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heyidkyay · 10 months

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And I'm petrified of being alone, now |

Part Nine

Matty Healy x reader

Summary: She’s just trying to get by, really. What with being a single parent to her four year old son whilst simultaneously trying to kick start a successful career as a radio presenter. She’s got everything she’s ever wanted though, friends close by, a mum who’s merely a phone call away, and of course her baby boy. What else is there to wish for? But then, it’s not long before her relatively normal life gets upended and turned on its head, and she’s suddenly forced to deal with situations she’s never even thought to imagine.

What happens when one mention of a certain controversial singer on her show sends a flood of unexpected challenges her way?

Authors Note: Part Nine!! Hope you lot like this one! Thank you so much for all the love its been shown, means a whole lot xx

Warnings: Scene that involves a lot of sudden panic and themes of possessive violence (Nothing too graphic, promise!), drinking but it's to be expected tbh

Masterlist

The pavement outside of the bar was grounding. A solid presence beneath my unsteady feet.

I let that feeling engulf me as I wandered a little further down from the club doors to press my back against the outer wall. The brick became a tether, I felt the grain of its grit against the leather of my jacket, the way its chill pooled across the back of my head, its rough ridges latching onto the hair that fell there.

It had been the briefest of seconds, a startled glance shared between us both before I had ripped myself away. Knowing that I’d only somehow lose myself in those eyes of his if I lingered a second too long.

But Matty had been all too bashful and almost completely unaware of my presence, so over the top in his greetings to everyone else that he had virtually made it too easy for me to slip straight past his guard and out into the night.

Now, alone, I dragged in a ragged breath. The feverish wisp of the evening air swirled around my tongue, only to then wind its way down the back of my throat. It helped to somewhat still my trembling hands.

Then, almost frantically, I moved to rifle through the pockets of my jacket in search of a pack of fags, or perhaps a lighter- practically desperate to find another means of escape. My mind wouldn’t stop its endless spinning.

I didn't get the chance though, not when the person I'd all but bolted from came tumbling out of the doorway a few feet away, dazed smile paired with a pair of sharp cutting eyes.

"There she is!"

I swallowed thickly just as my head snapped left to meet Matty, who was now making his merry way over, hands tucked in his trousers as he grinned amiably at me. Like everything was fine. Normal.

"Was beginning to think you'd done a runner!"

He didn't look much different from the last time I had seen him, which oddly felt so long ago now. That day in the cafe and then by the tube station. But still, there was something unfamiliar about the jaunty way he now held himself. It was a little too confident, arrogant almost. I wasn't sure how to interpret it. If I was even supposed to.

"No. Just needed some air." I replied, a breath of relief escaping me when my fingers finally wrapped around the familiar feel of cardboard. I pulled the carton out to distract myself from his overwhelming presence and plucked a cigarette from its contents before then extending it outwards. It felt impolite not to offer.

Matty only bared his teeth at me in a grin, as charming as ever, before he leant forward to snag another from the casing. I fumbled then for a lighter, patting myself down in search of it.

I needn't have bothered though because I blinked and then there was a flame, unwavering in the wind as Matty dangled it carelessly just under my nose.

My eyes sought his and I wet my lips before making room for the filter.

Matty leaned in closer and I hunched slightly so that I could burn the cigarette’s end, but as I did I continued to observe Matty, his stance, the mask he wore, whilst the fancy chrome lighter worked its magic.

I didn't know exactly where my heart was in that precise moment, but it definitely wasn't in my chest. It was climbing up my throat, pounding against my skin, hammering in my ears.

I hadn't really noticed it before but now, just being around Matty- especially when not entirely sober- was a somewhat difficult task for me to endure. The man was every sort of red flag rolled up into one being, the kind of person I knew I was better off just staying away from.

Because people like Matty tended to lure the likes of me in, with their charming smiles and cutting eyes.

The perfect sort of trap that left you helpless, stranded.

Right then, it almost seemed as though Matty had the power to read every insulant or incriminating thought that had ever crossed my mind. As though all of it was written as clear as day across my face.

Matty took a long drag of his cigarette and propped himself up against the wall beside me, a little too close for current comfort but I couldn't really find it in myself to pull back now.

"Seemed like you couldn't get away fast enough."

He said it so nonchalantly that I was a little unsure on how best to answer, whether Matty was honestly offended or not by my sudden departure. But before I could even think up a reply, Matty was already striving on.

"But, I can only imagine- must've been more than awkward to see the object you've been ignoring for, well fuck knows how long, standing right there. Within reach."

Matty turned his infamous grin on me then, but my breath had already been caught by the unbidden emotion in the man's eyes.

"I-" I tried but Matty merely shrugged me off, cigarette ash flailing as he did.

"Don't need an excuse, babe. I get it. I can be a bit much at times- clingy, I reckon’s the right word."

I choked a little on my next drag but immediately started to shake my head. "No, no- honestly, Matty. It wasn't like that."

Matty levelled me with an odd look, but said nothing more.

"Look, I promise. Alright? It’s just- I've had a lot on recently. Everything's been fucking stressing me out, more so than usual, and it's all just. Well, it's all just sort of gotten on top of me."

Knuckling the side of my eye in frustration, I tugged a hand through my hair, hating myself for the way I couldn't even seem to worm my way out of this one. For the dejected look that sat so blatantly on Matty's face.

"I am really not saying this right." I huffed out unhappily before I dropped my fag and stamped the remaining cherry out.

Matty merely snorted and I pressed my lips together to keep from biting and instead took a breath, turning to him.

"I'm sorry." Is what I apparently decided on, and felt almost as surprised as Matty looked when the words bypassed my lips. But in truth, I found that I really was sorry for making Matty feel as though he was to blame here. And for whatever other idiotic thing Matty might've told himself as to why I’d been acting like a right bitch lately.

Matty looked at me for a long pause, his hand stilled in midair between us, and I really wasn't very sure how to take the small smile that tugged at his lips a moment later.

"No need for apologies. Honestly. Well, only if you're planning to continue ignoring my messages after all this." Matty quipped and he laughed lightly when he caught my expression, blowing a cloud of smoke out of the side of his mouth.

I felt looser having heard his reply though, and tried for a smile.

"No. No, I wasn't planning on it."

"Good." Matty nodded and I really appreciated the way his face brightened when he did so. But I knew I’d never tell him. "Now! Are you going to buy me a drink for all of my troubles, or am I going to have to bribe that grumpy ginger mate of yours? Who’s even that sodding tall anyway?"

A startled laugh bubbled up from my chest and I couldn't for the life of me even think to decline the ask when Matty was looking at me like that, eyes shining under the streetlamp light, cheeky smile brightening his entire being.

"I'd like to see you try."

I quietly waited for Matty to finish the remnants of his cigarette before I followed the singer back inside, feeling the humidity of the cramped club pool over me the moment we bypassed the entrance.

Matty grabbed at my hand just as we slid by the highly intoxicated hen-do party who were crowding the doors. The action was done without merely a second thought, which wedged that heart of mine up into the walls of my throat and left me almost unaware as Matty continued to lead me through the rest of the crowd.

His fingers wrapped effortlessly around my own and I clung to them like an anchor to the ocean floor. Struggling greatly to suppress the bubbling urge to play with the large metal ring that adorned Matty’s index finger.

"Oi, I thought you'd left!" Came a booming voice from over my left shoulder, it resonated around us once Matty and I had finally reached the bar.

It was on impulse that I glanced over in its direction and gaped at the sudden appearance of Auley, who's blue eyes were keen but playful, taking the situation in. It was Matty though, who replied, face turned up into a cocky grin as he subtly observed the incoming target.

"It seems,” He said, “That Squeaks here cannot say no to the likes of me."

Matty’s fingers were still grasping mine, I noted then, and was merely grateful for the way the bar's dim yellow lights were able to cover up the faint blush that had crawled up my neck. That statement had only strengthened it though, it seemed. Because, in all honesty, it felt like more than just a partial truth.

The laughter that followed from Auley was brash and unavoidable, and he made sure to catch my gaze.

"Ah, I see!" Auley winked at me as he went to grab at the large tray of drinks the barman passed him. "Must be those devilishly good looks of yours, mate."

I hated feeling so wrong-footed so I shot back, "Or, maybe his charm."

Auley smirked just as I ducked my head. "I'll let everyone know you're stickin' around then, Mouse. Join us, yeah?"

Before I could dissuade him, to rewrite the picture he’d decided on in his head, the tall ginger had already dived back into the crowd, his head bobbing along to the song playing overhead as he sailed his way through. Everyone back at the table would know that I’d stuck around soon enough.

"What're you drinking then?"

Blinking, I spun back to face Matty and found a busty barmaid waiting on his reply. She was a pretty thing, propped up against the sleek counter, lips quirked high enough to contradict her sultry eyes.

"Uh," I fumbled slightly before I simply shrugged, "Whatever you're having is fine."

Matty smiled, teeth glinting with the extremity of it, then leant in closer to order, close enough to the barmaid that I struggled to hear their exchange.

The woman flashed him a flirty smile before she finally slipped away, leaving me alone with the likes of Matty once again. I couldn’t for the life of me decide on how I felt about that.

"You been out long then?" I asked as a way of conversation, eyes flitting around the rest of the room, my voice raised just enough to be heard over the music.

"Depends on who you're asking."

My forehead pinched at that, and so Matty laughed.

"Jamie doesn't know I'm out."

I gave a slow nod. "Right. But won't he find out though? You know, come morning, when your mug's plastered all over Twitter and The Times."

Matty’s smile soured ever so slightly at that but he still chirped right back, pressing further into my space, arm brushing mine. “That’s the fun of it, Squeaks. Gotta live a little, yeah?”

The barmaid came wading back over before I could over-analyse his response, settling down an expensive bottle of Belvedere alongside two glasses. "Hope you enjoy it."

Matty dipped his chin at her, one side of his mouth tugging its way up before he hip-checked me into motion.

"Come on then, lead the way!"

Strobe lights danced in his peripheral vision, blinding and eccentric enough to cast shadows and beams out over the room. The bass of the current song being played overhead resonated deep within his chest, thudding alongside his erratic heartbeat. But Matty couldn't seem to concentrate on any of that, not when the girl swaying beside him stood so close, a breath away.

"DJ tonight is really going for it!" She declared as she tossed her head back carelessly, laughing up at the ceiling.

Matty couldn’t find it in him to reply, too busy staring. Mouth agape as his eyes raked over the length of her body. The moisture that clung to the line of her throat, the way that the shorter hairs that framed her face curled in the humidity, how her body just moved. As though she didn't even have to try. Like she was just dancing to dance, not caring who was watching.

Briefly, Matty wondered how hot she must have felt wrapped up in that tight leather jacket of hers, but couldn't for the life of him bring himself to ask. Not when she looked so carefree, so buoyant. Plus, the leather only added to the image Matty had honed in on.

She was grinning still, almost madly now, when she turned her head to catch his keen gaze. She leant in close, so close that Matty could breathe in the scent of her all too easily, the same sweet fragrance that surrounded her constantly and had been filling up his head for days since he’d first smelt it.

"Listen to this riff coming up! Just after the bridge." She instructed him, bright eyes hidden behind drooping lids as her lips brushed against the shell of Matty’s ear.

He forced back a shiver at the feeling and tried his very hardest to follow the order, straining to focus on the song instead of the girl’s proximity.

She continued to bop her head languidly and her eyes finally fell completely shut just as a guitar sounded. The chords of it flowed so fluently, edging closer and closer towards a finale.

She looked so serene whilst she listened, so carefree. As though the only language she'd ever been able to truly understand was the sound of music.

They fell into rhythm without even thinking, the two of them, he dropped his head against her neck so that his hips could sway with hers, a drink loosely gripped between the pads of his fingers. And she seemingly allowed it, even as they stood in a crowd so full of onlooking people.

It was strange though. All of his thoughts were centred around her, the way she moved, the rise and fall of her chest. The three freckles perched on the bone of her collar. But just as that realisation settled in and they continued to dance, Matty felt the sudden sensation of air forcing its way back into his lungs. The action was so apparently clear that he realised, momentarily, that he'd forgotten just how imperative it was to simply breathe.

He wasn't sure whether it was down to the alcohol, or something other, but he revelled in the sharp chill of it, the rushing of his blood. The way it made him dizzy with adrenaline. It was akin to something he hadn’t felt in a long while.

"Mouse."

I hummed noncommittally in response, not paying the voice behind me much mind as I approached the bar again. Matty wanted something fizzy this time around and I didn’t mind sharing.

"Mouse!" It came again, louder.

The crowd seemed to have tripled in the short time it had taken me to weave my way off of the dance floor, it was buzzing now, hands and faces and drinks everywhere. My gaze flickered back over my shoulder momentarily to see if I could still make Matty out in the heaving mass, just so that I could reassure him that I'd soon be back, that I was already at the bar.

"Mouse!" There it was again, that voice, only this time it was accompanied by a grabbing hand.

I startled at the sensation and whipped around, frowning when I saw it was Ronan standing there, my confused gaze now peering up into his storming blue. I shrugged the hand off, then rubbed at the wrist it had seized.

"That'll leave a bruise." I mumbled with a pinched expression.

Ronan's lips only thinned as he stared down at me, not saying a word.

I huffed unhappily, "What did you want, Ro?"

Ronan’s sharp scoff cut through the noise, sounding as though I should have already known the answer to that one. "You're bladdered." He practically spat.

"Thanks for the insight, Sherlock." I countered with a mocking salute, and went to turn away again but there was that hand.

"Jesus, Ronan! Can't I just enjoy a night out? Thought you'd be the first person to egg me on!" I found myself exclaiming, only growing annoyed by the unnecessary exchange, by his rough touch.

I saw his jaw tick, the muscles work beneath the grit of his teeth, and instinctively took a deep breath.

With an exaggerated sniff, Ronan cut his eyes at me again, and even in my drunken haze, I knew that I’d made a mistake somewhere.

"Look, I'm sorry." I tried to backpedal, pulse quickening, "I'm just a little tipsy. Didn't mean to go off on you like that."

"Save it." Ronan grunted out, his hand grabbing at my arm once again, this time it was a lot harsher, heavier. So much so that I couldn't hide my wince, nor the sharp inhale. "We're leavin'."

My tongue fell slack as I attempted to swallow the weighty feeling in my throat, sobering up quickly just as Ronan began to tug me through the hordes of bustling clubbers.

It had been a long while since I had first walked away from the redhead. A drunken one night stand which had progressed into a recurring bad habit during my last year at uni, when I'd still been struggling to wrap my head around everything. Fighting back and forth with the idea of being with somebody, of allowing them to see me completely. Of learning how to trust.

In truth, I’d been at my lowest, and the first few times Ronan and I had slept together, I wasn't so sure that I'd been able to walk, much less jump into bed with someone I considered a mate, when I woke up the next morning.

But I had brushed it aside, figuring that my inebriated mind had only gone after what my sober self had tried its best not to want.

I couldn't really recall the many people I'd got with during that odd period of time, I honestly hadn't wanted to remember much. But Ronan had been mixed in with a throng of others- bartenders, waiters, boys from my classes. And somewhere amongst them all, there had also been Teddy's dad. But the redhead had been a constant. Somewhat of a regular seeing as though I’d had a tiny crush on him way back when.

Then Teddy had obviously come along and I’d been forced to face the facts.

Ronan, as grand as he could often be, was jealous as the best of times, and sadistic at the worst. He didn't much like to share and the man tended to swing towards the belief that the people he had in and out of his bed were his to keep.

And I wasn't demented enough to think that I'd deserved the treatment, but no one else had noticed back then, no one else could have understood. Then with the arrival of Teddy, Ronan hadn't been much interested in the likes of me anymore. And although I'd been adamant that we’d remain friends, I really hadn't seen much of anyone after leaving uni. And I’d been more than content with that fact for a long while now.

In a panicked breath, I fought for my mind to catch up with the rest of me just as I tore my arm from Ronan’s overbearing grip, causing me to stumble backwards into a large group gathered around a tall table.

"What the fuck are you doing?"

Came Ronan's heated voice, it was all that I could really focus on as I struggled to continue backwards, desperate to get away but not wanting to cause a scene. I whispered apologies under my breath without even thinking, tripping over my own feet in my haste.

"Mouse!"

The redhead was hot on my tail though, calling out to me again and again as he forced his way through the overlapping crowd that bustled between us.

I continued with my sorry’s, murmuring to the people around me as I started to shove and push.

But I had been so focused on the voice coming towards me that I’d all but jumped right out of my skin when I heard my name echo in my ear. A quick flash and hands were settling themselves on my shoulders to still me.

Impulsively, I jolted away, springing around to meet Alice's wide eyes.

"Hey, are you okay?"

"Alice. Alice, where's-" I struggled to get enough oxygen into my lungs as I fumbled for words, any words. The blinding fear and panic I should've been feeling only moments ago convulsed through me now like a tornado ripping effortlessly through a city.

"Mouse!"

Was that Ronan again?

My head throbbed with the thought, desperate now.

"Please, Alice."

I could feel the shortness of my breaths as they came out in huffs, my startled eyes flickering every which way as I searched for a way out. An escape.

"Mouse, what's happened? Mouse?" And oh, did I wish that she'd stop saying my name. I wrapped my arms around myself, trying to catch a sight of familiar red.

Alice was hesitant to get any closer now after how I'd so violently flinched, but even through the foggy panic I felt I could see her evident worry.

"Mouse! Alice!"

I watched as Alice's troubled gaze trailed somewhere over my left shoulder, to a space just behind me, and I couldn't help the aggressive way I started to shake my head. Hoping she’d somehow understand. I was overreacting sure, but trembling so hard it almost hurt. It should’ve hurt, I thought.

"Matty." Was the first word that spewed out of my mouth, and I started repeating it like a prayer as I felt the walls of the bar begin to close in. And so, a more than concerned Alice nodded hurriedly at me before she cautiously draped an arm around my waist and started to lead me away.

I was almost certain that Ronan was still calling out, but I couldn't quite hear his voice anymore over the pounding in my ears and so I tried to focus on where we were going. I thought Alice was talking, too. But her voice was so gentle that I struggled to read her lips.

People were flashing by and I noticed a familiar face pass us by then, but they looked far too alarmed and hurried on without a greeting smile, their arms stretched outwards to catch something behind us.

Alice stumbled on, only sparing a single glance backwards as she veered me out from the overwhelming crowd.

I could honestly think a little clearer now, eyes shuttered, flickering back and forth between everyone and everything. Though it all still felt too much.

"Just up here, okay, lovie?" Alice murmured, her presence soothing, safe.

I licked at my lower lip and dipped my head in acknowledgment. "Sorry." I replied breathlessly, voice faint.

Alice blinked at me owlishly and then frowned, before she then squeezed me closer to her side. "Had me worried there, babe, but you don't have to apologise. No need, alright?"

Before I could even think up a response, Alice was speaking again- only, not to me. I dragged my head back up upon hearing a familiar lilt and was bombarded with the sight of a staggered looking Matty. The bright smile he'd been wearing upon our arrival had been wiped away the second he’d gotten one good look at my face.

"What the hell happened to you?"

The question made me think and my forehead furrowed at the sound of the unknown voice. I peered around slightly to find another man seated right beside Matty, he was of a similar build and with hair just as dark. Matty, who had jumped up to meet Alice and I as we drew closer to the booth, reached out for me.

The expression he wore confused me to no end but I couldn't question it, not when Alice was already handing me over to him, albeit with a bit of hesitancy.

"Is she okay?" Matty asked her briskly, his eyes never once leaving mine. I’d never seen them go so wide.

"She honestly came out of nowhere, practically on the verge of a panic attack and looking as though she'd just seen a ghost." Alice explained wearily, whilst Matty ushered me into the nearest seat. His seat.

He jerked his head at the man sitting opposite as he slid in after me, "Go get us some water, will you!"

The man, put on the spot, looked both alarmed and perplexed at the sudden order, but nodded at Matty all the same before he ducked quickly out of the booth.

"Who-" But my inquiry was cut off.

"Danny, mate of mine. Ignore him." Matty answered, somehow already knowing my question, as a careful hand came up to cup my chin, it guided my face closer so that I could get a better look at him. As gentle as Matty was whilst handling me though, I could see the venomous anger in his eyes, the emotions that warred there. "Who was it?"

I blinked slowly but didn’t look away. "What d’you mean?"

He inhaled slowly, so calm it would’ve been intriguing any other time. "It's obvious that something happened, Squeaks. So who was it?"

Squeaks. Squeaks. Squeaks.

I focused on the way my name curled around Matty’s soft spoken tongue.

"Babe." Matty tried to regain my attention and I felt a soft hand tap my shoulder before it dropped itself. "I can't make you tell me what happened but I want to know who to avoid when I try to get you out of here. You hearin’ me?"

I gaped slightly before hurrying to shake my head in return.

"No, no, it's fine, Matty. Honestly. I didn't, I didn’t mean to scare everyone. I'll be fine. I’m okay."

He levelled me with a look, and for some reason it made me feel as though we were the only two people in the room.

"Please don't lie to me. Not right now."

Was what Matty came out with, his voice so steady that I truly did wonder whether he'd actually had a drop of alcohol tonight.

"I was raised by liars, can't stand lies." He added and I swallowed thickly.

Matty just sighed.

"Look, I can probably get us out the back door, alright? I'll get Danny to deal with anyone else." He told me, but only continued to ramble on as he pulled his mobile out from his front pocket, and then he was rambling down the phone to somebody else.

I watched him all the while, still a little dazed from the blinding panic I’d just felt and the idea of Ronan still not being too far. My eyes wouldn’t leave Matty though, even with those thoughts, even though my body craved to search him out, to see if he was near. Head screaming with the intensity of it.

Matty gave me a tiny smile when he hung up and his hand came to rest over my forearm, a vast contradiction to the harsh grip I’d felt there earlier.

"I've got a car waiting outside, you okay with me dropping you home?"

My mum had always claimed I’d been far too proud, hated having other people take care of me, hated them doing the things I could easily do myself. But at that moment all I wanted was my bed. Was to be home.

And so, taking a big leap, I jerked my head in a quick nod, if anyone could even call it that, and it felt like Matty understood just how much power I was giving up then when the man slid out of the booth and offered up a hand.

Still, I took it.

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coffeeghoulie · 4 months

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Mushy May Day 30: By Candlelight

Geode pushes themself a little too hard; thankfully their partner Swiss knows exactly where to find them.

Thanks so much to @forlorn-crows for putting Mushy May together and to @ghuleh-recs for making us the dividers <3

So, to preface this, I decided to pull out the oc I wrote for day 30 last year, because this is my birthday present to myself, and we do a little oc x canon here, as a treat. Fair warning, this one got long.

The archives are the quietest parts of the Abbey, nestled deep in the library. It's often a peaceful respite from the hustle and bustle of regular Abbey life, but not today. The yearly inventory is due soon, and it feels like there are countless registers to update, reports to fill out. Geode's bent over their desk, filling out what feels like the thousandth piece of paperwork. They love their job in the library, just not right now.

The light in here is dim; one high, narrow window letting in a little bit of late afternoon sun, and one candle that's on the far corner of the desk, pushed away far enough from the excessive amount of paperwork that they feel safe lighting it without risking it all going up in flames. The room smells like old paper, the candle tinging it slightly sweeter, apples and spices, and the warm air makes their eyes heavy. Their back aches, poor posture taking its toll on their short frame. They take a moment to shut their eyes, resting their elbows on their desk, head in their hands.

There's a knock on the doorframe, and Geode jolts upright, eyes wide. It's incredibly rare for them to get a visitor down here, and if they do, it's usually Imperator.

"Sister, I can expl-" They stammer, trailing off as they see who's at their door. Their entire frame relaxes as Swiss steps into their little "office." "Hi."

He smiles, easy and warm, and Geode slumps back in their chair as he comes up to their desk. "Hey, babydoll."

"I don't think I've ever seen you down here," Geode says, reaching under their glasses to rub their eyes. "I mean, I don't blame you, it's a labyrinth at best. What can I do for you?"

The smile doesn't leave Swiss's face, but he sighs heavily through his nose. Geode sits up straighter as he props himself up on their desk. "Feels like I haven't seen you in days, sweetheart," he says, hands curled around the edge of Geode's desk as he leans back, mussing up their already disorganized piles of paper. "Have you eaten today?"

The earth ghoul sighs, pushing their glasses up the bridge of their nose. "I've got to get these reports for Imperator finished or she'll have my other horn," they say, not quite answering. They glance up at him and take a deep breath, squaring their shoulders as they face the mess of paper and ink on their desk.

"I know," he hums softly, reaching out to run a finger over the jagged edge of their broken horn, tucking back a strand of grey-white hair that had slipped out from their braid, pinned up tight at the nape of their neck. "At least let me make you something nice for dinner, Geo," he says, and their eyes meet his, grey on gold. "I don't want you running on fumes."

"You're too nice to me," They laugh halfheartedly, leaning into his hand for just a moment before straightening. "It's a date," they say, smiling up at him. "Let me get a couple more things inventoried and I'll be there."

"I could never be too nice to you." He smiles, his teeth glinting in the low light. "Do you wanna meet me in the band ghoul commons, or do you want me to meet you here? I'm not picky."

"I'll meet you there, no need to make the trek down here again," they joke, fiddling with the pen in their hands. "I'm serious, it's a fucking maze."

He laughs, almost melodic like the bells in the main chapel, and they smile for real at the sound. "Alright then. Meet me in the band commons in, hmm, an hour?"

"You've got a deal," They say, his smile contagious. "Thank you."

Swiss's gaze softens and he cups their cheek. "Of course, babydoll."

Geode leans into his touch for a moment, lets themself shut their eyes for just a second before straightening. "I'll see you in an hour."

"I'll see you in an hour." He smiles, one last kiss to their temple before he steps out of their little office, and Geode turns back to their paperwork with a sigh.

They don't know how much time passes. The letters are all starting to blur, and no amount of focusing their eyes through their glasses is helping. The room is warm and their head hurts and their back aches and they have time, and they rest their head on their arms. They can shut their eyes for just a moment...

The next thing Geode knows is a gentle weight at the small of their back, something hard and sharp at their temple. "Babydoll?"

Geode jolts upright, gasping in a breath as they snap to awareness. The candle's burnt down to a puddle of wax in its holder, and the sky out the tiny window is dark. Swiss stands next to them, his big hand rubbing their back gently, eyes almost glowing molten gold in the dim light. "Hey, sweetheart," he hums, hand not slowing its motions. "Have a good nap?"

They frantically fix their glasses from where the frame had been digging into their forehead, a violet blush starting to spread across their grey cheeks. "It's been more than an hour, hasn't it," they breathe, unable to make eye contact with him.

"A little longer than that, yeah," he says with the same low tone. "Got a little worried when you didn't show, but this was the first place I checked."

"'M'sorry," they whisper, shutting their eyes and focusing on his hand on their back, melting into the gentle touch.

"Don't be sorry, Geo," he says, leaning in to nose at their hair. "I know how much you've been working. Besides, you looked real cute when you were asleep."

They take a deep, shuddering breath through their nose, soaking in the cinnamon warmth of his scent. "Quit teasin' me," Geode mumbles, even as they lean over to tuck their face into the crook of his neck.

"Oh, this is nothing, babydoll," He croons softly in their ear. "I had one other surprise planned for after you ate, but if you just want to go to bed, that's no sweat off of my back."

Geode chirps curiously, pulling back from his neck to look at him. "What were you planning?"

He laughs, leaning back and offering them his hand. "Would it be a surprise if I told you?"

"Fair," they snort, letting him help them to their feet. He leads them out of the archives, their hand locked in his, a comfortable silence coming over the two of them. Geode takes a deep breath, leaning close enough to rest their head on his shoulder, tail swaying until the spade taps against his. "Out of curiosity," they hum. "What'd you make for dinner? Or is that a surprise too?"

Swiss lets go of their hand, wrapping his arm around their shoulders and pulling them even closer against his side. "Made those sandwiches you really like, the ones with prosciutto and balsamic? And the strawberry spinach salad. Mount brought them in fresh when he was taking care of the greenhouse this morning."

"Lucifer, I fucking love you," Geode blurts out, their stomach growling and cheeks darkening. Swiss laughs, melodic and echoing like bells in the empty hallway.

"Love you too, gemstone."

He takes them past the door to the Abbey ghoul dens, leading them farther down the halls until he reaches another set of doors. "Sorry, babydoll, need my hand for a second," he laughs softly, taking his arm off from around their shoulders to fish a key out of his back pocket.

Geode sways on their feet as he unlocks the door, leading them into the band pack's den. It's oddly quiet, and Geode can't help themself but look around for the other members of Swiss's pack. No one's in the common room, which, every time Geode's been in here, there's been at least one of the band ghouls lounging about. They don't have much time to think about it before Swiss is leading them to the kitchen, two places set at the table. He pulls out one of the chairs for them, a big hand at the small of their back as they sit down.

"Thank you for doing this for me," they whisper, staring at their plate of food. Swiss looks them in the eye, a dead serious expression on his face.

"Don't thank me, Geo," he says. "You do so much for me and the Abbey, this is literally the least I could do."

They smile a little, and his serious demeanor crumbles, revealing the grin they know and love.

Once the two of them finish dinner, Geode moves to clear the table. Swiss tries to stop them and do it himself, but they level him with a lighthearted glare. "You cooked, let me at least put the dishes in the sink," they say. "I'm tired, not dead."

He raises an eyebrow curiously. "Are you too tired for the surprise? It's fine if you are, it can wait."

Geode turns, looking at him over their shoulder as they rinse the leftover vinaigrette from the salad bowls. "Depends. Is it a surprise like, 'let's have a chase out in the woods' like we did last autumn?"

Swiss laughs, standing and sidling up behind them, a hand gentle on their upper arm as he ducks down to rub his cheek against their unbroken horn. "No, Geo, it's not a hunt, as much fun as that was."

Their cheeks darken at the memory, leaning back against his chest, feeling his voice rumbling through his body. "Something quieter then?"

"Much quieter," he affirms. "It's in my room. You ready?"

They finish up, stacking the dishes neatly in the bottom of the sink. "Yeah."

He takes their hand in his again as they step out of the kitchen, fingers interlaced. Geode's been to Swiss's room before, spends more time there than they do in their own shared quarters, they know how to get there, but they let Swiss lead them. The exhaustion's starting to sink in, feet heavy against the tile floor.

They come to Swiss's door, and he murmurs an apology as he lets go of their hand again to find his keys. The door gets unlocked, and he holds it open, gesturing dramatically for them to enter. Geode laughs, nudging his shoulder as they step into his room.

Geode looks for the surprise Swiss said he had in here, but everything is the same as it was the last time they were in his room. A string of purple lights over his double bed, his records sorted alphabetically by artist and then chronologically, his guitar mounted over his desk. Nothing's changed, nothing's here.

They turn to Swiss, mouth open to ask, when he puts his big hand on their shoulder, guiding them to look to his adjoining bathroom. The door's open, lights already on. Geode steps into the bathroom, Swiss right behind them. He slinks around them, reaching to the candles on the vanity, running his fingertips over the wicks in a facsimile of a caress, using his fire to light them.

"You didn't," Geode breathes. "Swiss." They stare at the full bathtub, steam curling off the water that smells sweet and floral.

"I did," he shrugs, reaching for the dimmer on the lightswitch. The room darkens some, the low light much easier on both of their eyes. "You need to take some time and relax, I know how ragged you're running yourself, gemstone. Will you let me help you?"

They take a shaky breath in, feeling their eyes getting misty as the glance between him and his bathtub. "Swiss," they breathe again. He looks up, concern written in the furrow of his brow.

"Baby, you can say no," he says, stepping softly in front of them and resting his hands on their tense shoulders. "I'm not going to be mad if you do. Just want to take care of you."

"That's kind of the thing," Geode says, not looking at him, watching the candles flicker over his shoulder. "Nobody's ever- Not since I was a little kit."

His hands slowly sweep up the back of their neck, deft fingers finding the pins that keep their braid pinned tight to their head. "I'd be more than happy to. All you've gotta do is say the word."

Their shoulders slump, pressing their forehead to his collarbone. "Please?" they whisper, taking a deep breath as he ducks down, kissing the crown of their head.

"Of course," he murmurs. "Turn around for me?"

They turn, fingers clumsily unbuttoning their uniform shirt. He pulls the pins from their hair, gently unweaving the braid they had put their hair up into that morning. They keen softly, the tension pulling at their scalp finally easing.

"Yeah, that better?" he hums, watching their ear flick against the side of their head as he cards his fingers through their hair, untangling the grey-white waves.

"Much," they sigh, shrugging their shirt off of their shoulders and tossing it into his laundry basket. They regrettably extricate themself from Swiss's arms to wrangle their binder over their head, exhaling in relief before setting their glasses on the bathroom counter. Geode undresses methodically and steps into the bath. The water's perfectly hot, and they sink into it with a groan, eyes fluttering shut.

Swiss suddenly gets a little bashful, tail flicking behind him. "You, uh, I can go, give you a little privacy, if you want."

"No!" Geode sits up frantically, water sloshing against the sides of the tub, their eyes wide. Both ghouls freeze, staring at each other before bursting into tired giggles. "I mean," they say, clearing their throat after a while. "Please don't go. I've been alone in that office all week."

He doesn't say anything, just nods. The tub's too small for the both of them to fit, but Swiss sits at the far end, watching with a stupidly fond smile on his face, one knee drawn up to his chest, resting his arm on the lip of the tub. Geode blinks over at him, their tail lazily wrapping around his wrist.

The two of them sit in a content silence, the candles on the vanity counter flickering, casting long shadows along the bathroom. The water is warm, and sweet smelling, and he's rubbing his thumb against the spade of their tail, tension draining from their body.

Geode blinks slowly, their eyelids growing heavier and heavier. Their chin hits the surface of the water as they nod off, and both ghouls startle awake at the loud splash. Swiss's eyes go wide, and he scrambles to his knees.

"Alright, no drowning in my bathtub, that is very much not relaxing," he says, laughing a little nervously.

"Shit, sorry," Geode says, pushing strands of wet hair from their face. They bite their lip, cheeks dimpling as they laugh with him. "You got me too relaxed, fell asleep again."

"Don't apologize," he hums, eyes crinkled. "You want your hair washed?"

Geode shakes their head. "I washed it this morning," they explain, "Besides, if you washed my hair I'd just drift off again and get dunked."

He laughs, reaching into the tub and pulling the stopper. "Wouldn't let that happen, gem," he says as the water drains, helping them to their feet.

"Hooray, chivalry isn't dead!" Geode teases, letting him dry their hair with a soft towel, wrapping it around their shoulders as they step out of the tub.

"The things I do for you, gemstone," Swiss grumbles, but the crinkling by his eyes tells a completely different story. He leads them back to their bedroom, and they slyly steal a hair tie from the top of his dresser as he shrugs off his own shirt, changing into sweats and grabbing a change of clothes for them.

Geode takes the clothes, a pair of clean boxers they had left in his room and an oversized shirt, chirping softly in thanks as they get dressed. He eagerly takes the towel from them, tossing it back into the bathroom hamper and blowing out the candles.

He steps back, a warm smile growing on his face as he looks over at his bed; Geode's curled up over the comforter, the crystal growth in their broken horn catching and scattering the light from the string lights above them. "Quit lookin' at me like that. Better place to sleep than the bath or my desk," they mumble, blinking slowly up at him as he pulls the comforter and top sheet out from under them.

"Lookin' at you like what?" Swiss hums, laying down next to them. Like they're magnets, Geode drifts closer until they're resting their head on his chest, listening to his heart beat steadily underneath their ear.

"Like, fuck, I dunno," they mumble softly, eyes flickering shut. "Like you love me or something."

Swiss laughs softly, rumbling through his chest, and he ducks down to kiss their forehead. "Yeah, like I love you."

#This is genuinely so sappy that I debated even posting this #but it's my birthday so I wrote what I wanted #(like I don't do that every time I write lol)#i should write geode more often. as a treat.#mushy may 2024 #dot's writing #swiss ghoul #original ghoul character #swiss/oc #the band ghost fanfiction #the band ghost

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surplus-of-sarcasm · 1 year

Text

The 24th One

TW: Blood, guns, attempted murder, fear, pain, stitches, painful wound cleaning, emotional breakdown, threats, slightly flirtatious drama queen villain, male whumpee

"Take it easy," a firm, but somehow saccharine voice called out from Civilian's living room.

Treading lightly and letting out an involuntary sharp gasp, her gaze flitted over to a figure mostly hidden by the shadows, like a charcoal drawing, the first rays of the sun peeking through the sheer, half-open curtain outlining his edges.

"Who are you?" she questioned, going back into her room to fetch a gun from the safe.

She tiptoed into the room, fingers tightening on the weapon as she flicked off the safety.

Civilian was met with a soft, amused chuckle. "I thought the spandex would be telling," the man she now identified as Villain replied, practically slouching in her armchair like he owned the place.

Her breathing went shallower, and her face paled. The all-too-happy figure in a dark, form-fitting suit with heavily mussed up light brown hair lounging around in her living room was one of the city's most dangerous criminals. And she was all alone with him and a gun she barely used. She wished to curse the fact that she'd chosen to live somewhere quiet, right on the outskirts, closer to her job. It didn't seem all too convenient now, did it?

"I'm gonna need you to put that down, love," the villain crooned, voice gentle and silky, but the hint of warning in it wasn't lost on her, much like a rose with thorns scattered across its stalk in a subtle manner, but still not invisible to the keen eye.

"And why should I do that?" she challenged, strengthening her death grip on the gun, defiance ablaze in her eyes. She wished she was as brave as she might have looked.

Except that didn't matter because the criminal seemed entirely amused with the situation, raising an eyebrow and letting out a soft laugh, greyish blue eyes sparkling in the sunlight with mirth. "Ah, as much as I admire the courage, I'm not in the mood for any games, so put the gun down and don't even think about calling the police. Not that it would save you anyway," he growled. The playfulness was still there in his demeanour, but he didn't make an effort to mask the threatening air of his tone.

"I hope you don't think I'm joking," he drawled lazily, pulling out a gun of his own and training it on Civilian's face.

"No," she stage-whispered, trying to ignore the nausea washing over her and the tightness in her chest. She mentally cursed herself for not shooting him the second she'd recognised him.

But killing people was not like the movies. It isn't something you walk away from, something a good night's sleep, if you could even afford such a luxury, would help you forget. Only truly terrible people, like the villain in her armchair, she presumed, could treat murder as a mundane part of their daily routine, like how one regards brushing their teeth.

But now, she didn't hold an inkling of power on the crime lord because while the civilian might hesitate, might back out completely, he wouldn't.

And besides, he had goddamn superpowers at his disposal; he could create wind. She would have to be extremely lucky to get a hit on him, and that was never something she was willing to gamble over when it came to her life.

She pried for any weaknesses, anything to use against the villain, but all she saw was a calm, almost relaxed person and a deadly weapon in his merciless grip.

"You know I really didn't want to do this. In all honesty, it's been a while since I've seen a girl this cute," he supplied, and if she didn’t know better, Civilian would've sworn he actually sounded disappointed, "but I don't like having to repeat myself," he concluded, a slight downturn of his lip being the only indication of any negative emotion he may have felt, with nothing behind those cold, steel-coloured eyes.

He rose up from the chair, and panic gripped the civilian. Both of them shot and missed, except the villain cried out, letting out a sharp gasp as he fell to the floor, holding onto the chair's leg like a lifeline. His gun was hurled across the room with a loud clattering noise, far away from his grip. A nasty laceration across his his abdomen spurted out blood.

She wondered how he'd gotten hurt if no bullets had hit him, and when the sunlight moved further into the room, she noticed that he'd popped some poorly executed stitches with his sudden movements. He tried to use his powers to pull his gun closer but to no avail. The pathetic, little breeze he'd created could barely move a leaf. Apparently, his injury had affected his power tremendously.

For a moment there, Villain looked terrified. Frantically groping around for his gun, looking two seconds away from howling out in agony as he moved as fast as his injured body could handle. There were bruises on his face, no doubt from a previous fight, and his eyes were wide as saucers, his breathing laboured. He was now at Civilian's mercy, and he knew it. This was his end, no way around it. For a man the heroes said claimed to 'dance with death', he seemed incredibly frightened of it. For the first time that night, he looked unbearably human.

She didn't understand why some sort of misguided empathy had led her to crouch down to his level and ask, "Can you walk?"

"What?" he choked out, snapping his head up sharply at her. And as though the fear from before had never been, he clenched his jaw, contracted the muscles in his face to pull it into something stone-hard and expressionless, trying his hardest to pull his form up into a semi-standing position, holding onto the coffee table with a white-knuckled grip. He tried again for his powers, but they failed him once more. Still, she could see the hint of wariness in his eyes as his gaze trailed over to her gun.

She got up and threw it aside. "Goddamn it," she snarled, drawing in a sharp breath and exhaling slowly. Well, if she died for being foolhardy, at least it would be a noble death. However, she'd made sure to keep both guns in her room. No more chances.

The villain's eyes widened again, not out of fear, but out of shock, clearly not being used to any displays of kindness. She walked over to him, letting him put his arm around her shoulders, struggling to shoulder his weight. He was incredibly tall, lean muscles outlined by his suit. The civilian finally managed to get him over to the couch. "I'm a med school student, final year," she supplied, and he let out an overly exaggerated sigh of relief.

She would've smirked, but she caught herself. Don't get too familiar. "Friendly reminder that I don't have any anaesthesia on hand right now."

He simply responded with a scoff, rolling his eyes at her.

"Alright tough guy, how would you rate your pain on a scale of one to ten?" she asked, looking for a needle, thread and some antiseptic.

"Seven," he answered coolly. It still surprised her how he managed to preserve his composure while wounded like this, no wincing or shivers. But she reminded herself again that he was not a normal person.

Civilian unzipped the suit down to his abdomen, and the villain gave her an unbearably cocky grin, somehow managing to do that with blood snaking down from the ugly laceration on his body.

"Don't flatter yourself," she scolded, and she didn't understand why she'd said that, as though they were old friends used to exchanges full of banter. The civilian wondered if she'd become so secluded and terribly lonely that human interaction with anyone seemed appealing to her.

"Don't flatter me yourself with those eyes, love- ahggg!" The velvety tone and the lazy, half-lidded gaze were swiftly replaced with a sharp hiss as the villain squeezed his eyes shut, contracting and relaxing his muscles rhythmically to distract himself from the agonising sensation of the alcohol seeping into his wound, leaving his skin feeling like it was on fire.

"Easy, it'll be over soon," Civilian soothed awkwardly, unable to conceal the pang of sympathy she felt for him right now.

"Don't coddle me," he snapped, clearly more concerned with his wounded ego above anything else. Even beneath the smug smiles and stoicism, he clearly loathed the vulnerability. He hadn't been afraid of dying, she realised; he was afraid of dying in such a humiliating state.

Tragically poetic how he had the words 'Pride is my sin' tattooed on his right arm in all capitals, dark ink and a stylish font.

The civilian got him through the stitches, years of intensive studying and practice overriding her nervousness, stopping her hands from shaking the way they desperately wished to. Villain barely shivered or flinched during the process, and while he raised a sceptical eyebrow at her when she offered him a glass of water and painkillers, he swallowed them readily.

She washed her hands and threw him an icepack for the swollen bruises.

"I'm going to get ready for bed, and you should be uh, fine here," she supplied, gesturing to the couch with one hand as she zipped up the criminal's suit with the other.

"I guess this means I owe you a favour," he stated bluntly, a thoughtful, enigmatic look in his steely eyes.

"What?"

"I'm a crime lord, but that doesn't mean I'm a complete bastard," he reasoned, "you didn't kill me even when you had the chance. It's only fair."

"Why would I need a favour from you of all people?" She raised an eyebrow at him, moving a strand of ash blonde, wavy hair away from her eyes.

"In this city, you'll never know when you might need a favour from a guy like me. Anyway, take care of yourself, love." He sounded genuinely concerned, and the civilian hated it, so she awkwardly nodded at him.

When she got into the shower, finally away from the villain, her emotions came crashing down on her shoulders like solid rock. Her brave face in front of the villain had been a facade. She was terrified, incredibly guilty, all of the worst outcomes tormenting her mind in flurries of terrible thoughts. Try as she might, she couldn't stop the tears from streaming down her face. There was no going back now.

Civilian may have preferred to stay awake after sunrise, but she was too exhausted. Or actually, she wished to escape her hellish thoughts, and this was the fastest and easiest way to free herself from her shackles.

We all dream of being kind, of offering help to those in need, yet in an imperfect world, acts of kindness come with an expensive price, one not everyone is willing to pay. This hour's enemy is the next hour's victim, today's proud and cruel are tomorrow's weak and defenceless. But the beautiful irony of life is that no matter how far one runs away from it, vulnerability is a destined fate, written in stone, an unavoidable risk. It is the one thing in a person's nature that marks a human being as such.

Almost forgot, tagging for comfort fics: @roblingoblin285

✨️Le Taglist: @larinzz @syberianjade @lateuplight @altu-interactions @enbious-prince @astr0-mj @thelazywitchphotographer @a-fucking-simp-00 @addictedsandwhichaki @justalittlecorrupted @quaggasus @theangstyclown @vernilliom @mothmancommitsarson @starssabove @kurai-hono-blog @talkingsperm @muffinrebel44 @sunnynwanda @annablogsposts @cardboardarsonist @itsmyworld23 @onlywhump @shr3ya @crotchgoblin69 @wtfevenisausername @pendarling @avloki-pal

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knoxvillesjackass · 2 years

Note

Hi love! I hope you're well.

I love your writing so much and I'm a slut for smutty jealous/possessive johnny fics so if you ever felt like writing something like that, whatever plot you want I'd love to read it.

I always get so excited when I see you've posted something!

Thank you 💘

𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐞, 𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐞, 𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐞 - 𝐣.𝐤

thank you for this request and thank you for the kind words! <3

warnings! rough (like really) sex, degrading dirty talk, slight choking, possessive/jealous partners, alcohol intake, oral sex

words; 3.287

It was like a moth to a flame when Johnny and you first met. That was how drawn you were to each other. Fire was the only real way you could describe the relationship.

Although all was well in the relationship, with sweet nights in and fancy nights out. With love and passion, with everything you could’ve ever asked for, there was a slight problem.

Johnny’s jealousy had a life of its own. You’d never quite understood it, frankly; you found it ridiculous.

As much as a glance from another man could send him through the roof, and more often than not, this stupid jealousy would be the root cause of pretty much all of your arguments.

The blonde tramp on Johnny's arm had her fingers tangled up in his brown locks, and a huff left your lips as his hand moved down around her lower waist.

"I'm gonna fuckin' snap," you muttered lowly from across the room and your friend patted your shoulder and pulled you backwards, turning you around. "Just forget about him for tonight," your friend, who'd never liked Johnny, said and shook her head when looking in his direction, although his focus was fully set on the girl on his lap.

You bit your lip and turned your head while at the bar, glancing quickly at Johnny, who was laughing. You gritted your teeth and rolled your eyes, gazing at the bartender. "Man in red over there wanted to buy you this," the bartender said and handed you a beer, nodding his head towards a man on the other side of the bar. He was reasonably handsome, around your age. He smirked, and you raised the beer bottle to thank him. You'd never pass up the opportunity of free alcohol, so you drank it quickly.

"Another one?"

The man had come around and sat next to you on one of the bar stools and he nodded at the beer bottle, which you'd emptied rather quickly.

"Sure," you shrugged and smiled, cheering him as you both sip your beers.

"You're here all alone?" He asked, and you turned to look at Johnny. The woman was practically dry-humping your man, but he didn't look as if he minded a bit.

"I'm here alone," you nodded and turned around, trying to shake your worries about Johnny away. "I haven't even asked your name yet. I'm Matt," he said and reached out a hand, which you shook and smiled, "I'm Y/N."

"Well, Y/N, I'd just like to say, that I think you're very beautiful."

You found yourself unexpectedly blushing at his compliment, genuinely enjoying his company. He kept your mind off Johnny, and for that, you were thankful.

You talked for a while about life, jobs and hobbies. He was charming and easy to talk to, and he wasn't plastered like all of the other idiots in the bar.

"Now, I don't know if you've noticed, but I think the pool table looks pretty damn desperate for someone to play a game," Matt said and nodded his head to the pool table. You giggled and inhaled with a playful smile. "You sure you wanna do that?" You asked and Matt raised his eyebrow in curiosity. "You're that good, huh? Well, I myself am what some people would call a pool prophet," he said to which you giggled. You'd always been a bit of a pool shark. You used to hustle men poor back in the day.

You both walked from the bar to the pool table, laughing and joking around.

Johnny had his eyes glued to you know. He followed your every move and growled bitterly when Matt's hand landed on your hip, himself unaware of the total hypocrisy as sat with a woman on his lap.

"You break, sugar," Matt said and you winked at him. Going for the obvious damsel in distress, you positioned yourself poorly and shot a terrible shot, not landing any balls in whatsoever.

You wanted the men, who started to gather to watch the game, to believe that you had no idea as to what you were doing.

After Matt had landed a few balls, it was your turn again. The game was bound to be a heated one, with you being incredibly competitive, you got the same vibe from Matt.

All was well until the moment you'd leaned over to shoot, and Matt had leaned above you, pressing his hard cock against your ass. You bit your lip. You didn't want to push him away, for some reason. You just wanted him to stay. He bent his head down to your head and kissed your cheek softly. "You wanna go someplace else?" He asked.

Strangely, you did, and even though you knew what Matt was indicating, you weren't mad about it. Johnny could do what he wanted, and you could do what you wanted. He obviously didn't agree with the definition of a monogamous relationship.

Before you could turn around to follow Matt, who had a hold of your hand, you were yanked away from behind and pushed behind someone. Johnny.

He pushed Matt's chest harshly, making Matt fall backwards and land on the floor. "Johnny!" You exclaimed and punched his arm, looking up at him with wide eyes.

He looked down at you and clenched his jaw. "Pack your shit, we're going home," he spat through gritted teeth and darted his eyes back to Matt, who was standing up again, taking off his jacket.

You hated to admit it, but Matt had no chance of beating Johnny in a fight. He was big, but not as big as Johnny.

"I don't want to go home, Johnny," you hissed and looked at Matt with an apologetic look. He smiled and winked at you, which infuriated Johnny even more.

"I don't give a shit. We're going home, now."

You watched as Johnny's eyes darkened. He grabbed a hold of your wrist and picked up your jacket, throwing it over his arm.

"Woah, buddy, let her go, eh?" Matt said. You shook your head in his direction, as a way of warning him.

You yanked your arm away and glared at him angrily.

"You motherfucker," Johnny growled and threw your jacket on the ground, stomping towards Matt with a curled fist.

"Okay, fine! Let's go home!" You exclaimed just before Johnny's fist made contact with Matt's jaw.

He dropped his arm and turned around to look at you. "Go to the car," he ordered you and grabbed your bag and jacket, turning around once more to Matt and flashing him an angry stare before following you to the car.

You sat angrily with crossed arms and waited for Johnny to start the engine.

He began driving and as soon as the car registered that you weren't wearing a seatbelt, it began beeping. Johnny hated that noise, and surprisingly, even though Johnny did the most reckless things for a living, he hated it when you didn't wear a seatbelt. Maybe it was the protective trait in him or perhaps the fear of something happening to you in general. Either way, he stared at you angrily and sighed.

"Do I seriously need to tell you?" He asked and glanced back and forth between you and the road. "It's uncomfortable," you mumbled and crossed your legs.

"I don't really give a shit, Y/N. If we drove into something right now, you'd fly through the fucking windshield, so please; put your fucking se-"

"Okay!" You scoffed, and grudgingly strapped the seatbelt on.

"You ruined everything tonight," you sulked and Johnny looked at you with a surprised yelp. "I-I ruined everything? Last time I checked, the night was ruined when you took it up the ass with a stranger," he chuckled and shook his head. "Un-be-fucking-lievable," he mumbled and shook his head.

"I was protecting you."

You yelped at his statement, at how ridiculous it was.

"From what? A hot guy, who wanted to fuck me? I didn't need any protection," you snapped and shook your head.

"Stop it," Johnny ordered you lowly and sighed. "What? You think, that I didn't want him?" You were ridiculing him at this point, stupidly not thinking ahead. Johnny's expressions were turning darker by the second.

"You're always like this! Every single time I even look at a guy, you chase him away!" You declared, a hiccup following your sentence.

In all fairness, you had downed four or five beers with Matt, and you were seriously starting to feel it. Your words were suddenly slurry and Johnny noticed it right away.

"Listen, how much did you drink?" Johnny asked and leaned over slightly to get a look at your face, your eyes, more specifically.

"Why do you care? You were too busy getting it up for the blonde bimbo," you mumbled. Johnny rubbed his temples and tried his very best to not explode while he was driving.

"Fucking reckless," he mumbled bitterly and looked away from you.

The rest of the ride was painfully quiet and the only real noises to be heard were the few angry profanities Johnny would spit under his breath.

A screaming match had begun as soon as you'd entered the house. Within minutes of arriving home, you'd already managed to smash a plate out of pure fury.

"Go to bed, Y/N! I don't want to hear it!" Johnny ordered and stared at the smashed plate on the ground in shock,

"I was trying to play pool, not fuck him!" You yelled and threw your hands in the air out of pure frustration after Johnny once again had brought up Matt.

"What about you? She was sitting on your lap, Johnny! She was practically thigh-riding you!" You yelled.

"Well, why in the fuck are you letting some fucking guy rub his dick against your ass?" Johnny asked and you laughed in fury.

"We were playing pool before you came and ruined everything!" You yelled and grabbed your hair. The neighbours had probably woken up because of your screaming, but you didn't care.

"If I hadn't stepped in, you'd be fucking the guy right now!" Johnny hissed, the image riling him up even further.

"Maybe I should've! You think I didn't want to!"

"You are so fucking unbelivable! Do not test me!" Johnny yelled and waved his arms around.

"I wish I'd done it! You weren't paying me any attention!"

Johnny's expression changed, and within a second, a sarcastic pout formed on his lips and he stepped closer to you.

"Aw, my poor baby. It's the attention you want, huh?" Johnny asked and stepped so close to you, there was barely any space left between you.

Your head was aligned with his chest, so you looked up and stared at him with a clenched jaw and crossed arms.

"I'll give you some damn attention then," he growled and with that, he grabbed your ass and hoised you off the ground, your natural instinct kicking in to wrap your legs around his waist.

"Fuckin' Matt," Johnny chuckled and smashed his lips against yours.

His kiss was not the same. It was not passionate or sweet. It was rough and it felt like he was leaving his mark on you, more than anything.

Johnny walked up the steps with you clinging to his waist, occasionally planting a harsh slap on your asscheek.

Your throat feels tight, and your heart felt like a hammer in your chest.

Johnny practically threw you down on the bed and stood up, watching as you lay there, skin like electricity, anticipation pumping through your veins.

He pulled his shirt over his head and revealed what you believed to be the sexiest part of him. His muscular upper body was well toned and you caught yourself staring before eventually snapping out of it.

You looked up and realised the position you found yourself in. Johnny was already riled up, but you could do better. He wasn't where you wanted him yet. In a sudden act of rebellion, you reached into your shorts pocket and pulled out a scrabbled piece of paper. Matt's number.

You placed it on the bedside table, making sure that Johnny saw it all.

"What the fuck do you think you're playing at?" He asked you and growled at the paper. "For later," you shrugged.

Without any warning, Johnny grabbed the hem of your shorts, suddenly yanking them down roughly, throwing them somewhere in the room.

"Let's see how confident you are with a dick in your mouth," he said and smiled wickedly.

He grabbed your arm harshly and pulled you up from the bed, forcing you down on your knees.

He unbuckled his Knoxville belt and pulled down his trousers and boxers, allowing his hard and erect cock to spring free.

You whimpered as Johnny grabbed a handful of your hair, tightly grasping it in a closed fist and guiding your head towards his cock.

He pressed his tip against your closed mouth, groaning when you didn't just take him fully.

"Come on, baby. We can do it the hard way or the e-Fuck it, you don't deserve the easy way," Johnny scoffed and with force, he pushed his whole length into your mouth, your eyes widening as his tip hit the back of your throat.

"Fuuuuuck," he groaned and threw his head back, moving your head back and forth, his cock pumping into your mouth.

You looked up at him and fluttered your eyes, tears streaming down your rosy cheeks. His big hands wiped them away, giving your one cheek a slight slap.

He was deep inside your mouth and your hands rested on his lower stomach and hip to try and control the movements, although it was impossible. Johnny was doing this for himself, and only himself.

"You've got everything you need right here, don't ya, doll?"

You hummed in agreement and felt him twitch in your mouth. You waited for him to release everything but he never did. He pulled his cock out of your mouth and you opened your eyes in confusion.

Johnny wrapped an arm around your waist and pulled you up to stand.

"Get this shit off," he mumbled eargerly and pulled your shirt up over your head and unclasped your lace bra, his cold rings against your skin, sending shivers down your back.

Johnny stood behind you, pressing your panty-covered ass against his hard cock and your bare upper body against his.

He leaned down and rested his head on your shoulder, reaching his arm around your body to sneak his hand into your panties. The other arm was wrapped around your upper body, keeping you pressed against him.

You whimpered softly when his finger ran slowly up and down between your folds, distributing your wetness to every corner of your cunt.

"What do you reckon I should do with you? Should I let you come?" Johnny asked you and you nodded naively. "Use your words," Johnny ordered you and pushed you further against his body.

"Please, I want to come," you whimpered and threw your head back on Johnny's shoulder when he began drawing circles around your clit.

"You do? Well, maybe you should've thought about that before you nearly let Matt assfuck you," Johnny said, syncing Matt's name with a tight pinch around your clit.

You yelped and got up on your tippy toes to escape the sensation, but Johnny was bigger and stronger than you. He pressed you down against the ground and continued, ignoring your cries and moans for him to stop.

"Is this what you wanted? I seriously doubt it," Johnny mocked as he watched you try to break from his grip.

At last, he stopped pinching and you rested your head on his shoulder, feeling a complicated mix of love and hate for him.

"Johnny, please," you begged softly and winced at the swollen clit Johnny had left you with.

"Lean over," Johnny ordered you and pushed you towards your dresser, perfect in height for you to bend over comfortably.

Johnny crouched down and slid a finger into your soaked opening, a second one following quickly after.

The second you felt his tongue enter you, you were sent through the roof with pleasure, only literal seconds passing before you felt an orgasm edging its way close.

"Johnny," you cried, not knowing what else to do. Your mind was a little blurry and your eyes were rolling into the back of your head every now and then.

Johnny chuckled against your wetness and just as you were so close, he pulled away completely.

"No!" You cried at the loss of touch. "Asshole," you grumbled lowly, the sudden sharp sting of a hand on your asscheek making you cry out loudly. "What did you say?" He asked you and rubbed the red handprint on your ass. You weren't scared of him, so just as you were about to give Johnny a piece of your mind, you felt his tip at your opening.

You gulped, your throat dryer than ever.

"Not so fucking brave now, are we?" Johnny smirked, allowing you no time to respond before fully slamming into you, his whole thick, long cock thrusting fastly in and out of you.

"I-Oh, fuck!" You screamed as Johnny assembled your wrists behind your back and held them there with one hand, while the other went to your head, pressing it down against the dresser.

You felt every inch of him inside your walls, his balls slapping the curve of your ass as he fucked you roughly from behind.

"J-Johnny," you slurred and let a tear stream down your cheek. You sniffled but Johnny didn't care. He knew it was because you loved it. After all, the safe word was always there if you needed it.

"Crying because of how much you love my cock, hmm?" He hummed and you nodded softly.

Johnny gave you an extra hard pump and growled, making you yelp. "Didn't I tell you to use your words?" He asked and you hummed, simply unable to formulate words with the pleasure you were feeling.

"Then, use your fucking words!" Johnny hissed and went deeper with his thrusts, your belly bulging and your cunt totally numb from the overstimulation.

"I-Oh-I fucking love it, Johnny!" You screamed, an orgasm closing in.

You clenched around his cock, and Johnny hissed at your action, releasing your wrists and grabbing your throat. He brought you up so that your back was pressed against his chest, one hand around your throat and the other massaging your breasts.

Johnny's tempo was not bruised at all. Quite the opposite, actually. He only went faster and deeper the longer it all went on. It felt like he was going to break you. Whenever you thought his speed couldn't increase any more, it did.

"Johnny, johnny, johnny," you moaned as you felt your whole world slowly starting to spin. "I'm gonna cum!" You screamed and grabbed Johnny's forearm, bringing it to your mouth and biting it as hard as you could, coming down from one of the best orgasms of your life,

"My baby," Johnny moaned and winced at the sensation of your teeth sinking into his skin, but he liked it.

"Oh, fuck baby!" Johnny shouted and slowed down his thrusts but deepened them as he too orgasmed powerfully.

Johnny waited a bit before he pulled out of you, but when he did release you, your knees buckled and you fell to the ground with a thump.

Johnny, of course, was smirking proudly, but eventually lifted you onto the bed. "Can we have this kind of sex without fighting?" You asked and fiddled with Johnny's hair. He smirked and nodded. "I think that's a very good idea.

#johnny knoxville jackass #jackass x reader #jackass #jackass imagine #chris pontius #dave england #johnny knoxville #ehren danger #preston lacy #ryan dunn #wee man #mtv jackass #jackass fanfic #johnny knoxville imagine #johnny knoxville fanfic #johnny knoxville smut #dirty talk #jackass smut #smutty

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weird-writes · 1 year

Text

Easy Mark (The Mandalorian, E)

Title: Easy Mark (10k)

Series: Part two of Creed, a non-linear series about Din Djarin and his favorite... distraction.

Description: The Mandalorian comes home drunk, desperate, and absolutely unwilling to admit anything to himself. So you do it for him.

Pairing: Din Djarin x Female Reader

Real, unbroken sleep on a planet with diurnal cycles will be nice, he thinks resolutely, even if he'd had other plans for that luxurious bed. And there are advantages to privacy. He unlatches his helmet with a hiss that sounds like a sigh, strips off his gloves, and then begins to unstrap his beskar, fingers taking him through the motions automatically. When he's done, and with his blaster in easy reach on the table beside the bed, he lays back into the enveloping softness and dims the already low lights. He wants to sleep but he knows it won't be possible yet. His body has started its own cycle, as inexorable as the spin of a galaxy, and he won't be able to rest until he completes it.

Warnings: Explicit sexual content, sex work, masturbation (mutual if you squint), ruined orgasm but on accident, dry humping, dirty talk, hand kink kinda sort, oral sex, fingering, a pinch of D/s, alcohol use, hangover, canon what canon, no betas we die like men

Tropes: you know that thing where you're talking with someone and it turns out you're having two totally separate conversations, yeah like that but with sex, idiots with feelings, angst, the helmet stays on, boy HOWDY does that helmet stay on

Author's note: Writing the first one was an out-of-body experience and then it turned out Din and his distraction weren't done with me yet. A couple days later I woke up in the middle of the night and said to myself: "listen bitch i have two words for you - helmet riding." So here we are. Set before Distractions, in the bad but fun times before our idiots sorted out their feelings. Please note that this one does involve Mando visiting a sex worker while lusting for the main character, so if that's not your cup of tea no worries. Personally I like 'em hot, confused, and suffering.

***

This was probably a mistake.

The woman on her knees in front of him is beautiful in a generic sort of way. What Din can see of her face in this position is smooth and symmetrical, and she's groomed her brows into the fine expressive lines that are fashionable in the Core, or at least were fashionable several years ago when he was last there. She has high cheekbones and dark eyes and the rest of her is probably equally well-tended but he can't tell since she's got her mouth around him and is doing something with her teeth that is both precise and masterful. It feels like heaven, the clutch of her throat around the head of his cock a welcome respite after so many months of artificial substitute. She's been working him with lips and tongue for quite a while now, and though he's hard enough that she'd at first had trouble getting her jaw around his not-inconsiderable thickness, the sensation has not yet ticked beyond pleasant relief.

Okay, this was definitely a mistake.

It's not that Din's body isn't willing. He can tell from the dull throbbing in his balls that the purely mechanical parts of him would love nothing more than to empty quite a lot of pent-up frustration into this girl's talented mouth. No, the problem lies elsewhere, and not with anything as obvious as his mind either. He's not thinking about anything in particular, and when he closes his eyes no troublesome images burn themselves on the backs of his eyelids. It's a feeling in his chest instead, a nagging tightness when he breathes in, a sort of perpetually suspended flinch that reminds him of nothing so much as the infinitesimal time between watching someone pull a trigger and hearing the blaster bolt. He's keyed-up, jittery, waiting for an explosion that isn't coming, and he has no idea why.

It had all seemed like such a good idea at the time. He's no stranger to brothels. He has needs, and his mind is calmer and his work better if he attends to them. Not frequently, not enough to be an indulgence. Just enough to remind himself that the same physical facility that lets him shoot straight and fight hard has more demands than only food and rest. He's been distracted lately and the tidiest solution is to find someone who makes it their business to solve problems like his. It's really no different than bounty hunting, and unlike fellow hunters, none of them have ever objected to him keeping the helmet on.

He's learned the wisdom of seeking out professionals the hard way. There are plenty of beings of all species who'd jump at the chance to fuck a Mandalorian. In his youth, he'd sometimes indulged them. It had never gone as poorly as it might have, but eventually he'd understood the motivations every entanglement distilled to in the end - sex was just a clever way to keep him on a leash. Whether it was through intimidation or seduction, everyone was after the same thing: control. And if it worked they'd forever feel they'd won, that they'd somehow put one over on an untouchable Mandalorian. That smug surety had been a source of trouble more than once.

Damaging his public image will not be an issue here. Everything from the decor in the foyer of the tasteful building in the corporate district to how the woman currently servicing him is touching him with her slim fingers screams of discretion and professionalism. She's as practiced with him as he is with his weapons, although to her credit it comes off as attentive rather than perfunctory. When he'd first arrived and made his very specific wishes known she'd acquiesced without fuss, happy to provide what he needs within such clear boundaries. Then she'd used her mouth to release the buckle on his belt, one hand holding it steady while the other slid up his thigh. She'd even smiled up at him once she'd gotten him as undressed as the occasion called for. He suspects her enthusiasm isn't entirely feigned - if the reputation of his people sometimes comes with a cost, it also has benefits.

So now here they both are: her with one hand cupping his sack and the other curled around the base of his cock as she parts her tinted lips, him watching her slide her tongue along his slit with an appreciation that refuses to rise past tepid despite his best efforts to convince himself otherwise. He feels bad that he is not enjoying this more, ashamed of himself in the most absurd way. It seems horribly impolite, as though he is choosing to refuse to respond to her talent, one professional snubbing another. And the problem with someone like her, who makes her living by being perceptive about others' pleasure, is that of course she can tell.

His guilt is amplified when his companion lifts herself off his cock and gives the tip what feels like a genuinely sympathetic kiss. "You like this, but you don't love it," she says gently, and it's very much not a question. She stands and one hand tips his helmet up to meet her kohl-rimmed eyes. "I think you need something else. Something a little more... engaging." She feels him flinch, and her hand dips to smooth his cowl as she comes closer, the soft edges of her robe tickling his knees. "I'm not asking you to undress. There are all sorts of possibilities open to us." The word open is lightly emphasized, lingering on her tongue like a sweet, and oh she is good. There's a world of promise in that one sound. Perversely, it makes him feel worse.

"No," he says, and clears his throat. "I mean, no thank you. I don't think so. I appreciate... your work. I think it's better if we stop here."

"Are you sure?" she asks. Her fingers are skimming along his shoulder now, a touch that's both flirtatious and reassuring. "It doesn't cost more, you know. You have me booked for the whole night. It's my pleasure." This close to him, she smells wonderful even through the helmet, like refrigerated flowers and expensive cloth.

"Thank you," Din says again, because he doesn't know what else to say. "That– won't be necessary. I intend to pay in full, but I don’t think… I don't think I want company."

She hums a little in acknowledgement as she steps away. "Well, it's certainly up to you. If you need anything just touch the button by the door, that's the comm. And really--" she leans forward again, just enough to show the tempting swell of her breasts under the thin fabric, "-- if you get lonely, Mandalorian, don't hesitate." There's a warmth in her tone that sounds like she means it. She blows him a breezy kiss on her way out the door, the privacy panel sliding shut behind her.

Kriff. Kriff. She's gorgeous and she knows it and he likes that in a woman. She knows what she's doing, too, and he likes that as well. And even if he is paying her she clearly doesn't object to him, and he likes that best of all. And he'd just sent her away like an idiot. Leaving him with nothing but an uneasy feeling he can't name and a tight ache in his balls that promises real pain if he doesn't attend to them sooner rather than later.

Din toys with the idea of calling her back, telling her he'd changed his mind, but there's no reason to expect the outcome to be any different the second time around. It's late, and at least he'll be able to sleep as long as he wants. Real, unbroken sleep on a planet with diurnal cycles will be nice, he thinks resolutely, even if he'd had other plans for that luxurious bed. And there are advantages to privacy. He unlatches his helmet with a hiss that sounds like a sigh, strips off his gloves, and then begins to unstrap his beskar, fingers taking him through the motions automatically. When he's done, and with his blaster in easy reach on the table beside the bed, he lays back into the enveloping softness and dims the already low lights. He wants to sleep but he knows it won't be possible yet. His body has started its own cycle, as inexorable as the spin of a galaxy, and he won't be able to rest until he completes it.

It's nothing like the serene attentions he'd been receiving before he'd asked to be alone. He's flat on his back and completely undressed now as he would never be with another person in the room, and his callused hand is a poor substitute for her soft touch. He wraps his fist around his cock and brings himself back to fully erect with a few short strokes, uninterested in prolonging this experience beyond the necessary. At least he no longer feels the pressure to applaud an artist at work; he knows himself and knows exactly how to get this over with while still wringing out the pleasure he seems to periodically require. His hand speeds up as he replays the night in his mind: her fingers on his shoulder, her mouth on his cock. He's imagining her still and that's an appreciation of its own, assuaging the sting of guilt.

His eyes drift closed and his grip tightens, stroking over his length, rushing him toward the conclusion of this little farce. It's not what he wants, not really, but at least he'll feel better. He feels the pressure rising in his gut, the knot in his groin tightening, and there's a brief instant where he thinks about his hand - about his fingers - about a few nights ago and where his fingers have been and the slick wet heat he'd wanted to suck off them -

And that feeling of waiting for the blaster bolt crashes in again, knocking the building tension of his orgasm askew and ripping his touch away from himself to seize convulsively at the cool sheets.

Din opens his eyes and sits up so fast his helmet clatters to the floor. His chest is heaving and his palms are damp and there's a piercing pain around his temples that presages an exceptionally memorable headache. The moment of climax is gone as surely as the woman he'd sent away, and he knows himself well enough to know it's not coming back tonight. "Fucking-- kriffing-- fucking-- hell," he mutters and then descends into the most offensive Mando'a he knows, trailing off only when he runs out of rude words. He collapses back into the blankets, wrenching a pillow over his face. He needs to clear his head. He needs to sleep. He needs to come. One isn't happening without the other two, and at least one of the other two apparently isn't happening at all.

Well. If he already can't sleep, and his cock is not going to cooperate, he can at least do something else equally unwise. He'd paid for the room for the night and he intends to use it. He touches the built-in comm by the door and it clicks into life instantly, the concierge's smooth tones rendered only a little tinny by the size of the speaker. "Can we do something for you, sir?"

"Yes, I hope you can. Do you have a cantina on the premises?"

***

Something is wrong.

It's Mando's walk that gives him away. It's not that it's sloppy or loose; it's that it's tight. Normally the cadence of his boots sounds - relaxed. Ready, confident, easy in himself and his capabilities. You've become familiar with his long stride coming up the gangway, the slight hitch in his gait born from years of maneuvering in layers of armor and weapons. Right now it's too precise, too measured, as though he is concentrating entirely too much. You don't know what the problem is but you can hear that something is different, and by the time he's in the cargo bay that difference is blaring in your consciousness like a proximity alarm.

You wouldn't have noticed with anyone else. You've never attended to the messages of another's body as closely as you do his. You're not sure precisely why you feel the need to catalogue every variation of his mood through the tip of his helmet and the semaphore of his hands. Maybe it's to do with the fact you don't know his face, so you cling to every other detail. Nevertheless, your careful scrutiny reaps a reward: you can't see him, tucked into your own bunk folded down from the wall, but you can tell something has changed just from the sound of his steps.

Your first assumption is the obvious one. He'd left you last night, saying something about meeting a contact, and the life of a bounty hunter is risky even when not chasing quarry. Old marks hold grudges and old friends can turn into old enemies. A blaster graze or a stab wound, neither of them catastrophic, could easily be the cause. But he's back, clearly well enough to return to the ship under his own power, and he hadn't commed you to ask for entry which means he retained his vambrace and his ability to remotely disarm the ground protocols. It can't be anything too serious. He knows where the medkit is. He can patch himself. There's no need for you to get out of bed.

You've drawn the curtain to your bunk closed behind you and your bare feet are touching the floor before you have time to invoke your better instincts. Despite how your - whatever this is - has evolved recently, the Mandalorian often remains closed off to you, withdrawn behind the remote shine of his armor. Finding out exactly what's going on is at least a way to participate, to gain some level of understanding about his person and the kind of life he leads when you're not trapped together in the forced proximity of hyperspace. And if he refuses you - well, it's morning, and the thought of caf is enough of a consolation.

It's early still and the breeze through the open gangway brings with it pale dawn and the smell of growing things. The heat is already oppressive, promising another stifling equatorial day. Mando is leaning against a bulkhead, hip hitched casually on a crate, visor tilted to the floor. One pauldron is in the square of sunshine from the hatch and the tiny imperfections on its surface bounce pinpoints of light through the hold as his chestplate rises and falls with his breathing. It's the only movement you can see, and your stomach flips uneasily. You can tell he's holding himself back somehow, every line of him composed. You've seen him go still like this when he's angry with you. Maybe his meeting went sideways after all, but there's no blood or any of the other telltale signs of violence.

You're already regretting your curiosity. Whatever this is, it doesn't look as simple as a wound.

Mando must know you're there, his instincts too sharp for anything else, but he doesn't greet you. So you don't bother with the niceties either, saying "Are you all right?" in a voice still thick with sleep as you move towards the small galley and the plasma heater and the battered pot that serves as a makeshift kettle.

"What?" His head comes up too fast, as if he's only now remembering your existence, that the public areas of his ship are no longer places for himself alone. "Oh. Yes. Yes, I'm fine."

He doesn't offer more than that, and you resist the urge to pry further. Your - your what, exactly? Your traveling companion? Your erstwhile employer? Your occasional fuck? Better to stick with the obvious, you suppose - the Mandalorian - is hardly expressive at the best of times, but standing silent in the cargo bay this early in the morning with a stillness that implies nothing so much as intense concentration, as he would focus his attention on a difficult target or a mark in a crowded street, is unusual even for him. He's not blocking your path to the galley though, so you occupy yourself with the business of hotplate and kettle instead. You'd found your favorite brand of instant caf at the last trading post and somewhere in a drawer there are still a few packets of dehydrated milk.

You're distracted by the familiar routine, which is probably why you ask. "Would you like some caf?"

A stupid question, and one that makes you cringe as soon as it's out of your mouth. Of course Mando doesn't want caf. And even if he did, he couldn't drink it anyway - not with you there, your presence restricting him as surely as a pair of magcuffs. You've managed to avoid offering him anything that would require the removal of his helmet so far in your time together, but it's so early, and just for a minute you... forgot. Forgot he's Mandalorian, offered him something you would literally any other sentient creature who was awake with you at such an atrocious hour of the day.

His response surprises you. "That seems like a good idea," he says, which is a weird as hell way to put it but whatever. And what about the helmet? Maybe he'll take it to his rack and drink it there. Not your business. You open two pouches and rummage in the cabinet that holds the cheap tin cups. You chase the caf with hot water from the pot, watching the brown grains bleed into something that nearly passes for drinkable, then add milk in one cup and hesitate over the other. You don't know how he likes it and it seems strangely invasive to ask about his eating habits again. After a second’s indecision you tip two of the milk packets in and stir, same as yours. If he doesn't like it he can make his own.

When you're done you take both cups in hand and turn. At some point he must have changed positions, although you hadn't heard him. How he moves so quietly in all that metal is a mystery that continues to elude you even though you see it happen regularly. Now he's sitting down, leaning back against the wall, folded in on himself in a way you haven't seen before and that immediately makes you question whether or not he is, in fact, all right. Maybe you were wrong, and the injury just doesn't show under all his layers of cloth and steel. His posture mutes the inertia you'd sensed and he looks... if you're being honest he looks just a little pathetic, or as pathetic as a man wearing so many weapons can look, which is not very. It's oddly affecting. You don't know him well enough to judge with any level of precision but if it were you against the wall looking like that, you'd say you'd just lost a fight.

Impossible. Mandalorians don't lose fights. At least, this Mandalorian doesn't.

"Would you like some company?" you ask before you can stop yourself. It's apparently a day for firsts. You've never inquired if he wants your presence before, except as a matter of expediency on a hunt or going into a settlement. It's something in this morning's particular tableau that pulls it out of you, memories of your own bad nights echoing in sympathy with the set of his shoulders. It's easier when he's sitting down, too, the level of his helmet well below your eyeline. You wouldn't have dared if you were facing the wall of beskar that comprises a Mando upright.

His response is direct as he is always direct, and polite, as he is nearly always polite with you. "That would be... acceptable. Thank you."

So you slide down the wall next to him, probably graceless and noisy in comparison, still holding both cups. As you do the wind outside shifts, stirring the heat and bringing with it the inevitable warm damp of impending summer rain. It brushes past your strangely moody Mandalorian, pushing steam from the caf before it and tapping your hair against your cheek, and as it does you're hit by a wave of the familiar. A scent everyone who's ever worked a bar or relaxed after a long day in any town in the galaxy knows.

It takes you no time at all to recognize it, and only a beat longer to locate the source. Mando smells - and not subtly - like alcohol. The sting is unmistakable, announcing itself in the air between you. You can't even contemplate how much worse it would be without the intermediary of his helmet. A sequence of events clicks into place, as tidy as a relay switching shut. That's why he's so still, why his walk up the gangway was so careful. He's hungover. Or maybe still drunk. The Mandalorian is drunk.

You don't even know how he got drunk, considering the constraints of his helmet. You can't imagine him sitting in a cantina all night shoving a hydration tube under the faceplate and sucking in spotchka. The thought is so undignified that you almost laugh out loud. You choke down the impulse but it must show on your face somewhere because Mando says, in a tone that even through the modulator veers close to petulant, "What?"

Now you are laughing, the image of the feared warrior staggering - well, as close as he'll ever get to staggering, which is basically the exact opposite - into his own ship and half-collapsing, felled by something as mundane as alcohol, too ridiculous to ignore. "Oh, I see. Leaving late, coming in early, needing caf. What did you get up to last night, Mando?"

It's a sing-song question, meant as a tease, but that glacial quiet comes over him again and you swear the temperature between you drops several degrees. He's silent for a long while, contemplating an answer that seems weighty for him in a way you didn't intend. Did you upset him? Was intoxication forbidden to Mandalorians? Are you witnessing something as simple as a temporary lapse in judgment - and Maker knows you've had plenty of those yourself - or as serious as a violation of his Creed?

"I made some bad decisions," he says finally. "I thought it would... make things a little easier. It didn't."

And you have no idea how to interpret that, if he's talking about the job that went sideways that brought you to this planet in the first place or the drinking or something else. Or if you could be classified as a bad decision, one that he might need the escape of alcohol to make a little easier. Your brief moment of levity twists in your mouth, turning sour, and you shove the second cup toward him across the bay floor with unnecessary force, sloshing milky caf over the rim to puddle on the metal.

Mando doesn't comment on your lack of tact. He doesn't say anything at all, picking up the cup and contemplating it as though it holds the secrets of the universe. You'd slumped back against the crate after your little outburst but you're still watching him in your periphery. Not a single atom of you believes that he's going to remove his helmet. Not for something as banal as this, not with the hatch open for anyone to see, certainly not in front of you. But he might have some trick you haven't seen yet. A port somewhere, some way of getting sustenance in public when necessary. Maybe that's how he'd made last night's bad decisions.

He doesn't quite bring the caf to where his mouth would be but it's close. You don't see anything about the faceplate change, but the Mandalorian next to you inhales deeply and makes a quiet, satisfied noise. Then he does it again and you realize what's happening - if the visor weren't in the way he'd be burying his nose in the cup to breathe the bitter, scented steam. It's a mundane thing to do, nothing you haven't seen a thousand times before, and you want to be irritated by it. He makes another sound, the modulator obscuring its finer details. You hear it anyway, casually warm and appreciative, and your own mouth goes dry instead.

You are suddenly extremely aware of your body in proximity to his: your shoulders a few long inches from each other, your crossed knees so close to his strong thighs. You didn't mean to but you've turned your head to face him now, lips parting, and you can feel the rush of blood rising up your neck and creeping along your collarbones. You've caught his attention too, your reaction to his enjoyment nowhere near as subtle as you'd like. He doesn't put down the cup, doesn't do anything as predictable as reaching for you. Instead he slides across the floor and presses one long leg against yours, hip to knee, not touching you with intent but just... letting you feel him, solid as granite and twice as unmoving. Then he raises the cup again, slower this time, draws the steam toward himself, and makes the same noise again, deliberately.

Sweat springs up on your skin, the warmth of his nearness combining with your flush and the hot breeze still fluttering through the gangway. The helmet is pointed straight ahead but you can feel him considering you, the stalemate of shared desire spreading between you like ink in water. He seems to be waiting for something but you'll be damned if you're going to start coming out of your clothes just because you like the way he drinks - no, not even drinks - his caf. So you wait too, expecting him to call your bluff, or at least wordlessly take charge as he has taken charge of things between you before.

Nothing happens. You drop your gaze, fixing it on the way he cradles the cup, the tips of his gloves flaring orange against the dull alloy. It's precisely because you have expended so much attention on his hands as a substitute for his face that you notice it: a tiny motion on the surface of the liquid, a gentle waver like the very beginnings of a boil. It's not that the cup is trembling, not really, it's just... not entirely steady. You've already seen his grip around a blaster more times than you can count and you've sure it's always been reliable as a sun. This is new. Is he really that far gone?

"Would you do me a favor?" Mando's voice is carefully neutral, as if he's noticed your scrutiny.

"Sure," you say, not really listening. You could tell him no, discourage whatever drunken whim this is, but you're still watching the minute quiver of his hands, visible only through the ripples in his caf.

"Take off my gloves."

***

It's an insane request, and most of Din is having trouble believing he just said it. The words came out of his mouth unbidden with no direction from anything as capable of higher functioning as his brain. The rest of him - the part he’s forced to admit is housed mostly in his cock and in the bottom of a bottle discarded several hours ago - can't believe he's waited this long to ask. He saw the way you looked at him, the tip of your tongue suspended over your bottom lip. He's painfully aware of the soft skin of your thigh pressing against his, even if he can't feel it through his armor as more than a light pressure, a ghostly kiss of heat. He wants your touch somewhere, anywhere, ideally on the rock-hard erection that's straining against the buckles of his belt, but even as he thinks it he holds back, knowing it would be too much. The gloves instead then. The feeling he thought he'd drowned in revnog is back, the tightness in his chest ratcheting to life, making him shake with anticipation for something he doesn't even know the shape of.

Suddenly he's worried that he's overplayed his hand. You've allowed him to take liberties for your benefit before, but this feels different. This is you touching him for no reason other than he's asked you to and that's dangerously close to crossing the line he's drawn for himself. He sets down the caf and is about to say something sensible like "Never mind," but you're already reaching toward him.

***

Mando doesn't raise his arms for you, doesn't do anything at all to make his demand easier to meet except for putting down the cup. The hand closest retreats to rest on his hip and you chase it without thinking, picking it up like you would any other piece of equipment he’d tasked you to maintain. You can feel a faint tremor all through the capable muscles of palm and wrist. You yourself are sober as a Jedi but that doesn't stop you from fumbling at first, trying to understand how to get around the knuckle guard and loosen the magnetic tab cinching it tight just over the point of his pulse. You pull the glove over his fingers as efficiently as you can.

It's the closest you've ever come to the Mandalorian, which is an absurd thing to say considering what you've been doing, or rather what he's been doing to you, intermittently these past weeks. It's also true, and you feel your breath fraying as you reach for his other side. Undressing him even just this inconsequential amount seems unbearably domestic, an intimacy you haven't earned and probably never will. You remove this glove the same way, running your fingertips over the leather to find the catch, working the fingers loose in a movement that can't help but feel obscene as your smaller hand encloses his bigger one. Then you draw it off, still holding him, and stop. Because you have no idea what to do next.

There's a halting moment where you think he's looking at you and you're definitely looking at him and the tension is enough that you snag your lower lip between your teeth -

"Let go," Mando says softly. You drop his wrist like a thief caught in the act. You expect him to stand up, escaping from your proximity as he often does. You unwisely hope this might be one of those occasions where he turns you around instead, pushing your sleeping shorts down and plunging his fingers between your thighs where a needy hum has just hopefully kicked to life. An even more unwise part of you, a part you try very hard to ignore, wants him to pull you closer, face-to-face.

No such luck. The only sound is your own breathing buzzing in your ears. At this angle you can see the cowl around his neck has shifted, revealing a glimpse of his throat. His pulse shows through the thin skin, tripping steadily but fast. You can't drag your eyes away from it, a warm and traitorous bit of humanity amidst hard metal. There's only been one other time you've seen him like this and on that occasion his reserve, when it finally broke, heralded a storm you’d swear parts of you were still recovering from.

You're kneeling beside him, frozen in the same position you'd used to remove his gloves, and it's easy to notice how much lower and richer his tone is, even through the modulator, when he speaks again. "I'm sorry, mesh'la. I'm not trying to be rude. I just-- I can't."

"Can't what?" you probe, bewildered by the combination of his denial and the unmistakable heat threading through his voice.

"Can't... this." He makes a vague gesture that somehow encompasses himself, you, and the narrow space between you.

"Okay," you say. "Okay. You can't." Fuck whatever this is anyway, you're tired of him being the one to decide all the rules of engagement, where and when and how and if you are even in a position to look at him during. You start to move away but his bare hand briefly finds your knee, pinning you in place with no effort on his part. Even with that feather-light touch you can feel the rough texture of his palm. It raises the fine hairs on your neck with how much you want more of him.

"I can't," Mando says again, as though you'd asked him something, and you realize what he's telling you. He can't.

You can.

Something ignites in your blood, racing down your spine to pool between your legs. He's not refusing you, he's making you an offer, a chance to decide for yourself how this encounter will go. You wonder why now. Is this a misguided attempt at chivalry, a way of making sure that he doesn't push past your limits while he’s under the influence? More importantly - are you going to take him up on it?

You feel your heartbeat accelerating as you reel through the possibilities. You could touch him like he's been touching you. Would he let you? Could you remove more of the layers between you, finally chase your pleasure on his cock like you've spent so many furtive hours thinking about? Or you could deny him, get up and take your leftover caf and leave him to face his biochemical consequences alone. He wouldn't stop you, would accept your choice without protest, and somehow that feels most powerful of all.

The helmet is still watching you. Mando's gloveless hands are quiet in his lap, his chest under the armor rising and falling evenly as though he hadn't just implied you might want to use him like a toy. You meet the eyeless gaze of the visor, seeing only stark lines and your own warped, unrecognizable reflection. Just for an instant you let yourself pretend, wishing he had a face you could read anything in at all. Then you lean forward and grasp his hands in yours and stand up, putting one bare foot on either side of him, taking his hands with you. You hook his fingers into the drawstring at your waist, your meaning clear. Take them off.

You know exactly what you want. And you're almost sure Mando will give it to you.

Your shorts slide easily over the curve of your ass, puddling to the floor as you step out of them. You're wearing nothing underneath and his skin against yours is excruciating as he traces the hard bones of your shins, the backs of your knees - and stops, making it wordlessly clear that he's leaving you to dictate what happens next. You shrug out of your shirt and trail up your body to cup your tits, tossing your hair over your shoulder. Then you look at the Mandalorian under you and give your first order: "Touch me."

Your meaning is obvious even though technically, he's already touching you - hasn't stopped since you began your little show. His hands resume their wandering course, running up the dip of your waist and chastely smoothing sweat across your spine. You use the warmth of his touch as fuel for your own fire, pinching your nipples to greedy points and letting your back arch. It's beyond bizarre to expose yourself like this, presenting to the impenetrable wall of his armor in nothing but your own unassailable nakedness. Mando might deaf and blind for all the reaction the blank faceplate gives you. It's as dislocating as losing one of your own senses, giving everything a surreal, hallucinatory quality.

It's also indescribably arousing.

Mando is getting bolder, touching you with more purpose. One big hand ghosts up your thigh but you stop it before it reaches its goal. You've had his talented fingers in you plenty and you have other plans. "Hold my hips," you say, and though you meant it as a command it comes out more like a plea. He obliges you instantly, thumbs settling against the swell of your pelvic bones. You want him to participate in this, even if he won't take the initiative, and you want him to feel the same sting of desire you do, even if you can't see the results.

Your excitement is growing more acute now. You drop one hand from your breast and part your folds easily, slipping your fingertips up to tease your clit before dipping them just inside yourself. You moan a little at the feeling of it, so much better than when you do the same alone in the 'fresher, and when you pull out and move back to circle your clit again, spreading your slick over your lips, you feel his grip on you convulse. You follow that theme for a while, aimlessly chasing sensation for no reason other than you want to and it makes him wait. It isn't until you slide two fingers into your aching sex, pressing up and in to fuck yourself slowly in front of him, that you hear Mando make a noise.

It's nothing at all like how he sounded over the caf. It's rough and urgent even through the modulator, and it lights a shameless fuse in the cradle of your thighs. Time to find out exactly how far he wants you to go.

"Hold still." You advance on him, still straddling his lap, tilting his head to where you need it. He doesn't let go of your hips, and if he has any idea what you're about to do, he doesn't show it. He's perfectly capable of stopping you, you remind yourself, could probably throw you across the cargo bay if he wanted. He’d invited you to be the one in control. The knowledge gives you courage to come closer still, close enough to cant your hips forward...

And push your wet cunt directly into his helmet, right against where his mouth would be.

The sounds you both make as your warm flesh hits the beskar mirror each other in their desperation. You can't help but keen as the softest parts of you feel metal, cool even in the hot morning air. The Mandalorian under you jolts at the contact, letting out a broken, bitten-off growl. He's still holding you, could easily push you away, but he does just the opposite, adjusting the angle to bring more of his helmet flush against you. Even that small action makes some deep part of you seize with empty frustration, desire roaring through your veins. It's exactly the way a lover would part your legs to give themselves better access, but all you can feel is the smooth plane of the visor and you need more.

You close your eyes, put your hands on the crest of his helmet, and give an experimental thrust. Your thighs slot easily into the curves of his faceplate and what the beskar lacks in texture is made up for by the knowledge that you are a scant inch away from riding his face. You squirm a little, opening space to shove two fingers crudely back into yourself, already past the point of trying to provoke with anything more subtle. The movement brings your clit into contact with the low ridge over his faceplate and you hiss out a word that sounds very much like yes. You squirm again, fucking yourself down onto your hand at the same time the ridge pushes into your folds.

Mando understood your purpose as soon as your cunt touched metal, the eerie ability for reading others you've seen in combat brought to bear on you. His callused hands are working your hips in earnest now, grinding you against him. It's half fuck and half shared fantasy, the helmet providing only the meanest friction against your clit while the idea of Mando's mouth - his mouth, even in the privacy of your bunk you've never dared to imagine the details of his mouth - on you stimulates you far more. The thought of all his skill and focus narrowing to pleasing you has already gotten you wetter than you imagined possible, but it's more than that. If you just could feel him that way, close the loop on the circuit between you, know he's there with you, as desperate as you are - you aren't sure you'd ever be able to stop.

The tide between your legs is rising, orgasm kindling in the nerves of your sex. His bare skin against yours, your own fingers nudging something humming and electric inside you, the hard press of the helmet: it all adds up to an obvious conclusion, your body racing to finish the equation. The closer you get the more noise you make, until you finally realize you're talking, words spilling out of you with no intention from your brain. Words like Mando and more and please. Words like feel so good and I want you, which makes your heart stop for a moment with fear, but his only response is to your hips as he holds you tighter, grip pressing hard enough to bruise.

You're teetering on the edge when you tell him what you really mean, reveal the thing you've wanted since he told you he couldn't and then tempted you with the merest brush of his hand over your skin. You would never have said it otherwise, but it's there now, the truth pushing insistently behind your teeth. You wait until the last possible moment; until you feel your climax catch and flare, pulling you into a whirlpool of mindless pleasure.

"Fuck, I-- I wish I could see you like this. I've thought about it-- about you," you confess. It feels like you're baring the filthiest, worst part of your soul, admitting that you've imagined what it would be like with his naked face buried in your cunt. The concession is equal parts humiliating and exhilarating, a glimpse into something so private that you've barely examined it yourself, a breach of your painstaking respect for his way of life. "I want to feel your mouth on me."

You can feel the shudder that runs through him when you say it and there's an indescribable sound from under the helmet, something like a groan but hungry, full of desire and frustration - the noise of a man who sees a feast in his dreams after years of famine. It goes right to your core, a bolt of lust beyond what you knew was possible sparking from the crown of your head to the tips of your toes, and your eyes fly open. You look down. It's his face, the face of his helmet, the only face you know him by, framed by your thighs as you rub your slick against the transparisteel that tips you past the point of no return, your cunt clenching and your knees buckling as you come.

***

He’d been doing so well holding himself in check. He’d even managed to tell you that he couldn’t provide what you were looking for, the service he’s done for you with great regularity lately. Din is mostly sober, or thinks he is, but he doesn’t trust himself after yesterday. His interrupted lust is still seething just under the habitual discipline. He’s not afraid that he wouldn’t stop if you asked him - there’s no world in which he’d ever be inebriated enough for that - but he’s afraid of what you might say yes to. What you might eagerly permit him. He’s clinging to his Creed like a lifeline but that’s the problem with the Way: it rarely tells him what to do, only that he must do it honorably and with intention. He doesn’t feel especially honorable right now. It would be so much easier if he were outright forbidden this, your rapid breathing and your erratic heartbeat and the convincing wetness of your cunt.

What’s happening right now couldn't be more different than the practiced passion of last night. Unlike last night, however, the chaotic tangle between you occupies all his senses. His already-interested cock has swollen to impossible hardness, somehow more sensitive to the uncomfortable bite of his own clothing than it was to any of the clever tricks that had been used to coax his enthusiasm twelve hours ago. He can't see you, but he can smell you, your musk and the scent of the regulation soap he always buys mixed with sweat. The perfume of your sex, warm and more than willing for him, is one of the things fueling his nearly painful hard-on but for some reason it's the soap that gets to him, replacing every coherent thought with wild, driving need. It's a smell he associates with himself, with his ship, it's the same soap that he's bought for years at every surplus depot in the galaxy and he's never thought about it for even a second but suddenly it’s all over you. It's him, he can smell himself when you push into him, and it makes him feel like he's going insane, like he'll never be able to get inside you deep enough or make you come hard enough to stop himself wanting more of you.

Now you're talking to him and he can hear that just fine, your breathless admission that you want this too, that you've thought about him beyond those times where he's behind you and you're begging for release, imploring him with a name that isn't even a name, just a category. He can hear when you urge more, more, and short on sleep and still half-drunk he can pretend you mean more than more pressure, more than right now, more than Mando.

And then you say the thing that ruins him, making his cock jump and his throat dry and his heart a triphammer in his chest. You tell him you want him - not the armor, not the Mandalorian, but him; his naked face, his naked self - his hips buck, driving upward against nothing, every bit of his carefully won control in pieces around him -

And the explosion he’s been waiting for rips through him, the suspended moment between trigger and blast slamming shut at last. He makes a noise he can’t even try to stop, loud and feral and animal, and comes, his orgasm taking him as hard as a fist to the gut.

***

You’re still partially on top of Mando when your breathing begins to normalize. Once the aftershocks had faded and your knees were no longer shaking quite so hard, you’d stepped off him and gently collapsed, your back against the crates and your legs draped across his cuisses. You know how debauched you must look, still naked and covered in sweat. Absurdly, it makes you feel shy, girlish in your need to conceal your soft and affectionate smile from the helmet next to you. “Holy shit, Mando,” you say instead, hoping your voice doesn’t give you away. “You should get drunk more often.”

That seems to take him by surprise, what sounds like a genuine laugh huffing through the moderator. He doesn’t respond but a hand moves up to your ankle and rests there, filling your chest with hazy satisfaction. You could probably spend forever like that, bonelessly content, but your post-coital bliss is reminding you what he missed while you were busy using him for your own pleasure.

"Do you want--" you say, reaching tentatively for his belt, but what you mean is please let me, which makes it worse when he jerks away from your touch like it’s a soldering iron, pushing you off his thighs and letting your legs slide to the floor. You hadn’t meant to offend but clearly you have somehow, breaking the rules of your little game without even knowing what they are. You open your mouth to apologize but Mando is getting to his feet and his silence is already somehow back into place between you, impregnable as a fortress. You watch him walk away from you towards the ‘fresher, sealing the door behind him with a thud that lands heavy in your ears, and all you can do is stare after him.

In a kinder version of your world, you'd get off lightly from this. The man whose armor you'd just ruined would be drunk enough to forget, or at least drunk enough to forget details. He'd wake in eight or ten hours with a pounding head and a helmet that needed polish, but he wouldn't remember exactly why, and you'd be spared the self-inflicted invasion of your privacy. But you knew there was no chance of that, no chance that your Mandalorian's mind, even clouded with alcohol, was any less reflexively capable than the rest of him. He would remember what he'd done, and what you'd done, and what he hadn't even had to ask you for. You could have kept quiet. You could have stayed in your bunk. You could have declined to imagine, or at least to declined to share, what his mouth would feel like on you.

Too late for that now.

***

Din can’t regret his choices, not if they brought him here, with you warm and sated on top of him and his own body still coming down from the stupendous high of climax. Still, he’s forced to admit to himself that he’s struggling, the bill for his past abuses rapidly coming due. A truly monumental hangover is stalking through his synapses and he can't tell if the nauseous twist in his stomach is from the alcohol or all the things he wants to say and can't. He'd thought it would fade with the last haze of orgasm, but the urge to tell you how much he wants you remains overwhelming.

He tamps it down. All social creatures have a psychological urge to reciprocate the sharing of a secret. That's all this is: the reciprocal urge. He's used it himself when tracking bounties, a false confession from him eliciting a true one from his mark. It doesn't seem like you're lying to him, not exactly, but he thinks maybe it's not quite real either. You didn't mean it the way it sounded. You like what he can do for you, that's clear, and that liking is enough to earn your tolerance of his company the rest of the time. There was no way you could be conversant with all the complex overtones that imbue something like telling a Mandalorian you want his face between your thighs. Maker, he has to stop thinking about it.

He's still in control of himself enough to push the subject away for now, bury it for later when he can examine it later with a clearer head. What he doesn't know is how to stop the feeling that flares when you’re close to him like this, the sensation of hurtling towards something he can't stop, dogged as a footrace toward the edge of a cliff. He's dizzy and sweating and suddenly everything feels too hot. You've been on his ship twelve weeks and he's had you a dozen times by now, coming so hard around his fingers so hard he can feel the clench, choking on the pleasure he tells himself only he can give you. Today he can add another entry into that catalogue, your words searing through him as you fucked yourself against his visor, and he already knows it's not going to be enough. He's going to need it again. He might need even more. He might - with the sudden taste of bile rising in his throat - he might need to go be sick in private.

At least you didn't realize how far gone he is for this, the thing that stretches between you as powerful as a riptide. Your offer to accommodate his own needs made it quite clear you had no idea what you'd done to him, even if Din’s treasonous body had made sure he wouldn't be tempted by beating you to the punch. He wants to say something to soothe the hurt he’s inflicted, something that might help the new and giddy warmth between you linger, but he has no idea what - except the truth, which would be catastrophic.

He leaves the cargo bay with no ceremony whatsoever instead, shoving you off his lap and surging to his feet. He makes his way to the 'fresher, shuts the door behind him with more emphasis than he means to, and urgently fumbles his armor off. Then he half-collapses onto the lid of the vac tube, leaning over the tiny sink, and closes his eyes.

It's only when he feels the cool bite of beskar on his lips that he realizes he's resting his face against his helmet.

***

“I’m heading to town. I’ll be back in a few hours.”

It's late, the triune suns of this world long since dipped past the horizon. The heat is still suffocating. The landing site is bathed in purple shadows, the endless violet lightning of distant summer storms flickering across the sky. You've taken your schematics outside to work, sitting cross-legged on one of the antigrav loading lifts as it rests quiescent in the mud. You're dressed in clean clothes, having already done penance in the 'fresher with the temperature dial cranked all the way to a punishing cold and the plain white soap washing away any trace of beskar and leather. You are doing your best to fill your head with wiring diagrams, ignoring the way you can't seem to control your hands as they alternately brace and rub at the back of your datapad.

Mando is clearly back to being his sober, achingly polite self, making sure he doesn't leave without informing you, which for some reason is infuriating. You don't want to ignore him entirely but you can't find anything to say that won't meet his courtesy with childish irritation. You make a noncommittal noise of acknowledgement instead. He must not have heard you, because a gloved finger drops into your line of sight and taps the top of the datapad: once, twice.

Unwillingly, you drag your gaze up, fixing it on his left shoulder. You know you're a coward but even in the semi-dark you can't meet the cool line of his visor. Not yet. You wonder if you'll ever be able to look at him again, and then - a stray thought welling up from somewhere dangerously close to hysteria - you wonder if all Mandalorian helmets are the same. You've never noticed, never had reason to pay that much attention before. What if it's not just him, what if you'll never be able to see a beskar-clad bounty hunter without blushing? Maybe it's time to find a new line of work.

"Hey," the Mandalorian in front of you says, his inflection very neutral. You still won't look at him and you know your cheek is twitching and Maker, you must look insane. "Did you hear me?"

You wave him off. "Yeah, I'm fine. Go get... whatever it is you need."

It's not a double-entente, not really, and you didn't mean it that way anyway, you just hadn't been paying attention when he'd announced where he was headed, but the shoulder you've locked your eyes on flinches and there's a slightly choked noise though the modulator. It should be funny, that your slip of phrasing could have that much effect, when you half-naked and begging for him didn't.

It isn't. It kills any shred of humor you've found in the situation instead, slamming your teetering smile to a halt abruptly as a bounty in carbonite for the second time today. You suddenly feel exhausted, the empty space yawning in your chest a poor exchange for the satisfied purr of the space between your legs. Fuck but you wish it was your turn to get drunk. Anything to get away from this for a while. Whatever this is.

But Mando is solving that problem for you, at least temporarily. He nods, already turning away to collect the speeder and head back to the city, and you wonder if he's as eager to flee the awkward interaction as you are. You wonder if you'll ever have any other kind of interaction with him ever again. Is this it for you now, prolonged silences and painful courtesy and the occasional white-hot orgasm as he spurs you - or you goad him, you aren't even sure - to acts more depraved than you've ever dreamed of?

You're still looking down when he leaves, which means you see his booted feet cross the clearing, noting that his stride is once again relaxed and elastic in all the ways that are now painstakingly familiar. Undeniable evidence that he is back to his aloof, controlled self, as though this morning had never happened, as though you hadn’t used the thought of his mouth to take yourself apart.

Now he is no longer looking directly at you, you can lift your eyes to watch him with less embarrassment. It's dark enough you can't make out more than shaded contours and straight lines as he checks over the speeder, kicking the throttle to life with a roar. Then another flash of the ever-present lightning, light cracking across his armored form, every inch of beskar gleaming as clean and precise as his practiced hands as he slings his rifle slant-wise and releases the brake. A following moment of shadow after and your Mandalorian gone, vanishing in the twilight, but you don't need him there to know what you saw. The ubiquitous helmet, shining as if newly minted, every trace of you wiped and buffed and polished from its surface.

You turn your head to follow the progress of the speeder bike across the plains into the night and wonder if you ever left a mark at all.

series masterlist

#the mandalorian #din djarin #pedro pascal #din djarin x you #the mandalorian x you #din djarin x reader #din djarin x female reader #reader insert #star wars

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etherfabric · 3 months

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Personal Message, but hopefully still helpful

How many things did you tell yourself were off limits? That you just couldn't do them? What if I told you... maybe you just told yourself the emotions arising during those things were off limits.

Take me for example. When I had my breakdown a few years ago, I lost the ability to cook for myself. Luckily I am blessed with a very supportive partner who took care of that as long as I needed (and still does 95% of the time), but today I made a discovery: I had a huge blockage towards cooking because my past trauma around it couldn't be surpressed any longer, and the emotions flooding my body were unbearable. But I didn't call it "emotions" back then. It felt more mental, more neurological. I felt doomed. But in my case, it was a message from the past, waiting for me to be ready to listen.

My mother never taught me much, but loved humiliating me for my lack of domestic skills. If I had a particularly daring day and tried to cook myself a meal, of course she would attack me. I could never defend myself, or the attacks would get worse. So I surpressed a whole lot of anger, and underneath that, deep heartbreak and sadness.

Today I allowed myself to peel potatoes angrily. It felt so uncomfortable, like my nerves were being stretched beyond their limits, but I didn't have the brain freeze I felt before whenever trying to cook something. The more I allowed the anger and sadness to take up space, the easier the peeling became. I realized: The blockage was me surpressing the emotions attached to cooking, not cooking itself. As soon as I adjusted my expectations - I won't feel happy while doing it - I could do a little. Not near as much as I could do when the surpression was still in full action and I was running on pure adrenaline, but much more than in the last few years.

Of course I was fucking exhausted afterwards. But then I got a craving for something sweet (I quit sugar a few days ago) and couldn't shake it. So I looked up an easy sugarfree cookie recipe. Guess who got the oven running right now, using those 25 minutes backing time for a little trauma dumpy writing exercise? This fella right here.

I just felt the need to express that. I know I present myself as a tarot page, but I love tarot because of its ability to lead to self mastery, and that is a little step in my journey, just withouth the cards (though I pulled a few for myself just to get going with the writing.) This experience felt the right mix of mundane and profound to hopefully help another person.

The next time you feel like you can't do something you want to do: What if you subconsciously only allow certain emotions during that thing, and they are not your authentic standpoint towards it? Can you find alignment, a mindset that allows both the thing happening and the emotions during it?

Honestly, I think I just found a great release for pent up anger and tears. So what if I am grinding my teeth while making cookies. Not everyone can affort a good therapist. And I get a snack as a reward afterwards. There is a certain beauty in it I wanted to emphasize for myself by putting it into words.

#off topic but also kinda not

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mrsvalbaker · 1 year

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Amberline

Disclaimer: This story is going to be dedicated to a very good friend of mine, why she thinks I'm good enough to let me write a character for her, I dunno.

This a Kyle Scheible x OC, there's definitely smut, adult situations, all high school characters are portrayed by adults. There's mention of eating disorder.

♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡

Part I

Sacramento High School was no longer a public school.

This year it was changed to a charter due to its very low performance.

To be honest, this town is now poor or rich, and I fall into the latter as my mother loves to remind me. It's why I've been babysitting since I was twelve, and why this past summer I was working at a doughnut stand at a fair, and this school year I'll be working at Blockbusters.

College doesn't pay for itself, and mom made it no secret that she wasn't going to donate one red cent, why should she even though my babysitting and doughnut money go toward the nice apartment we live in and toward her payments for her Lexus she can hardly afford.

I don't even have a car, and does she ever drive me to work or school? No, it's my bicycle or a bus.

She's one of those southern women that always drone on about earning things, telling me life ain't easy and I best get a grasp of that early, especially since I'll be joining the rich kids of Sacramento for my senior year.

Immaculate Heart of Mary Catholic High School is so graciously funded by Charlene Sixkiller, my dearest mother. She said it'll help me get to a good school. I'm truly grateful, but I feel so pressured, I feel like school and me leaving at eighteen is all we talk about at home.

I don't even know what I want to do.

Like fuck.

I love writing but my mom says that it doesn't pay the bills. It's a big reason why she won't help me with college, because I'm choosing to be an English Major.

Okay so maybe I do know what I want to do with my life.

I write gothic novels, a cross between horror and romance. I'm not very good at it but I love writing, between that and my diary it's the only way I can actually express myself.

It's awkward going to Catholic school and you're not a catholic, mom was brought up southern Baptist, and I hardly know a damn thing about my dad. Although he's probably the same, being from the same area.

I've only been to my mom's hometown of Rocky Mountain, North Carolina five times in my life, and every single time I count the hours for when we return to California.

My dream school is UCLA. It's hard as hell to get into, but going to this school will help. L.A. is far enough from central California where I won't have to deal with my mom again, and besides my dad's there. Maybe I can find him, ask him why I wasn't worth sticking around for.

My alarm clock blared Good Charlotte throughout my room. With a long groan and a painful stretch, I literally threw myself out of bed.

Dragged myself to the bathroom and pulled myself into the shower. I know being goth at a catholic school is going to be a total nightmare, but I was still Gung ho on making a good first impression. I washed my hair twice with the fruity smell of my Garnier shampoo and conditioner. Then massaged my loreal color mask into my waist length black hair before combing it through and clipping it up on top of my head.

My acne is starting to clear up but there's still some stubborn blemishes on my cheek. I washed my face with a morning burst about four times before using the scrub, why did I have to have problematic skin? Between acne, my fat ass and my boobs, I felt like there were twenty signs to point out how much of an ugly freak I am. I still tried though, some days I didn't think I looked bad, but days like today…

I scrubbed my skin with my electric apple lathered loofah until it was red and raw, and then rinsed my hair mask. I turned on the radio and brushed my teeth to the new Red Hot Chilli Peppers song By the Way, my eyes gazed with judgment at my reflection. How shall I fix myself today? I was getting over an eating disorder from last year, this weight is new to me. My doctor said I looked great, but sometimes I see a dancing hippopotamus in fantasia.

I rubbed Ponds onto my face and Bath and body works toasted hazelnut lotion on my skin. I sprayed my Secret powdery deodorant on. Blowing drying my waist length, ebony hair took a half an hour and that was me rushing. I sealed it with my Garnier serum and then did my makeup, far too much black eyeliner just past the point of you have gone too far, and cherry chapstick.

I pulled on my black panties and bra before pulling on the gray pleated school skirt I was forced to wear, I felt like a soldier preparing for war. The white buttoned down shirt was tucked in and I threw on my black zipper hoodie leaving it unzipped. I pulled on black knee high socks and scrunched them down before tying on my doc martens oxfords. I shoved on my many bracelets from a Hot Topic haul and made sure my black, stretchy choker constricted my neck. I brushed my hair down one more time and sprayed on my Victoria's Secret love spell body spray I got for my last birthday. I looked at myself, the kohl making my green eyes pop like I was on something. I wouldn't call myself hideous, just not pretty, not enough.

I wasn't enough for my old friends, when I was found passed out in the girl's bathroom everything changed. Nobody wanted me around, Alyssa and Taylor stopped sitting with me at lunch, and Alyssa started dating my crush Zach. They all acted like we never met.

But I was always the one who brought the least to the group. If I couldn't make it to a Marilyn Manson concert, they still went, but when Alyssa had the flu and couldn't make it to Disneyland, everyone canceled.

I was the one who was everyone's shoulder to cry on, at twelve I taught Taylor how to use pads and take motrin when she got her period, I told Zach he was good at drums, and anytime Alyssa had guy troubles it was me who lost sleep talking to her until 3am on the phone, it was me who bought her Häagen-Dazs and watched her stupid guilty pleasure show with her, Sex and the city, it was me who washed her hair and ran her a bath.

But it was never enough. Who knows, maybe I'm not meant to be happy. It's not in the cards for me I think.

The main reason for starting fresh and going to a new school wasn't just about college. It was so I wouldn't have to see the faces of the people who were supposed to be my best friends in the whole world, and couldn't get off their asses to visit me in the hospital.

I put my headphones and placed my Simple Plan CD into my player and turned it on blast.

Mom already left for work, she wasn't the kind of mother to prepare me a big breakfast for my first day. I grabbed an apple and granola bar and left to go catch the bus, getting catcalled on the way by guys old enough to be my dad.

Getting on that school bus was what you expected, the kids caught a look at the girl with black hair and equally black eyeliner and snicker or get out my way faster than a bat out of hell.

I sat in the very back next to a girl with shoulder length, dirty blonde hair pushed back by a headband that matched her gray school skirt.

She started talking to me, I saw her mouth move but couldn't hear one word. What is wrong with her? Can't she see that I'm wearing headphones? I wanted to ignore her so badly but I could not be rude to save my life. So I tapped the pause button with a black nail and pushed my headphones down before looking at her. "Can I help you?"

She smiled and laughed. "I was just saying you're new, I've never seen you before."

She wanted to bother me for that? I smiled though. "Yes, you're right. How perceptive of you."

The girl just laughed. "I'm Gretchen, I go to Mary's too, what grade are you in?"

"I'm a senior."

"Me too! We're the only seniors on the bus, did you know that?"

Thank you Gretchen for making me feel like such a loser.

The bus ride consisted of Gretchen asking for my entire autobiography. Was she a news reporter or something? All she got out of me was that I went to Sacramento High, which she made a snobby face at, and that I didn't leave behind any friends.

Once we got off of the bus, she didn't leave me alone. She was telling me about everyone who went to our school. I nodded along without paying attention but couldn't find the heart to be mean. I mean she's taking the time to get to know me and be my own personal tour guide.

"Amberline is a really strange name." She said suddenly.

I shrugged. "Yeah, I'm sorry about that, I'll change it when I get the chance."

She laughed and I held back the urge to roll my eyes. "I'll just call you Amber, come on Amber I'll take you to morning mass?"

"Morning mass?"

She nodded. "It's a catholic school of course."

I followed her to the chapel, it was all very beautiful and sacred looking. Pairs and pairs of eyes focused on me though, and I noticed boys filing in, which confused me since this was an all girls school. I asked Gretchen about it.

"The boys school shares certain things with us like the chapel for morning mass." Then Gretchen gasped and whispered loudly to me. "Oh there he is!"

"Who?" I asked with confusion, she was acting hysterical.

"Kyle Scheible!"

Walking in the line of boys to the priest was a boy far too handsome to be in high school, but you could clearly tell he is in fact in high school. Is he the usual ghostly pale and manic panic black haired with piercings type I go for? No, he was so much better than that. Something I thought I'd never say.

I can't believe that I can actually understand Gretchen's state of hysteria, but I do.

He has hooded, sleepy looking dark green eyes, with flecks of Hazel, I saw this as he walked by me. His lashes were poetically long and his nose pronounced beautifully. His lips were drawn in a pout that matched his careless posture of hands buried in the pockets of his khakis, which should have taken away how hot he is but it didn't.

His hair, God his hair needed the attention of my fingers combing through the dark chocolate curls. He wore it longish in a poetic way, his lean physique made him look taller, and he has the sort of neck you just know smells so good.

And because Gretchen isn't that great of a whisperer, he did look over. It was a lazy look over at first, like he was used to these whispers of him, which he probably was. But then his lazily droopy eyes popped open and bit when looking over at us. At me.

Oh no, oh God he was looking over at me? I immediately felt self conscious, what if he notices my breakouts? What if he finds my nose strange or finds me annoying looking? It's a catholic school. What if my look was too Crucible for him? Why did this guy who I don't know, opinion matter so much to me?

He looked at me, he really looked at me– Oh God, he stepped out of line to walk over straight to me. I could barely hear Gretchen's panicking, it was just me and him in this place of worship. Someone whispered how Kyle never approaches anyone.

He then stood over me, my eyes widened a bit and a hardly there smirk painted his pursed lips. His dead eyes swept over me, and in a lazy voice he asked, "Do you smoke?"

"Yes."

I don't know why I said it, I've never touched cigarettes in my life and I've only had one beer when I decided alcohol wasn't for me. But for this mystery boy, I thoughtlessly said yes.

"I mean no, I lied, I'm sorry. I don't know why I said that." I said breathlessly. Why was I out of breath?"

Kyle just…smiled at me, it looked foreign on his lips like he wasn't used to it. "What's your name?" His voice was musically calm.

I opened my mouth to answer but I was up next to bite the wafer and sip the wine. I didn't hear from Kyle for the rest of the day.

@meetmyothersouls

#timothee chamalet #timothée chalamet #timothée chalamet x oc #timothee fanfic

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pbs-theundeadmaggot · 1 year

Text

first love // homesick

🎶 Homesick by Dayseeker

(AU) Steve Harrington x fem!reader

[a/n] ngl this took me a while to finish writing but here we go day one of the trip just chilling for now but who knows what will happen next?

[warnings?] a dose of angst and self doubt of course

first love masterlist here!

The thought of eating breakfast with your best friend’s girlfriend made you downright nauseous, the nerves bubbling away in your stomach as you waited for the pair to join the rest of you. The jet lag had long kicked in resulting in an awful night’s sleep and it certainly didn't help that the little sleep you’d managed to get, was plagued with images of Steve and his girlfriend living the life you’d only imagined of.

You knew you were being slightly overdramatic after all, its not like they were getting married anytime soon but that didn’t make you feel any better. This was Steve your soulmate, not just some random guy you’d just met and if anything it made it all the worse that you’d known him as long as you had because if it was some random guy maybe it wouldn’t hurt as much. Steve was your universe, the world made sense with him in it, he was the light in the dark dingy town that held you captive, he was your escape and in return you were his.

“Screw waiting for them, that blueberry muffin has been calling my name for twenty minutes already and if I don’t eat it within the next ten seconds I will force Harrington to pay for my therapy for the rest of the year.” Breaking you free from your thoughts Eddie continued rambling on about how Steve was lucky he’d even waited this long before giving into his impulsive nature. Hungry and grumpy both you and Robin followed his lead wanting to make the most of the array of foods that lay in front of you.

Settling down into your seats once again you tucked, in catching up with each other and enjoying the time together. Eddie was filling you in on the new songs he was working on and how the rest of the band was, it was probably the most fun you’d had in a while, that was until you saw your favourite person all loved up and flushed approaching the table hand in hand with her. You couldn’t deny she looked beautiful even in a simple hoodie and jeans, hair tied back neatly not a single hair out of place, it was clear why Steve liked her, and not you. All the while you sat bare faced, messy hair and no real effort made, stuffing your face with pastries eyes wide and almost choking at the stark difference between you both.

Sadly it made sense

“Sorry guys we lost track of time.” Steve spoke casually pulling out her chair for her before sitting down himself, the adoration shining in his eyes as he gleefully introduced you all properly, with the words best friend rolling of his tongue like poison as he finally turned his attention towards you.

Quickly gulping some lukewarm coffee down and wiping your face for stray crumbs you painfully smiled, turning towards Becky before reintroducing yourself. “Hi, I’m so sorry about yesterday. I’m a bit of a nervous flyer which is why I couldn’t properly introduce myself.” The lying was too easy especially to someone who knew all your key tells but you had no other choice, genuinely wanting to try and get along with Becky if not for Steve but for your own sanity. After all she seemed nice enough and maybe just maybe she was what Steve needed, he deserved someone who would love him and care for him like his parents never did and if she could be that person then you would have to live with it.

“It’s no problem, i’m glad your feeling better.” Pearly white teeth flashing you a smile as she waved off your apology with the flick of her wrist. “Stevie can we go get some food now?”

Stevie? The nickname you’d been calling him for decades, that used to give you butterflies, now made your blood run cold. Her high pitched whiny voice ringing in your ears as she claimed one of your exceptions. Steve used to hate being called Stevie, constantly complaining during his teens whenever his parents would call him that. Knowing that with the nickname came a price, usually in the form of bribes or threats, his father using it as a way to manipulate and take advantage of his people pleasing nature.

You still remember the night he’d finally confided in you exactly why he hated that nickname so much. The faint buzz of insects in the long grass and the warm summer nights breeze grazing your exposed skin, the party inside had died down long ago with just a group of your closest friends scattered around the large but lonely Harrington home. You’d followed Steve outside after watching him get into yet another fight with his then girlfriend, sitting in a comfortable silence while you waited for him to tell you what was weighing on his mind.

Sighing heavily and running a hand through his unusually untamed hair before turning to you, the fear evident on his face before he dissipating as he began to speak.“When I was little I didn’t know any better than to listen to my parents every request, no matter how much I didn’t want to do it. All I wanted was for them to give me attention, to give me a sign that they cared, even just a little bit and when they called me that it made me feel like I belonged, like I was loved.”

You could tell how much it hurt for him to talk about it, the break in his voice and watery eyes clear as day. Resting a hand on his to encourage him to continue and moving ever so slightly closer before he carried on. “I didn’t realise it till I was older that they only called me Stevie when they wanted something from me, for me to follow through their every whim like a simple pawn in their game of happy families. To act like I was one of them and not some stranger living under their roof.”

If the situation wasn’t so heartbreaking you would’ve laughed, not because of the reason behind his pain but because thats the nickname most people associate with the name Steve. And to avoid it for so long almost easily seemed like a miracle. You didn’t even realise how lucky you’d been to be able to refer to him as Stevie, never questioning why or how no-one else called him that.

“She broke up with me for good this time.” He laughed, confusing you even more. “All because of a stupid nickname.” He didn’t seem upset, if anything he looked happier than he had earlier, his brow no longer furrowed and frown frozen upon his face.

“I-I don’t understand.” You didn’t want to come across as insensitive but a part of you was curious why he would let you call him a name thats haunted him for years. A name that held such pain and negativity behind it, that if you were in his place you wouldn’t want to have to hear ever again.

“You were the first person to show me what it means to be loved. To show me that I am more than just a chess piece in someone else’s game. That there are no strings attached when you call me it other than to show me that you love me for me.” Stunned to silence and letting his words sink in, not sure what to say to such confession.

��Perhaps that was when you first realised how deeply you felt for him, or that was just one of the many other things to add to the growing pile of suppressed feelings that would finally cause you to crack under pressure just years later. Either way didn’t matter because it was inevitable that sooner or later the lines between friendship and love would blur into one, destroying one or both of you in the process.

⋆﹥━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━﹤⋆

[a/n] Reblogs and comments are greatly appreciated and encouraged!

other works available here!

taglist: @freezaz123

#stranger things imagine #stranger things fanfiction #steve harrington #stranger things #steve stranger things #steve x y/n #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington angst #steve harrington imagine #joe keery fanfiction #steve x reader #pbs-thedesecrated #stranger things fics #stranger things x reader #pbs-firstlove

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sassy-radio-hazbin-queen · 3 months

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Bambi and the devil

Chap 10.

The gift.

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

After the wolf incident everyone could agree that Lucifer had been changing. At first he was reserved, angry and depressed. Now he was more open and happy. Even Alastor was slowly starting to change. Opening up a bit more. One day as Alastor was walking through the snowy garden, he looked up to see Lucifer staring at him. He blushes and waves at the taller demon. Lucifer blushes and waves back. Alastor looks at a rose garden and with his eyes pleaded Lucifer if he could go in.

Lucifer nods and Alastor bleats happily and runs in taking in every snowy red rose. Angel and Vaggie notice Lucifer staring.

" Well are you going to talk to him or just stare at him like a creep"? Angel asked. Lucifer smiled. " I've been meaning to talk. I mean actually talk but it's not easy. I fear I might scare him away". He sighed. Vaggie scoffed. " Oh yeah he looks so scared of you". Lucifer glares at her.

" What I'm just saying" she said defending herself. Lucifer shook his head. " I never felt this way about anyone before. Not even Lillith. I want to do something wonderful for him but what"? He asked. He knew Alastor was completely different from Lillith and had a feeling that regular romance stuff would not work. Of course Angel thought the opposite.

" Well there's the usual stuff, Flowers, Chocolates, Chains and whips and sex toys, promises you don't tend to keep, more sex Toys ". He said listing off things.

" ANGEL"! Vaggie shouts. " Ugh Alastor would not be into any of that stuff. Especially the last thing you mentioned". She gritted her teeth. Angel frowns turning away. " Well I would". He gets thoughtful and snaps his ' fingers' " Wait I got it". Vaggie grimaces. " I swear Angel if it's anything sexual" she seethes.

" relax toots remember when Alastor showed interest about the library"?.

She crossed her arms. " By interest do you mean faking so he can go to Lucifer private chambers yes why"?

Lucifer was also curious. " Angel if you have an idea tell us".

Angel. " give him the library".

" That's surprisingly not a bad idea. He did seem a little interested". Vaggie stated. Lucifer nods. " Wonderful thank you guys". Angel and Vaggie were a bit shocked to be thanked. But they nodded. " Your welcome".

Some time later Alastor was being walked blindfolded by Lucifer who told him he had a surprise. If you asked Alastor a few months back if he would ever do this, he would laugh and say " Hell no". But overtime he began to care for the beast. In a way they were the same. Misunderstood and judged by society for the looks and personality. He eventually feels Lucifer stop. " Ok are you ready". He asked.

" yes can I open my eyes now"? Alastor says back". " Not yet" Lucifer sounded so comforting. He opens a door and leads Alastor in. He pulls back some curtains and Alastor smiles as the sun hits him just right". Now can I open them".

" ok. now". Lucifer states. Alastor opens his eyes to see library. He smiles. " A library". Lucifer smile goes down a bit. " Do you not like reading"? He asks.

" oh I love to read it's just that", he paused and pulls out a romantic story sighing. " I'm more of a musical person myself. I used to read music sheets at my old home to Rosie and Charlie". His voice chokes a bit as he remembers his old home. Lucifer sighs. However he gets an idea. " Maybe this isn't for you". He said. Alastor fearing he upset Lucifer. " Oh no I appreciate it truly I do". He said. Lucifer holds up a hand. " Its ok. I know the right room for you". Alastor tilts his head. But he puts the book back and follows Lucifer to another door. Before opening it Lucifer sighs. " My ex wife loved this room. And since you love music perhaps you will as well".

He opened the door to reveal a grand music room. Instruments of all kinds were in the room. Alastor gasped " OH MY GOSH". Lucifer smile seeing Alastor eyes sparkle. He rushed in and touched every instrument giggling happily. He felt like a child again. Lucifer laughs. " I take it you like this". Alastor smiles nodding. " It's beautiful".

" then it's yours , you can library too just in case". Lucifer says. " Oh thank you so much". Alastor hugs , actually HUGS Lucifer who is too shocked. He watched as Alastor goes to a piano and start playing.

Lucifer is taken back to the past. When he would dance with his daughter Charlotte while Lillith played in the piano. He is back in the present as he truly sees Alastor. The radio demon Scarlet hair and doe like eyes. The way his fingers hit the keys so delicate as a song is played. Lucifer sits down mesmerized. After Alastor finishes he blushes. " Thank you Lucifer". He kisses the kings cheek and walks away. Leaving the king completely dazed.

#radioapple #bambi and the devil

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wordsandstrangeways · 1 year

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Tagged by @wishflower4 (I had not done been tagged before because I lurk on the internet like a pond frog)

And I'm gonna tag @makesometime who will likely get far more interaction than I do and may have done it before <3

Rules: Go to your published works on AO3 and list the first fic you ever published there, the last fic you published, any fic that you wrote for a fandom/ship only once, your favorite fic you wrote in the fandom/ship that has the most works, the fic you wish more people read, the fic you agonized over the most, the fic that sprang fully formed from your mind without any effort, and a work you are proud of—for whatever reason.

First fic published on Ao3: A Moment Eternal with @iguanastevens March 2021, just post Magnus Finale when we were sad and got into aggressive poetry battles on RQO

Last fic published: You're my delusion Jarthur Malevolent fic and also my 69th! So.. so it's 69ing.

Fandom/ship I only wrote once: The mechanisms, and I'm not linking it because though it's not terrible it's also not one I like to think about too often, Silver Tongued Devil if you want to go find it.

Favorite fic in most popular fandom/ship: The Magnus Archives is the most popular fandom I've written for and I guess my favourite is A Soft, Consuming Embrace as it was the first true narrative fic I ever published, John wakes up to find the Lonely rushed in to fill the Eye's space.

Fic I wish more people read: Hmmmmm, I'm gonna be cheeky and say the RQBB Fic I wrote with @makesometime: A Chance To Run because I think it's a really solid narrative that is a love letter to RQG and it came at a time when the fandom was waning but I believe holds its own and Zolf and Oscar deserve their gin soaked speak easy. It can also be read as either SFW or exceedingly NSFW based on chapter headings and I think to be able to weave that together in the chapters was really cool of us.

Fic I agonized over: If I were being glib I'd say all of the kinktober fics I've published which can be found in my kinktobAmS series and are for but being serious I'd say I don't have an agenda. This is the final installment of my RQG 18m gap exploration of what's going on in the heads of Wilde, Zolf, Barnes and Carter and Carter's was the final one and it was like pulling teeth. I wanted to get his voice right so badly. I think it went okay.

Fic that popped out fully-formed: Conversely, the first in that series (Say something , do it soon) flowed out of me like water. I adore Wilde in so many ways, I have spent a lot of time thinking about the way he thinks and what motivates him and It's too quiet in this room was like writing down something being dictated it flowed so well

Fic I'm proud of: This is a toss up between Stems of White, Flowers of Green and Lets be flexible about this (both RQG). Writing both I made myself cry, just a little. The heartache of the first (a fic about Zolf's life when Oscar has died and returns to him with the blooming of flowers) felt so poigniant at the time and even reading it now it feels like such a lovely them. The latter is my longest SFW fic and was true labour of love. It actually started with a NSFW idea but it got away from me dramatically and I'm really proud of the twists and turns of it. Zolf in physio after losing his leg meets, surprisingly well put together, yoga instructor Oscar Wilde.

I have no idea if any of these will appeal to anyone, but it's funny to think of my random scribblings out there in the wild(e). Special shout out too to my erotic sonnets (all RQG) cause they make laugh and they're great fun. I should write more of those.

#fic ask #@wishflower4 is amazing you should read all of their fic too #malevolent #rqg #rusty quill gaming #zolf smith #rqg oscar wilde #my fics I guess #gosh this was introspective in a way I hadn't anticipated this morning

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sardonic-sprite · 1 year

Note

*evil cackling* I present to you: Fanfic ask game

B: Any of your stories inspired by personal experience?

N: Is there a fic you wish someone else would write (or finish) for you?

Hmmm ok. So for B, I guess "Adopt A Rescue" was inspired by my seeing rescue cats at a pet store, and reading how some needed to be kept together and I immediately thought of bby Jay and bby Timmy. Welcome to Gotham U came to me as a fever dream in lab one day, but nothing in it has ever actually happened to me, it's just... *flails hands around* lab

But OH

I fucking forgot

Alright buckle up babies lemme tell you about Deliver Us From Evil

This bitch.

so last summer we took a family trip to a bunch of national parks in america. hiking, sightseeing, wildlife tours, photo tours... and white water rafting (wwr)

Now, I'm not adventurous, but i LOVE wwr, and it brings out my daring side like its my last day on earth. it's my family, plus i think 2 other parties, and one of those parties has these two middle school boys.

our guide and the boys are having fun messing with each other, and the guide offers everyone chances to like, go up to the front of the boat, sit on the edge, hold on for dear life, and the boys do it, and i won't be outdone by two infants who probably still think excrement-based humor is the pinnacle of comedy, so i also do it and love it. adrenaline is PUMPING i have never felt more alive, i have the biggest, wildest grin.

we reach a calm spot in the water, and the guide, who's been teasing/threatening the boys with teaching them about rapids classes the whole time, offers to do it now. he gets permission from them and their parents, and then one at a time, gets them out of the boat, holds tight to their life jackets, and starts dunking them underwater and pulling them back up, same number of dunks as class of rapids.

we're all a little shocked, but i was clamoring the whole time to also learn rapid classes, and, like i said, i am NOT going to be outdone by self-righteous munchkins. the guide really did not want to do it, lol, but i insisted, bc my absolutely BONKERS writer brain was going RESEARCH!!!!

my poor mother thought i was clinically insane, and she's probably right, but like, i'm fine, so.

anyway, that, folks, is the story of how i got myself consensually waterboarded so i could write about torture :)

Seriously, never, never, ever do that at home, though, people, like, do not. I'm giving y'all the notes I wrote the second I got my hands on my phone, so if you want to write about waterboarding or drowning, USE MY FIRSTHAND ACCOUNT NOT YOUR OWN!!

Dunked many times right in a row. Throat hurts, stomach hurts, nose runs, can't breathe, coughing, might feel like you wanna throw up. a few seconds of a break didn't help, you'll beg to stop. Barely any time to take in a breath, doesn't even help much. Frightening even when you are in control of situation. Water blinds you for a few seconds even if your eyes were closed. Disoriented and clumsy for a minute. All this was with someone going easy on me. Shivering and teeth chattering in even with water at 65ish degrees. Could maybe lead to hypothermia or get water in lungs. Being hauled into the boat scrapes you up a lil, especially if the person isn't being careful Going out of the boat you go under for a second, even with a life jacket. Hauled out/shoved down by shoulders of life jacket See water droplets in the corner of your eyes Might warm up a lil but you can get back to shivering even out of the water Hair still wet for a good while if longish Hands and knuckles start to hurt from holding onto the rope Might grit your teeth for a while Blasted heat makes it better but can also be hard to breath through your nose Chest might feel a lil sore

Q, you probably got SO much fucking more than you bargained for lmao, all I can hope is that I may have *inspired* you ;)

And as for N, yes. I desperately wish some writer fairy would just poof The Light Isn't Fadin' into completion, bc it was a hugely ambitious and nebulous project that I genuinely don't know what to do with, but that so many people have asked me about/told me they want to see continued that I kinda feel obligated now.

#sprite said #ask #thanks for the ask!#fanfic writer ask game #waterboarding #its not what it sounds like tho i swear #ao3 writer

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h0rr0rsaxo · 2 years

Note

Okay...I have a request for Keiran and Idk why i'm jumping head first into this but I literally cannot get this out of my head! I have pinpointed the relationship between Anni and Keiran and it is hatred. Lustful hatred...its uhh unique.

But Anni has an interaction with Keiran and pretty much its Anni trying to fight Keiran but Keiran isn't even bothering to participate in the fight. He's just blocking and dodging her attacks while talking down to her and saying things like "Oh love, you're so pathetic that your adorable~" and its not in a loving affectionate way, its straight condescending and insulting.

So in the middle of it all Keiran catches Anni's arm and pulls her in. He just aggressively starts to make out with her and even bites her lips, drawing some blood. It can go on from there, either him continuing to patronize her or it could go further....Kerian definitely hatefucks and he does so roughly...that's what I'll say about that-

(I understand that Keiran is new and I myself am figuring out how to write him so if you need ideas or help them please ask! And if this is too much then no pressure. Delete this if you'd like!)

[ Hate sex - Simp Party ]

Warnings; Hate sex, slight blood, angst if you squint....

Tags; @insane-horror-movie-addict

A/N; No words..

Word count; 1,890

Yet another fight has sparked up between the two.

Keiran simply rolled his eyes and as Anni advanced on him, throwing a punch at his right shoulder, which he easily blocked. While her arm was extended from the punch, he used his angle to bring his left leg to land a kick to her side. Anni was caught off guard for a split second as the blow knocked her back, but quickly recovered. He caught her eyes as she squared up for another attack, which he easily doged. Her eyes were sharp, dangerous even. Her brown irises caught the light of the setting sun, causing them to flash threateningly. He paced slightly as he studied her. She felt like prey being stalked by a wild cat, every movement of hers charted, analyzed, and worked into how best to take her out. She must say, evenshe was scared of this predator. Luckily, she often found herself in his 'good' graces, and for some reason, Keiran had usually only dodged her attacks. She finally understood how Kerian looked to his enemies. And it was almost terrifying.

Anni rounded on him again, getting low to the ground, seemingly to sweep Keiran's feet out from under him. He backed up quickly, as Anni aimed another kick for his shoulders. She had planned on knocking him over and pinning him that way, but of course nothing is that easy with Keiran.

Anni realized he was faking her out just a second too late.

Keiran caught her leg as she kicked, using the awkwardly balanced form of a ruined kick to throw my body to the ground chest first. She hit the dirt hard. Dust filled my mouth and eyes, but when she tried to cough, nothing happened. Panic rose in my stomach as she realized no oxygen was entering her body. The wind had been knocked from her lungs when that asshole threw her. And now she couldn’t breathe. Tears began to stream down her face and her desperate hands flew to my throat. The sound of dry gasps filled her ears, only worsening her alarm. Anni knew she wasn’t going to suffocate, but that knowledge did nothing to help her paralyzed lungs start working again.

A strong hand grabbed her shoulder and flipped me onto her back as she continued trying to inflate her stupid fucking lungs. Keiran stared down at me with concern, bright in his eyes surprisingly. He cared about her, but he would never tell her that. He patted her back to get lungs going, and stopped when she started to pant. Right as she was about to say something cocky about him actually caring about her, he stopped her.

Blood dripped from Anni's lip to her chin and stained her shirt with how hard he had smashed his lips against hers, and how hard his teeth tugged at them. When he pulled away momentarily, there had been so much blood. Her blood smeared across her teeth, her brown hair falling over her forehead, he looked into her eyes, feeling lust run through his veins for the first time since before he had had her pinned.

Keiran snickered as she squirmed under him, her eyes begging for him to touch her in any way. He was ruining her, and she was secretly loving it as much as him. He stripped his shirt off, exposing his pale skin glistening with sweat under the light. “Oh love, you're so pathetic that it's adorable~” He spat with a crooked smile on his lips, pressing his kneeling legs against the back of her thighs. His fingers made their way down to his pants, slowly undoing and unzipping them as a tease for her despite the obvious outline of his bulge. First down were his pants; a wet spot in his underwear made her clench. Next came down his boxers and of course, the man she'd been fantasizing about had a huge dick—long and girthy, curving up and to the left, slit dripping with white. Anni bit her bloodied lip at the sight of it, praying that it would be inside her at some point. His arm curved around her leg and trapped it against his body as he gripped the base of his shaft. He hovered above her supporting his weight with his other arm, and began tugging at his length, his tip sometimes brushing against her stomach and causing her to whimper in desperation.

“You don’t know what you do to me, you bitch,” he groaned between ragged breaths. “It was hard being patient, but—Mm—This is so worth the wait.” They both stayed like that for a moment, Keiran stroking himself above her while she watched with hungry eyes that were impossible to ignore.

This was gonna be a very long night..

— — —

The pit of anger in Anni's stomach can’t even begin to match the puddle of lust between her legs. She groans his name because he is making her feel so damn good but she know as soon as it’s over, the anger will creep up on you.

He pants as he fucks into her, sweat making his hair cling to his skin. Keiran knows he’s being selfish, showing up at her door and purposely picking a fight. He knows that when he flashes a smile, eyes teasing and tongue between his lips, that she’ll never say no to him. He knows it’s not fair, especially when she hates his guts and she just almost kicked his ass. But that doesn’t stop him.

Keiran likes the way her nails dig into his biceps as he holds himself aloft above her. He likes the way her hips tilts upwards, desperate for more of the feeling he’s giving her. He loves the fact that Anni knows she shouldn’t be doing this but she does it anyway, just because in the moment, it feels good.

That’s when his mouth starts running and adds spice to what is already taboo.

“I fuck you better than anybody, don’t I?” Keiran starts, selfishness in overdrive. “I know your body better than everybody else. I bet none of them likes to hurt you, they don't like to manhandle you, but you’ll take everything from me, won’t you?”

Anni moans as his words only add fuel to her hatred for him but also makes her even more wet than she already is. “Fuck off,” she cursed weakly.

His hand wraps around your jaw, prying it open. “Open your mouth.”

You whimper and do as he asks, wincing as he bites her lip, and draws blood again.

Anger follows the dribbling blood as she takes everything he deigns to give Anni into her body. His hips haven’t let up, still pushing against hers, still driving her towards an orgasm she'd rather not see. Because then once again he’s made her see stars and the black stain that is her weakness.

“Say you love it. Say you fucking love when I bite you.” Keiran growls. His cock is practically twitching inside of her at the sight of her doing exactly what he wants. Keiran wants nothing more than to fuck her again and again. And since he can’t have her the way that he wants, then he’ll have her the way that she wants it: dirty, taboo and mean. Because the minute he’d open his heart to her is the minute she'd rip your own right out of her chest, if only to deny him the satisfaction of getting what he wants. Or at least that's what he thinks is gonna happen..

All that was left was a sadistic curve on his lips and lust clouded his eyes in a haze as deep as the ocean. His grip on her thighs strengthened as he pushed them to hrr chest while his thrusting intensified in speed and power; he was reaching places inside of her that had never been touched and it was driving her insane. She pulsed around him each time he buried his angry cock inside her. Uncontrollable moans escaped her lips when his hand traveled down to her needy clit and massaged it between his fingers.

“Ah, fuck, baby, you’re such a good little slut wanting me to come inside you.” He glared down at her with near-malicious intent. “Such a naughty girl, riding my cock like your life depends on it.”

Overcome with sensation, Anni rose a hand to her mouth and bit down hard, trying and failing to muffle her moans. “Don’t you— Ngh. Don’t you dare hide from me. You- want to be a good girl for me, d-on’t you,” he asked between hard thrusts and breathless groans, to which she nodded, afraid she wouldn’t be able to speak. “Then show me. Show me how much of a whore you are. Don’t hold back— Fuck!” From her lips spilled moans, swears, and curses directed at him that soon devolved into an incoherent mess of grunts and animalistic sounds.

Keiran drank up the sight as he ruined her, trying his best to burn her image into his brain. His eyes bounced around all over her body: from her drooling mouth that needed his cock in it, to her swaying breasts that followed his every move, to her delectable cunt that swallowed him whole with each thrust. He finally got to have his way with her..

#simp party #simp party my beloved #anni my beloved #anni and Keiran hours #enemies to lovers LMAO

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ravenveenova97 · 7 months

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Paldea Romance

this is on the trip to the beach with everyone as its the last school trip as summer brake had started (warning ptsd and Depression and Adult content)

“so Raven been seeing Arven and you think she in love with him” im shook to my coure why are thay talking about us “yer I know Vee got feelings for him I can see it when there together and im worried” I beging to get upset wait he knows I mean iv been sutle iv tried not to let that come out but why “you thinking of leaving her then” hearing that made my heart brake and I full to the floor in utter shock and tears form in my eyes it hurt the fact that Jacq could end up leaving me becouse im in love with Arven but that’s not fair I'm in love with Jacq too I hold back from crying I don’t want them to know I'm here “to be honest I don’t know what to do I love Vee I always have but I can't stop her for being with someone she likes” I end up getting more and more upset and I grit my teeth trying to stop and agonising scream from coming out my heart was breaking into peases I get up and start to walk out from behind the wall “I want what's best for her and I think.........Vee” I look at him with pain in my eyes and crying and I was shaking he went to hold me but I pushed him away “so you're going to leave me coz I also like Arven........ how could you DONT YOU KNOW HOW HARD IT BEEN FOR ME TO ONE NOT BE IN LOVE WITH YOU BUT ALSO ARVEN........it's not easy and hearing you say all this....... breaks my heart” I turn round and run away “VEE WAIT” I ignored him and keped running.

I ran past my sister how grabed my hand “sis whats wrong” I look at her with deffeat in my eyes and I pull away everyone elce shows up and Arven sees that im crying I look at him and shake my head “i cant be around you right now im sorry” I run off and I leave everyone worried I don’t know were I was going I just ran and ran untill I came up on a rock I looked out into the sea and it was bilding up in side of me the pain and heart brake I couldn’t keep it in I ended up screaming from the top of my lungs out into the open sky it was the most blood curdling scream ever I stoped and took a deep breath and let out another one but even more louder then the last one I let it all out the pain the hurt and the fusration after I stoped my voice box was hurting and I fell to the floor and curled up into a ball holding myself crying my eyes out “i wish I was never there to hear that I wish I was never built this way why do I always end up getting hurt” just then I hear voices and I get up and look round for a way to escape.

I walk to the edge of the clif and look down I saw there was an oppening down below I ended up sliding down and hid in the cave “were she go the screams came from here” I hurd that it was Arven and I held myself and leand agenst the wall “VEE COME ON WERE ARE YOU” I look up in shock that was Jacq why is he looking for me and why is he with Arven, I get up and walk deeper into the cave “i just want to be left alone so please leave me alone�� I continue to cry as I walked thurther in it was dark and I couldn’t see a thing just then I trip and land on my knees and I wince in pain but I don’t get up right away “i deserve this the pain I'm feeling right now I deserve all of it” I get up and look at my knees I could feel a warm liquid run down them and I touch them and I can feel that the cuts are pretty deep but I continued to walk “i don’t care if I get lost I'm better off dead anyway” I was in so much pain from fulling but I ignore it and keep going, I end up getting cold and I'm shivering I hold myself to try and stay warm but I end up hitting a warm patch and I could see a faint glow up ahead I walk towards it and It keeps getting warmer I end up walking into an opening and it was all lit up with glowing moss and I could hear water, I walk thurther in and I see a massive pool I kneel down and put my hand in and I smile sadly “it's a hot spring.....that feels nice” I end up getting in and wince in pain agen as the water hits the cuts on my knees but it only stings for a little wile and I finally sit down holding my knees up to my chest.

I end up crying agen “i guess im not ment to be loved its like the univers is saying no everytime” I wipe away my tears and sit there in silence I realy don’t whant to be found I just think its best if Jacq and Arven just forget me like I don’t exsist then maby they be happy im nothing but trubble and a burden I ended up staying in the cave and not leaving I refused to face Jacq and Arven I couldn’t do it not after what I've done it was getting late and to be honest I don’t know how long I was missing for and frankly I didn’t care I was to wrapped up in my head to even think striate all these negative thoughts, I was back to where I was in the beginning in a big black hole chained up unable to escape nothing good lasts for long not with me.

I get out of the water and sit on the side and paddle my legs in the water just then I could here someone running threw the cave I looked over and saw a shadow come out into the light it was Arven but I just looked away and back at the water he came up to me “Raven everyone looking for you come on lets go back” he holds out hes hand and I look at it and then turn away “no thanks I don’t whant to go just leave me alone” he hurt by what I said but then sits down next to me “Arven why bother im not going to come back with you im just better of staying here.......im better of dead anyway” hes shocked that I would say something like that and he grabes me and I made him very angry “DONT YOU DEAR SAY THAT DO YOU THINK I WOULD LET THAT HAPPEN RAVEN YOU MEAN THE WORLD TO ME SO NEVER SAY THAT TO ME EVER AGEN” im shocked at what he said and I end up crying hes facil exspretions soffen and he holds me tight “you done nothing wrong you got everyone worried sick even Jacq” I look up at him and I pull away why is he worried about me he was willing to give me up “i don’t beleave you when you say hes worried about me he was willing to let me go” I start to cry harder and I pull my knees up to my chest and put my head in them “he dosent whant to be with me anymore”

Arven siges and moves closer to me and holds my hand “he dose if he didn’t he wouldn’t be frantic right now he dose still love you Raven lissen......... you are my happiness and without you in my life I don’t see myself as being happy I love you Raven” I look up at Arven in dissbelef did I hear him right “you just said you loved me” he smiles softly and holds my hand tighter “i did and I mean it not a day gose by when you not in my thoughts I meen you smart, kind, beautiful you have a good heart that’s full of love its just that people you gave that too were to clumsy and they hurt you but I promise I won't do that and nore would Jacq” why is he saying all this right now I can't keep up I'm confused like hell “but Arven I'm broken and I'm not worth saving I'm always going to break down I'm always going to get mad and lash out you don’t deserve that nore dose Jacq”

Arven sigse and looks at me and puts both of hes hand on my sholder “Raven it dosent matter I still love you even with all that it wont change the way I feel about you” he leans in and kisses me pashonutly we end up going back so im laying on the floor and hes ontop of me I melt into the kiss I could feel every emotinon he was feeling the dread the lonlyness but also the love he has for me its like with Jacq, the kiss grows deeper and my body tempiture rises and I go in to french kiss him and he dose the same back but my head started to go foggy and dizzy Arven pulls away and sees im flushed in the cheeks and just then I pulcate on him wich he feels “wait Raven are you” he begings to grow red in the face and I feel him start to grow he knowtese “dam it not now not now” I see him resisting but I whanted him “Arven its ok if you whant to you can” he looks at me red in the face hes resisting but I know he whant too “Raven I cant even tho I whant to I just cant” I smile and I run my hands up hes arms and hold him and I open my legs a little more

“fuck this” he moves in and kisses me I acsept the kiss and it gets pritty heated fast I felt no hesitation from him he kisses me with such prowess it's like he stopped being awkward and shy he then moved he’s toung in and I did the same I could feel he’s hand moving up my body and gently removed the bow in the front of my bikini and un tied it, the bra was then moved out of the way as I felt him gently squeeze my breast but there was some hesitation there I then decided to move my hand to were he’s was and made him sqweez it just a little bit harder he followed sute and I removed my hand that was all the confidence he needed as he broke form the kiss and moved down to my other breast and started to caress it with he’s toung I let out a little mone as he then moves on to rubbing my nipple on the other side to be honest he wasn’t too bad and I'm wondering if he looked up what to do when we were together last around mine.

Well what ever it is im enjoying it Arven then gose up to my neck and starts to kiss it and moves hes hand down and startes to untie my bekini bottems on both sides and slowly moves them out of the way I feel him start to rub my clit putting the right amout of presher onto it I beging to breath heavy and I get realy turned on I tell you one thing hes good with hes hands no fucking lie he moves he’s hand down and he feels how wet I am he looks at me a little flushed “you got that wet from me just touching you” I smile and nod at him he smiles and then goes back to kissing me I feel him slip he’s fingers in and then curved them a little so they were hitting my G-spot he moved them in and out slowly hitting all the right spots ok he had to of looked this up no way this is on instinct if it is then fuck me, he continues to finger me and in turn made my whole body tremble my legs were even shaking

I was moneing a lot and I think that was the que to tell Arven that I was ready he gently took he’s fingers out and then he pulled down he’s swim trunk down I opened my eyes a little to see how big he was and my body shudderd fuck he’s just a little bigger then Jacq this might hurt a little he then moves back and I can feel he’s dick right at the opening and he gently puts it in, I end up arching my back and gripping he’s arm it hurt but the pain was just pure plesher I didn’t care even tho it was just going in that made me almost cum he begins to move and he was gentle and slow to start with and I loosened my grip around he’s arms he was being careful not to hurt me but I know it can sometimes hurt the guy if he’s a virgin but I don’t know if it done for him I mean this is he’s first time.

He beings to speed up a little bit but not pulling all the way out he’s going half way and then back in and he was doing a fucking good job coz it was hitting my G-spot the entire time but I ended up tighting on him coz of it and he broke off the kiss and let out a mone I was shocked “ok that was hot as fuck Arven” he looks at me flushed as he continued to fuck me he was realy breathing heavy every time he thrusted in I could tell he was enjoying it I don’t know what came over me but I ended up flipping him over so I was on top he was a little surprised but then moved he’s hands on my hips and I started to move up and down I guess this way he can enjoy himself more wile I put in the work I wanted he’s first time to be amazing so that’s what I planned to do.

I moved my hands on to he’s torso to give myself leverage and also to feel him up heheheheh I then sped up a little bit more and he griped me tighter I loved hearing him mone and it made me feel good too knowing I could do this to a guy but he was rely pushing my hip down I think he wants to go deeper into me so when I came down I put all my wait into it and in turn made him mone even louder my god this is so fucking hot I think I lost it due to that as I sped up even more putting my hips into it we were going for a long time but I was getting close and I think Arven was too I lean in to him and Wisper into he’s ear “you don’t need to hold back you can cum in me your safe” as soon as I said that he griped my ass and thrusted into me hard and fast I let out a big mone as I wasn’t expecting it and he just snaped, I was now the one moneing louder I continue to lay on him as he fucks me ruffly it felt fucking amazing I couldn’t contain myself I ended up kissing him with toung as he patriated deeply in me hitting my G-spot every time he got even faster and my body tensed up fuck if he keeps going like this im going to cum but he continues and were at it for a little longer I brake the kiss as I can't breathe my body was craving him so much but I was at the end of my rope but before I could tell him he spoke first “Raven you sure its ok to cum in you coz I'm actually about to” I try my best to tell him as I'm panting heavy “yes I have a contraceptive your good but Arven can you go a little faster coz I'm really close” he dose as I say and speeds up I'm moing and he’s moning and I end up hitting climax and Arven came in me and I calling out he’s name witch echoed through the cave I'm on top panting like crazy as I feel him pulsating in me and breathing heavy I get up off laying on he’s chest and I see he’s spent after that.

“Arven you ok” he opens he’s eyes and smiles at me and moves he’s hand up to my face I hold it land lean into it “yer I'm fine, I can't believe we just did that” he laughs lightly but he seemed verry happy I smile at him softly “it's good to see you smiling agen I don’t ever want to see you cry agen” I lean in and kiss him I feel like my heart is flying right now well even if things don’t work out with me and Jacq I will always have Arven he does make me happy I was in such a rut a while ago but now my head is clear I brake the kiss and smile at him “Arven I just want you to know I Love you as well but do you think its ok to keep doing this” I get off him and walk back to the water and get in Arven get up and pulls he’s swim trunks up and jones me in the hot spring and holds me from behind “I'm sure its ok I will talk to Jacq at some point this summer to see if we can pull off our plan I just need time to figer out what to say” I turn round and smile at him and I put my arms around he’s neck “thankyou I don’t want to keep choosing I just want you both I love both of you and I'm happy when I'm around you and Jacq you two are the reason why I'm still here I can't live my life without both of you in it” Arven tears up a little and I wipe them away.

I meant what I said if it's possible then I be really happy being with the two guys I've fallen in love with I feel like there is hope and I know Arven will do anything to make it happen he’s a strong young man with an amazing heart “should we head back now I'm sure there even more worried now” he laughs and I smile brightly at him “ok but can I have one more kiss before we leave” he smiles and then kisses me softly and lovingly we hold that kiss for a bit then brake “ok let's go” I giggle and get out and put back on my bikini and Arven takes my hand and locks he’s fingers with mine I look down “what if Jacq sees you doing this” Arven smiles at me and holds my hand tighter “its ok I let go when we leave the cave ok” I smile and nod we walk back out of the cave holding hand all the way when we get out he lets go and we walk back to the beach I spotted Zoroark and Midnight with tears in their eyes ow no I did it agen I left Zoroark on he’s own but before I could turn around Zoro spots me and runs over with Midnight and I get tackled to the ground as they cry “Mum you're ok...... why did you run off like that..yo......you..... you promised me that you wouldn’t leave me on my own agen I thought you were dead” he was really crying and holding me tight as so was Midnight I end up crying while sitting back up “I'm so sorry Zoro I didn’t mean to do that I swere, I'm such a terrible mother making her beloved children suffer like that” I held them so close to me as we all cried “you're not a bad mum you’re a good one you raised me into what I am today but every time you disappear I always fear the worst......SO CAN YOU STOP DISAPERING ON ME IV ALL READY LOST ONE MUM I DONT WHANT TO LOSE YOU TOO” I look at him and I put my hand up to both of their faces Zoroark and Midnight look at me.

“I'm going to start being a better trainer and mother to you both no more running away next time I stand my ground” I wipe there tears away and I then here more people its Kio and it looks like it’s a such party Kio sees me and calls out “JACQ WE FOUND HER” I get up and walk past them I see Jacq running to me and when he dose he holds me tight “Vee I was so scared, I looked everywhere and hearing you scream...... I thought I lost you for good” I hold him tight still a little upset “but why you don’t even love me anymore you was going to give me up” he pulls away for the hug and kisses me on the lips I'm surprised but tears well up in my eyes as I kiss him back I don’t get it why is he kissing me, he pulls way “Vee I never would of let you go, you mean so much to me why would I throw that away, I don’t know if I can make this anymore clear, but I love you, I want you, all of you for the rest of my life, no matter what” I smile and my heart starts to ake and I just fall to the floor crying and he kneels down with me “but I heard what you said, you said you wanted me to be happy, you know I'm also in love with Arven and not just you” I'm shaking and my tears just keep coming out I feel a hand on my shoulder and I look to my side to see Arven with me and then he turns to Jacq “lisson I've got a proposition for you so when you're ready to hear it let me know” I look shocked and then looked at Jacq he smiles at Arven and then nods “well give me a bit of time ok Arven and I hear it ok” he puts out he’s hand and Arven shakes on it.

Arven gets up and pats me on the head and walks off I'm still a little dumb founded and I look up at Jacq that’s looking at me with those same loving eyes “you really are a handful Vee I mean I don’t mind shearing you with Arven but please let me have a little bit more time of it just being us hahahaha I'm the one being greedy now but still it's amazing how big you heart really is and that's what I love about you” I just smile brightly so he’s going to do it he’s going to let me be with both him and Arven I throw myself towards Jacq and kiss him and he kisses me back.

After that whole mess was soughed out I felt even better than before of all people I was not expecting Jacq to make that deal but I'm happy that was the case I'm really looking forward to that day when I can finally be with them both but for now it's going to be just me and Jacq and we also have plans to visit Gala for two weeks now that the summer term has started and I will say it was the best two weeks I could of ever asked for I even showed Jacq a new side of me witch he kind of dinged heheheheeh.

#pokemon fanfiction #pokemon violet #pokemon arven #pokemon jacq #pokemon

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