk and run over to the corner of the hull where you had set up your space. In your rush to gather the various blankets and sheets, you knock the screaming object out of your grasp, swearing as it hits the ground with a loud thud. But after that — nothing. The kriffing thing finally shut up. You laugh with relief as the usual quiet of the Crest returns, and after a minute your ears slowly stop ringing. The silence is almost biting after having that thing going off for the past five minutes, if not for the generator still working its magic on the floor above you, there would be no sound left at all.

Exasperated after your long day and from the rush of that whole ordeal, you lean back against the wall behind you and let yourself slide down to the floor. You sit staring at the durasteel between your legs for a moment, allowing yourself to bask in the feeling that comes from finally having a moment to yourself. When you look up again, you come face to face with, well, you. You bite back a shout as you slam yourself further into the wall at your back. You are almost nose to nose with what looks to be a holographic picture of your face and upper body. Your confusion only intensifies when you look at the bottom of the holograph, the end tapering into a point that seems to be coming out of the small device from Mando’s room. You quickly scramble to your feet, standing so you can look at the back and sides of the image, which are — as expected — a perfect still of you. You look maybe a few years younger, but there is no mistaking who it was.

Stopping at the back, you reach your hand out and watch, bewildered, as it passes through the back of your head. The questions start to flood your mind, each one causing you to grow more perplexed as you search for an answer. First off, why the fuck did the Mandalorian have a holograph of you hidden in a drawer in his bunk? Second, why did it have to be so kriffing noisy? And why did it get louder and — flashier? — the closer you came to it? You circled the image one more time before you stopped and everything suddenly clicked. You are frozen in place as millions of emotions flood you at once. The anger that pulses through your veins seems to warm your entire body, overwhelming and completely taking over your confusion. The dominant emotion, however, had to be the betrayal that rushes into you and settles hard in your gut. Sure, you might not have known Mando for very long, but you trusted him enough to think that he wouldn’t cause you any harm, or rather, bring you to it.

The object that lay below you is a bounty puck. Your bounty puck.

You feel the blood drain from your face as it really hits you what this means. You need to get out of here, away from Mando. You can feel the panic setting in and you have to make an effort to keep calm when you realize that’s not going to happen anytime soon. You wouldn’t have a chance on your own on this planet, and since Mando is still out, you wouldn’t dare leave the kid — you would let any bounty hunter turn you in before you ever left the child without a guardian. There’s nowhere to run right now, as soon as Mando gets back, you have no doubt that’s exactly what he will do. He’ll set the course to Nevarro and hand you over for some credits.

It’s smart on his part, you’ll give him that. He lets you aboard his ship and quickly earns your trust, letting you watch his kid and have free roam while he picks up a few more bounties. You made it so fucking easy too — so completely oblivious, even throwing in a quick sexual release for him. How could you be so kriffing stupid? It's not your brightest move, trusting a bounty hunter, but he never gave you any reason to mistrust him. Tears begin to blur your vision and you shake your head in an attempt to will them away, but you only succeed in allowing them to fall. No. You can’t cry right now, there's no time. You need to take action before it’s too late. Mando should be back soon and by the time he gets here, you will have to be able to look and act presentable. If he suspects that you know why you’re really here he will probably lock you in carbonite, and if that happens you’ll have no chance at all. Wiping your tears, you take a deep breath and sit back down, staring into your own unmoving eyes as you start to think up a plan.

****

It takes a few hours, but you eventually decide on what you think is the best course of action to ensure your freedom — and survival. The only way you’re possibly going to get out of this situation is to act like everything is normal until Mando lands on a planet with a spaceport. Even if that means waiting for Nevarro, which you know is probably your best bet. As soon as he turns his back, you’ll run for it and hope he doesn’t notice your absence long enough for you to take a ship off-world. As much as you hate it, you will need to know that Mando is on the Crest. You wouldn’t be able to live with yourself if you left the kid behind without knowing if he is being looked after or not. Your heart clenches at the thought of leaving him behind at all, but you can’t just stay around and allow yourself to be sold off to whoever seemed to have wanted you enough to put a bounty on your head in the first place.

You try to think about who might have done such a thing, but you come up empty-handed. You’ve always been a good citizen, never stolen or gotten into a fight. There's not a single reason anybody should be after you, but that’s almost the scariest part. If Mando succeeds in turning you in, what would happen to you? You shudder as you think about living out the rest of your life in a cell or as a slave, likely being beaten and starved.

A sudden noise sounds through the ship for the second time tonight, thankfully not coming from the puck this time. It sounds like the com in the cockpit has been activated, likely Mando calling to tell you he’s close. You freeze up as you think about having to be around him and be normal. Sure, it scares you that he has you right where he wanted you, an easy target. The sting of betrayal, however, easily surpasses the fear. You think back to less than a week ago when you had been so hurt over the fact that he had been ignoring you, and it almost makes you laugh as you think about how fucking pitiful that was compared to how you feel now. This man has caused you nothing but harm and yet you still have a scrap of hope that he’s not who you think he is, that he really didn’t mean any of it. Even though you have the evidence right in front of you, you want to believe that he is a good person.

You may be naive, but you can’t deny the nagging part of your brain that wants you to confront him. You won’t of course, you can’t risk your life over the pathetic part of you that wishes this is all just a misunderstanding. When the ringing in the cockpit picks up again, you stand and walk over to the ladder, climbing until you reach the top floor. Taking a deep breath, you situate yourself in the pilot’s chair, only hesitating a moment before answering the call. A holovid of Mando’s helmet comes into view and you straighten in your seat, your mouth clamped shut, not trusting yourself not to say something stupid that will give you away. Fortunately, you don't have to wait long before he starts talking.

“I have the fuel,” he says, his voice a bit ragged from hiking through the snow non-stop. A stupid part of you feels a pang of worry at the sound of it, wishing you could provide him water to ease his sore throat. You curse yourself and choose to nod instead of verbally responding, knowing that his vambrace is projecting a clear picture of you in front of him. The tension begins to build up the longer you sit on call with him, and you pray to the make that it will be over soon. How in Mustafar do you expect to face this man in person? “I should be back in less than ten minutes, I need you to open up the ramp.” Again, you choose to nod. Thankfully, he doesn’t say any longer than that and ends the call. You don’t realize you had been holding in a breath until it forces itself out of your lungs as soon as his helm is out of sight.

You get right to work with what he asked you to do because that’s what you would do if you didn’t know you were a prisoner, definitely not because you wanted to be helpful. You quickly clamber back down to the hull and rush to the ramp. You had to tie knots with rope in six different places to ensure there was no way for it to come open from the outside since the locking mechanism is still busted after the pirates. You undo the first five without a thought — and then you get to the last one and realize something. The bounty puck is still sitting where you left it, out in the open for anybody to see. Panicked, you leave the last knot secure and bolt to your disheveled cot. You scoop it up and slam your palm over the top, hoping that the holograph will go away — it does, thank the maker. Now you just need to put it back in place before Mando gets back. Of course, though, not everything can go your way.

Halfway to Mando’s bunk, you hear your name called from behind you. Your blood turns to ice in your veins and you freeze into place, expecting to feel Mando come up behind you, unable to get yourself to move. You are still stuck on the spot when you hear your name called again, and that seems to snap you out of your trance. It sounds like Mando is on the ship, he must have pulled the ramp down and snapped the last knot. Thankfully, you seem to come to your senses when you realize that he hasn’t caught you yet, and you make a mad dash to his bunk. It feels like your heart is beating in your throat as you climb in and find the drawer that had been left open. You haphazardly toss the puck in, praying it won’t go off again as you slam the drawer shut and scramble back to the edge of the bunk.

Without looking where you’re going, you throw yourself out of the doorway expecting to feel your feet touch the floor of the hull. What you don't expect is to hit what feels like a brick wall blocking your path. Your eyes widen as you immediately realize that the brick wall you ran into is Mando’s chest plate. It seems like a century goes by before you see him step aside to allow you to climb out of the small room. For now, you decide you will keep your composure. You’re not sure if Mando knew what you were doing or not, but if it’s the latter, you intend to keep it that way. Your ears are ringing with apprehension by the time you plant your feet on the ground and look up at Mando.

“I-i was just,” your mouth starts anxiously blabbing before you can stop it. You feel your face turn red as you find yourself at a loss for words. Mando says nothing but tilts his helmet as if urging you to continue. “I was just looking for the kid's ball,” the lie falls off your tongue fairly smoothly. There is no reason for you to be in Mando’s bunk right now, and you need to cover your tracks however you can. He still doesn’t say anything and you shift your feet, unsure of what to do now.

“You know, t-the little metal one he’s always playing with,” clearly continuing to explain yourself was the wrong move because you’re greeted with silence once again. “Right, well I didn’t find it, obviously, so I'm just going to, uh, go back to my cot,” you point your thumb over your shoulder to the rumpled pile of blankets. Nothing, again. “Okay, um, goodnight, Mando,” you’re sweating by the time you turn to go back to your cot. Smooth. Nice going, fucknut.

That was fucking rough, but it could have been worse. You take it as a sign that Mando is likely still oblivious to the fact that you know about the puck. Your shoulders sag in relief when you hear the sound of his bunk door shutting into place. Fuck that was close. You unfurl your blankets and set them back into place like you were getting ready to go to sleep, though you know there will be one of those until you reach Nevarro. Sure, you might not have much of a chance against Mando, but it increases at least a little bit if you’re awake if he decides the middle of the night would be a good time to cuff you and toss you in carbonite. You shiver at the thought. When the blankets are all in place, you lay down on top of them and turn to face the wall. This way, Mando will assume you’re asleep as per usual, and you will be able to hear if he tries to sneak up on you. A few minutes later, you hear Mando come out of his bunk and mumble something about ‘fueling up’ before exiting the Crest once again.

About ten minutes after that, you feel a gust of cold wind as Mando comes back inside. You listen as he makes his way up the ladder and then turns the generator off in favor of the actual heat. It gets warmer almost immediately, and it makes it a little easier to relax. Before you know it, you feel the Crest being suspended into the air and then a slight dip in temperature, letting you know that you’re finally back in hyperspace. You allow yourself to cry as you get settled in.

****

When Mando finally comes back down from the cockpit the sound of him jumping off the last rung startles you. You hadn’t realized you had almost fallen asleep, but you’re glad the sound snapped you out of it before it was too late. When he starts walking, his footsteps sound like they're coming your way, and you turn around to face him. His pace falters when you move, clearly not expecting it — which is exactly what you had hoped for. He stops a few feet from where you lay, and you look up at him, your heart racing. You sit up slowly and glance at his hands to make sure they’re empty. When you look back up at his helmet, you notice that his body language seems different.

Maybe this is it, he knows that you know, and he’s going to lock you away. You probably left something out of place in the bunk and gave yourself away, that’s the end of that. You’ll wake up in a cell, alone for the rest of your life. You try to quell the panic that swells in your chest and remain calm. Maybe he doesn’t really know and he just came to tell you something insignificant. Fuck, he wouldn’t do that. You’re screwed. You want to trust him so badly, but you know you can’t. You need to hold your ground whatever happens.

He takes another step toward you and you lean back a bit, subconsciously trying to stay as far away from him as possible — though half of you still wants to fling yourself into his arms. You wait for him to say something, averting your gaze as you fiddle with a frayed edge on one of your blankets, but he never does. Assuming he’s waiting for eye contact, you look back up, but he only looks at you for a few seconds before nodding once and turning around. You watch in stunned silence until he disappears back into his bunk.

****

The three days it took to get to Nevarro went by surprisingly fast. You had managed somehow to avoid Mando pretty much the entire time, though that might have something to do with the fact that he stayed locked in his bunk for most of the trip. If you didn’t know any better, you would say that he was trying to avoid you just as much as you were trying to avoid him, but that doesn’t make any sense when you think about it. If anything, he should be trying to keep a better eye on you, with you being his bounty and all. You honestly have no idea why you’re still roaming the ship. If it were you, you would have locked the bounty up at the first opportunity you got. It seems like it would be so much easier to know that the target is secured. Whatever, you aren’t tied up or frozen in carbonite, so nobody’s going to hear you complain.

At least this way you get to play with the kid. You haven’t let him out of your sight since he had gotten into Mando’s bunk and revealed the puck. This way, you get to spend as much time as you can with him before you have to inevitably say goodbye — and you can be sure that he won’t dig up the puck again. You figure if Mando figured out that you knew about it, he would have you in cuffs before you could blink. So far though, you haven’t given him a good reason, or opportunity for that matter, to do so. You have been pretty good about that, at the very least. You had kept up your plan of not sleeping surprisingly well. You go to your cot every night like you would normally, but instead of resting your eyes, you would think of something to keep your brain busy.

Most of the time you would use the time to continue plotting your escape. The safest way to do things, little improvements, how you would get off-world, where you would go when you did, things like that. Sometimes, when you got bored of that, you would think about a memory from your childhood or make up a story in your head. Once you even let yourself indulge in imagining a fantasy where Mando had you locked in cuffs under different circumstances.

That was when you really realized how exhausted you were. How could you still be attracted to the man who is planning on turning you in? Ignorantly, that's how. You keep scolding yourself for the way your stomach flutters every time you see him but it never seems to help. It's almost like your heart hasn’t caught up with the situation at hand. You keep unintentionally holding on to the scrap of hope that this is all just some misunderstanding. Unfortunately, the rational part of you knows that it’s not. You want to hate that part but you listen to it nonetheless.

You’re lying on your cot when you feel the Crest touch down on Nevarro. Upon feeling the jolt, you scramble to your feet and begin checking your belongings. You had collected a good amount of stuff since boarding the Crest, but you only had room for a few articles of clothing and a couple of ration packs. You quickly stuff the clothes into your bag and run to the kitchenette to grab a few packs, determined to get it all done before Mando comes back down from the cockpit. You don’t look at what you're grabbing as you put them into your sack, only making sure that you leave enough for it not to look suspicious if Mando decides to check the stash before leaving.

You’re back on your cot, thank the maker, by the time he comes back down to the hull. Your heart is pounding and you can barely hear through the rush in your ears, but you manage to look calm — as calm as you can anyway. It seems good enough for Mando because he ignores you, as usual, and goes to his cot to retrieve the kid. Once he is out of sight, you look at the ramp, wondering if you should chance it now. If you opened it, it would be loud enough to alert Mando and there is no way he won’t catch you if he realizes what you’re doing so soon. You don’t get much of a chance to consider it anyway because he’s back out in the hull before you can properly plan an out.

“I’m going to go meet with Karga.” You nod at him, watching as he hands the kit a piece of dried Bantha meat. “I need you to stay on the ship while I’m gone, there will be a crew coming to retrieve the bounties from the carbonite chambers, but nobody else should bother you.” You nod again, slightly confused by the fact that he’s practically giving you a warning. “I need to hear you say it, it’s important that you understand that you have to stay here.”

“Okay, Mando, I’ll stay on the ship.” You hope to the maker that your voice sounds convincing enough for him to leave it alone. It does. Mando nods before pressing a button on his vambrace to open the ramp. He doesn’t spare you a last glance as he walks down the gangway and closes it behind him. The breath of relief you let out when you’re left alone is almost loud enough to make you jump. You only wait until you can be sure Mando is far enough away from the ship to not be able to hear you open the ramp before you slip away.

**** Thank you for reading!!

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guilty-pleasures21 · 5 months

Text

Yooooooooouuuuuuuuuu!!!!!!! You SUCK!

I didn't realise how appropriate the song actually was when I was writing it ... 😅

0. The slow burn

1. There's too many. TOO MANY!!

2. It NEEDS to be EVEN sssslllllooooweeeeerrrrrr.

3. Sometimes, I really hate myself.

Part 1 - the arcade

Part 2 - the rooftop

Part 3 - the canon

Warnings: None.

----------------------------------------------------------

They'd ended up on the rooftop again. He'd been looking a little overwhelmed, she'd thought; his hair messed up from the way he kept running his fingers through it, the dark circles below his eyes heightened from a lack of sleep, the muscles in his back strained from how he kept tensing his shoulders all the way up to his ears. So, she'd whisked him away - tugged on his wrist and gestured outside, silently asking if he’d needed a breath of fresh air. After she'd told the others off for getting lazy now that they thought they had Miguel to deal with all of their mistakes, of course. And that was how they'd ended up back here, side by side, legs dangling off the rooftop as they gazed over the busy cityscape spread below them. She glanced down at his hand beside hers, and took hold of it, pulling it onto her thigh so she could trace the lines in his palm. He raised an eyebrow at first, not expecting the sudden gesture, but he didn't pull away. She liked touching the people she felt comfortable with - and she so rarely found someone she felt comfortable enough with to touch. So he let her do it - let her brush her slender fingers along the calluses in his palm, her smooth skin sliding over his rough hand.

"Your lines are so deep," she informed him thoughtfully, her hair falling over her shoulder as she leaned over her lap.

"Is that bad?" he asked her, his voice relaxed now that they were alone, no urgent crises biting at his heels. She twisted her lips to the side, thinking.

"I don't think so." She turned to look up at him, her features looking especially soft and pretty in the gentle dimness of the night. She turned back to his hand. "I think it means your destiny's strong or something." She slid her fingers between his, clasping his hand in hers, and smiled.

“'Isn't it amazing',” she sang softly, gaze fixed on their intertwined fingers, “'how almost every line on our hands align, when your hand's in mine?'” She looked up at him again, smiling at the questioning expression on his face.

“It's a song,” she explained, turning her focus back to their hands. He glanced down, studying the way her long digits extended just over half of his. Then he blew out an amused breath.

"Your hand looks so small in mine," he told her, rubbing his thumb across her skin. She snickered softly, her lips stretching into a smile.

"I like it, though," she admitted happily, gaze still trained on their fingers. "I've always wanted a-" She stopped suddenly, her eyes going wide and her lips parting in horror as she realised what she'd been about to say. She snapped her jaw shut, her brain clearly working through some sort of excuse she might be able to give him.

"A friend," she decided, her gaze flicking over to him nervously. "Like you." She turned away again, nodding along to the statement as if she were trying to convince herself of it. He raised an eyebrow, not buying it in the slightest.

"A what, arañita?" he pushed, curious now as to what had had her freezing up so suddenly. Her response was immediate, her tone firm.

“A friend, that's what I said,” she repeated. And it was the defensiveness in her voice that made him all the more determined to find out the truth of what she'd really been thinking. He leaned over, trying to catch her eye, to get her to look at the resolved expression on his face and know that he wasn't about to let this go any time soon. She turned to him reluctantly, her fingers tightening their grip around his.

"I thought we didn't lie to each other." His tone was serious, heavy, and her jaw dropped in mortification, her own tone accusatory when she next spoke.

"That's way too serious for this situation!" she argued. She turned away then, her muscles tensed with apprehension. Or embarrassment, he realised, waiting for her to continue. "It's just a little white lie. It doesn't even matter." She tried to shrug it off, tried to appear nonchalant. But now he knew it'd been a lie. And now he definitely wasn't going to let it go.

"If it doesn't matter, then why don't you just say it?" he pointed out, his response far too reasonable for her liking. She clenched her hand around his again, her heart starting to thud rapidly in her chest.

"Because …" she began reluctantly, trying again to come up with a believable lie. Finally, she winced, coming to the conclusion that she'd just have to end up telling him the truth, one way or another. "A boyfriend, okay?" She curled into herself, mumbling her next words in embarrassment, her fingers still wound firmly around his.

"I've always wanted a boyfriend who would make me feel really small and cute," she admitted, her cheeks heating up as she shifted around uncomfortably. "Who could just … pick me up and … throw me around and do whatever he wanted with me. Consensually, of course!" She turned to him, pointing a finger at him in warning as she proclaimed that last statement. Then she turned away again, avoiding his gaze.

"But, yeah," she finished softly. "Not important." And, mierda, it was all he could think about now: picking her up and throwing her down onto his bed, crawling on top of her and wrapping her up in his arms, trapping her beneath him so he could have his way with her. Por Dios, the things he would do to her if she'd give him the chance.

"Miguel!" Her voice cut through his thoughts, pulling him out of them with her panicked tone. He shook his head slightly, his gaze focusing back on her, on the pained look on her face. She pointed at their hands. "You're squeezing too hard!" He looked down to find that he'd been gripping onto her hand like it was the only thing keeping him from falling off the ledge. He let go quickly, his brain still muddled from all the filthy thoughts that had taken over his mind at her confession.

"Uh, sorry, arañita, I …" he trailed off, rubbing the back of his neck as he tried to figure out what to say next. But what could he say, when she'd basically told him that she wanted him to be her boyfriend? Well, that wasn’t exactly what she’d said; what she'd really said was that she'd wanted a boyfriend just like him. Not him, maybe, but close enough? She'd always wanted a boyfriend just like him. And she'd already told him she loved him, numerous times now. Sixteen, to be exact. If … if he'd been counting - which he most definitely hadn't been.

"Miguel?" She bent over, tilting her head so she could catch his eye. He looked lost, frustrated, his fingers combing through his hair frantically as he puzzled over what to say to her. She straightened when he met her gaze, relaxing her posture so he might feel more at ease too. "What's wrong?"

She didn't even seem to realise the effect she was having on him, her chest extending towards him as she leaned back on her hand, her ass sticking out as she twisted towards him, one leg crossed over the other. He licked his lips, unable to stop himself from wondering what it would feel like to run his tongue over every inch of her smooth curves. Then, realising what he'd just been thinking about - again - he pulled his gaze away from her, his neck suddenly too hot beneath the collar of his suit. He cleared his throat, refusing to meet her gaze.

Something about the way he'd looked at her when she'd said it, the way his eyes had widened just a little, his pupils engulfing his irises as he'd looked down at her, his gaze running across her body hungrily. And then a second ago, when his eyes had flickered to her chest and he'd had to drag them away before he thought she'd noticed, the guilt so plainly written all over his face. She bit her lip, her mind running through all the ways she could tease him right now. She leaned closer to him and brushed her fingers along the top of his thigh, her touch featherlight, tantalising. "Is there … something on your mind, araña?"

She grinned at his brusque response, not buying it at all. He was so tense, his nerves fully on edge as he avoided looking at her. It was obvious that there was something going on in his mind. Something that he seemed too ashamed to share with her. She pulled her legs off the ledge, tucking them beneath her and stretching up to gather her hair behind her shoulders.

He sucked in a breath, his entire body going rigid at her words. It did something to him, hearing her say it like that. Like she was his arañita, his tiny, helpless little spider, and he was her araña, big and strong and always ready to protect her. Just the way she liked it. He grabbed her wrist, suddenly realising that he'd stopped breathing a while ago, and moved her hand back to her thigh, pulling his arms into himself quickly. "No."

"Really?" she asked him, her body stretching itself out so unfairly deliciously. "Because it seemed like-"

"No," he repeated quickly, tearing his gaze away from her. Again. Mierda, she was going to be the death of him one day. He ground his teeth together, the tips of his claws scratching against the hard surface of the rooftop. She let out a soft chuckle, seeming like she'd let the subject drop for now, thankfully.

"Okay," she relented, sitting back down again, her gaze returning to the city laid out beneath them. "Whatever you say … mi araña."

He growled, his claws digging into the side of the building as he fought to restrain himself. "Don't … say it like that, arañita."

He wanted to touch her. Wanted to hold her and kiss her and taste her and please her. But he didn't want it to be some meaningless fling, some temporary fun they had just so he could get it out of his system. No, she deserved so much more than that. She was kind and sweet and so concerned about everyone around her, so attentive to all the small things that made each person up. And he wanted to give her so much more than just a one night stand. He wanted … He pushed the thoughts away, not quite ready to confront them just yet. Not yet. She turned back to him, her features schooled into an unconvincing expression of innocence, her eyes wide as she blinked up at him.

"Like what, Miguel?" she questioned, relishing the rare occasion in which she had the upper hand over him. She paused, fighting against a mischievous smile, the one that made his heart stop beating and his stomach start fluttering every time he saw it flash across her face. "Am I pronouncing it wrong?"

She knew she wasn't. She knew damn well that she was pronouncing it perfectly, her accent right on point. And she also knew damn well what she was doing, saying it the way she was, saying it exactly the way she was saying it to him right now. He clenched his jaw, grinding his teeth together as he narrowed his eyes at her. If he said yes, would she stop? He forced the words out through gritted teeth. "If I say yes, will you stop?"

She seemed to genuinely consider the question for a second, sitting back and pursing her lips as she thought about it.

"I don't think so," she admitted truthfully, turning to him with a sincere expression on her face. "I think I'd just ask you to teach me how to pronounce it properly." She gave him a wicked smile, the change in her demeanour so sudden that it took him by surprise, his heart stuttering in his chest.

"Will you teach me, Miguel?" she asked him softly, her eyes falling to his abs. She dragged her gaze along his torso, slowly, appreciatively, her eyelids growing heavy as she took her time to admire the defined lines of his muscles. She licked her lips and leaned into him.

"Will you …" she continued, her voice dropping lower, her gaze fixing on his mouth, "... teach me …" He swallowed hard as her eyes flickered up to his before settling on his lips again, his mind running wild with a list of all the things he'd like to teach her, if given the chance. She brought her mouth even closer to his, so close now that he could feel her warm breath glossing over his lips as she tilted her head to the side, looking for all the world like she was about to kiss him. F*ck, he wanted her to kiss him so badly. He leaned closer as her lips parted ever so slightly, his eyelids fluttering shut in anticipation. But then she pulled away, her voice returning to its normal pitch as she pulled her legs back up beneath her.

"How to speak Spanish? ¿Por favor?" she finished innocently. His eyes flew open, a dazed look overcoming his handsome features as he struggled to bring himself back to reality. Then he frowned, his fangs baring at her in a snarl as his claws dug into the solid surface of the rooftop underneath them.

"Whoa!" she laughed, revelling in the frustration she'd managed to provoke within him. "Calm down, Miguel! What did you think I was going to ask you to teach me?" And again, a jumbled mess of all the filthy things he'd like to teach her, all the dirty ways he'd like to show her exactly how he could satisfy her, just him, no one else. He let out a huff, wrenching his gaze away from her.

"That," he very clearly lied, the frustration evident in every tense line of his body. "I thought you were going to ask me that." She grinned, delighting in the reaction she'd managed to force out of him. She knew he cared about her, definitely - everyone in the entire Spider society knew it. But she'd never been sure whether or not he could actually be attracted to her. She was cute, sure. Pretty, even, when she was having a good day. But he was just so hot, so handsome and sexy, turning heads everywhere he went with his beautifully crafted features and his perfectly sculpted physique. How could he possibly ever desire her in the way she - and every other heterosexual woman on the planet probably - desired him? She fidgeted with her fingers for a bit, thinking about how no one else would ever know him in the way that she did - in the way he'd let her come to know him, her gentle insistence at breaking down his walls wearing his resolve thin over time. And maybe that really did mean something; that he'd let himself come to depend on her, to let her take care of him, to let her touch him when she wanted and tease him when she felt like it. Maybe it meant something that he seemed to want to take care of her too. Just him, no one else.

"Okay," she relented, pulling her legs back up beneath her. She paused, thinking about it for a second, then she felt the smile pulling at corners of her lips again. "But, you know, if there was something … else you wanted me to do …"

He hesitated before glancing at her again, terrified of whatever torture she’d planned for him now. She bent over, landing on her hands and knees to look up at him, her back caving in towards the ground, her ass sticking up in the air so painfully enticingly. Coño, he wanted to bite down on her ass; wanted to hear the squeals and whimpers fall from her lips as he licked her up and devoured her entirely. He wrestled his gaze back to hers and she bit her lip when their eyes met, her eyelids getting heavy again as she returned her full attention back to his mouth. "... all you'd have to do is ask. You know that, right, Miguel?"

Her voice had gone low again, the words a sultry murmur that tickled at his senses, beckoning for him to move closer to her. And the way she’d said his name? Por Dios, she was driving him mad. He held on to his self-control, trying to maintain a tight grip on himself as she reached a hand up to his face, her lips parted invitingly.

"All you'd have to do …" She twisted a strand of his hair around her finger before sweeping it behind his ear, her skin brushing against his and causing a shiver to run down his spine. She smiled at his reaction, pleased. "... is tell me whatever it is you wanted me to do for you, Miguel …" Her finger continued its path down his neck and along his shoulder, her eyes gliding over his muscles as she followed the movements of her hand.

"... and I'd do it." She looked up at him again, her eyes even darker than usual as her pupils expanded with lust, her mouth watering at the proximity of them to one another. She swallowed carefully, giving him enough time to turn his attention to her throat, to see the effect he had on her. Then she pushed herself back onto her knees, resting her forearms on his shoulder so that she could bring her lips closer to his, tantalisingly close. She tilted her head, angling her face so that her mouth was perfectly aligned with his, perfectly positioned to kiss him. Then she spoke, her voice a suggestive whisper, her lips curled into an irresistible smirk. "What do you want me to do for you, mi araña fuerte?" (... my strong spider?)

F*********ck. How could she say it like that? How could she look at him with that hungry look in her eyes, her mouth so painfully close to his, her lithe form draped all over his arm? He leaned closer to her, desperate to close the distance between them, to feel the sensation of her lips on his. But she pulled away again, narrowly avoiding his mouth, her fingers resting on the edge of his shoulder as she snickered at him.

"¡Coño, arañita!" he yelled, his eyes glowing red with frustration. "¡¿Qué demonios estás tratando de hacer?!"

She couldn't quite translate that - she wasn't too fluent in cursing just yet. But something about hell and doing something? She raised an eyebrow, giving him an expectant look as she waited for him to translate, one hand still curled around his large shoulder. He gritted his teeth, the rage in his eyes dying down a little as he worked to calm himself back down again.

"What the hell are you trying to do to me, arañita?" he asked her, a little more composed this time. She frowned immediately, uncomfortable with the way he'd phrased it; the way he'd made it seem like she was intentionally manipulating his feelings against his own will. She slid herself off of him, scooting back a little to put some distance between them. Then she swung her legs back over the edge of the rooftop, refusing to meet his gaze.

"I'm not trying to do anything to you, Miguel," she told him, clearly offended by his choice of words. She waved a hand at him dismissively. "You feel whatever you want to feel. I'm not forcing you to feel anything." She lowered her head, her hair falling over her face as she kicked her legs back and forth. He waited for her to look at him, for her to brush it off as a joke and smile up at him again. She didn't. He sighed, knowing she was right - it really wasn't her fault that he felt the way he did. She'd already made her feelings about him explicitly clear, had already told him that she wasn't expecting anything in return; even if it had to hurt - giving her love away without receiving anything back.

"I'm sorry," he told her, his tone sincere, his eyes wide with nerves as he waited for her to respond. She nodded in acknowledgement, but her gaze remained fixed on her feet, her shoulders hunched up around her ears as she considered his apology. He leaned closer to her, his movements slow and careful as he rested his hand on the surface behind her, the both of them not quite touching just yet. He held his breath, his heart thudding in his chest as he stayed frozen in position, waiting, wanting.

He was so close to her now, close enough that his breath ruffled her hair whenever he exhaled, the warmth emanating from his body enveloping her comfortably. She gripped onto the edge of the rooftop, feeling her heart start to quicken as she waited from him to make his next move. She didn't mind waiting - didn't mind giving him the space to work through his feelings for her, his need to look after her becoming a part of his daily routine, against his better judgement. It gave her the space to assess her own emotions as well - she'd never felt this way about anyone before, after all, and she was glad to have finally found someone so patient with her, someone with whom she could take her time to fall in love with, secure in the knowledge that he would take care of her heart.

Her foot was shaking, the right one. It did that sometimes when she was looking up at him, her eyes unfocused as she dangled her legs over the armrest of her chair, lost in her own thoughts. And he was damn sure that if he looked over at her watch, it'd be lit up an angry red, her vitals shooting over the healthy limit as she waited to see what he would do next. He inched himself even closer to her, his thigh pressing against hers, his foot tapping hers lightly as a signal for her to stop. She froze, her muscles clenching as his chest grazed her back. Then she exhaled, giving herself the permission to lean into his touch, to let her head rest on his shoulder as they looked down at the city below them. He glanced down at her watch, his lips quirking at the ends as he saw the warning red give way to a relieved green, her heartbeat returning back to normal as she curled herself up against him. And it was nice, sitting here with her, her small body a welcome weight against him, her presence a reassuring comfort in his arms. But he couldn't help himself from wanting more - from wanting to touch her, to pull her into his lap and brush his fingers along her thigh as he held her close to him. As he pressed his lips to hers and slid his tongue into her mouth, taking his sweet time to taste her. But it wouldn't be fair to her. Not when she'd told him she loved him. Not when she'd said he was everything she'd ever wanted. Not yet.

Tags: @leahnicole1219 @heubstr

#miguel o'hara #atsv miguel #miguel spiderman #miguel spiderverse #miguel x reader #miguel fanfic #miguel smut #miguel x oc #spiderman 2099 x reader #spiderman 2099 #miguel ohara #miguel x you #spiderman 2099 x you #spiderman 2099 fanfiction #spiderman 2099 smut #Spotify

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ericsgf · 1 year

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Safe Space || Sunwoo

🌟 Sunwoo x gn reader 🌟 anxiety comfort 🌟 1.5k words 🌟 When Sunwoo finds you crying because of anxiety, he knows just the right way to make you feel more secure.

When Sunwoo stepped into your room and saw your face, it was definitely not what he expected. He expected you to turn around in pleasant surprise, your expression lighting up in delight to see your boyfriend. Instead, what he saw was your reddened eyes widening in fright as tears stained your cheeks. For a second, he was frozen in place like he wasn’t sure if it was okay for him to see you crying or if he was intruding on something he shouldn’t have. He almost took a step back and closed the door on instinct, but fortunately his brain was fast enough to catch himself before he’d done that.

“Uh, are you okay?” The question was as awkward as his voice when he asked it, and when you just sniffled in response, Sunwoo realized that this was probably not the way to go about it.

So instead, he took a deep breath to collect himself and focus on you, then walked up to your desk. You were sitting in your office chair, and before you heard the door open, you had been lying your head on your arms, resting on the desk in front of your lit up computer screen. There was an empty document open, the cursor on the clear white page blinking down at you in a steady rhythm.

Sunwoo quickly scanned your surroundings for hints then crouched down before you and put his hands on your knees in what he hoped was a reassuring manner.

“Why are you crying?” His voice this time was very soft, and he looked up at you with patient, warm eyes, encouraging you to trust him with whatever that was tearing you down so bad. Somehow, this look directed at you only made your tears flow harder and your sobs made it difficult to say anything. You could only stutter out a few broken “I”s before crying again.

Sunwoo muttered a “shit” under his breath and kneeled up so he could pull you into his arms. He patted your back in a way that was comforting in its awkwardness. Opposed to his initial reaction and what he might be thinking about himself, he was actually quite good at taking care of other people. His hug was warm and his touch was gentle but firm, both comforting and grounding.

“Don’t cry,” he repeated a few times, holding you close until you calmed down in the warmth of his arms. Eventually, your sobs ceased and he let you stay like this for a bit longer to catch your breath and calm down completely. Then you slowly pulled away a little to start wiping your tears with your sleeves.

“Stop that,” Sunwoo scolded you, pulling your hands away from your face. He quickly found some tissues on your desk and took over the job, gently wiping your face and making you blow your nose. When everything was done, he brushed your hair out of your face and pressed a lingering kiss on your forehead. “Are you okay?” he asked after.

You still didn’t seem like you were feeling better, your expression looked empty and ready to burst into another round of crying at any moment. So Sunwoo took it onto himself to get you comfortable enough. “Did something happen? If someone was an asshole to you, I can teach them a lesson.”

You scrunched up your nose in a grimace that probably meant that you were trying to glare at him for speaking nonsense and holding back a smile.

“I can’t write,” you said eventually, your voice barely above a whisper in the silence of your room.

For a second, Sunwoo wasn’t sure if he heard you right. Could such a simple reason cause you to cry as hard as you did? His shoulder still felt wet from the way your tears seeped through his t-shirt. He found it hard to believe that it was all because you had writer’s block or something.

“...Is that it?” he asked for confirmation, eyes wide with confusion while rubbing his thumb on the back of your hand.

You seemed to hesitate for quite a long time before trying again, “...I’m scared of writing.”

“Why are you scared of writing?” This was even more confusing because you weren’t the type to doubt your skills often and even when you did, it always made you more motivated to learn and improve. Did someone say something bad about your writing? Did he really need to square up and fight someone for you?

There was another period of silence, however instead of answering his question directly, it seemed like you changed your previous statement again, “I’m scared of everything… I’m just… scared…”

You choked on the last word and you could already feel a new set of tears gathering in the corner of your eyes. Your fingers curled into tight fists under Sunwoo’s palms and he was afraid that you would start crying again, so he quickly leaned closer to give you another forehead kiss. He was relieved when you closed your eyes for a moment to only focus on the touch of his lips on your skin, then you finally blinked the tears away.

Now it all made sense. Sunwoo knows what it’s like when fear makes someone unable to do anything. Maybe he hadn’t experienced what you were going through at this moment, maybe the fears he’d experienced weren’t to this level or this kind, still, he did have one or two tricks up his sleeves to offer you some help.

“You’re scared of everything?” he asked, trying his best to hold back a grin but the corner of his lips curled up anyways. When you looked at him with confusion, wondering if he didn’t hear you, he added, “Even me?”

You immediately shook your head no. Then seeing his grin widen proudly, you realized that your thoughtless response led you to his trap so you quietly added, “I saw you panicking when you found me crying.”

“I wasn’t- you saw it wrong, your tears obscured your vision,” he huffed, partly embarrassed, partly relieved that you were starting to feel better – even if it was to his expense. Either way, he just needed you to trust him and let him in. He could take care of the rest.

“Listen here, crybaby” he started again and poked your cheek with his index finger when he saw you pouting at the very affectionate nickname. “My point is, since you’re not scared of me, you can rely on me, right?”

You looked at him like not a word of this made any sense to you. Sunwoo thought that was fair, he wasn’t always reliable in every single thing and he couldn’t help much with the particular things you were struggling with. However, he wanted you to know that at the very least, you could hide behind his back or in his arms whenever you needed to – you’re not alone. He would be your support, your safe space, your shoulder to cry on. He would help you calm down and recharge yourself so you would have the strength to face your fears and defeat them like a boss.

“I’m saying that even though you have to do most of the work yourself, you don’t have to face your fears alone,” Sunwoo said, leaning closer again – close enough that you saw nothing but his face, and he placed his palms gently on your ears. “Whenever you’re scared, I’ll be here to cover your eyes and cover your ears, and get into your mind to drive out all the fears, alright?”

When you nodded, he immediately kissed you.

Your eyes fluttered close and you melted into the way his lips moved against yours. Your hands found their way to his shoulders, one slowly slipping up along the line of his neck to thread into his hair. He was right, you realized after pulling away for a moment: you didn’t see anything but his face, didn’t hear anything but his soft breaths, didn’t smell anything but his scent, didn’t feel anything but his touch, didn’t taste anything but his lips. Your thoughts about your fears dissolved like clouds after the rain when the sun broke through the sky and lit everything up with its bright light. Its warmth, similar to your boyfriend’s warmth, made you feel at peace and filled you up with life.

You kissed him again, your lips chasing his, wanting to feel more of this magical feeling that seemingly made all your fears disappear. It was only after you parted for air that you realized that it wasn’t like your fears disappeared, they only seemed less threatening now. And you also realized that it wasn’t that he made you feel stronger, he simply stayed beside you and showed you that you’re already strong enough. You realized that what you did for you was being your safe space where your fears couldn’t follow you and you could rediscover yourself.

#the boyz #kim sunwoo #the boyz imagines #the boyz scenarios #the boyz fanfic #sunwoo imagines #sunwoo scenarios #sunwoo fanfic #the boyz x reader #sunwoo x reader

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prince-rowan-of-the-forest · 5 months

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We'll Save You (3/4)

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Janus has a bad day and finds himself in the library. Things can only go up from there..

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| <- Previous Chapter | Next Chapter -> |

TWs: No explicit tws for this chapter I dont think - but as per the fic there are vague references to past trauma.

Word Count: 2349

Notes: Hey look, it's me updating a fic I haven't updated in six and a half months!!!

I got inspiration to finish writing this third chapter after an ask game on tumblr - sooooo that's cool!

I don't know what I'll write for the final chapter, I do hope to do something, but it might be another six months, unfortunately.

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Janus was having a horrible day.

He knew it the moment he woke up that today just wasn't going to be good, as days sometimes were. He'd woken up feeling phantom bruises on his arms and legs. His breakfast had tasted like dirt when Anxiety brought it - he'd seemed to notice Janus' mood and left quickly with a small reassuring smile. He’d taken extra care to brush his hair over the left of his face today, seeing the scales made him feel sick.

He'd eaten quickly and changed into a comfortable set of clothes from the wardrobe that Prince had been steadily filling. He couldn't help how he felt a little guilty putting on such soft, lovely clothes. Such things were meant for people who had earned them. Janus was sure he'd done no such thing.

He'd snuck from his room, attempting to stay out of sight from anyone who he might cross paths with - any servants and especially Prince or Anxiety. He really didn't feel like talking right now.

Somehow, he'd managed to find his way back to the library he'd found a short while before. He hadn't quite found the time to visit it since. When he found it, though, he quickly worked out that no-one seemed to be inside. It was quiet, as libraries should be.

For a moment, Janus considered that he had no idea how he was supposed to find a book that he wanted to read in this library. It was so huge with so many shelves, so many isles and nooks and crannies - which was perfect with him wanting to hide, but did make things a little difficult.

Somehow, though, when Janus thought about what he wanted to read, his instincts seemed to start pulling him in a certain direction - toward a certain shelf.

Eventually he found the place the library seemed to be leading him to - a shelf of books about… mortals. Reading the covers led him to believe they were fictional - mortal written stories about… romance.

He picked out one that seemed to be more interesting and then - once he had the book firmly in hand - the library seemed to begin pulling him in another direction, this time leading him to a small nook that sat off of the main library, featuring a plush red rug over hardwood floor and a wonderfully soft looking sofa across from a roaring fireplace.

The curtains over the windows on one side of the room were drawn, only letting slivers of sunlight through where they hadn't quite been closed properly. Janus smiled, it was cozy, the room was comfortably warm and when he tentatively took a seat on the sofa he found it just as wonderful as it looked.

He didn't know how long he had sat there reading, but it must have been a long time, because he had nearly finished the book when he noticed that any time had passed at all. The nook the library had led him to was the perfect place to hide from the fear and guilt that still plagued him about everything. The perfect place to get lost and forget how everything felt so wrong. How every moment he wondered when the second shoe would drop, how he feared the moment they'd force him to attempt some impossible task just to punish him for failing..

Janus tried to clamp down on those thoughts, attempting to focus his brain back onto the words he was seeing on the page before him. The main character was part way through screaming at her previous partner for 'cheating' on her at the beginning of the book, and Janus was interested to see whether she would be punished for such a thing.

But then most of this book didn't make sense. It was mortal written, the labels on the shelves had said so, and supposedly reflected reality, but Janus found it mentioned many things he didn't know or hadn't heard of before. The female characters were working jobs and standing up to their partners without being hurt or worse. The world described in this book was nothing like the one he had known.

Thinking about just how much time he must have missed only served to make his bad mood worse. So he kept reading. Regardless of the confusion he faced, he hoped the story ended well. Maybe he'd try the fantasy section next - at least there was no expectation for him to understand the world there.

"Why hello Deceit!" Said a cheerful voice that had Janus' eyes snapping up from his book - he was only a chapter away from finishing. Prince stood in the doorway, leaning casually against the opening with a thick book tucked under his arm. He was wearing a less extravagant outfit today than usual, a simple loose shirt with a plain corset and trousers. He wasn't even wearing shoes. Somehow despite his overall casual look, Prince still looked somewhow… tense.

Janus really didn't feel like talking much today, not with anyone, and Prince's peppiness only served to make him feel worse about his own bad mood, so he simply waved.

"Ah, bad day?" Prince asked, Janus nodded, "May I sit?"

He just shrugged and went back to reading, unable to help the way his eyes wondered to Prince just about every time he paused. He had sat down on the opposite end of the couch, wings draped over the armrest and feet tucked up in front of him, only just not getting in Janus' space.

"What are you reading?" Prince asked eventually, wings rustling. Janus showed him the book cover and he nodded in what must be approval, *Marian Keyes? Good choice."

Minutes later, Janus realised that he was pretty sure Roman hadn't turned a page the entire time he'd been sat here. He sighed, finishing the last few pages before setting down the book on a side table and going to stand up. He almost missed the way Prince's expression turned near distraught when he left the sofa, though when he looked back over he was back to frowning at the same page.

Did Prince want him to stay? What was going on?

Carefully, he settled back down with a glance at Prince, who didn't look up but visually relaxed just a little all the same.

"Are… you olright?" Janus asked eventually, unable to get the off feeling out of his head. Prince looked up in surprise, before sighing.

"You really are an observant one, aren't you?" Prince said softly.

Janus frowned, unsure of what Prince really meant. Was that bad?

"I suppose I'm not having the best day," Prince continued, "But I wouldn't want to concern you with my problems when you still have so many of your own to deal with."

"I appreciate that," Janus said eventually, before taking a deep breath, "But I did ask, what's wrong?"

"I-" Roman started, before letting out a breath of air from his nose, his feathers drooping, "I will be okay, today just seems to not be on my side."

Janus nods slowly, "I think I'm having the same problem, can I… .help?"

"How would you help?" Prince asked, raising an eyebrow. Janus frowned.

"A hug?" Janus suggested anyway, glad he'd gotten the word for what Anxiety had done with him from the book he'd read, "Anxiety said you like them when you're upset."

"They did?* Prince asked, before smiling, "Of course they did."

Prince shifted, placing down his book and sitting up properly before opening his arms - Inviting Janus for a hug.

He hesitated for a moment, before shifting down the sofa and wrapped his arms around Prince, careful not to touch his wings - he wasn't sure quite how private they were, before attempting to relax against him

Prince sighed, squeezing him gently and leaning forward to rest his chin atop Janus' hair as he ran a hand through the curling strands. Janus couldn't help but relax too, relishing in the more gentle touches. This wasn't something he was used to, and the way Prince's hand felt in his hair was new and gentle and felt simply wonderful.

"I may also be hiding," Prince admitted quietly, voice muffled by Janus' hair.

"From what?" Janus asked, just as quiet, he worried that if he spoke any louder it would ruin the peace.

"Vee," Prince admitted with a small chuckle, "I ate the last slice of his cake."

Janus couldn't help the way he tensed, though Prince seemed to notice, gently running his fingers down his back, somehow drawing the tension from his shoulders.

"Don't worry, sweetheart," Prince said, "It's nothing serious, a little playful squabbling at best."

"He won't hurt you, right?" Janus asked, frowning into Prince's shoulder. He liked Prince - and Anxiety too, though it was taking a little more to warm up to them. He didn't want either of them to hurt each other, especially not over something like a cake.

Prince shook his head, "Most certainly not, it's all in good fun, they know I'm not having a good day, so it's all light-hearted."

"Okay," Janus said, eventually settling down in Prince's arms again. This felt like it was lasting longer than the 'hug' in his book had, and the one Anxiety gave him too, and those hadn't involved quite so much contact, but Janus was comfortable here. He found he didn't want to move, and Prince seemed quite content to hold onto him and play with his hair too, so Janus felt it maybe wasn't so bad.

—

“Ah, so this is where you’ve been hiding?”

The peace in the library room was broken by another voice. Janus found now that he was startled into wakefulness that he’d been dozing off cuddled up to Prince’s chest. He looked up to see Anxiety standing in the doorway, arms crossed, though their expression softened a little when their eyes fell on Janus. Prince looked a little worried, but he was still smiling.

“Hello sweetie, what’re you doing in here?” Anxiety asked, tilting their head a little.

“Um..” Janus said awkwardly - suddenly wondering if they’d be upset that Janus had been actively cuddling their partner.

Coming to his rescue, Prince answered for him, “I found Deceit reading in here, he noticed I was upset and offered a hug - I suppose I got a little carried away...”

Anxiety laughed, a small sound that they covered their mouth with a hand to hide, “Cute,” They said, “Are you okay with being cuddled like a pillow, sweetie?”

“Yes,” Janus said too quickly for his own liking - but it was still true, “It’s - it’s kind of… nice?”

“Awwe,” Prince cooed, sitting up a little and pulling Janus back into his chest.

Chuckling, Anxiety looked at them both for a moment, “You two look adorable, mind if I join you?”

“Of course, my darling,” Prince said, reaching out for him, “As long as the little cutie is okay with it?”

It took Janus an embarrassingly long time to realise that Roman was referring to him with that cute nickname, but with cheeks flushed red, Janus nodded. He wouldn’t mind Anxiety joining them. Nodding, Anxiety walked over, perching on the edge of the sofa next to them until Prince used one of his wings to pull them closer.

Eventually, after a little bit of shifting around in order to get comfortable, Janus found himself sandwiched between the two faeries, Prince was comfortably warm while Anxiety balanced out that warmth with their gentle coolness. Prince’s wings were wrapped neatly around them and Anxiety was gently carding their fingers through the primary feathers whilst they rested their head on Janus’ shoulder. Janus couldn’t help but notice the way Prince shivered with every stroke of Anxiety’s slender fingers - those feathers looked so soft, though.

“Would you like to try?” Anxiety asked, looking passively at Janus as he paused in running his hands through the feathers. Blushing, Janus ducked his head before looking up at Prince for permission. The faerie in question was looking serenely at them both - as if totally at peace.

“Of course, little one, go ahead,” Prince said softly, running his fingers through Janus’ hair once more, “Vee will show you where not to touch.”

And so began a lengthy explanation of the parts of Prince’s wings and which parts were more sensitive or intimate to touch. Janus felt he was right to avoid touching them earlier. It seemed the fluffy feathers nearest where his wings joined his back were sensitive, as well as some other spots where there were apparently glands. Anxiety assured him that the tops of the wings and primary feathers were the safest spots to touch if he ever wanted to.

The explanation ended with Anxiety holding Janus’ hand against theirs to guide his fingers through the soft feathers - they were just as soft as they looked. Prince let out a soft, happy sigh.

“He’s sweet, isn’t he?” Anxiety asked him a little while later after Prince’s soft breaths had evened out and he’d fallen asleep holding Janus against him with his nose buried in his hair.

“Yes,” Janus agreed, before covering his mouth as he let a yawn slip out.

“Why don’t you fall asleep too?” Anxiety said gently, “I think you both need it, and I think he’d appreciate you being there.”

Janus yawned again, settling in with a happy sigh - he really did felt like he could fall asleep right here, and maybe Anxiety is right, he probably did need the rest.

“Will you stay here too?” He said, not sure why moments afterwards. Normally he wanted to be around Anxiety especially as little as possible when he wasn’t feeling his best. Anxiety seemed just as surprised as he did.

“Of course,” They said regardless, “Of course I’ll stay - we’ll both be here when you wake up.”

Leaning forward, Anxiety pressed a gentle kiss to Janus’ forehead, making him feel a little like he was burning - like sitting by a fire after you’d just come in from a freezing winter.

Easily, Janus allowed himself to drift off to sleep, somehow feeling safe sandwiched between these two faeries.

----

Tags: @full-of-roman-angst-trash @your-local-random-dino @cutebisexualmess @glacierruler @roseianxiety @bella-bugatti-frogetti-baguetti @scalesfeathersnfur (if anyone wants to be added, let me know!)

#sanders sides #anaroceit #sanders sides fanfiction #janus sanders #roman sanders #virgil sanders #ts roman #ts virgil #ts janus #fanfic #fanfiction #rowans writings

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