#the fight ended in an unexpected manner | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

madschiavelique · 11 months

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𝐬𝐡𝐚𝐦𝐞𝐥𝐞𝐬𝐬 (𝐦𝐢𝐠𝐮𝐞𝐥 𝐨'𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐚 𝐱 𝐟𝐞𝐦!𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫)

summary : miguel didn't like very much the way you left him all horny for you in the toilets during the unexpected mission, so once the anomalies have all been maintained, he decides to teach you proper manners

content warnings : SMUT (18+) minors dni, lots of tension, soft!dom miguel, quick boob job, cunnilingus, "it's too big", pnv sex, miguel teaches reader magic words, so much kissing i swear, no use of Y/N, biting, mention of scars (from fights, miguel's) - let me know if i forgot any !! word count : 7,7k

note : i'm sorry i took SO LONG writing this baby, but here it is (and not yet proofread but i couldn't wait hehehe). the end is corny i AM SORRY but it was already long and this is to keep a pretty open. thank u all so much for ur support !! we passed the 400 subscribers today and i'm literally jumping to the ceiling of happiness. this is the last part of the 4shot, i hope you liked it <33 i was super inspired by Shameless by The Weeknd (one of my favourite songs hehehe). enough of me talking, love u guys !!

the previous parts : 1 - love bite 2 - late night training 3 - unexpected mission

tag list : @marit332 @coralineyouareinterribledanger @sunnyx07 @mamamiriamxo @l3laze @amy180801 @gojos-goth-gf @readingfan @cheezit-luv3rr @scaleniusrm @cowboyharrryy

Miguel hadn't followed you, so you decided to lure the creature back by calling out to it:

"You're really terrible at hide-and-seek, you know that?”

Suddenly, it turned towards you and charged at you as you leapt into the air to keep it at bay, at least long enough for Miguel to finish... what he had to do. The sound of his breathless voice replayed in your head, the heat in your cheeks rising. You propelled yourself silently up to a floor above, observing the behaviour of the dough.

The feel of his fangs on the skin of your neck, his tender kisses on your cheeks, the hard feel of his erection against your thigh as his claws pressed into the skin of it...

"Oh my god you're going to be the end of him!" exclaimed a small voice beside you.

The anomaly turned towards it at the same time as you: Lyla.

"Lyla?" you choked out, swivelling your head just in time to avoid the anomaly that had climbed extraordinarily nimbly to your floor.

"His pulse quickened, his body heat increased and his muscles contracted amazingly hard!" she chirped as you mimed shutting up or lowering her voice, but she wasn't listening and you started darting from floor to floor as she continued "You've got him completely wrapped around your finger! No pun intended."

"Please Lyla, keep it down!" you begged her, feeling like a huge red tomato as you blushed and above all hoping not to be chased away by this abomination.

"Oopsie," she smiled, placing a hand over her mouth.

The anomaly swung a ball of paste at you, and you narrowly avoided it as it crashed and exploded with power, splattering you as it went, a large drop smearing across your suit.

"I didn't know you had access to... all this," you muttered breathlessly as you ran down a corridor to get away from the unspeakable thing. "It doesn't matter... Yes, it does matter actually, how come?"

"Don't be angry, you've just given me what little fun I'm allowed to have," she said with a pout, "you know, programme life isn't always fun."

Out of breath, you let out a sigh that relaxed your shoulders with its depth. You shook your head for a moment.

"Well, we'll talk about it later, can you identify this for me?" you asked breathlessly, silently, as you spooned some of the substance and held it up to a small metal support on your watch, which lit up when you dropped a little on it.

"My pleasure, sugar," she said with a quick clap. "Hmm, that looks like a basic bread dough mixture to me. Flour, water, salt, yeast, not forgetting the anomaly gene, otherwise it wouldn't be any fun."

"It's true that I'm bursting with laughter," you say, putting both hands on your hips, still trying to catch your breath. You looked at her for a moment, biting the inside of your cheek, hesitating before asking, "Is Miguel... Done?"

"Yep, he's on his way," she said, giving you an amused wink, and you couldn't help but let a little laugh slip from your nose.

"Right," you said, clearing your throat so the anomaly could hear, "I'm going to lure this thing towards the exit!" You could hear the oily, slimy sounds coming in your direction, turning to Lyla one last time to ask: "Make sure you send Miguel my location, okay?" you said as you started to trot off.

"Already done!" she replied, blowing you a kiss which she pressed onto her hand before disappearing in a cloud of pixels.

You ran on, stammering aloud to keep the beast at your heels: " Come this way! You know, I think you'd really like rock, I've got two friends who play really well, I think you'd love to meet them!"

The pile rumbled behind you. You leapt into the air, grabbing the glass dome and hanging upside down, standing with your arms crossed over your chest.

"No, really, I think you'd like it. Oh well! You've got a head that could listen to metal, plus you've got exactly the right mouth shape to sing it, you know."

It was rumbling from the ground, right underneath you.

Then, just above you, you felt a tap on the thin glass roof, and when you looked up, you saw Miguel. It was a funny sight, the way you were standing made it look like you were reflecting yourselves in a mirror.

"Oh, hi there," you smiled behind your mask, taking on a slight intonation as if you hadn't been the cause of his delay. "Did everything go well?"

He let out a desperate sigh, the red glasses on his suit narrowing, before simply saying:

"Something unexpected came up, it was very... frustrating. But I'll wait."

I'll wait. The very word made you gulp.

"Observations?" he asked, jerking his chin in the direction of the anomaly just below you.

"It's dough, we'd just have to find something to bake it with," you suggested.

Outside there was a loud bang: the lorry Gwen and Hobie had been chasing had started to roll over, and the anomaly, just as alert as you and Miguel, leapt towards the first bay window to get out.

Gwen and Hobie seemed to have managed to deal with their anomaly, the truck was completely dented, sideways, and luckily for you, the oil from the truck was starting to spread on the ground. You got out, Miguel following to examine the situation. All it needed was a spark...

"I'll try to coat it with a bit of oil, find a lighter, a box of matches, whatever," he warned, before dashing off towards the pile of dough.

You looked around, and there, as luck would have it, was a convenience store. You leapt towards it. Managing to light a lighter with your costume on would be complicated, so you managed to find a box of matches, rushing towards the street again.

Miguel kept jumping up and down to coat the anomaly, and when he finally saw you coming, he shouted: "Light it up.

So you grabbed a match, struck it against the side of the box and threw it into the oil. You stepped aside and ran further to avoid taking any damage from the fire. It immediately licked at the anomaly, which let out horrible, high-pitched screams as the paste on its body cooked and smoked, turning golden and thinning little by little.

And so, you launched the multidimensional cell that had been given to you, and finally imprisoned the anomaly.

"I think 'the more the merrier' is a phrase I like less and less," said Gwen as you catalogued the anomalies.

"Are you kidding me? This was so much fun," said Peter. "It was like doing MMA!"

"Speak for yourself, we took care of the Magic Bus driver," Hobie huffed.

"I think Gordon Ramsey would be proud of our muffin," you agreed.

"You have to admit it smelled good," confirmed Pavitr.

Everything had gone well, Gwen had finished her exam period and you were all filling in your reports. Everything was going well, and everyone was pretty relaxed, except maybe you.

It was a pretty nasty trick you played on Miguel, leaving him like that, so close to the climax, and then leaving. And somewhere in there, you feared and waited impatiently for what was to come.

You couldn't help glancing at him from time to time. He seemed to be concentrating, but sometimes you could feel his gaze on you, insistent. You found him incredibly calm, and maybe it was just because he hid it well, but just to see him lose a little of that control, you managed to brush past him for a moment when no one was looking, your knuckles deliberately brushing his thigh before joining the others. Pretending to be interested in their conversation, you couldn't help but glance over at Miguel.

Death stare was probably the closest you could come to defining the look he was giving you at that moment, and a shiver of dread ran down your spine as you swallowed. He seemed to chew the inside of his cheek for a moment, trying to act as if nothing had happened.

You weren't going to get out of this alive, or entirely.

"Well, I don't know about you, but the lack of sleep knocked me out, so I'm going to bed, see you later!" said Gwen before leaving.

"Same here, see ya," said Hobie.

And successively, the only ones left were Peter, Miguel and you.

He waited patiently, with you beside him, until Peter had finished his report and, like all the others before him, had gone to sleep. The seconds seemed to stretch out painfully, every movement and possibility accentuated by the wait. Miguel seemed tense, and you had no idea whether Peter could feel it from his side too, but you could feel your skin tingling with anticipation.

Every moment, every second tickled your mind and body like tiny needles, Miguel's gaze resting insistently on yours.

"Well, that's not all, but I think we've all got better things to do than hang around making a report," Peter yawned. "Good night, sleep well."

Oh, it won't be sleep.

He then waved goodbye one last time, turning his back to you as he headed for the exit. Miguel turned to look at you, taking a deep breath as he tilted his head back to look at you from an even higher angle.

The footsteps echoed around the room, fading away little by little as Miguel's eyes turned red, yours watching them and stifling a gasp. He took a single step closer, no more, but it was enough to intimidate you and for you to take a step backwards.

It was when the door finally closed behind Peter that he grabbed you powerfully around the waist and pinned you down on one of the desks, causing you to squeal in surprise as you widened your eyes for a moment, blinking frantically. In less time than it took to say 'empanada' Miguel had you completely under control, immobilising you faster than poison and more powerfully than a pair of handcuffs.

His nose wrinkled slightly.

"Did you enjoy your little act?" he asked, his tone extraordinarily calm, which made him all the more menacing. "Leaving me like that without finishing what you'd started?"

Your heart was racing, and suddenly just meeting his gaze seemed too powerful to maintain eye contact, so you turned your head to the side. Was it simply because you were embarrassed by your own little prank, or was it just that the intensity of his eyes on yours was too much? But Miguel wasn't going to have it any other way, so with one of his hands he grabbed your jaw and redirected it so that you were facing him.

"It's very rude not to look into someone's eyes when they're talking to you, you know that," he whispered, moving a little closer. "We're going to have to correct that, and teach you polite forms of address."

And you couldn't argue with that, because right now it wasn't a choice you had to make.

"Speaking of politeness, I realise that you haven't used any magic words so far for our little encounters," he said, his thumb pressing and digging into the skin of your cheek.

He moved a little closer, tilting his head to one side as you felt his nose brush against yours, moving a little closer still to feel his lips brush against yours, the simple touch of them sending little electric currents of excitement through you...

But nothing, he just grazed his lips against yours, not moving any further, but not backing away either. Your breaths collided softly, his eyes still fixed on yours with insistence.

"What do you want me to do?" he asked, his voice composed and contained, as you tried to free yourself a little from the hold his hand had on your jaw, to no avail.

His lips, so close to yours and yet so far away, gave you electrifying sensations, but you wanted more. You wanted the two of you to kiss, for your lips to become one again, for you to be able to offer him the body's 'I love you'.

So you tried to move a little closer, meeting his lips to satisfy your desire, no, your need. But he pulled back slightly, causing you to sigh in disappointment. No, you'd have to tell him.

"Kiss me," you whispered, your voice small but audible, as if you were pouring your desire into his plump lips.

A smile, the stretch of his lips pulling them a little further away from yours.

"Where," the question sounding more like a command.

His thumb eased a little in its pressure and caressed the skin of your cheek for a moment before sliding across your chin, settling just below your bottom lip.

"There," you replied, your desperation for more contact growing stronger by the second as the only thought on your mind was his kisses.

You wanted to taste that rainy, woody flavour on his lips again, and feel them assault your body with kisses.

"Only there?" he questioned, provoking your cravings even more as your impatience was felt almost painfully.

It didn't seem fair, he seemed to possess incredible composure and cold-blood as your veins pulsed through your body like lava flowing from the volcano of your heart.

The little game Miguel was playing with you almost felt like a little revenge. Could you blame him? He wanted all this as much as you did, but he liked balance, he liked things to be even, and he was making you pay for the advance you'd dared to take from him.

His thumb pressed against your plump lip, his skin barely brushing against it, and it felt like a thread sticking out with no way of pulling on it.

"Yes- No!" you moaned, feeling like a child who was denied a sweet treat, unable to hide your longing for more as his touch confused you, "everywhere."

His lips were parted, as close as ever, his warm breath spilling over yours. His thumb had moved up the curve of your lips to press against the volume of her, his eyes fixed on it.

"I didn't hear that properly," he said, his eyes returning to yours.

Their carmine colour reflected your face: eyebrows slanted back, eyes almost watery, his thumb resting on your lips as he continued to caress it mathematically to elicit a reaction from you.

You tried to squirm away for a moment, but Miguel's hand on your waist held you in place with incredible ease.

He raised an eyebrow, obviously your attempt was in vain, he hadn't started hand-to-hand training the day before like you had, he'd been an ace at physical power and combat for much longer, so of course he could immobilise you in less than no time and much less delicately if the mood took him.

His lips brushed yours a little closer, and you could almost feel them completely. But this tiny glimpse of heaven wasn't granted to you, and you whimpered for a moment before finally just saying:

"Kiss me," you whined, "please."

His eyes crinkled with his smile.

"Mira que buena."

He finally kissed you, and it was like you had taken cotton candy in your mouth and as it melted you could feel all the little crystals of sugar that were hidden by the fluffiness of the sweet, a moan of relief vibrating from your lips against his lips.

Millions of tiny sparkles crackled under your skin, rising to the surface like champagne bubbles as Miguel cupped your face and kissed you. He took your lips as if you were holding the air that allowed him to breathe, his hand going round your side to slip under your back, pressing against your pelvis to bring it close to his.

He bit your lower lip lightly before pulling away, his half-closed eyes looking into yours again. His hand came to caress your cheekbone gently, with a tenderness that was almost unlike anything he had ever offered you before.

"Tell me more about these desires you mentioned.”

Your breath caught slightly, and you suddenly felt your face heat up fiercely, as if you were leaning over the hearth of a fireplace, its fire licking your face and your being from afar. You swallowed, formulating out loud your desires, all those thoughts you'd had about him even after your meeting at the Conditioning Centre and what had happened in the cabin, seemed difficult.

"Come on, don't be scared," he murmured before leaning over to kiss your forehead gently, offering you soft, sweet words to help you get the burning out of your soul.

All those thoughts you'd had, those warm nights during that week when you'd imagined the feel of his fingers, his lips, the sweet words that interested you as he searched inside you to expose you to him emotionally, all of them could be said, especially the one that was vibrating immensely inside you at the moment.

"I want... I want you to..."

You had the impression that the words you were about to say would be like throwing a tiny stone into still water, like stepping on ice and feeling it crack, like throwing alcohol into the fireplace that was warming you up.

The hand that was resting on your cheek ran down your neck, brushing your chest as it slid to your hip and slid all the way down to your thigh, stopping in its descent at that very spot, his hand gripping it.

"Hmm?" he asked, his humming vibrating against the skin of your cheek and tickling you.

You bit the inside of your lip, your teeth pressing into your flesh and trapping some of the wet skin against your bottom teeth. You released this clutch with a gasp as your voice dropped to a whisper when you whispered :

"I want you to fuck me."

His eyes crinkled as he smiled, an eyebrow raised, his proud grin stretching across his cheek as his lip parted wide enough to reveal his fangs. He came to kiss your cheek, his soft lips caressing it as his lashes offered you butterfly kisses.

His grip on your thigh softened, his thumb making circular movements against your covered skin as a warm cloud began to form in your lower belly.

"Say that again," he said, his breath landing on your neck as his thumb began to move slightly up your inner thigh.

You tilted your head back, closing your eyes as the simple sensation of his fingers on your body caressed you sublimely, a sigh of ease slipping from your lips. Miguel then took the opportunity to kiss the corner of your jaw, laying a trail of kisses that mixed sweetness and hunger, kissing and biting your skin. He lowered his lips a little further down your neck and kissed you lazily, the coolness of his lips meeting the fire burning at the back of your head. His lips reached a sensitive corner, causing you to let out a moan.

You moistened your lips, your cheeks burning as Miguel's fingers traced the sensitive skin of your thigh and his other hand rested on the small of your back, close to the cloud of heat.

And he expected you, with all these delicious distractions, to be able to string a sentence together properly and clearly. So you tried to speak louder, swallowing before saying:

"I want you to fuck me."

His lips came away from your neck, just brushing your ear before coming back to face you. The red of his eyes was deep, hungry, but above all attentive to your every move, which made him even more intimidating. His lips were so close to yours that you could feel them moving close to your skin as he spoke.

"There must be something with my hear because I can't hear properly what you said," he said, his tone a little less contained than he had managed to convey before, less composed, "say it louder."

His fingers continued their trajectory, very close to you, to where your desires came from, the knot in your lower abdomen tightening even though he never reached the spot. So this was the intense despair he'd felt earlier? The pain of his desire overcoming his thought and logic in the simple hope that he would be touched to turn the pain into sweetness?

You tried to move your hips a little, in the simple hope that he might go further, touch you, but he steadied you in an instant with his hand on your back, making you let out a little cry of longing.

You bit the inside of your cheek, your gaze meeting his for a moment, and you saw it in the reflection of his eyes: the breadth of your desire spreading through your whole body.

You breathed in, gathering your strength and thoughts to say, "I want you to-"

His hand went up your back to the nape of your neck and traced up and down your spine, your body undulating uncontrollably as you concluded with a strangled sigh:

"Fuck me, please."

His carmine eyes watched you through his long black lashes, a proud sneer stretching his lips, your request seemed to have pleased him greatly.

If you had something to ask him, you might as well ask him politely. He tilted his head to one side, the light illuminating his jaw over his massive shoulder, it was so sharp it could have cut glass. Did he have any idea of the hold he had over you?

"Muy bien, bien hecho, muñeca," he murmured before kissing you again, gently.

His kiss was demanding, hungry, eager for your lips to be captured by his. Your hands, until now too afraid to touch anything or attempt any gesture, were tempted by the need to touch him in turn. They came to rest on his face, cupping it as he devoured your mouth relentlessly, his kiss a mixture of thirst, craving and the occasional sensation of his canines scratching your skin.

His thumb had moved up to your groin, deliberately avoiding and brushing very close to the part you'd been dreaming of him touching. Both his hands were now on your hips, gripping them to draw them to his.

And the electrifying sensation of his erection meeting in a single touch the excitement of your cunt that had grown inside you caused you both to moan together.

Your hand snaked through his hair, his sighs of comfort rushing into the depths of your body, blowing on the already burning fire inside you making it blaze and shine. His pelvis had begun to undulate against yours, the friction he was exerting against your covered flesh, against your throbbing clit, sending sparks throughout your body.

"Coño," he let out between kisses, one of his hands gripping your hip a little tighter to pull you closer to him and hold you in place while the other moved up your body like ivy on a statue, pressing against the back of your neck so that you were even closer. He wanted to eliminate any space between you, and you wanted it just as much, arching your body to his touch.

The kiss went from gentle to passionate, from passionate to hungry, and from hungry to needing more. Your tongues exchanged a waltz, and the next moment Miguel was back at your neck as your hand rested on his hip.

You needed more closeness, more of everything, but less clothing. He pulled you in again, straightening you up so that you ended up sitting on the desk, both your mouths still dancing.

He placed both hands firmly under your thighs, ready to lift you up.

"Hang on," he whispered between two kisses.

Without missing a beat you wrapped your legs around his waist, wrapping your arms around the back of his neck as he lifted you with incredible ease, heading for a door at the back of the room: Miguel's quarters.

To avoid being bothered by anything during his precious, absent sleep, Miguel didn't belong to any of the dormitories, sleeping in secluded quarters. One of his hands came up to grip one of your buttocks, grasping it with his full hand and kneading it, a little hum of pleasure vibrating from your lips against his as you nibbled on it. You kissed his cheek, tracing his jaw with your wet skin.

As he depixelised his hand from his suit and placed it on the digital recognition pad, you gently kissed his neck, a rumble rising in his throat, a mixture of threat and plea for patience. But how could you still be patient? It was impossible, you were each other's tinder box and lighter.

As soon as the airlock opened, he came to kiss you dangerously, not tiring for a moment of the sensation of your lips caught between his. He walked quickly and eagerly, his erratic breathing colliding with your warm skin.

You rounded a corner, and the familiar sensation of a mattress under your back met you almost brutally. You were out of breath, lying back, looking at Miguel.

He stood there, looking down at you. His hair was dishevelled from the passage of your hands, his eyes shining like two rubies in the half-light, watching you hungrily. He towered over you, dominating you with his size and power. You shuddered, because at the moment he looked like a predator facing the prey he was about to devour.

He chuckled, moving closer as he put one knee on the mattress, one of his hands coming to rest beside your head, leaning gently over you, crawling up to spread your thighs as his face came level with yours.

And it was with the sensitivity that only lips possess that he whispered to you:

"You have no idea how long I've been waiting for this," his mouth hungrily came to reclaim yours, his other hand sliding up your waist to reach your hip and hold it in place as he consumed you.

You were in his grip, entranced, trapped in the web of desire he had woven in your mind, every thread of which you touched bringing the spider back to its prey.

His hand came up to your head and nestled under the nape of your neck, looking for the zip to take off your suit. You helped him, pressing a little harder against his lips in your kisses as you raised your head to help him pull it off.

He found it, and you could feel with what composure he was pulling it. You knew perfectly well that if it had only been up to him, your suit would have been ripped to shreds and it would have been impossible to reassemble it properly and put it back together in one piece. But he was holding back, with difficulty.

The sensation of all those little metal teeth coming loose against your back and letting your abundantly heated skin breathe sent tingles through each of your ribs and down your spine, your back arching all the more at the sensation. Maybe having absolutely nothing under your costume could be complicated in certain situations, but it had never been as practical or as pleasant as it was right now. And Miguel seemed to agree.

His hand came to pull at the fabric, exposing your shoulder, and feeling his fingers run over it made you shiver. He continued to pull gently, your chest meeting the cool air until your breasts were bare.

He broke away from your lips for a moment, watching your skin like a flame and its enchanted dance. And you were burning, your whole body aflame with his touch, his kisses, his eyes. You couldn't undress him on your side, his costume knew no beginning or end other than pixels, and you found that profoundly unfair.

Then, very gently, his hand came to hover over your skin. It barely grazed, not even touching it, passing over the roundness of your shoulder, following your collarbone up to your cheek. He placed his hand on it, and it was as if your body was a diamond, every facet of which was illuminated by the light from his hand.

"Tan linda," he whispered, nestling back into the crook of your neck, kissing the warm, tender skin there. His kisses trailed down to your collarbone, sucking on your skin from time to time to reveal violet and pink flowers.

You hummed with delight under his touch, your body lighting up and glowing a little more with every touch of his lips against your skin. They came to rest between the valley of your breasts, his red eyes meeting yours as, while one of his hands pulled a little harder on the part of your suit that was still in place, his own suit began to depixel as he straightened up to face you.

Lips parted, you watched his body reveal itself, his tanned torso sculpted like a god. But above all, you couldn't help letting your eyes wander along the countless scars that marked his body.

Various shapes were mixed in, cuts, burns, strange, sinuous lines, all marking the traces of past dangers. And he had survived them all.

Gently, your hand came to rest on his cheek, pressing against your touch and kissing your palm as you let your fingers move down his torso. You let your fingertips trace a scar, caressing it gently, Miguel's breath shuddering against your skin for a moment.

Your breath caught in your throat as his bare hand grazed the skin of one of your tits, his thumb gently tracing the bouncing skin. His lips moved down the ridge of your breasts, kissing the soft, tender skin of it.

He looked into your eyes as he stuck out his tongue and ran it over your nipple slowly, the warmth of his saliva and the roughness of his muscle sending all sorts of little stars into your body.

It was as if your flesh was bare soil, and with his hands he brought forth flowers of many colours and intoxicating scents that enchanted you, making you drunk with his touch and the colours he painted under your skin.

His tongue traced the separation between your skin and your nipple, his hand resting on the other, pressing it gently between his large fingers. Then he kissed it gently, sucking lightly as his teeth grazed the sensitive skin. And as the moans multiplied between your lips, he stopped, a smile stretching his lips as his hand dripped down your waist and clutched the rest of your costume.

As he pulled it off, in a slow motion, he kissed his way down your belly, letting buds of caress blossom on your body. Reaching below your navel, he exchanged a glance with you, seeking approval.

As a simple response, you raised your hips, and he gently pulled the rest of the costume down, his bare fingers brushing your buttocks and thighs as he pulled until you were covered by nothing but your panties.

One of his hands grabbed your thigh, the other settled on your waist, lazily tracing your skin until it reached your groin, stopping there, drawing indescribable patterns as the fire in your lower belly heated up.

He stayed there, eyes riveted on yours, his other hand moving slightly up your inner thighs but not reaching your core either. The tingles it sent through your being were delicious, but you were getting impatient. Your pussy was almost starting to ache from the lack of touch and contact.

"Lower..." you murmured, your desires taking possession of your body, your reason silenced.

He tilted his head to one side, and the same words you'd said to him earlier in the bathroom came back to you:

"Say that again."

A grunt of frustration rattled against your teeth. Your own cards had just been used against you in your own game, and you had no say in the matter. His fingers continued to draw as if nothing had happened, sometimes reaching for half a second a little lower than where they were staying. You needed more.

"Touch me lower," you said, looking into his red eyes, which raised an eyebrow as if to say 'aren't you forgetting something?', so you punctuated your sentence with a little "please."

He smiled, dark, his tongue passing over his canine and his lip as he ran his fingers between your skin and the elastic of your panties, pulling the latter so that only the air, his hands and his warm breath covered you.

His fingers returned to your now naked groin, and he gently traced your skin, finally coming to touch your cunt, a sigh of respite taking hold of your chest as he gently passed a single finger between your lips.

"Hmm?" he hummed, raising his fingers to the height of his head, observing the sticky substance that glued to his skin, "would you look at that." Evidence of your arousal was placed before your eyes, "Am I the reason you're so wet ?"

Your head tucked into your shoulders, your cheeks heating intensely as he smiled wider.

"Tengo suerte," he murmured as his finger returned to your entrance, coating itself in more of your wetness as his thumb settled on your clit, making slow, hypnotic circular movements that tightened the knot in your lower abdomen.

Your hands clutched the sheets as you drew in a shaky breath, but he reached down and guided one of them to his hair, which you grabbed without hesitation.

"Like it when I touch you there?" he asked, echoing the words you had said to him in the cabin.

"Mhm," you agreed, unable to formulate a coherent sentence, inhaling more air as he pushed in his first finger.

His hands were big, his fingers thick, and he manipulated them all to perfection. His finger was streching you out, undulating to awaken exceptional sensations in you.

"How does that feel?" he asked, his tone composed and almost teasing in the way he asked you things.

"Good," you assented as he inserted a second finger, causing you to gasp out a moan, your eyelids closing of their own accord.

His fingers worked you out, curving up to touch the spot that made you see stars.

"Keeps your eyes on me," he whispered as his head lowered against your cunt, his hot breath falling against your damp skin, "I want you to see me."

With difficulty you complied, and he brought his tongue against your pussy, a moan of pleasure rising from your throat. The sensation of his hot, wet tongue licking your clit made your whole body burn.

Your hand gripped his hair more firmly, needing something to anchor it so that you didn't succumb entirely to all your vices. Miguel groaned at this gesture, and the sensation of his vibrant voice on your sensitive skin almost made you come in an instant.

Your pelvis moved of its own accord, and Miguel immediately grabbed it to immobilise you, his fingers and tongue working together to make you moan even more.

The sight reminded you immensely of the bullet incident: his eyes reddened, his tongue and lips resting on you while your fingers were knotted in his hair.

You were beginning to feel as if you were flying away, but it was at that precise moment that Miguel stopped, pulling his fingers out and his mouth away. You whimpered, a whiney complaint filling your mouth as you laid your head back in disappointment on the pillow, Miguel moving up to your face.

"I just wanted to make sure you'd know what it feels like."

The torment was unbearable, and you bit your lips for fear that, on the instant, you might send an insult into his face.

"Oh," he said, raising an eyebrow, "did I make you mad?"

His tone seemed almost condescending, addressing you as if you were a child. He brought his face close to yours, his eyes falling on your lips.

"Want me to fuck you, querida?" he questioned, his lips brushing yours "want me to fill you up with my cock?"

You looked up at him through your eyelashes, simply nodding in response as his simple words managed to make your hair stand on end.

"Use your words," he said simply.

"Yes," you said, beginning to learn from his lessons, trying to find more strength in your voice, "fuck me, please."

He nodded, proud.

"Good," he said, bringing his two fingers, still covered with yourself, close to your lips, "open up."

Timidly, you parted your lips.

"Wider," he ordered in a calm voice.

You obeyed, and soon felt his moist fingers on your tongue. You licked them, his eyes watching with great interest. They were thick and having them both in your mouth wasn't easy, but by relaxing your jaw you eventually managed to suck them off properly, your eyes returning to his, feverish with desire.

Without further ado, he removed his fingers from your mouth and came to kiss your lips, hungry. The entre-met you had offered him wasn't enough, and he was fasting from it to be able to taste all the other parts of you that were still untouched by his lips.

His naked erection pressed against your cunt, and your hips undulated against the sensation as you let out an excited moan against his lips, your walls closing in on nothing.

You wrapped your arms around his neck as he splayed his hand across your lower back, undoing the kiss to press his forehead against yours. He adjusted his cock in front of your entrance, coating himself in your juices, and just by that gesture and the memory of your hands, you knew it would be too much.

"Miguel it's," you breathed softly against him, "it's too big. I'll never-" but he cut you off.

"I'm sure you can take it, muñeca," he murmured softly, kissing your cheek.

He returned to kiss your lips, then asked before doing anything else:

"Ready?"

You inhaled softly, your eyes plunging into the red of his, before murmuring against his lips:

"Ready."

He nodded, coming to kiss you chastely before lining up his cock and thrusting in. A moan slipped from your lips, he was big, way too big.

"Shh," he soothed, kissing your temple, "you're tense cariño, breathe through your nose."

So you followed his instructions, trying to relax as much as possible as your nails on his back began to dig into his flesh. Your breath was coming in shaky gasps, your teeth sinking into your lip as Miguel whispered:

"You're doing so well," his hands gently caressing your arched back and thigh.

His voice relaxed you, your breathing a little more settled as he thrust deeper, stretching you out. He kissed your forehead tenderly, brushing the tiny tear from the corner of your eye with his lips.

"Just like that," he groaned, finally managing to fill you completely, "look at you taking me so well.

He kissed your lips gently, caressing the skin of your side. He kissed your cheek, then the side of your neck, sucking in one more mark.

Full, that's how you felt. He stretched you out fully, filling every inch of your being, meeting the warm cloud as he kissed you to contrast the sensation. And soon enough, you relaxed a little more.

"Are you ready for me to move?" he murmured, his thumb resting on your cheek.

As a simple response, breathing softly, you moved your hips on him. He smiled, kissing your lips softly as he pulled back slightly to push into you again, a shaky breath mingling with a moan that he swallowed from your lips.

His tongue came to meet yours, curling around it, sucking it between his lips tenderly as he took a slow rhythm to get you used to him.

He sprinkled kisses across your face, sloppy ones running over your warm naked skin, inevitably coming back to your neck, nibbling lightly. He traced your collarbone with his lips, running along it until he reached your shoulder, where the rounded skin was bitten and a moan was torn from your lips.

His hand came to take your arm, kissing the skin gently as he raised it, straightening slightly to manipulate and kiss it better.

His lips came to linger on the inner skin of your arms, depositing his lips gently as he traced that softened area, his pelvis taking on a slightly faster rhythm.

After the little treatment he'd given you, you weren't going to last long, so you let yourself be carried and touched by his adoring lips.

His tongue traced the skin on the inside of your wrist, his teeth grazing the separation between your hand and it. He came to kiss your palm, then delicately placed his lips on each of your knuckles before pressing it against his cheek.

Your thumb caressed it, and he surrendered to your touch. He then guided it to the side of your head, his fingers nestling in the crack of yours until your hands were intertwined.

"Qué guapa," he breathed.

His rhythm quickened, and you could feel the knot in your belly gradually tightening as Miguel's thrusting in and out of you became sublime, and the sounds you were making multiplied as he hit all the right spots.

Your fingers tightened on Miguel's hand as your other reached down his back to grip his arm, squeezing hard as you felt you were going to come.

"Miguel," you sobbed as he returned to kiss your lips, "I'm close."

It was a miracle you managed to get those few words right. The hand that wasn't intertwined with yours came to cup your face before moving down your body to grab your hip, a deep sigh escaping from his throat.

And you felt his canine gently bite your lip as the knot burst in your lower belly and a moan echoed in your throat. It was like a bolt of lightning striking against metal, spreading out in a powerful electric shock in your entire body as the pleasure beat like a second heart. Miguel's voice growled against your skin as you closed around him spasmodically, your nails clawing at his arm.

You twitched, Miguel kissing your forehead, your eyelids, your nose, your lips. You were slowly coming down from your clouds, the sensations you had gradually fading.

"Tan buena..." he whispered, close to your lips, "but I'm not done with you yet.”

His fingers loosened from yours as he grabbed your arms with both hands to pull you against him and straighten you up. He was sitting, still inside you, making you sit on top of him, facing him.

One of his hands grabbed one of your buttocks, guiding you to move back and forth on him, while his other was on your back, caressing it.

He came to attack your lips again, the sound of your two bodies meeting clapping in the air as you felt completely disorientated by the pleasure. The speed with which he entered you was exceptional, and the sensations he triggered were even more so.

His lips moved over the back of your neck, then settled on your shoulder, his breathing becoming more and more jerky.

You tilted your head back, your voice interspersed with the feeling of him pounding you, the heat in your belly not entirely gone and tightening again.

Then the hand that had been resting on your back slipped between your two bodies and caressed your clit, your breath catching as you felt the cloud spread once more to the small of your back.

Miguel's voice grew less hushed as his rhythm quickened, his fingers working your clit with speed as you felt the climax building up again.

And all at once, you felt his fangs penetrate your beloved as he gave a powerful thrust, and you both came. The earth stopped spinning as you felt like you'd been sent miles above the clouds, both your bodies warm against each other, both of you breathless.

Everything seemed soft, floating, an inner peace had taken hold of both of you as you came down from this peak of pleasure.

He held you against him gently, running his tongue over the two slits he'd made in your skin. He pulled out of you, placing you so gently and carefully on the mattress that it was as if he had a spider's web in his hands.

You snuggled up to him, and he pulled the blanket over you as he kissed you again.

You felt safe here, cuddled in his huge arms that wrapped around you, his hands caressing your body with pure adoration and softness.

You kissed his chest, on one of his scars, and he breathed a profound sigh.

"How did you know?" he whispered.

The end of his question never came, but it was simple: how did you know I wanted to be kissed here? Probably no one had ever touched him this way, here, like that.

"There's nothing like tenderness to soothe the scars." you smiled.

He breathed out, his eyes had returned to their natural brown. He pressed you a little closer to him, his eyes locked in yours. Blue words are the ones you say with your eyes, when your lips are too tired.

"Maybe we'll have to find a name for this pseudo-friendship?" he smiled, the little chat you'd had on the first mission coming back to you as you smiled and kissed him sweetly.

"Why when we already have two letters?" you replied, placing your hand on his cheek, kissing your palm as his hand caressed your waist.

"Two letters?" he asked, curious.

"Yeah," you confirmed, your voice becoming a whisper, "us."

He gave you a candid, sincere smile before kissing your lips softly.

"Yes," he nodded, "we could make a great us, muñeca."

Us, two letters, a whole world.

#madschiavelique ⟢ ݁ ˖‧˚₊ ☁︎#miguel o’hara x reader #miguel o'hara smut #miguel o'hara #miguel o'hara x you #miguel ohara x reader #miguel o'hara x fem!reader #spiderman 2099 x reader #miguel x reader #astv x reader #miguel ohara #miguel x you #miguel spiderverse #miguel o'hara x y/n #miguel x y/n #miguel spiderman #miguel astv #smut #Spotify

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igbylicious · 5 months

Text

whichever way [woosan x reader] pt 2

pairing: woosan x f reader

rating: 18+

genre: smut, fluff-ish, neighbours au, friends with benefits

ch. summary: You follow through with Wooyoung’s suggestion, but it looks like things aren’t ending there.

wc: 7.4k

ch. warnings: hard dom San, bratty sub Wooyoung, voyeur reader, consensual voyeurism/exhibitionism, kink negotiation, m x m, anal sex, rough sex, spanking, masturbation, dirty talk, blowjob, handjob, dumbification & degradation (@ Wooyoung), a hint of dacryphilia, praise kink (@ reader), safeword colour check (it’s green), aftercare

a/n: features a soft-bodied, aromantic reader who uses she/her pronouns

(also the first 2k of this chapter is basically kink negotation i got carried away i’m so sorry lol)

masterlist. 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11, 12, 13, 14

“Hey. Sorry, it’s just me today,” San says, opening the door to let you inside. “Wooyoung got called into an extra shift at work.”

It’s just a mere few days after the memorable incident that capsized your entire relationship with your friendly neighbour Choi San, and here you are again, walking into his apartment.

He is still your friendly neighbour Choi San, of course, but now he is also the Choi San that you accidentally walked into while he was fucking his boyfriend — and he will soon become the Choi San who fucks his boyfriend in front of you with full consent from all parties involved.

And right now? Right now he is the Choi San who invited you over for a friendly chat about establishing ground rules.

This is totally fine. You are totally fine.

Somehow, some absurd chain of events has led you to this point, and you can’t quite work out how it happened. You are inclined to blame Byeol for it all, though you’re not sure yet how. It’s her fault for needing to eat, or something like that. If she could just go a week without food, you never would’ve been in San’s apartment that day.

Yeah. This is all on Byeol. Rock-solid logic right there.

“No Wooyoung? Oh, no sure, that’s fine,” you tell San, like it does not take a godlike amount of strength to meet his eyes directly. Like your brain doesn’t conjure up the memory of him sucking and biting at Wooyoung’s neck every time you see him. “Or should we do this some other time, when he can be here, too?”

While you are struggling to keep a tight hold on your one last thread of self-composure, San seems remarkably well-adjusted, especially considering how flustered he had been that day. Now that the initial shock has passed, his mannerisms are relaxed and easy — but you?

Your unexpected surge of Wooyoung-induced boldness had run out of juice approximately two seconds after leaving San’s apartment, and you’d only grown more antsy since then. Your days were spent second-guessing the whole thing and fighting back the urge to look up new apartment listings.

(You can’t decide if San’s ability to stay calm and composed is ridiculously unfair, or if it is for the best. At least one of you has their shit together.)

San looks casual and homey today, dark hair still wet from a shower. He’s wearing comfy socks with grey sweats and a simple black shirt that should, in theory, be oversized; but the fabric clings onto San’s broad chest in a way that is very distracting, his collarbones exposed by the wide neckline.

(That shirt is definitely unfair. Does San have no compassion for your poor nerves??)

“Wooyoung gave me the okay to go ahead without him,” San says, gesturing an invitation for you to step into the living room. “I know what he wants out of this, what his limits are. Is that alright with you?”

You hesitate for a moment — but honestly? If you already struggle this much to keep yourself from bolting out the door with just San in the room, you can’t trust how well you’ll cope with Wooyoung here too. It might take a few extra days to gather the mental strength required so you can face the memories that he conjures in your head. Like when his— (NOPE. Stop! Stop that right now, brain!! Cease and desist!)

“Yeah, if Wooyoung’s okay with it, then I’m okay with,” you say, smiling back at San. Nailed it; you are being so normal about this. “Let’s talk.”

And so you do.

San sits you down on the couch where he joins you, a literal arm’s length away to give you some personal space. He also hands you a mug with a hot drink — your favourite, and you feel a flattered burst of happiness that he remembered from some random smalltalk ages ago.

You weren’t sure what to expect out of this conversation — or actually, you had not expected a conversation at all.

It seemed simpler to just…dive in, as it were. They fuck, you watch; high fives all around afterwards. Probably the most awkward fives that were ever highed but still; pretty straightforward, right?

But San insisted on laying out some ground rules beforehand, and as the conversation unfolds, you understand why.

It’s not that San overwhelms you with a multi-page kink inventory (“Maybe for some other time,” he jokes), nor does he take all the spontaneity out of it with a five-step business plan, laying out what will happen to the smallest details. He just…answers some of your questions, asks some questions of you, forcing you to actually solidify your thoughts about what your boundaries are — even as ‘just’ a spectator.

No, you don’t mind if they get a bit rough. What does ‘a bit rough’ look like to you? Oh, that’s a good question, actually. No, no you’re down for that. Umm, oh that’s quite… Yeah, of course they can talk to you during the scene; you’d feel weirder if they ignore you completely.

You’re no longer surprised that San is so calm today; he is obviously in his element, experienced in this type of kink negotiation. He does let out the occasional self-conscious chuckle — but that only makes him more endearing, his warm nature blanketing the strange formality of hashing out these limits.

Somehow, he strikes a sweet spot between keeping the dialogue casual enough that you don’t feel pressured, but thoughtful enough that you know he is taking you, and this whole thing altogether, seriously.

It helps to put you at ease; San knows what he’s doing, makes you feel like you are in safe hands. He explains how exactly he and Wooyoung use the traffic light system for safe-words, and he is quick to take anything off the table that you waver on, never pressing your boundaries.

Gradually, you find an inner calm in the reminder that you want this to happen, while San’s lack of judgement is a soothing assurance that it’s okay to want this to happen. Every person involved has given their enthusiastic consent — you may have stumbled into San and Wooyoung the first time, but this is different.

This time, you are making the conscious decision to step through the door, knowing what will be on the other side; and you can turn around any time you want to. You just don’t want to.

“Hey, thank you by the way,” San says at one point, “for being so open about this. Makes it a lot easier for me.”

“It does?”

He nods, his eyes curving. “Less stressful when I know what everyone’s expectations are. I don’t mind improvising, but it’s comfortable to have a baseline to work off, you know.”

Huh. You hadn’t thought about it from San’s perspective, but yeah, that makes sense. You tell him this, and thank him for making it easy on you, too. San’s eyes shine as he lets out a small, breathy laugh, like he is the one endeared by you right now.

“What about touching? Did we cover that yet? Maybe it goes without saying, but just to say it anyway,” he continues smoothly. “Off the table, right? Keeps things simpler. We don’t touch you, you don’t touch us. …We’re alright with you touching yourself, though, if you want to.”

San adds the last part so casually that it takes a beat for the suggestion to sink in — but then your breath catches at the thought, your bottom lip sucked between your teeth. For weeks you had held back from touching yourself to their muffled noises, and now they themselves are giving you permission to do so right in front of them? Oof.

“Oh? You hadn’t thought that far ahead, hm?” San says when he notes your dazed reaction, and the curve of his smile goes just slightly cocky. “Give it some thought, I’ll trust you to make up your mind on your own.”

“I think I already have,” you blurt out, resisting the unbidden urge to rub your thighs together.

San leans back, his grin showing a flash of teeth. “Good, I like that,” he says, and the simple confidence of his words does something to you. Something that makes you feel more than a little bummed that you’ll only be there as a spectator — but hey, at least that means you don’t have to bring up your IUD and clean bill of sexual health. “One last thing,” San goes on, “then I think we can wrap this up.”

You give him a curious look, encouraging him to continue.

“Wooyoung can get…mouthy,” San says, cautiously.

…

“No way,” you deadpan. “You’re joking.”

San gives you an exasperated look, one that you’ve caught him giving Wooyoung from time to time, but moves past your comment. “He likes to rile me up, likes it when I’m rough with him.”

This isn’t exactly news to you; where is San going with this? “So, uh, kind of like what was going on when I walked into you guys?”

It’s the first time that you’ve acknowledged what happened, and you can’t tell if saying the words out loud makes you die a little on the inside, or if it sets the most cringe-ridden part of you free. There is something strangely liberating about just speaking frankly; perhaps that is the secret behind Wooyoung’s bold audacity. Shame loses some of its power when you own up to things.

San does fluster a bit; apparently his miraculous recovery from the embarrassment of that day is not as complete as it seems, his endless composure not so endless after all. “Y-yea, no— It’s not…not always that mild,” he says, “the way I talk to him, that is.”

Mild?

You have vivid memories of how San had mocked Wooyoung for cumming untouched, the look on his face, the taunt in his voice. A stark contrast with the soft-hearted man sitting next to you now. So that was mild for them?

…Huh. Interesting.

San manages to recompose himself, while you mull over this new piece of information.

You feel curiosity, but also an instant discomfort that you can’t quite explain. The discomfort causes an immediate reflex to push it all down and ignore it, to pretend that you are fine with anything that San and Wooyoung want to do.

But San sees the hesitation in your face, and you know that you cannot hide your gut feelings from him. He will not let you. You try to relax, and remember that San has literally just thanked you for being open with him; this needs to be an honest conversation. Not only for your comfort, but for San’s.

“It’s not a judgement thing,” you immediately rush to reassure him. The last thing you want to do is imply that you’re kink-shaming him or Wooyoung. People like what they like, it’s got nothing to do with you. (Except this time it does have something to do with you, since you will be right there.) “I’m fine with anything like what I already heard, but hard name-calling or something like that… I’m not sure. It’s just—”

It’s just that San and Wooyoung have built a foundation, able to lean on their experiences and mutual trust when the harsher words come into play. They know that every degrading insult has the purpose to make the other feel good, even if it may seem counter-intuitive on a surface level. You are an outsider looking in — and you struggle to predict how you’ll respond to anything less ‘mild’; whether it will be just as exciting to you as it is to them, or only upsetting.

(Rationally you also know perfectly well that San would never say anything that Wooyoung isn’t on board with; but the connection between rationality and arousal is shaky at best.)

“No need to explain yourself,” San says, waving your concern away with his hand, “it’s all good. I’ll make sure it doesn’t go too far. There’s more than one way to deal with Wooyoung.” He adds a wink at the end, a cocky undertone in his words, but there’s still a hint of shyness burning at his ears. The dichotomy of it all is ridiculously endearing.

San walks you out the door, where he stops you for just a moment. “Sorry again for forgetting to text you,” he says. His smile is apologetic, but the sharp edge of embarrassment seems to have worn off of him too, the words calm. “I’m happy we’re doing this, Woo and I had been trying to think of a way to bring it up with you, I just— It would’ve been nice if we’d figured something out before…you know.”

You pat his arm, reassuring him that it’s all good between you. The catalyst to this turn of events had shaken you, but now? Now you feel steady in walking forward. Still a bit nervous, but (mostly) good nerves. Steady.

(Maybe you ought to buy Byeol some extra treats.)

“What would that conversation have even looked like?” you ask with a small chuckle. “‘Hey, want to watch us fuck?’ I mean, yeah, but that’s still pretty wild to ask your neighbour out of the blue.”

“And there we were, so worried about scaring you off,” San says, laughing.

“Well,” you say, puffing up your chest, “as you can see, I don’t scare easy.”

It’s just a line to poke fun at yourself and the whole situation, but San gives you another of his easy, confident grins, adorned by dimples. “No, you don’t. I like that too.”

You had worried that your discussion with San would take the excitement out of things, but those worries are unfounded. With the worst of your stress out of the way, anticipation has a chance to build up — and in a way, it’s kind of refreshing to have some idea of what to expect out of this, even if you won’t participate directly. No fumbling around blind to figure out what works for everyone, where the limits are. Just clarity.

Besides, it’s not like you have a play-by-play of what will happen. The only thing you know for sure is that you’re in for a memorable night.

Wooyoung confirms the latter as soon as he opens the door to greet you with a sly grin, biting his bottom lip.

“It’s good to see you again,” he says playfully, completely unbothered that he was buck naked the last time you saw him. Now he is wearing tight leather pants with a simple short-sleeved black shirt that shows off his arms — and again with the wide neckline! What is it with these damn men and their stupidly attractive collarbones!

Wooyoung notices how you check him out and preens immediately. He pushes his hair back with a suggestive wink, striking a little pose. “It’s a sexy look, right? Right?”

“Woo, don’t tease her,” San calls out from inside the apartment.

There is something about San’s voice that has you on alert, an edge of authority that you never heard from him before; but Wooyoung appears immune to it.

“I wasn’t teasing!” he calls back, rolling his eyes while he gestures you to come in. You note how his gaze lingers on the short skirt you’re wearing, but also that he does not touch you on the way to the bedroom; is he already taking the ground rules into account? You feel that slight pang of disappointment again; Wooyoung’s ass just looks so pinchable in those pants.

The lights are dimmed in the bedroom, and you step through the door with a mix of excitement and nerves — but they still are good nerves, only enhancing the excitement. San is already inside, waiting for you and Wooyoung.

This moment marks the first time you’ve ever seen Choi San shirtless.

You suck in a sharp breath, unable to help yourself.

You should not have been surprised; you’ve seen his arms on hot summer days where he hangs out in a sleeveless shirt, you know how wide those shoulders are just from seeing him in his regular clothes. And with the knowledge that San is one, a martial arts instructor and two, a certified gymrat to top it off; no, you should not have been surprised.

Not by the shadowed definition of his abs, not by the smooth expanse of his chest, tapered down to a slim hips where a faint treasure trail disappears into the waistband of his baggy, faded jeans. Add the tension in his jaw, his sharp narrowed eyes, the imposing posture; and San has undergone a total transformation, unrecognisable from the gentle guy next door.

You have always thought of the two men as gorgeous, but fuck. Whatever the you of a previous life has done to earn you this today, you send her a silent thanks.

San is unfazed by your moment of stunned admiration, simply showing you the comfy chair he’s readied for you. You sit down meekly; you may not be involved in the scene directly, but his dominant air still wraps around you. Usually you would describe San’s appearance as masculine handsomeness balanced with a perfect dose of cuteness, but now there is an edge of roughness to him, even by just standing there.

Wooyoung looks from you to San, raising an eyebrow at his boyfriend.

“What are you doing, showing off like that?” he says; bold words for a man who just posed to show off his (admittedly fantastic) ass in those leather pants. “You really want to impress her, trying to look tough, huh? Just do what you always do, geesh, that’s already fucking hot enough.”

The compliment slips past almost unnoticed, but Wooyoung turns to you before San has a chance to react. “Did you know,” he goes on, with the grin of a born troublemaker, “Sannie seriously did push-ups before you got in here. I think he’s nervous, isn’t that cute?”

His grin widens when you crack into a smile, so caught off guard by Wooyoung’s reveal that you have to muffle a laugh. It is cute.

San’s face goes dark while he watches Wooyoung mouth off. Your sweet neighbour would be flustered by the callout, but San isn’t your sweet neighbour right now. He has slipped into a different mode, and won’t be knocked out of it by Wooyoung’s antics.

Instead he takes two long strides across the room and without warning, grabs Wooyoung’s chin, tilting it up. “I think it’s time you shut your mouth and use it for better things,” San says, his voice rough.

Wooyoung softly gasps a surprised ‘ahh’, his body instantly reacting to San’s forceful touch. San’s eyes flash at the way Wooyoung’s back arches, a sharpened half-smile on his lips.

(“He likes to rile me up,” San had told you — but clearly San likes to be riled up, too.)

San pulls Wooyoung forward, mouths clashing in an aggressive kiss. Immediately he palms the crotch of Wooyoung’s leather pants, kneading at the growing bulge. Wooyoung groans, his teeth digging into San’s bottom lip while his hands cling onto broad, bare shoulders to keep his knees from buckling.

You rub your thighs together at the sight, a familiar pressure building in your lower abdomen. Your breaths go shallow, eyes unsure of where to focus.

Down to the smooth roll of Wooyoung’s hips as he humps into San’s hand, up to the way their jaws shift as the kiss gets messier; giving you more and more sloppy peeks at their tongues sliding together with wet, eager moans. San’s grip on Wooyoung’s chin is still unrelenting, manoeuvring the shorter man in whichever way pleases him.

A slow hand travels down your thigh, knees parting by instinct as your fingers slide in between. You’d wisely foregone on underwear, and you can feel the easier slide through just one layer of fabric, a growing damp spot where you rub the skirt against your clit. Your inhibitions are lowering rapidly, a soft whine joining Wooyoung’s loud one when his hips begin to stutter — and San immediately pulls away.

“F-fuck,” Wooyoung hisses, chasing after San’s hand. “C’mon, just let me—”

“And let the show end so quickly?” San asks, finally releasing Wooyoung’s chin to give him a condescending pat on the cheek. “That’s real greedy of you, Woo.”

Wooyoung scoffs. “You know I can go for more than one round, you’re just being a— f-fuck, San—!”

With a sharp smack, the flat of San’s hand strikes against Wooyoung’s ass. Just from the sound, you think even San’s palm must hurt from the impact against leather. Wooyoung jolts forward, mouth fallen open as he pants for hard breaths. He lets out another moan when San tangles his hand in those fire red locks of hair, forcing Wooyoung’s head at an angle.

“You think you deserve to cum more than once, after mouthing off like you just did?” San says, his voice cool, an almost detached expression on his face. “You’re lucky I don’t call the whole thing off right here.” His free hand undoes the button of his jeans, the sound of his zipper loud in the quiet bedroom. He is not wearing anything underneath. “Here, prove that you’ve earned one at all, or do you want to disappoint our guest? On your knees. Now.”

For a moment Wooyoung looks ready to balk — but then his eyes dart to you and he visibly swallows down a retort, obediently getting down.

Obedient, for you.

Your fingers press down a little harder into your cunt, aching at Wooyoung’s compliance, all to please you. The barrier of fabric becomes increasingly frustrating, its damp spot growing outright soggy as you whine a soft moan.

Wooyoung’s eyes immediately snap back to you, glittering as he watches the swirl of your fingers, the tensing of your thighs, partially covered by the skirt that is slowly riding up. He licks his lips, eyes hungry.

San chuckles at Wooyoung’s meeker demeanour. “So eager to have her watch you suck my cock, hmm? Would’ve done this much sooner if I’d known how quick you’d be down on your knees.” He runs his hand through Wooyoung’s red hair, forcing him back to the task at hand.

Wooyoung stares up with a glower, wrapping his hand around the thick, half-hard cock. He parts his lips and leans in — for a small, rebellious bite on San’s hip.

San hisses, his grip on Wooyoung’s hair tightening. “Play nice,” he warns in a low growl. “I can still change my mind about all this.”

Silently, Wooyoung simply laps his tongue at the bite; to soothe the mark, but also to take pride in it. A last act of defiance before his mouth closes around San’s cock with a soft wet sound, and he hollows his cheeks as he sinks down.

You’re spellbound, watching how Wooyoung noisily sucks and bobs his head. Moaning decadently, heavy-lidded eyes transfixed on San’s face. San takes shallow breaths, staring right back at Wooyoung and the glossy shine of spit that spreads over his hardening cock with every pass of Wooyoung’s mouth. You swallow thickly when Wooyoung’s cheek bulges, his fingernails lightly scratching the exposed skin of San’s thigh. It must be sensitive; San bites his lip, his hand balling into a fist in Wooyoung’s hair.

“Little faster, Woo. Work for it,” he says, his voice slightly hoarse. “You think I’ll take it easy on you just because we have company?”

Wooyoung lets out a whiny noise but eagerly follows the lead of San’s hand guiding him, now working his cock in earnest as his speed picks up. Drools escapes the corner of his mouth, more dribbling down with every muffled wet moan.

Desperate for friction, Wooyoung’s hips roll forward uselessly — but San stands still as a rock in contrast, content to make Wooyoung’s swollen lips slide up and down his thick length. He’d look utterly unaffected if not for the rise and fall of his chest with hard breaths, his jaw clenched as he watches Wooyoung go deeper with every pass.

Your last shreds of inhibition crumbles away, the sharp pulse in your cunt harder and harder to ignore. You are burning, and your boldness grows in direct proportion to your desperation for relief. A hand slips underneath your skirt, and you sigh at the direct contact, greeted by a slick mess.

San’s eyes flicker to you at the sound, his eyes piercing into the point where your wrist disappears underneath your clothes. You aren’t sure how much he can see, your skirt hiked up but still providing some cover — but you are sure he can hear the faint squelch of arousal as you fall into a rhythm, fingers sliding across your clit in familiar, toe-curling patterns.

You can’t even feel shy anymore at San’s enthralled stare, so deep in the chase for pleasure that his attention only spurs you on. Soft gasps for breath, your lips parting to give free passage to a shameless moan.

“Fuck,” San curses softly, and pulls Wooyoung’s mouth off of him.

Wooyoung is dazed, his eyes a little glassy, and he is reluctant to part his lips from San’s cock. He looks up in hazy confusion, lifting a hand to wipe his smeared face clean.

“Leave that,” San snaps, lightly smacking Wooyoung’s hand away. “Clothes off. On the bed.”

Wooyoung is too far out of it to even consider disobeying, his movements rushed and clumsy as he strips down. San is more controlled as he shucks off his jeans, then grabs for a bottle of lube from his nightstand. He watches approvingly how Wooyoung get on all fours, squeezing the base of his cock to take the edge off before he joins his boyfriend on the bed.

“Here,” he says, grabbing onto Wooyoung’s hips to manhandle him into a position where you get almost a full profile view, then roughly turns Wooyoung’s head towards you. “Let her take a good look at that face, what a pretty mess you made of yourself.”

Wooyoung is a pretty mess; eyes unfocused and mouth hanging open, lips and chin glistening with saliva and precum, his red hair unruly but pushed back to expose his forehead and the small studs of his eyebrow piercing. He is breathing shakily, bent down on his forearms; his back arches prettily, pushing his ass up into the air, and he rocks back in anticipation of having San’s hands on him.

But Wooyoung’s eyes slowly come back into focus when they fall on you, mesmerised by the same view that captivated San only a moment before. He hisses when you bite back a moan, deliberately shifting your thighs to make the skirt ride up higher. “Talk about pretty messes,” he groans. “Fuck.”

You whine, the praise blooming hotly in your abdomen. It’s hard not to squirm under Wooyoung’s heated gaze; so you don’t bother to try and stop yourself, hips rocking forward to meet your fingers as one trails down to press inside you, just a shallow dip, teasing yourself — and Wooyoung.

He groans unabashedly and burrows his face in the sheets, like the sight is too much for him to handle, his back arching deeper.

“That’s it,” San says in a silk-smooth voice, running his hand across Wooyoung’s spine, before drawing back to squeeze at his ass. “You’re enjoying yourself like this, aren’t you? Putting yourself on display like—” San bites something back, shaking his head. (You realise that you wish he hadn’t held back.) “How is it, Woo? Is it just as good as you thought it’d be, hm?”

“Better,” Wooyoung rasps, a crack in his voice. “It’s better, f-fuck, San…”

San chuckles, coating two fingers with a generous amount of lube. “See? That’s what happens when you behave. Never say I don’t reward obedience.”

You can’t quite see from this angle, but you still know exactly when San pushes inside Wooyoung. He shudders at the intrusion with a pleased moan, turning his head to glance back at San. He grins, just a little cheeky, when San’s eyes widen in surprise.

“Did you—?” San blinks, but then his eyes curve into a pleased smile. “You already prepped for this, babe? So considerate,” he purrs, squeezing Wooyoung’s ass in approval. He goes for another finger, just a few passes, but quickly pulls back to slick up his cock instead. “I could get used to this, you’re spoiling me today.”

“It wasn’t for you,” Wooyoung retorts. “Don’t get carried awa-aah—!”

The words are knocked out of him when San lines up and buries himself in Wooyoung’s tight hole in one smooth thrust.

“What was that? Didn’t quite catch that, Woo,” San says, panting slightly. He palms Wooyoung’s ass, then strikes with just enough force to have Wooyoung garble a choked moan. “I’d almost think you were mouthing off again, but that can’t be right, can it?”

“You’ll know when I’m—fuck, nghh!”

San quickly sets a hard pace, and your eyes go wide at the aggressive snap of his hips, brutal and hypnotising. You stop teasing yourself, two fingers picking up speed to match him, the heel of your hand rubbing against your clit. It’s not enough, not nearly enough compared to what you see, and you groan in frustration, pushing yourself to stretch around a third finger, arousal smeared on your thighs and dripping onto the chair.

Wooyoung moans and whimpers loudly with every thrust — noises that you are already familiar with, but never heard so closely, so clearly before, no more walls in between you and him.

San’s teeth are gritted, sweat falling down his chin. He keeps up the punishing slam of his hips as he fucks into Wooyoung, whose upper body crumples into the bed under the relentless onslaught. His knuckles are pale from how hard his fingers clench onto the sheets, prominent veins in his forearms.

Shamelessly, you flip back your skirt entirely and use your free hand to press at your clit at a better angle, wishing desperately for a vibrator; for Wooyoung’s thighs to hump and grind against; for San’s cock plunging inside of you. Their mouths on you, devouring you whole. You whimper as the fantasies pile onto the reality in front of you, augmenting each other and pushing you closer and closer to the edge.

Wooyoung looks close to that edge too, his brow knitted, eyes squeezed shut; a faint glimmer of tears on his lashes. Drool gathers on the sheet under his mouth, nothing but garbled nonsense leaving his lips.

“Any smart words, hm?” San demands, grunting tightly from keeping up his pace.

Wooyoung can only moan, squirming in San’s hold. San’s fingers dig harder into his hips, forcing him to take and take and take his cock, over and over again.

There is a triumphant glint in San’s eyes at Wooyoung’s incoherent state, barely able to string two words together. “That’s what I thought,” he chuckles, laying down another smack on Wooyoung’s ass. You can see the reddening imprint even from where you’re sitting. “Never takes long before you’re fucked dumb on my cock.”

Wooyoung sobs, teething at the bedspread as a thick tear rolls down his cheek. You inhale a sharp breath at the sight, shooting through you like lightning.

San hears your gasp and freezes for a moment, immediately turning his head to you. His hips slow down to a shallow rocking, much to Wooyoung’s frustration, but San is focused on you; unsure whether your response is rooted in arousal or something else. “Colour,” he asks, firmly.

“Green,” Wooyoung whines loudly, “it’s green, you fucker, don’t stop now—”

San smacks his ass with a sharp hit. “I wasn’t talking to you,” he warns and Wooyoung shuts up — though he does not stay quiet, whimpery moans escaping him as he pushes his ass back.

But San pays him no further attention right now, looking at you. His expression is somewhere halfway between the hard dom of tonight and the gentle neighbour that you know; wanting to know for sure that he did not overstep in his degradation of Wooyoung.

You nod, vigorously. “Green,” you say in agreement, “very green.”

The way Wooyoung is losing himself in the thrill over this treatment, the way he revels in pushing San just to make him push back; he visibly gets off on the consequences of his bratty actions — and that is getting you off too.

San holds your gaze a moment longer, like he is gauging the honesty of your answer. Then he nods, with a wink so quick you almost miss it.

“You hear that, Woo? She likes me talking to you like this,” he purrs, leaning over to catch the tear on Wooyoung’s cheek with his tongue. He briefly rubs his nose against Wooyoung’s temple and straightens back up, quickly picking up the pace again.

But Wooyoung has lifted his head, coming just slightly out of his stupor at the sound of your voice. He looks in your direction; at perfect eye level with your leaking cunt, and the three fingers sunk deeply inside.

His face contorts with a pained groan, fingers twitching in the sheets. The lewd display of you fucking yourself on your fingers breaking through his last shred of self-control. “Oh fuck,” he hiccups. “Look at that wet pussy. F-fuck, been so long since I last buried myself in a juicy cunt like that.” He is full-on rambling now, his tongue thick and speech slurred.

You whimper, clenching around your fingers. No touching, you remind yourself. It’s just talk.

“Wanna suffocate between those thighs, god you’d taste so good I just know it,” he babbles, high on the thought of you, and the mental images blaze through your head like wildfire.

He would tease, you are dead certain of it; he’d drive you mad on purpose until you grab his hair and grind into his face, exactly as he wants you to — fuck, that gorgeous slope of his nose looks just perfect to ride up against your clit—

“Woo…” San says warningly, but he is deaf to it.

“Can I—” Wooyoung sobs, repeating the words like a chant, Can I— Can I— Can I—

“Y-yes.”

It slips past your lips before you can think it through. Quiet and desperate; but Wooyoung hears. San hears. He tuts sharply, mercilessly intercepting the shaky hand that Wooyoung reaches out to you.

“You know the rules, Woo,” he chides, but even without him looking your way, it still feels partially directed at you too. “Or are you so drunk on my cock that you can’t remember something that simple? Tell me what the rule is, now.”

“N-no touching…” Wooyoung whines.

San nods in approval, and rewards Wooyoung by reaching around to wrap a firm hand around his neglected cock. “Good,” he coos. “Look at you, you poor thing. So drunk on cock but still starved for pussy.” San’s eyes are on you now, and you’re taken aback by the hunger there, like he has mixed feelings on reinforcing the rule.

“Can’t even blame you for forgetting,” he says with quiet intensity, the smooth roll of his hips losing their aggressive edge, his hand working a little faster instead. Wooyoung makes a noise of complete debauchery, burrowing his face back into the bed with a desperate moan. “What a mess she is making, dripping on my chair,” San goes on, licking his lips, “all just for us. So cruel of me, dangling her in front of you like that. A pretty cunt like that deserves to be worshipped.”

The praise blooms hotly in your core, and with a flash you realise this is San’s way of reassuring you he is not upset about the push against boundaries. Suddenly the heat wraps into a sharp coil, and you’re not sure what does it; San’s hungry praise or the desperate stutter of Wooyoung’s hips as San jerks him off, slick wet noises mingling with shaky whimpers. They pick up in speed as Wooyoung rushes towards his own peak, dragging you down with him into his unravelling.

You fall apart right after he does, broken by his choked up sobs; by him futilely twisting and wriggling against San’s strong grip. Your thighs shake, toes curling, the slide of your fingers against your clit just right — but the sight of the two men in front of you even more potent. Your hips jerk up as pleasure surges through you, mouth falling slack in a silent cry.

Desperately, you try to keep your fingers moving, to ride out this wave for as long as you can; all while watching how San’s palm glistens wetly as he lets go of Wooyoung’s cock and grabs onto his waist, yanking him back as San fucks into him, shifting focus to his own release. Wooyoung is nothing but a crumpled, snivelling mess but still he groans eagerly, encouraging San to use him.

San does just so, leaning over Wooyoung’s prone body to bite at his neck as San ruts into him, panting for breath. San’s moans grow higher than you expected, his low grunts fading away; if he was putting on a tough front when you first came in the bedroom, he no longer is now, too preoccupied with chasing his high.

Somehow it feels vulnerable, his dominant coat slipping off his shoulders. Like it’s something you’re not supposed to see — except he does let you see, lets you watch how the persona falls away as he slowly comes undone. Your breath hitches, a sharp moan catching in your throat as suddenly the aftershocks of your first orgasm stir with renewed life; and just like that you cum again, biting down your noises as though not to disturb San, trembling quietly in the chair as you watch, entranced. San’s hips finally stutter with a loud whine and then he stills entirely, pressing his face between Wooyoung’s shoulder blades with a drawn-out shudder.

With a weak moan your hands fall away; your body spent as though you are the one who just got fucked within an inch of your life.

The bedroom goes silent, almost.

Everyone is catching their breath, and Wooyoung makes an unintelligible sound when San pulls out and gently lowers him onto the bed. San’s eyes go soft as he brushes the hair out of Wooyoung’s face, kissing him on the forehead before he straightens up.

While you and Wooyoung lay boneless, slowly recovering, San rolls his shoulders and stretches his limbs with a quiet grunt, then grabs a robe to put on. He goes back to the nightstand, this time for a bottle of water. You never even noticed the two glasses that he clearly prepared beforehand, along with a few washcloths. He fills a glass, dampens a cloth, and returns to Wooyoung’s side.

Wooyoung hums in thanks as San helps him upright and hands him the glass of water. He takes a slow sip while San starts to wipe the sweat and other bodily juices off his skin, a grin bubbling up to his lips as his energy recharges. “Did so well, Sannie,” he says, stealing little touches with his free hand while San cleans him up. Eyes glittering with pure adoration. “Took such good care of me, you always do.”

“Shush. Drink your water,” San chides him, but his cheeks glow red at Wooyoung’s steady babble of praises.

The intimate sight of San and Wooyoung in their little bubble causes an unexpected fuzzy warmth to bloom in your chest; touched that they also trust you as an audience for this part, the quiet aftermath. It’s making you strangely timid after all that just transpired, smoothing down your skirt almost subconsciously.

Finally San takes the now empty glass back from his boyfriend. He pulls a blanket across Wooyoung’s body and helps him settle on the bed, where Wooyoung immediately snuggles up against a pillow and lets his eyes rest. (For a guy who made a point of ‘being able to go more than one round’, he sure is out like a light.)

San leaves a final peck on the top of Wooyoung’s head and sits back up, then goes to fill the other glass. He brings it to you with a fresh cloth, and hands you the drink. You take it with a grateful nod, but blink in surprise when San leans in to dab the sweat off your forehead.

He seems to suddenly realise what he has done, freezes instantly, then yanks his hand back as though burned. “Sorry,” he mumbles awkwardly, whispering so he won’t wake Wooyoung back up. “Forgot the damn rule myself.”

“It’s okay,” you reassure him quietly, taking the cloth off his hands with a small, tired smile. You really didn’t mind. Did it even count now, during the aftercare?

San returns the smile. “Don’t tell Wooyoung, will you? I won’t hear the end of it,” he jokes, and you raise your thumb and forefinger to your lips to ‘zip’ them closed.

“Your secret is safe with me,” you promise solemnly, but the serious expression does not last for long; pushed out by the undeniable urge to tease San. “Besides, it’s nice to have some blackmail in case I ever need a favour from you.”

“Seriously?” he scoffs. “You’re as much of a handful as Wooyoung, aren’t you?”

“I’ll take that as a compliment!”

“Don’t tell him that, either,” San says with a soft laugh, shaking his head.

It is silent again, and you wonder if you should feel awkward, cleaning yourself up right in front of San. You should, right? But he isn’t watching you anymore, simply keeping you company in the quiet, and somehow the whole thing just feels easy and natural. So you wipe the washcloth across your thighs with a ginger touch, avoiding the places where you are most sensitive. Just a quick pass to clean the worst of the dried arousal and sweat sticking there. You’ll take a proper shower at home.

“About what happened…” San says after a while, when it’s clear you have settled and are breathing a little easier, “what Wooyoung said. What you said—”

“Yeah, I know. Sorry. We did agree on no touching beforehand, I shouldn’t have pushed it.”

He snorts. “You weren’t the only one pushing. But no, it’s fine. I told you, I don’t mind improvising, but in this case…” San hesitates, like he’s not sure how much to say. “Woo is a bit more impulsive than me during a scene. I… like clarity. I like knowing for sure that nobody does anything they might have second thoughts about later. Maybe I’m too cautious sometimes, but that’s how it works for me. So I didn’t shut it down because of you, I want you to know that. That was for me.”

“I understand. You feel responsible for him during a scene like this, right?”

“I am responsible for him. And for you too,” San gently corrects. “That’s how I see it, at least. It’s part of what I signed up for.”

“‘Signed up for’?” a hoarse voice echoes from the bed. “What am I, a job?”

“A full-time one, Woo,” San fires back without missing a beat, smiling fondly as he says it. “How long you’ve been listening in?”

Wooyoung’s head pops out from underneath the blanket, his red hair in complete disarray. But his eyes are already clearer than they were just a few minutes ago; maybe you should give him some credit for his recovery time after all.

“I don’t have second thoughts this time,” he mumbles, his speech still a little slurred.

San just nods in acknowledgement, and turns to you with an inquisitive look. The implied question is all too clear.

“No second thoughts here either,” you agree. No point in getting shy now.

“Well,” San says, and that easy, confident grin is back on his face, “then I guess we’ll have to do this again sometime.”

“Mm, good,” Wooyoung says, turning over to his other side to get settled again. Then he glances back at San, a spark of trouble in his eyes. “Do you need a refresher on the ground rules before that happens, Sannie? Just in case you forget any?”

“Dammit,” San groans under his breath, pinching the bridge of his nose. Brow furrowed in pain, he gives you a reproachful look for the laugh that you unsuccessfully try to muffle. “So much for your blackmail,” he sighs.

631 notes · View notes

oweninadaydream · 7 months

Text

𝐬𝐚𝐲 𝐝𝐨𝐧'𝐭 𝐠𝐨 𝐩𝐭 𝟐 || 𝐅.𝐎𝐝𝐚𝐢𝐫

𝓼𝓾𝓶𝓶𝓪𝓻𝔂 : Say Don't Go (Taylor's version) (From The Vault) or 4 times you say 'I love you' and Finnick says nothing back.

𝓹𝓪𝓲𝓻𝓲𝓷𝓰 : Finnick Odair x reader

𝔀𝓸𝓻𝓭 𝓬𝓸𝓾𝓷𝓽 : 2k

𝓬𝓸𝓷𝓽𝓪𝓲𝓷𝓼 : angst/fluffy ending i promise, TW: mentions of torture ,anxiety and kidnapping (first story).

𝓪/𝓷 : As promised, here's part 2 of say don't go pt 1 !!! I hope you enjoy the fic!!!

3. 𝓰𝓱𝓸𝓼𝓽 𝓸𝓯 𝔂𝓸𝓾

You woke up in your bed, yet you could not recall how you got there. Your body felt sore and stiff but nothing could top the way your head was pounding. You were seated against the headboard and you noticed that something wasn’t right ; you couldn’t pinpoint what it was, but you knew deep inside that something was different. To help calm your distress, you tried to remember anything about the day before . You realized right and then that your memory was completely blank, leaving you even more worried than you were prior to that failed attempt.

You had assumed you were all alone, but then you saw Finnick pass through your bedroom door. “Thank God he’s here” you thought, convincing yourself that everything would be alright now that he was there with you (even if you ignored the motivation behind his unexpected visit). He slowly made his way inside and stood in the middle of the room, keeping himself at arm’s length, something extremely unusual that confirmed your gut feeling. Once he had entered your bedroom, you couldn’t help but analyze him and his strange attitude. His movements were robotic as if someone had a remote control that forced him to act like that. His eyes had never been a mystery to you , you could always tell what was going on inside him with a single stare . But this time it was different; he was staring at you with an impassive look that you couldn't quite read, making your whole body tremble in fear and distrust.

You felt intimidated and tried to figure out what was wrong with him “Finn dear, what’s going on?" you asked with a quivering smile. You tried to lift your hand to reach his but ,for some reason, you couldn't. It felt like you were strapped to the mattress and you started panicking, as you couldn't figure out what was happening. Seeking comfort, you pleaded with him in between sobs "I'm very scared Finnick please tell me something, anything. Or just hold me because this is very confusing. I- I feel like- I can't move out of bed, I- I need you"

He simply continued to play his stoic role ; he didn't move one inch before your panic attack or your efforts to set free from the invisible restraints holding you down. "Help me" you whispered with an expression of pure pain on your damped face. Your foggy brain couldn't process the scene before your eyes ; the person who represented love, hope and comfort in your miserable life was being a passive witness to your spectacle of fear and it didn’t seem like he was going to jump into action anytime soon.

You noticed a rapid change in his factions. His eyes burst into flames of hatred and his clenched jaw only accentuated the shift from indifference to hostility. Instead of hurrying to console and aid you like the Finnick you knew would, this empty shell of a man that resembled him broke the distance between you and wrapped his hands around your throat, beginning to strangle you purposefully.

You had been living in survival mode ever since you were chosen as a tribute for District 4 all those years ago, you were no stranger to fighting or death, but never in a million years would you have imagined that the man who swore to shield you from any danger would be the one stealing your breath with his bare hands in an extremely violent manner . You were desperately gasping for air and coughing while he continued to focus on his mission.

For a moment, he seemed to let his hold loose a bit and you took the chance to try and talk him into letting go "Finn, it's me. Why are you doing this?Is anyone making you do this? We take care of each other, remember? I love you more than anything." you told him with a soft but raspy voice as a consequence of his assault. You were tired and wanted to give up, but you continued to fight for him, for your Finn to come back. Apparently, hearing your desperate confession only aggravated the situation, because you felt the strength returning to his hands.

Suddenly, in between your cries and the lack of air , you felt yourself fading away. But before that happened , you heard a very loud scream. In the blink of an eye, you were no longer in your house and Finnick was nowhere to be seen. A white sterile room welcomed you to reality as some doctors accompanied by two peacekeepers entered the room.

Oh, you remember now. You were kidnapped by the Capitol, who had been subjecting you to all kinds of twisted experiments and never-ending abuse for who knows how long. The loud cries and several swear words that made you snap out of that nightmare were Johanna's, whose room was at your right. Peeta was your other neighbor, allowing you to hear them both being tortured at any given time. You looked at your arms and legs and saw the ropes tying you down , justifying the oppressing feeling you had while hallucinating.

The main theme of your punishments for not snitching was him, Finnick Odair. Snow was more than aware of the deep devotion you held for him and how dear you were to him so he figured the perfect torture would be messing with your memories and use several techniques to impose fear and pain in your heart whenever you thought of him or saw his face. That way, you would finally be all alone in this world , scared of the only thing you've ever loved so greatly and he would have to witness you shy away from him in pure terror. To meet his goal, they would drug you and play videos and recordings of him saying the meanest and cruelest words that you knew he would never be able to pronounce, but as the days passed , the truth and the imposed thoughts started to blur in one big and confusing mass.

You were resisting quite well to President Snow's diabolic plan, but you could only hold onto your actual memories for so long. One of the last things you remembered thinking about before you let yourself fall into madness were his eyes, and how much you loved them.

If your suffering assured his survival, you'd tell the Capitol to put you through it a thousand more times , and you would gladly do it again. If only you could have held your sweet Finnick for one more minute before letting him go forever…

4. 𝓪𝓷 𝓸𝓭𝓮 𝓽𝓸 𝓽𝓱𝓮 𝓸𝓷𝓮 𝓘 𝓵𝓸𝓿𝓮

The setting sun turned the white-sanded coast of District 4 a soft but enchanting shade of orange. The waves crashing against the rocks accompanied perfectly the idyllic landscape and brought a sense of calmness to the people assembled there. The summer solstice is a day where usually people celebrate the arrival of a new season, but that was not the case this time.

The beach looked magnificent, Effie had been the chief in charge of making everything (and everyone) look ideal for the occasion that brought them all together on that day. The first rows of white chairs were occupied by Haymitch, Effie, Katniss, Peeta, Johanna, Annie and right next to her, there was Mags, the woman who had taken care of you both for so many years and had seen how you two where meant to be from the first time you and your fiancé (soon to be husband) exchanged looks.

Neither you nor Finnick had ever thought about marrying anyone ; under Snow's regime, you were mere pieces of a game with no actual power of decision. But that didn't matter anymore. You were walking towards Finnick, who was nervously fidgeting with the sleeve of his suit , waiting for you at the end of the isle. When you finally arrived at your destination, you couldn't help but to turn around and go back to hug Mags, who received you with open arms and a couple of shed tears over her face. After this emotional moment, you went back to Finnick's side "Hi" you whispered so that the conversation could remain secret from all the guests "You come here often?" he teased with a beaming smile on his face. You let out a breathy laugh to relieve some tension and then you both turned so that the ceremony could start.

"I want to keep this vows short because I would need another lifetime just to expose the million reasons why this is the best day of my life. We're free, my love. It's truly over. This is our reward after a whole life of suffering and holding back. I am so in love with you, it's hard to put it into words. You know? Mags once told me that the thing I needed the most had always been right in front of me and I didn't get what she meant by that in that moment. She just laughed at me and told me that I would understand, one of these days" Mags in the front row was a tearful mess "and now I do. I really do" he stated confidently while holding your hands on his.

"My soul craves intertwining itself with yours until there's no way to separate them. So, with this ring" he then proceeded to grab your left hand so cautiously as if you would break at the minimum touch, and slip the golden ring in your finger "I, Finnick Odair, swear to protect, satisfy and devote myself to you ; my friend, my savior and now my spouse. I can't wait to spend the rest of my days with my forever love, which happens to be you" He had always hated to see you cry, even if they were happy tears, so he had to insert a little joke to see you chuckle and be able to hear the most beautiful sound on Earth ; your laugh.

You could sense that your voice would betray you at the minimum attempt to speak, so you needed to rush through your vows before you would explode into tears "God Finnick, you always know how to leave me speechless." the guests all laughed, moved by the evident complicity between the two of you.

"I always knew you were my soulmate, the person I was meant to find. The love I carry for you in my heart used to feel too heavy, but now that I get to set it free, it's more like energy rushing though my whole body, healing all the broken parts. I have the privilege to experience how it feels being loved by you and I want to try and describe it for all our friends who are here today" you breathed in and out and kept talking "Being loved by you feels like being rocked by the sea, like waking up to the smell of freshly baked goods or like being tucked into a warm bed in wintertime. It's exiting, comforting, amusing and an insane amount of other things that I could say right now" you recited while staring at his piercing green eyes that were completely red and filled with tears . You caressed his cheek and tried to wipe them away. "I will always follow you wherever you go, until the end of time. That's what I've always wanted to do and I couldn't be more exited about spending the rest of my life with such a handsome and amazing man. I love you."

Before you could do or say anything else, Finnick held your face between his hand and kissed you like he had been wanting to do since the ceremony started. You said 'I love you' and he said nothing back, but it wasn't so bad this time.

TAGLIST : @bambikitten , @thefourrealms , @shooting-a-star-at-the-moon , @justtrying2getby .

#the hunger games #the hunger games x reader #finnick odair x you #finnick odair x reader #finnick odair imagine #finnick odair fanfic #the hunger games imagine #the hunger games fanfiction #male reader #female reader #gender neutral reader

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fuckmyskywalker · 9 months

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"Frustration!" — Anakin Skywalker.

— CW: 18+, smut. Hate sex, dirty talk, cunnilingus. | Word count: 1.2k!

— Taglist! | List of films!

“Anakin, fucking let go of me!” The leather of his glove digs into your skin, as he drags you harshly into the cockpit.

He locks the door behind him, not even bothering to give you the reason why he’s so upset about… well, something. Only Anakin knows what’s going on inside his mind— although, sometimes you wonder if he even knows what’s going on. You try to stay calm, but your heart is racing. Anakin's face is contorted into something unreadable and his eyes are wide. He turns away from you, seemingly out of anger or fear— or both.

“Do you like him?” He asks out of the blue, increasing your confused state. He crosses his arms over his chest as he waits for your answer.

With no clue what he is talking about, you stare at him rather annoyed. The lack of answer makes him scoff, he thinks you’re playing dumb. Anakin thinks everyone should know what he is thinking about and to some extent, it’s frustrating. The lack of communication on his part when it comes to literally any ambit is potentially a red flag— but who would dare to question the Chosen One?

Anakin knows he can be as cocky as he wants. He is demanding and irritating— his ego is as big as Yavin Prime, if not bigger. But, you always find a way to put a stop to him, and that frustrates him even more. He hates that you are the only person who can say “no” to him, not even Obi-Wan can stop him when he has his mind set on something. Plus, it doesn’t help at all that he’s been fucking with you for a while now.

“I asked you a question, fucking answer it,” Anakin’s tone is beyond demanding. With what right is he talking to you as if you were one of his soldiers?

You finally talk, “Anakin, I have no clue who are you talking about.”

“Don’t play stupid, I saw you. You were flirting with Senator Cadaman,” his body language is aggressive, something you are more than accustomed to.

«Oh Maker, he is jealous,» you think. That was unexpected.

“Anakin,” taking a step closer, you mirror his position, crossing your arms as well. In an ideal situation, you would calm him down, and let him know that nothing is going on between you and Cadaman… but this will never be the ideal situation— not when Anakin Skywalker is involved. “I wasn’t flirting with him. It’s called being polite, is it suddenly my fault you mistake simple manners with flirting, just because no one is nice to you?”

Perhaps you were being harsh on him, but you weren’t in the mood to deal with Anakin’s jealousy— not now, not never. Boundaries were never set to start with; it’s not formal, it’s not a relationship.

It’s just sex.

“People are nice to me.”

“Only because they are afraid of you.”

“No, it is because they respect me!” His voice raises. Deep down he knows that maybe, just maybe, you're right— but Anakin would rather die than admit when he’s wrong.

“Get out of your damn bubble, Anakin. It has nothing to do with respect; when people respect you they admire you,” closing the distance between your bodies, you raise your hand, digging your index finger into his chest. “People fear what may happen to them if they don’t agree with you, or follow your orders, or deny you something.”

His flesh hand grabs your own, yanking you towards him and pressing you against his chest. His gloved hand reaches for your jaw, forcing you to raise your head to look at him— it hurts. He is being rough. He is mad.

“Fear?” He looks down at you with lust and sentiment, barely covered by a thin veil of disgust. Only you can say no to him. Only you have the courage to treat him as an equal— and that makes his dick so, so hard. “I’ll fucking show you what fear is.”

You fight against him, but it’s pretty much pointless. Anakin spins you and presses your chest over the ship panel, the different buttons and levers painfully digging into your skin. He struggles to take your pants off but in the end, he manages to yank them below your knees— adding a hint of humiliation to the situation. His gloved hand slaps your ass harshly, causing you to moan.

“Do you want to be a bitch and talk back?” He says after another slap. “Do you want to act like a slut?”

“Anakin!” You wail. He smiles, this is how he wants you. This is where he thinks you belong.

“Do you want me to stop?” Another slap. The dynamic between you two has always been the same, fighting, arguing, and calling each other names… until you grew up enough to blow the steam off in more… carnal ways. “Tell me to fucking stop, and I will.”

But you don’t. You find yourself unable to speak.

You hate how he breaks your will, you hate how you only find pleasure in his rough treatment, and you especially hate feeding his ego.

“See? I know you. I know the real you,” his voice is pure spite, despite the lewd undertones. “I know you are nothing more than a slut, you enjoy the attention.”

The skin of your ass is burning, and it hurts, but the words that could make him stop his assault never leave your lips. You feel powerless, like you are nothing more than a toy that he can play with at his leisure. You hate the feeling of not being in control of your own body, and you curse yourself for not being able to break free from his grip. Is that same power play that keeps you tied to him— and what keeps Anakin always coming back to you?

“See how fucking wet you are?”

He is disgusting. You despise him— but you push your hips towards his face when he kneels right behind you to plunge his tongue inside your pussy. He laps at you without shame, as if he doesn’t even know the definition of it. Anakin eats you out relentlessly, groaning at the taste.

“I fucking hate you and your perfect fucking cunt,” he spits right on you, mixing your arousal with his saliva. The act makes you squirm, stretching your arm behind you and yanking his messy hair bringing back his face to where you need him the most.

“Shut up, shut the fuck up,” you breathe, closing your eyes. “W–Why can’t you just be quiet for five damn minutes!”

Anakin moans against your core, closing his eyes and fucking you with his tongue until your knees go weak. Sneaking his hand in between your legs he rubs tight, quick circles over your clit which triggers your orgasm— perhaps faster than on any other occasion. Biting your lower lip, refusing to let his name escape from the deepest corners of your mind, you close your eyes to focus on the lewd noises of the man behind you— practically slurping everything you have to offer.

In an instant, he is standing next to you, grabbing a fistful of your hair and crashing his lips against yours. Smearing the wetness all over his mouth over your face, the kiss is messy, borderline savage— and you love it.

“I wasn’t flirting with him,” you whisper.

“I know.”

— 🐚 if you wish you be added to my taglist there's a google forms in the beginning of the post! There you can select which days you would like to be tagged in (or choose the option: all the above!). If you send me a DM or an ask I will tag you on every day! | some tags might not work due to your settings, so let me know!

#𓆩ꨄ︎𓆪 anya writes!#𓆩ꨄ︎𓆪 kinktober 2023!#anakin skywalker #anakin skywalker smut #anakin skywalker x reader smut #anakin skywalker fanfiction #anakin skywalker x reader #anakin skywalker one shot #anakin x reader smut #anakin x reader #anakin x you #anakin skywalker x you #anakin skywalker x y/n

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thesamoanqueen · 8 days

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Beast

A/N: my lovely @harmshake asked me what the "beast mode" that journalists attribute to Roman is for me. I have a clear idea, because he has already talked about it, but I wanted to try something in a sort of headcanon/imagine, a type of fanfiction I hadn't tried yet here. [warnings: 18+ smut, jealousy, protective prompt}

Between the two of you, the one with the more visceral attitude was you and it was not surprising considering every woman is forced to fight for everything on a daily basis. Roman, not the Tribal Chief the crowds was used to, was a man it was simple to feel at ease, great listener, good manners and hypercritical mind on a personal level. He was a mama's boy, not because he was spoiled - even if it was true -, but in his ability to understand, give and care, qualities every man should have and which unfortunately were lacking in most boys. However there were moments, scenarios, in which he too gave in to the less soft side of himself and when he finally snapped, it was like facing a beast that had forgotten had been tamed.

#Jealousy

Your relationship was his top priority, his jealousy didn’t come from insecurity or doubts and for this reason perhaps it would have been more appropriate refer to it as territoriality, rather than jealousy. Seeing you admired, at work as much as in private life, filled him with satisfaction and pride, for him there was no pedestal too high for you. When admiration became something more though, that part of him less inclined or not at all to tolerate woke up in full force, pushing him to mark and protect what was his without worrying about anything else.

The overly insistent glances put him on alert, the whispered proposals in an effort to lure you away from him made his mouth twitch, but it was the attempts to invade your personal space that drove him crazy. He knew you were capable of taking care of yourself, he never stood by though and watched when some mr. nobody put a bad idea into practice and it didn't matter if there was too many drinks or an agreement between sides where it was necessary stay cordial to justify it. It was then that his hands found you, sliding along your back or pulling you by his side in an intimate touch to show he was the only one chosen for such a privilege. You would have recognized him just by the touch, even blindfolded, but it wasn't necessary because with his hands, all his presence came: solid body pressed close to reassure, shield you and intimidate anyone who thought could get over him and his voice, so soft, caring in your ears as he made sure you were okay and threatening to anyone unfortunate enough to deserve direct confrontation.

- "Back off" – the target almost never understood what was happening, staring in silence.

- "You heard me. Take a step back, two and three, all the way until you get back from wherever you came from. Or maybe you want a lil help, hm boy?"

The few who had tried to resist intimidation, even assert themselves, had regretted it the moment next, ending up in a match they could never have won and which they quit at the first serious grab as you said your prayers to bring Roman back to his senses.

#Dangers

As with jealousy, his patience reached the bottom even when you found yourself, as he said, in potential dangerous situations. Organizing and planning was part of your job duties, it wasn't often that something was beyond your control, but unexpected events happened on trips and was when plans changed that Roman didn't like it, especially if he wasn't physically there with you to deal with whatever what’s going on. A delayed flight at an inconvenient time, an impromptu hotel in an unsafe city triggered a chain reaction you most often tried to avoid, managing it without warning him or giving too many details. But Roman seemed to have a sense, reading between lines and then calls and messages began, to know where you were and what or why was happening, ending with an epochal argument on the phone when you finally confessed - even if in the end it was resolved all for the best -.

- "This isn't up for discussion! Im going to come between you and anything bad in your damn life! You should have told me!"

It wasn’t a mania, but real concern and the only reason why you put up with his outbursts. The idea in his mind of not being there when you could have needed him made his blood boil, see things more dramatic than expected. You had gotten into real problems years before, a few bad moments that had taught you a lot and for which he had jumped on the first available flight or in a car, forgetting to rest even after too many hours of work, consuming miles to even reach the other coast of the country. The beast that thundered, opening his mouth, going head-to-head against everything and everyone, turning everything and everyone upside down, had made you feel small then, but it had come to your rescue.

#Job

Comments didn't affect him, he had heard too many boos during his career to be impressed, but he channeled disappointment into his training and it was when he gave everything. For Roman it wasn't about preparing, it was about trying, testing his endurance, pushing himself for when the moment came. His returns had always been epochal events, changing the direction of the entire industry. His impact was unique because regardless of whatever people's opinions were out there, Roman had always left his mark for better or worse and he did it knowing he could. You supported him, assisted him as you could, but there was a part of you always worried it could have been too much and things could fall apart.

He had never really fallen though and if it had happened, his mindset had put Roman back on his feet immediately, proving to you over the years that nothing could really bring your man down even fighting the worst challenges. When the goal became clear in his mind, when he focused, there was nothing and no one that could push him down another path or make him change his mind. He was ready to crush any obstacle, overcome limits that he himself had previously drawn, see what others could not. Roman tenacity went beyond physical strength, it was mental, psychological, a terrifying confidence that brought out the part of him that made him so special. He didn't believe he could do anything, he knew he was capable of it and in one way or another Roman always found a way to do it, shaping himself and everything around him to realize his vision. Another species of man on another level of greatness.

- "Is perfect, take a break" – you tried to convince him and he nodded, but you saw it in his eyes even before you heard it.

- "One more time."

#Love

Sweaty body, heavy breathing, a man working hard to satisfy you.

You had your love adventures, but comparison with those who had been there before and Roman wasn't even a comparison. You had never felt so much love and lust in someone's arms, never had you felt so precious and fragile at the same time, like a flower pressed between the pages of a book, while he crushed you between the sheets. Sloppy kisses on your lips and delicate ones on your forehead, hands moving a lock of hair from your face and then sinking into the flesh of your thighs, turning you upside down as he pleased.

- "I'mma fuck my name in your head sweetheart, don't run, you ain't going nowhere" – promises that sounded like threats and made you tremble, a wave of pleasure washing over as you felt him go deeper – "you're stuck with me, quit it."

You whimpered, clinging to him like your life depended on it, shaking your head, begging, but Roman knew you better than you knew yourself and his grin always came right on time. When you felt like you were at your limit, he would increase the pace, pounding until he took air out of your lungs to kiss you and fill them with himself. Your body melted in his big hands, tears and sweet moods, climaxes following one another to the rhythm of your heartbeats and his brown eyes adoring and consuming you. Moans then became silent, pleasure intense to the point you couldn't feel anything else, you curled up giving in, abandoning yourself to his imperative desire to claim you. Only then did Roman slow down, bending you over, going beyond that sweet spot that he had tortured for the whole night, chasing his own pleasure this time and the perversion in his mind that made him go feral to fill you with his seed. Then he buried his face in your neck, between your breasts or behind your shoulder blades, hips pressed against your skin, nutting right into your soul and everything around you both fell silent to let the beast finally rest.

Tag squad: @sunnyfleur23 @alyyaanna @expert-texpert @romanreignsdefencesquad @romanstheory @claymorexpunisher @keybladeofsteel @msbigredmachine @nayys-world @gobbersworld @utika151209 @cumxxslutt @civildawn @romanmydaddy @triscillal @papireigns-05 @helensanders92 @darqchilddaydreamz @meggylynnloves @unfriendly--blvck--hottie @nicolewoo @joannasteez @reignsx @kianaleani @daguenoire @extra-11 @333creolelady @snowpanda18 @brattyfics @mzv11 @romanreignseater @dreamsinfocus @vebner37 @depressedneedingrevenge @cyberdejos2 @mahi-wayy @jxtina-86 @harmshake @southerngirl41 @smile1318 @headoftheetable @sortudademais @bookuce

#roman reigns fanfiction #roman reigns x reader #roman reigns smut #roman reigns oneshot #roman reigns x black reader #roman reigns x y/n #roman reigns x oc #roman reigns x you #roman reigns x female reader #roman reigns one shot #roman reigns fanfic #wwe smut #wwe fanfiction #roman reigns imagine

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koiwynn · 11 days

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. ݁₊ ⊹ short teruko okura analysis

— chapter 115 spoilers ahead !!

it now makes so much sense why teruko always preferred to stay in a child’s body. she never got to be a child, and now she’s trying to make up for it. but while she can revert her appearance to that of a child, she can never undo the mental scars of war that has aged her mind from a too early age. her childlike psyche and soul has been broken down since long ago. by acting in the overzealous manner that she so often get criticised for by the fandom, she gets a small taste of not only what she has lost—but the universal experience of youth and childhood she never even got the chance to share.

this is the fault fyodor sees in the existence of special abilities—they rob people of their humanity and lives. asagiri never misses an opportunity to show us how brutally and apathetically special abilities are weaponised, because i need people to throughly process the fact that teruko was only a few months old when she was thrown out to fight in war. mere children are robbed of their families and lives in order to be tools to be used at the whims of the government. yosano too suffered in a very similar manner.

and then at the very end teruko does not only die with relieved smile, unexpecting of what’s to come—but also staring up at what’s left of her captain who she respected and adored like no other. the same man who betrayed her loyalty and love and the world along with her for his own aspirations. the same man she had to drive his own sword through because no one else had the guts to do what was necessary. but ultimately—and most importantly—he was the man who saved her life.

fukuchi gave her a sense of belonging and provided a virtuous purpose to her mindless violence.

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luxaofhesperides · 7 months

Note

Ghostlight!

"You came?" "You called."

Danny in trouble, Duke to the rescue! (Or it can be reversed!) Maybe they've been online friends or met in person once and bonded over both having all these unexpected powers. Slightly angst.

There was never a point when Danny thought he would need the panic button Duke gave him.

It was a sweet gesture, a way for Duke to show that he cared for Danny and wanted him to be safe. Never mind that Danny can take care of himself, heals quickly from most wounds, and has been the protector, not the protected, ever since the Accident. If it makes Duke feel better, than Danny was more than happy to keep it on him as a token of affection.

The cultists, however, caught him off guard.

Danny would be embarrassed about being nabbed off the streets so easily if the people who took him weren’t cultists lead by the daughter of a GIW agent, one who disapproved of the scientific approach the GIW took towards ectoplasmic entities and had turned to mystic arts as a way to defy her father. Which, usually, Danny would be all for striking out against the strict expectations of parents and their unwillingness to listen to their kids in any serious manner, but not this time. Not when it ends with him slowly waking up after they chloroformed him, curled up in some magic circle, surrounded by black candles and blue flame, and something in the air that smells of blood blossoms.

There are voices speaking, but he can’t make out what they’re saying over the pounding in his head, his heartbeat stuttering in his chest with each gasping breath he takes.

Whatever they’re doing, whatever’s got him bound in the circle, makes his blood feel like its been lit aflame, agony coursing through his veins. He tries to grit his teeth and bare it, but it doesn’t become any more manageable.

No, it gets worse the longer he’s awake.

Danny tries to move, tries to get to his feet, but all he can do is curl up tighter, a sob forcing its way out of his throat.

“I know you’ve got some connection to Phantom,” he hears someone say, both by his ear and so far away he can barely make out the words. Danny whines, trying to insist that they’re wrong, he’s got nothing to do with phantom, but the voice continues. “Come on, cooperate with us and this will end sooner for you. You can’t lie about this; you wouldn’t be feeling anything if there was no connection.”

A hand brushes against his forehead, burning hot, and Danny turns his face towards the ground trying to move away from it.

“I knew ghosts had to have some tie to the living world. And a living anchor would make the ghost stronger… If only dad would listen to me.” The voice sighs, and the words help him put the pieces together and realize this is the daughter of the GIW agent that came closest to finding him when he first ran to Gotham.

It’s been close to a year since then. He thought they’d stopped looking.

Really, he should have known better.

The hand leaves his forehead and he hears the leader bark out an order. Voices surround him, chanting, as they rise out of the dark.

A red glow begins to fall on everything, enough that Danny can see it through his barely open eyes. A shudder runs through him, and he feels his transformation try to begin.

NO, he thinks desperately. He tries to force it down but it fights against him. It’s agony, pain on a molecular level, the feeling of dying over and over and over again.

NO, he thinks, STOP I DON’T WANT TO DIE SOMEONE PLEASE HELP ME.

And then, unbidden, a single word rising in his mind. Duke.

Duke will help him if he knows Danny needs help. Duke has been kind and welcoming and helped Danny find his footing in Gotham, never judging and always quietly offering a hand in support. He’s the person Danny’s closest to in Gotham, someone dear to him, a light in the dark.

He gave Danny a panic button.

Contrary to popular thought, Danny isn’t an idiot. He knows Duke is the Signal. A few too many incidents where Duke had disappeared and the Signal appeared to save him tipped him off. It didn’t help that Duke acted the same in and out of costume, and he always, always grabbed Danny first at the elbow, then slid his hand down to his wrist.

Besides, who else gives panic buttons to their friends? Danny would have done the same to Sam and Tucker if they weren’t always attached at the hip. He’s a (former) teenage vigilante too, he knows how being involved in this kind of thing invites trouble into the rest of his life.

Duke can help him. He’s a hero. He’s saved Danny before.

He’s his friend. Danny trusts (wants to trust, so badly) that Duke will help him even when he’s not fully human, fully alive.

With trembling hands, he reaches into his jacket, to the panic button. It’s a simple necklace with an unassuming metal rectangle dangling off of it. It’s flat and thin, but the top gives way to a button that Danny clicks three times in quick succession.

He waits a moment, trying to breathe through the pain, and clicks it three times again.

Please hurry, Duke, he thinks, hand falling limply to the ground.

“Let’s try this, instead,” the leader says, and the chanting falls to a quiet murmur to give way to her voice as she begins reciting something.

It starts at his feet. They cramp up suddenly, then pain crackles up his bones like lightning, digging deep into him. It feels as if a thousand knives dig into his abdomen, cutting in deep and twisting.

Danny chokes on his breath, then screams, trying futilely to scramble away. All it does is make him writhe on the ground, back arching enough that he can feel the strain of it on his spine, but it doesn’t matter because he’s forcing down his transformation again, smothering Phantom as much as he can.

His breath mists out before him. His fingers go numb, frost spreading across the floor.

Tears slip down his face as Danny pants for breath.

It hurts. It hurts like nothing has ever hurt before, but he refuses to give in. If they find out he’s Phantom, they’ll only do worse.

Please, he thinks again, deliriously.

As if hearing him, a window shatters above him and the cultists break off in screams.

Forcing his eyes open, Danny squints through he tears and watches as the shadows around them rise up, roiling, and crash against the cultists. The force of it knocks them down, leaving them to claw desperately at their faces as the shadows cover their nose and mouths, cutting off their air. The leader is yelling, rage clear in her voice, shooting out magic spells at the Signal.

The Signal is usually a friendly figure. He’s safe, something whose meer presence makes people feel safe. His smile means everything’s alright and when it’s directed to Danny, he feels like nothing bad can ever happen to him again.

The Signal isn’t smiling now.

He’s furious, expressionless and stone cold, bashing away the spells with shadows or light, advancing on the leader like an avenging angel come to deliver justice.

He takes her out with hard hits, striking methodically. It’s not quick. She doesn’t get the kindness of being knocked out; no, he snaps a wrist, breaks her nose, slams her down on the ground and cuts off her air with a knee until her struggles die off and she’s left limp on the floor.

When he rises, surrounded by shadows still moving restlessly, illuminated only by the flicker blue flames of the candles, he should look terrifying.

All Danny feels is relief so sharp it worries him that his chest was cleaved in half without him noticing until now. He shivers against the floor, too weak to reach out to the Signal.

It’s a good thing he doesn’t have to.

The Signal picks him up with careful hands, checking him over for injuries.

“Duke,” Danny murmurs, slurring a bit. The torture is definitely at fault for it, but the sudden absence of all that pain doesn’t help him sound any more coherent. “You came.”

“You called,” Duke says, “Of course I came. I’ve been looking for you for hours. You never showed up for our study date and I know you always try to reach out if you can’t make it. I’m just sorry I didn’t find you sooner.”

“S’okay, ‘m not mad. Was scared, but you made it better. The panic button…”

“It’s how I found you. I’m so glad you were wearing it today.”

Danny tries to smile, but the most he can manage is a twitch of his lips before his head tips forward to rest against Duke’s armored shoulder. “I always wear it.”

Duke’s grip on him tightens for a moment, then he begins walking, taking Danny away from the magic circles and the prone bodies of the cultists who had watched him be tortured and decided to keep going. Danny shudders again, his entire body aching. His transformation is still fighting to come out, but it’s not as strong anymore.

“Let’s get out of here,” Duke says into his ear. “I’ll take you to the hospital.”

“No! No hospitals, please. I can’t let them know… they’ll find me…”

Duke shushes him soothingly, tucking him more securely against his chest. “Alright, Danny. No hospitals. But I am going to call Batman for a pick up to get you to one of the people we trust for medical care.”

“But Batman doesn’t work in the day.” Danny’s too exhausted to sound confused, but it must go through anyways. Duke laughs lowly, and the sound helps unwind the last of his nerves coiled up tight in fear.

“Danny, it’s well into the night. You were gone for hours. Longest hours of my life.”

“Sorry,” he mumbles,

“Don’t be, it’s not your fault. Hang on, Batman’s nearly here.”

In any other circumstance, Danny would be excited to meet another hero. Especially Batman, one of the original heroes of the modern age. But all he wants is to go somewhere safe so he can curl up and cry, then sleep for three days before he pretends to be a normal human again. Ideally, he’d stay with Duke until he felt safe again, but he doesn’t want to take Duke away from the city that needs him.

His ears perk up a bit when he hears the smooth rumble of an engine stop in front of them. A door opens with a click without Duke needing to grab the handle, and then Danny is carefully being deposited in the back seat.

“Wait,” he says, trying to grab for Duke’s arm only to have his fingers fumble and grab nothing. Duke doesn’t move away, though, and instead grabs Danny’s seeking hand. “Stay? Please? I just—” his voice shudders, cracks, fractures apart. “I just want to feel safe.”

There’s a pause, a stillness in the air, before Duke says, “Okay. I’ll stay.” And then he’s sliding into the backseat, pulling Danny in to lean against him, curl into his embrace.

“Signal,” Batman’s low, gravelly voice says. There’s something in his tone that makes Danny tense up, prepared to take off, and his transformation pushes at his skin, ready to come out.

“He knows who I am, B,” Duke replies. “He’s trustworthy. Besides, just because he knows me doesn’t mean he knows you.”

“We will be discussing this later,” Batman says, dark promise in his voice. It’s just how he talks, Danny’s sure, too used to years of making himself the scariest thing in the dark. That doesn’t change the fact that Batman can be terrifying, and Danny can’t imagine he’ll take kindly to the fact that Danny knows Duke’s identity.

Fear slithers up his spine, and he can’t stop the transformation this time. The rings of white light flash over his body in a second, leaving Phantom in his place.

Danny lets go of his legs first, glad to be free from their aching weight, and without a body made of flesh and bone, the hurt begins to fade away until it’s just an unpleasant memory.

“What—” Duke starts to say just as Batman says, “Signal—”

They must have some sort of silent exchange. There’s only a heavy tension in the car and the barely audible rumble of the engine as they drive towards their destination, whatever it may be. Danny sinks into Duke some more, sighing in relief as a hand comes up to card through his wispy white hair.

“Danny,” Duke says, “What’s this?”

“It’s why they hurt me,” he mumbles against Duke’s chest. “It’s why they keep hunting me down. I want them to leave me alone. I’m tired.”

Embarrassingly, his voice cracks on the last word and more tears fall down his cheeks. He hears Duke move, and then hands, bare and gloveless, wipe his tears away with a gentleness that makes his heart ache.

“They won’t be able to hurt you again. You’ll be safe from now on, Danny, I swear it.”

“S’okay if I get hurt,” he says, “It always happens. Promise to save me if this happens again?”

“I’ll do whatever I can to make sure it doesn’t happen again. But if it does, then I promise to always save you. I gave you that panic button, didn’t I? As long as you keep it, I’ll always find you.”

“You’re a good person, Duke,” Danny says, voice falling quieter as his exhaustion catches up to him. “I’m glad I met you.”

He thinks he feels a soft touch to the top of his head. A kiss, maybe, though it’s not likely. But he wants comfort, and he’s endured a lot a pain so he allows himself to hope and be delusional. With the warm that spreads through him from Duke’s soft kiss to his head, Danny gives in to the siren call of slumber.

“Get some sleep, Danny,” Duke says, voice hushed. “I’ll stay with you as long as you need.”

I know, he doesn’t say, too tired to open his mouth again, You’re always here. Thank you, thank you, thank you.

He falls asleep easily after that. There’s nothing in the world that can hurt him while he’s in Duke’s arms. He’s never been safer.

#ghostlights #dc x dp #dp x dc #dcxdp #dpxdc #dp x dc fanfic #dc x dp fic #prompt fill #my writing #didnt quite get into it but duke and danny bond after always being in the library together!! they decide to study together and grow close #danny def has a crush but hes stressing out abt too much to think much on it.duke is crushing HARD and flirts with him as both duke & signa #anyways danny has mentioned that he's running away from people who want to hurt him and is safe in gotham for now #hes absolutely going to have to answer a lot of questions after he wakes up in the batcave with duke asleep on a chair next to him #batman in that car ride worried abt the identity breach and then mentally practicing his shovel talk bc he knows duke and danny are gonna #end up together. they're just acting soooo close and enamoured and kinda like him and (literally so many options. all of them ig)#danny is going to wake up. freak out. be interrogated. be given protection. and get a date all before alfred manages to get him to eat #good for him :)#thanks for the prompt!!

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writeyouin · 5 months

Note

LMK shadowpeach x foreign fem reader? Its readers first Christmas in China and wants to spend it with the monkeys! Got them a Christmas gift too that’s fitting for the three of them. For some cute fluff, she made some delicious treats from her home country (I probably would make them fry bread or fruit related sweets of the sort)

Sun Wukong X Macaque X Reader (Poly-Shadowpeach) – Chinese Christmas

A/N – So this went a myriad of ways in my head and I kept changing it, and now it’s super different to what I first thought was going to happen. Anyway, here’s the end result, and I got to do some cool research on Christmas in China which was really interesting.

Warnings – None.

Rating – T

“Would you please calm down?” Macaque growled at Sun Wukong, annoyed since his partner was being more irksome than usual.

Granted, the pair had recently made up after all their years of fighting, but sometimes… Well, the Monkey King had a lot more energy than Macaque, and he wasted it in frivolous ways, always bouncing around and rarely bothering to stay still unless he was choosing to be inconvenient and lazy, in which case it was impossible to make him get up and do whatever was required of him.

Sun Wukong was equally displeased with Macaque, who didn’t seem to be taking his plight seriously.

“Calm down?” He wailed, his search continually frantic as he flew from mountain top to mountain top. “Who can calm down at a TIME LIKE THIS?! (Y/N)’s missing!”

Macaque rubbed his temples, feeling a headache begin to form. “They’re not missing, they’re probably just at their house or-”

“ON CHRISTMAS?” Sun jumped in front of Macaque, grabbing him by the shoulders and wrapping his tail tightly around the darker simian, “Not a chance! I planned everything for today. We were going to go ice skating, get some wrapped apples, sing karaoke, drink hot chocolate, go to that new noodle bar- There’s just no way (Y/N) would miss all that.”

“… Fine. If you must continue this inane search, could you use your gold vision and get it over with already?”

Sun raised a mischievous eyebrow and smirked, “And miss out on the fun of the search?”

Macaque sighed irritably, “You’re seriously having fun with this?”

“Well yeah. What’d be the point if I found (Y/N) immediately? It needs to be dramatic.”

With that, the Monkey King got back to his search, whilst Macaque stepped away to take a breather, and possibly to brood if the mood struck him; relationships were exhausting. As soon as he left Wukong, his sharp hearing picked up your voice at the bottom of the mountain.

“Shoot-” You said upon clearly dropping something.

Macaque smiled as a more forceful expletive followed, and listened more intently. Evidently, you were carrying something and your bag had split. He chuckled and took pity on you, waiting till you had recovered your items before casting out a shadow portal that brought you directly in front of him.

Having been ready to take a step that was no longer in front of you, you stumbled into Macaque’s open arms.

“You always trip,” He commented drily, “You think you’d be used to that by now.”

You smiled up at Macaque, pecking his cheek before replying, “I don’t think I’ll ever be used to that. You always do it when I least expect it.”

“Then you’ve got to learn to expect the unexpected.”

“If I did that, there would never be an unexpected event and my life would become oh so dull.”

Macaque began a witty retort, but he was drowned out by Wukong who hurried over to meet you, crushing you in a hug, clingy as ever. Whenever you were around, there was hardly a moment wherein he wasn’t holding onto you in some manner.

“Peaches!” He exclaimed joyfully, using your affectionately awarded nickname, “I knew you wouldn’t abandon us on Christmas. Where were you? You’ve already wasted half the day.”

“It’s only ten,” You protested.

“Yeah, well I would’ve been there for you at six if we were meeting at your place.”

That was a lie. If it was up to Sun Wukong to come to you, you knew that Macaque would have to drag him out of bed and that it would take him hours to wake from his sleepy state.

“If I say I brought presents, will that make it up to you?” You held up your bag; Macaque smiled when he saw the knot you had tied in the bottom to patch the split.

Sun immediately pushed you away to snatch up the bag, though his tail remained wrapped around your wrist.

“Share,” You reminded him, bringing Macaque back into the loop.

“Can we open these now?” Sun asked, already tearing at the gold paper which marked the presents meant for him.

“Apparently so.”

Macaque was much gentler with his sliver foiled presents. You hadn’t bothered to write any cards or tags. You couldn’t read or write Chinese, and your simian companions were equally unskilled in your native language. Instead, it was easier to treat them like the sun and the moon and wrap their gifts accordingly.

There were some generic little presents at the top of the bag, but soon your loves got to the gifts you had spent months lovingly crafting. Shawls, knitwear, and repaired clothing that both of them had mourned when damaged in battle made the bulk of the gifts. In a second smaller bag were the presents you had made fresh the night before. They were treats you missed from home, sweet breads, pastries, sugared fruits, and brandy snaps.

“Oh yeah,” Sun Wukong bragged, taking the first bite of a cream-filled sugar cone, “We’re going to have a feast tonight.”

“If we make it to tonight alive with all you have planned,” Macaque stated drily, though he spared an affectionate pat to Wukong’s head.

“All you have planned?” You asked, uncertain as to what anyone could do on Christmas Day when everywhere was closed. Alas, you were thinking of home, which differed greatly from China in many ways, Christmas traditions being one of them.

“Well, duh.” Sun Wukong placed a hand proudly on his chest and stood in a heroic position atop a newly summoned cloud. “Do you really think that I, Sun Wukong, the Monkey King and Great Sage Equal to Heaven would have anything less than a perfect day planned for my two true loves?”

“Funny,” Macaque chuckled, tying his new shawl around his neck, “I thought your two true loves were sleeping and making Wukong Dating sims.”

“Oh yeah? And what about you? You only love puppets and being all dramatic and emo.”

“And I love it when my boys don’t argue,” You said, stepping between them before their little spat turned into a contest which would inevitably lead to a fight. Granted, the three of you were a throuple now, but Sun Wukong and Macaque still had a lot of bad blood and unresolved history; some days were more difficult than others when they were learning how to choose love and forgiveness over anger and spite.

“So, what’s on the agenda for today?”

Wukong grinned and held you to his side, throwing his free arm up as if physically showing you the day’s schedule while he listed everything off.

Macaque approached you and took your hand gently in his, “Is that all okay? It’s probably a lot different to where you come from.”

You smiled bittersweetly, thinking about all the traditions you would miss out on and how Christmas was more family-oriented where you were from.

“It’s- It’s different to what I’m used to, but… I don’t think that’s a bad thing. I’m just happy to be with you two.”

At that, Sun Wukong softened. He stood in front of you, his tail curling around your waist, “Hey, we don’t have to do this if it’s too much. We can try your traditions if you want.”

“Next year,” You promised. “I want to see how you do things.”

Sun Wukong smiled at both you and Macaque. He couldn’t believe how lucky he was. He had spent far too long alone, and now he had two people he could spend the holidays with, and even more friends who you were all going to meet; he wouldn’t have it any other way.

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dindjarindiaries · 7 months

Text

DIN DJARIN ONE-SHOTS

Each story below focuses on Din Djarin, with pairings for each story indicated along with summaries.

Stories marked with an asterisk (*) contain sexual, though not explicit/graphic, content.

My ratings are as follows: G (all ages), T (13+), M (18+)

Last updated: March 17, 2024

main masterlist • series • drabbles • prompts

the “heat” of the moment • reader The heat goes out on the Razor Crest and you’re the only one with an electric blanket to keep yourself warm.

my cyar’ika • fem!reader You and Din find yourselves in a marketplace lush with life, and you lose yourself in the fun while Din tries to keep you safe throughout it.

just fine • reader Din comforts you after you suffer through a tumultuous nightmare.

everything i wanted • reader You’re trapped inside a Din x Omera love triangle, struggling to get to your lover who’s entranced with your new host.

riduurok • reader This is the story of how you fall in love with the Mandalorian bounty hunter, Din Djarin.

home • reader After the child is reunited with his people, Din takes you to a place that’s unfamiliar to you but all too familiar to him: his home.

when stars align• reader You spend an affectionate morning awakening beside your Mandalorian, who you have just recently married.

more than words* • reader On the evening of your marriage, you and Din show your deep love for each other in a manner that goes beyond words.

the challenge • reader After winning a drinking challenge, Din returns to the Crest much later than expected in a state of mind much different than usual, leaving you to deal with him and whatever words spill from his mouth.

don’t blame me• reader In the weeks following your marriage, you and Din are desperate to make up for all the physical affection you’ve missed out on—leading you to do whatever you can wherever you can.

said and done • reader With Din being injured from a past fight, you’re the one in charge of the hunts for now—and Din realizes he likes having you in control.

behave* • reader After a grueling hunt, you and Din celebrate your success at a local cantina, both ending up with a little too much that leads you to do things that are a little too risky.

nothing so perfect • fem!reader You and Din think that you’re adding on to your family, only to learn there’s been a mistake—and now you’re both left to cope with the loss you never expected.

next to you • reader It’s been long enough since Din’s promised return for you to assume that he didn’t make it, and now you yearn for the life that could’ve been.

forever and always • reader When you and Din finally find the child’s home, it’s time to say goodbye—but then Din realizes he can’t.

reverence • fem!reader Following the birth of your daughter, Din spends a night marveling at the little life and the way you provide for her.

transmissions • reader When Din’s away on a long job, he gives you a holotransceiver and sends you transmissions to keep you both at ease.

purpose • fem!reader As the daughter of an Imperial senator, the Mandalorian’s hired as your bodyguard—but with the twisted ideals of your father putting you at risk, he becomes so much more than that.

irrevocable • reader After a hunt goes wrong and Din gets captured, you go after him and save him, but you find that they’ve removed his helmet and have done him personal damage that will last for much longer.

mine* • fem!reader With tensions rising not only in the galaxy but also in your relationship, Din proves to you in a new way that he’ll take care of you.

never alone • fem!reader In the aftermath of a bad nightmare, Din receives comfort from an unexpected source: his daughter.

tresses • reader When Din’s hair becomes the object of your and the baby’s affections, he decides it’s time for a trim—although he’s hesitant for a reason you must discover.

enervation • reader Din returns home from his new job as exhausted as ever, begging you to join him in sleep—and trying to make it happen at all costs.

take care • reader After Din sustains an injury on a job, you have to help him take care of himself—something he grows more and more fond of.

affliction • fem!reader When you and Din get recognized at an Imperial gala, you’re both taken into custody, where they begin to use Din to get you to talk—and lead you to do something completely unexpected.

take it off* • reader Your new ally extends his hospitality a little too far—and now Din’s determined to remind you of what he alone can provide you with.

cozy in the cockpit • reader After the Crest suffers through an intense chase and crash, you and Din must figure out how to survive on a freezing planet—your low odds causing your mutual feelings to come to the surface.

beneath the surface • reader You and Din get double-crossed when trying to find other Mandalorians, putting all three of you in deep waters.

touch it softly • reader When you invite Din to play with your hair, you both get a little more than lost in the moment.

alleviation • reader You continue helping Din recover from the traumatizing removal of his helmet, trying to make him understand that it’s okay to not be okay. (part two of Irrevocable)

the right thing • reader Din returns to you on Nevarro after the mission on Moff Gideon’s cruiser—without the child.

ni ceta par gar (i kneel for you)* • reader When Mando needs emotional release, you seek to fulfill your pining by offering something neither one of you can resist—something that could change everything.

in my head • reader The thought of Din plagues your mind—and it won’t be long until it’s forced onto your lips.

hold me in hyperspace • reader After a long hunt, you think Mando just wants some rest—but really, he just wants you.

ner yaim (my home) • reader After a day of work, you get to come home to Din, who’s fitting into his new role well.

mureyca (kiss) • reader The story of the different ways in which you share a kiss with the Mandalorian.

torrent • reader When one of Din’s worst fears is revealed, you’re left to do whatever you can to put him at ease.

bloom • reader With your relationship now in full blossom, a flustered Din takes you on your first date, where he does everything he can to tell you how you make him feel.

before i go • reader Imperial occupation of your covert as well as your mind lead to a devastating confrontation between you and your past Mandalorian lover.

favorite crime • reader When your ex-partner-in-crime and past lover enters your life again, you find yourself looking back on fond memories with a tremendous desire to chase them again.

solace • reader Din reassures you when your perfectionist tendencies catch up to you.

intemperate • reader Mando’s indulgence in liquid courage leads him to say things you never thought you’d hear—and will never forget.

scars • reader When Din shows unprecedented hatred for his battle-worn body, it’s up to you to reassure him of everything you love about it.

seeking serenity • reader Mando, overcome with anxiety in the aftermath of a risky event, needs you to bring him back to reality—and asks for much more along the way.

liberation • reader You lead a mission to free Din from an Imperial hideout, only to discover that he’s in need of you much more than you originally thought.

contrition • reader Din comforts you after you do something drastic to save his life.

bring me home • reader You reunite with your Mandalorian lover after a long separation and realize much has changed since you last him.

safety net • deaf!reader When you and Din are reunited after a hunt that goes longer than expected, your mutual feelings for each other finally bubble to the surface—regardless of the fears you’ve both buried deep within.

selfish • reader Din, who’s helplessly in love with you, is forced to watch you and your partner until he’s forced to come to terms with his feelings.

united we fall • reader Din’s unable to control the Darksaber and accidentally hurts you with it, leaving behind a deep scar on your body and his mind.

of bounties and bartenders • fem!reader The mysterious Din “Brown Eyes” Djarin returns to visit you after a job, but trouble is the last thing he’s left behind.

astronomy • reader Crossing paths with a seriously injured Din forces the two of you to come to terms with your relationship.

stardust • reader You finally reunite with your Mandalorian lover, just to learn a devastating truth.

fine line • reader Din tries his best to comfort you in the aftermath of your torturous capture.

scarlet promise • reader Vengeance consumes you when Din’s put at risk, causing him to have to pull you back to reality.

what sits in the silence • reader Your bounty-hunting rival turns to you in his time of need and brings along more baggage than you planned on handling.

when a house becomes a home • reader A new home brings new responsibilities, and there’s only one person who can teach Din how to cook a proper meal: you.

takes one to know one • reader Bounty hunters aren’t supposed to fall in love and you were okay with that. So was the Mandalorian.

love me louder • reader Your secret romance with the Mandalorian is put at risk when you find yourself in the wrong place at the wrong time.

shattered • reader When an anxious day gets the best of you, Din seeks to comfort you.

the broken who blossom • reader At long last, Din’s returned home to the covert, but he’s brought a lot more home with him than anticipated.

in sickness & in health • reader Din does his best to comfort you when you become anxious about your health.

doomsday • reader You and Din are interrogated by Moff Gideon, who has quickly realized you’re the best weapon he has to use against the Mandalorian.

i still see you • reader In the aftermath of the Morak mission, Din’s faced with a crisis you only hope you can help to resolve somehow.

fight for me • reader When Din starts to get harassed at a cantina, you can’t help jumping in to defend him at all costs.

dead to me• fem!oc On the verge of death, Twila takes off Din’s helmet, later having to face his wrath and leave his ship—even though she’s pregnant with their unborn child.

the marshal • fem!oc Din covers his face. So does she. Shrouded in mystery and unable to admit their shared intimidation, the two must work together to save Mos Pelgo—for both their sakes.

aftermath • omera After his quest has been fulfilled, Din returns to Sorgan, needing the comfort and support of someone he could never forget.

stay • omera Din wrestles with his feelings for Omera and tries to tell her how she feels—but has to let her in first.

a warrior’s purpose • daughter Din returns to the planet where he’d left his riduur many years ago to find her again—but instead, he finds someone else.

enterprise • cassian andor, k2so When Mando’s quarry offers him a better deal, he finds himself getting involved in more than he originally bargained for.

malevolence • grogu Din experiences the ghastly side effects of wielding the famed Darksaber.

foster • obi-wan kenobi Obi-Wan comes across an orphan named Din that he can’t help taking under his wing.

as it was • din djarin’s parents The living waters beneath Mandalore bring Din back to a place—and a people—he never thought he’d see again.

people watching • grogu Observation was a skill Din Djarin had mastered for his own safety, but now it sets the scene for his very own destruction.

main masterlist • series • drabbles • prompts

#din djarin #the mandalorian #din djarin x reader #din djarin x oc #din djarin x original character #din djarin x omera #masterlist #masterlists #dindjarindiaries

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blue-jisungs · 1 year

Text

fast cars, slow kisses

summary. after a race with beomgyu, the night takes an unexpected turn

au. street racer (cars vroom vroom)!! also!! enha, lsfm and hwang minhyun cameo >_<

word count. 3,9k

warnings. uh so, yeah! blood, cursing (strong language if u will), one guy being misogynistic n talking shit, suggestive but not really, alcohol consumption

a/n. ngl i feel like it could be better? more racing n stuff but i’m pretty happy w the ending tho so… enjoy ^_^ also i never watched fast and furious so uh, that’s kinda ironic, aha!

also am i the only one who’s not over this concept? like i am still going insane thanks 😍

+++ if anyone is interested in reading a spin off about minhyun set in this au, go read crush on the track by one and only @slytherinshua !!! (i beg it’s so good)

the smell of gasoline filled your nostrils when you took a deep breath. with a corner of your eye you saw someone approaching you. tucking your hands in the pockets of your jacket you turn around to face them. it turns out to be your friends, le sserafim.

well, not all of them. lsfm – for short – is done with racing this season due to the training of their youngest members, who along with sakura, are walking towards you.

eunchae waved enthusiastically and you couldn’t help but mirror her smile.

“what’s up, youngsters?” you grinned, putting your sunglasses on top of your head.

“long time no see, huh?” sakura nodded and the younger girls high fived with you.

“y’know how it is…” you mumbled, leaning against your car.

“you’ve got this!” eunchae jumped excitedly, eyes scanning your vehicle

“of course i do. this beautiful beast never disappoints” a playful smirk painted on your lips as you noticed your rival in the crowd “and how’s your training going?”

“well we have to train more if we want to beat you some day but as for now… we’re pretty good” kazuha scoffed, earning a giggle from all of you

“oh, we better go!” eunchae stated upon seeing your rival’s car arriving “fighting! if you win you buy us tteokbokki!”

“yah!” you laughed after she ran off. sakura just shook her head

“beat his noisy ass” she hummed and you saluted dramatically

“yes ma’am”

your friends leave to watch you from the side. you and lsfm became friends even since they got into racing. being an only girl in your area got super boring so you were more than excited to see some new faces. chaewon and sakura used to race as co-drivers but then they formed a team and now they’re racing as they wish – with a co-driver or solo.

speaking of solo, you notice minhyun. he’s staring at your rival amused before looking at you. the former co-driver, now solo driver just like you, sticks his tongue out in a playful manner. you do the same, blowing a raspberry when you hear a laugh. you look at the source and notice beomgyu, your enemy.

quite literally.

“my arch nemesis” he whispered yet it was loud enough for you to hear.

“what’s up? ready to lose or should i give you some time to rethink your life choices?” you asked. beomgyu scoffed, crossing his arms.

“the only thing you’ll be rethinking is your future” he bit back, cocking an eyebrow.

“we’ll see about this one. if i keep winning with you all the time i might consider my next location though” a teasing tone of your voice made him roll his eyes “it’s getting boring, y’know?”

he was about to say something when a flagger approached the start line. you took it as a sign and both of you entered your cars.

as you reached your way to the top of racing world, beomgyu was quite the pain in the ass. you managed to win a couple of times against his teammates. and against him, too. but if someone was to draw a graph of the statistics it would be a sinusoid: you won one race, then beomgyu did. then you again, then him… over and over. you started getting sick of him in general: his snarky comments, loud shouting, the confidence in his voice, his ridiculously attractive voice–

“–‘s race! we have thursday’s child of tomorrow by together…!” the announcer pointed at beomgyu’s car, a loud round of applause hitting your ears. he dramatically wiped his eyes as if touched by the support and then winked at you. “and over here we have the first female champion of last year’s races! make some noise for furious!”

you lazily curled the corner of your lips, saluting. the nickname was a bit dumb and so obvious that you were inspired by fast and furious movie saga but at the beginning of your career you thought it was cool. eunchae told you once that after stepping out of the car you do look a bit furious no matter if you win or lose. which might be true because during the ride, you let your negative emotions go; hence the furrowed brows and all.

regarding beomgyu, you didn’t really know the origins of his nickname. it was creative, you’ll give him that. but in this sport the strangest nickname, the less chances the cops will find out your real identity… or so you hoped.

“ready?”

both of your cars’ exhaust pipes made a loud, growling noise. you looked at niki, the youngster who was the flagger today. you sent him finger guns and he did the same, a huge smile blooming on his face.

“three… two… one… go!”

with a gust of wind niki’s hair flew in different directions, both cars passing him by milimeters. before he managed to turn around to look at the vehicles, you were already far away.

you saw the neon sign that signalled you to take a turn. that’s what you liked about racing, too. sure, riding on a race track that you’ve already been to is nice. but the thrill of new locations is much more fuelling, especially after dark. the sun was about to set, sky glowing with vibrant oranges. normally you’d stop and watch but now you were busier with out catching beomgyu.

taking a sharp turn you managed to make him to slow down. shifting the gear stick to a another level, the car made a loud noise and you sped up. taking a glance at beomgyu in the mirror you huffed. asshole.

shaking your head you focused on the road, scanning the flashing lights of that showed you the directions. putting the pedal to the floor, knuckles turning white from gripping the steering wheel you took a deep breath.

because you were on a schedule and went first, you and beomgyu had to finish ten laps. then yunjin was racing with yeonjun and so on. you agreed on racing only for 10 so the younger ones have more fun. besides… tomorrow is saturday and you really needed to rest.

throughout the whole race beomgyu was in front of you a couple of times. thanks to your love and passion for making sudden drifts at turns, you managed to put him into the wall. he didn’t crash, of course, but had to slow down.

the sky gradually turned navy, the darkness overtaking the whole track. only a couple of red lights at the finish line blinked in the distance.

you opened your window when you started approaching it. with a whistle of wind you crossed it, cheers erupting from the crowd. beomgyu arrived shortly after you, just when you took off your helmet. niki walked up to you and cheered loudly. throwing your head back while laughing you patted his back. beomgyu walked up to you, a playful smile on your lips.

“i went easy on you” he grunted. you extended your hand, the manners stronger than your dislike towards him, scoffing.

“mhm, whatever makes you sleep at night” a hum left your mouth and he shook your hand. he was holding your hand a little too tightly but let go suddenly, eyes widening.

minhyun walked up to you, patting your back.

“good job. i wish it was a little brighter so i could see your drifting skills in full glory but i guess your win is good too” he hummed.

“shut up” you scoffed, punching his arm “are you staying or…?”

“yeah, i’ll stay for a bit. are you parking the car or should i do it?” he asked, pointing at your keys. minhyun kept your car at his place since it would be too suspicious for a average student to own a racing car.

“i’ll do it. maybe i’ll dig around in your garage” you sent him a toothy grin. minhyun just rolled his eyes.

entering your car again you noticed beomgyu looking at you with a pensive look on his face.

without giving it any more thought you drove away, turning on the radio. your heart still pumping with adrenaline, you let out a shaky breath.

beomgyu stayed until the end. yeonjun lost against jay, soobin won with sunghoon and niki raced with kai for fun.

“not your day, huh?” he heard heeseung’s voice. he turned around and grunted,

“tell me about it” beomgyu rolled his eyes and pointed at niki “he’s got some potential though”

“yeah… beer? me and some other guys are going to the bar nearby” heeseung grinned.

“you know i never say no to beer” beomgyu laughed “let me just tell my idiots”

a short moment later they all met up in the bar, except the youngest ones. some other fans that were watching the races were there too.

beomgyu let out a heavy sigh and looked over at heeseung.

“what?” he grunted upon realising his friend was staring at him.

“i’ve noticed something, you know?” the oldest member of enhypen racing team smiled mischievously.

“that’s what your eyes are for” beomgyu murmured and took a sip of beer.

“we know you’re salty after losing but let it go, beomgyu” soobin, his leader, nudged him. heeseung smirked and shook his head after catching yeonjun’s curious gaze.

“we’ll talk later, let’s change the subject. did you watch the football game yesterday?” he asked, a lively conversation breaking out.

an hour passed by and beomgyu had to go to the bathroom. he didn’t drink too much but his vision got a little blurry once he stood up.

after he finished and washed his hands, while leaving the room he overheard a conversation.

“that girl, huh? i don’t believe it” one man, who was bald, said

“what do you mean?” his companion asked

“it’s a girl, dumbass” the bald one laughed loudly as if it was the funniest thing ever “no way in hell she beat thursday’s child”

“yeah… it’s a bit weird” his friend grunted

“i bet they’re a couple. or she just slept with some guy to win… whore” the bald guy spat out.

adrenaline and alcohol rushing through beomgyu’s veins lead him towards the guy. it all happened in a blink of an eye: him grabbing the bald guy’s shirt, throwing a left hook on his face, the other guy’s screaming. the punch was so strong that the guy landed on the floor. beomgyu pinned him down and tried making another punch

“she’s skilled, you fucking misogynist” he spat out.

“what the fuck?” the bald man grunted and managed to duck the attack and roll away. beomgyu, a bit dizzy, stood up and realised what he did. well, too late…

“what’s your problem, man?!” was all he heard before a sharp wave of pain spreading through his face. he took a few steps back due to the impact.

“my problem? it’s you who can’t understand that women can be good at male dominated sports? or are you just jealous because your life is so pathetic?” beomgyu spat out and the guy grabbed his shirt.

“who are you to talk?!” before the bald guy hit him again, beomgyu put his forearms in front of his face in order to protect his face from getting hurt. then he took a chance and managed to get out of the man’s hold and attacked him again.

“wait, is that… beomgyu?” he heard heeseung’s voice.

“what? no, he’s here! right, beomgyu?beomgyu–?!“ soobin’s shouts faded when another throw was aimed at the brown haired boy’s head resulting in ringing in his ears.

if you weren’t in the kitchen, having a 2am snack, you probably wouldn’t hear the aggressive knocking at your front door.

still with the spoon in your mouth you opened the door and your eyes widened upon seeing… beomgyu.

“what’s up, baby girl?” he smirked, leaning against the doorway. you were to shut your door when you noticed the awful state of his hands… and face.

“what the fuck, choi?” you grunted, removing the spoon.

“i was just having a midnight walk and decided to pay you a visit” he sent you a toothy grin

“just tell me who did you annoy this time or i’m closing the door” you sighed, crossing your arms. you wouldn’t, though. his brow was busted, nose bleeding and not to mention the huge bruise forming on his cheek bone.

he sighed, scratching his neck. you saw a glimpse of his knuckles covered in blood.

“i just got into a bar fight, that’s all. you should–“ he started sheepishly.

“… see the other guy, yeah yeah. just… come in. don’t you have a first aid kit at your place?” you grunted and closed the door after he walked in “wait, how do you even know where i live?”

“uhh… spidey senses? also, that’s a quite pretty place you have here” beomgyu shrugged. you walked over to the sink, throwing the spoon in, hiding the ice cream you were eating and pointed at the table in your dinning room.

“sit down. if i see you snooping around you’re being kicked out. and kicked in your ass” you huff, looking at him threateningly. the light was better inside so now you saw other scratches on his face.

“yes ma’am” beomgyu breathed out and obediently sat down where you told him to.

he zoned out while looking at the picture hanging on the wall. you and minhyun, his arm thrown over yours as you did bunny ears behind his head. pft. you looked like a couple.

the sudden thud of you placing the first aid kit down on the table made him jerk, his knees jumping up and hitting the table.

“stop daydreaming and tell me what happened” you ordered, looking for hydrogen dioxide.

“i was just looking at your boyfriend” he grunted, missing the thundering look you gave him.

“minhyun is like a brother to me. i’d rather date you than him. besides, he already has a girlfriend” you mumbled, realising what you said. beomgyu didn’t seem to catch it though, so you moved on quickly “whatever. i’m patching you up so you owe me an explanation”

beomgyu sighed.

“we went drinking and… i just had to put some rational thoughts into some guy. with my fists, that’s all” he said and his eyes widened when you tenderly grabbed his chin and propped it upwards, forcing him to look up at him.

“we? also, are you still drunk?” you asked and your features suddenly softened “i’m sorry but this will sting a bit”

beomgyu hissed when you pressed a cotton pad with the liquid on it, cleaning his open wounds.

“me and my team and also heeseung, jay, jake and sunghoon” beomgyu sighed “and i’m not drunk. i was. but the fight really sobered me up, y’know?”

“i assume. so, if i call soobin will he tell me the truth?” the question left him silent. you wiped the blood trickling from his nostrils gently.

he sighed again, closing his eyes.

“you’re a bad liar, choi. i noticed it the first time we met” you laughed quietly but there was no venom in your words “careful, here i go again”

he focused on the gentle touch of your fingers on his chin. suddenly you halted and he could hear your focused breathing.

“are you hungry?”

his eyes shot open, widening in surprise. then, his lips curled upwards almost recreating a v shape.

“actually, i am. whatcha got?” he asked. you went to the kitchen and beomgyu brushed his fingers against the spot where yours were just seconds ago. returning back with some milk bread he just noticed the way your hands were shaking.

“so you just beat up a guy for fun?” you asked. beomgyu scoffed and grabbed the bread, sinking his teeth in it. gosh, he was starving.

you carefully put a bandage on his brow, your own knitting due to the focused state you were in. he was munching slowly and suddenly you realised how his cheeks were dusted in a pretty, pink shade.

“well… he was taking shit about you” beomgyu blurted out after he swallowed, looking at you with his big doe eyes. you’d assume his blushing was caused by the alcohol in his system but the truth is… beomgyu realised how you were standing between his legs, so close to him.

“what?” you whispered, frowning.

he shrugged and took another bite.

you grabbed a nearby chair and sat on it, grabbing his right hand. you put some hydrogen dioxide on the wounds on his knuckles too, causing him to curse.

“what the fuck? why didn’t you warn me?” he grunted with his mouth full. your mind was racing, and so was your heart. did this mean that beomgyu – the guy who hated you with passion – stood up for you? and got into a fight?

“stop thinking so intensely, you’ll pop a vein” beomgyu chuckled but it became clear to him what you just realised too “it’s not what you think, i still hate you…”

his voice trailed off. you bandaged his knuckles in silence, heart thumping against your rib cage so hard, you thought it might break out any second.

“…he was just being misogynistic, that’s all” he added quietly after a while.

“are you sure it’s not because you like me?” you teased with a playful smile and looked up, expecting him to throw a snarky comment at you.

instead, you were met with his soft gaze on you and his pretty lips slightly parted. your smile dropped slightly, eyes locked with his. for a while though because his gaze shifted to your lips momentarily.

you gulped, trying to shake off the urge to… kiss him…?

“all done. patched up. you should take a shower though because you smell like a bar itself–“ you mumbled, looking up.

“can i kiss you?” beomgyu breathed out suddenly, his ebony eyes sparkling with adoration.

you nodded slowly, grabbing his hand. you intertwined fingers with his gently, beomgyu stood up and leaned in, cupping your face with his free hand. it was a bit harsh and calloused against your burning cheek, but his lips; oh his lips. they were pillowy, making you melt into the kiss. it was nothing but a loving kiss, reassembling a way that lovers kiss after they reunite after a long while without seeing each other. slow but sensual made your head spin and heart race faster than your car couple hours before.

your other hand travelled to the nape of his neck, playing with his hair. beomgyu hissed suddenly, pulling away.

“did i hurt you?” you asked, eyes widening in worry. he shook his head, a goofy smile on his face.

“i thought i was dreaming for a moment” he murmured and his hand slid down to your chin, propping it up slightly “and i was getting uncomfortable”

the taste of sweet bread he was eating earlier lingered on your lips. beomgyu leaned in again but you playfully tilted your head.

“wait, are you really kissing me? your arch nemesis?” a teasing hum left your mouth. he just rolled his eyes

“shut up” he grunted and kissed you again, your lips curling into a smile.

air was knocked out of your lungs one more time, his plush lips a cause of that. this time though you could taste the beer on his tongue. which reminded you of–

you leaned away, beomgyu panting.

“what?” he breathed out, chasing back after your lips.

“i know i’m irresistible but take a shower, you stink” you let out a soft laugh “and we’ll talk in the morning, okay? you must be tired”

“oh… yeah, sure” he nodded.

you showed him the way to the bathroom and gave some fresh clothes (minhyun’s shirt that you stole once). then you had a fifteen minute fight about who’s going to sleep on the couch and eventually you got it (by winning in a rock paper scissors)

you would lie if you said that you slept well. no, it wasn’t the couch. your mind was racing with thoughts: why did he kiss you? will he remember it? because what if he was still drunk? will it… lead to something else?

you hated beomgyu, sure, but that was because you were rivals in what you did. you never really… met him. and this all… was different. nice. got your heart warming up. you promised yourself that once you wake up in the morning and he’s gone, you’ll act like none of this never happened.

the sound of metal clanking and the smell of… burnt food was what woke you up. jolting forward from the couch you saw beomgyu wandering around in the kitchen, humming something.

“you know that for arson you can be up to 10 years in prison?” you asked, lazily standing up from the couch. he squealed, surprised by your sudden appearance.

“you woke up” he laughed, taking a sip of tea.

“i did. and you’re trying to burn my house down?” you cocked an eyebrow, crossing your arms. beomgyu shook his head, placing two plates on the counter.

“i did. but i changed my mind and made pancakes” he hummed and took them to the dining room. you watched him in awe, heart fluttering. he stayed.

you sat down, staring at the food.

“i felt a little guilty you slept on the couch. and i was hungry, so…” he shrugged and started eating. but he stopped upon seeing you gazing at the pancakes with a small smile “i promise i didn’t poison it… although it was tempting”

“that’s not it. i’m just thinking… do you– well, why did you…” you trailed off, not sure how to put your thoughts into words. beomgyu understood, his features softening.

“y/n, the moment i saw you for the first time after the first race you won with taehyun i was whipped. i’m not kidding you” he said, your eyes widening. beomgyu chuckled, bright smile adoring his face “yes, i liked you. i have liked you for two years now… well, i still do… it’s just… the emotions after the race and all… we just didn’t start off too good and uh… shit happens”

you snorted, suddenly the way you caught him staring way too many times suddenly making sense.

“so if you want to forget about the kiss and all of that happened, i’d be sad but i’ll understand. and also… thank you. for patching me up and not… kicking out” he said, looking at the bandages on his knuckles

“i’m a bit surprised, i’m not going to lie… but… what do you want to do now?” you asked, blush creeping on your face. mischievous glint sparkled in his eye and you knew you’re doomed.

“i can take you on a date or two, for a romantic ride in my fast car” he smiled boyishly, suddenly leaning closer and whispering “and then we’d make it official and could make out on the back office of our usual racing track… y’know, keeping the facade we still hate each other…”

“shut up” you grunted, looking away,

“awwh, did i make you shy?” he cooed, pushing the plate with your pancakes closer “eat up and i’ll take you for a ride, huh?”

“only if we race there” you grunted, a smile lingering on your lips. beomgyu grinned and it’s safe to say it was the fastest way you’ve ever eaten (wolfed down) your breakfast.

[ masterlist <3 ]

taglist. @geniejunn ,, @luvhyun3 ,, @starlostseungmin ,, @elviransworld ,, @jnks6r ,, @sieunsgf ,, @ethereallino ,, @laylasbunbunny ,, @duolingofanaccount ,, @slytherinshua ,, @stxrseungs ,, @ka-ni-ma ,, @iliveforlixie ,, @ameliesaysshoo ,, @dazzlingligth ,, @mark-geolli ,, @l3visbby ,, @w3bqrl ,, @ddeonudepressions ,, @yourfavoritefreakyhan ,, @cinnamoroxie ,, @kazmura

#beomgyu scenarios #beomgyu x y/n #beomgyu fluff #beomgyu imagines #beomgyu txt #choi beomgyu #beomgyu x reader #beomgyu reactions #beomgyu au #txt au #txt fluff #txt reactions #txt imagines #txt x reader #txt fic #txt boyfriend #beomgyu

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sttoru · 1 month

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⠀ 𝝑𝑒 ⠀⠀ 𝐒𝐘𝐍𝐎𝐏𝐒𝐈𝐒. all sukuna needs is someone to take care of his needs after a stressful day—that someone being you, his favorite concubine.

tags. true form!sukuna x concubine! female reader. smut, angst towards the end. objectification kinda, size kínk, p in v -> unprotected, choking (nearly goes wrong), breeding kink, standing doggy, sukuna has two cawks, reader gets called ‘(little) slut, doll’. uhh sukuna has cannibal-ish desires.. idk how to explain it.

“you,” sukuna barges into the dining hall, not batting an eye to all the other women sitting around. his sharp gaze immediately finds yours in-between the crowd. that’s when you realise that he’s clearly pissed off at someone or something.

everyone freezes and stops eating—scurrying to politely greet and bow at the king of curses. you do the same after a second of processing his unexpected presence.

sukuna barks a command before you can part your lips to ask a question, “into my chambers. now.”

the servants and concubines all look on with wide eyes. they know what that means. some are blushing from embarrassment at sukuna’s bold choice of words—others are silently seething with envy because you’re the centre of his attention again.

all eyes are on you as you get up to follow sukuna. you’re nervous yet also somewhat excited. you were unable to walk straight for a few days the last time sukuna looked and sounded that angry.

but, the embarrassment is certainly also present. especially because everyone knows what the mighty sorcerer and his concubine are going to be up to for the upcoming hours.

“strip,” sukuna firmly says the second you enter his room. you’re used to his distant, rushed behaviour at this point, so you comply. you undo all robes—leaving you completely bare in front of him.

sukuna’s canine teeth show as he grins at the welcoming sight. he steps towards you, his rough hands coming up to fondle your body. he squeezes and fondles your soft flesh with surprising care, “mhmm. this ‘s all i needed.”

it isn’t long before your small body is caged against the nearest wall. your breasts are squished by the cold concrete, your hands the only thing keeping your balance. your fingernails hurt because of you repeatedly scratching the wall.

“i know y’ can get louder than that,” sukuna hisses and sinks his sharp canines into your shoulder. he’s splitting you open, his thick cock dragging along your velvety walls with a purpose. the king of curses unapologetically draws a bit of blood from your flesh, “tsk—moan like the fuckin’ slut you are.”

and you do as told. your voice gets so loud to the point that it’s embarrassing, but you can’t care less. your insides are begging sukuna to continue—to not stop until they’ve turned into mush. until they’re painted white with loads and loads of thick and slippery cum.

“tha’s it, doll,” sukuna huffs as his tongue licks over the bite mark he left on your shoulder. his eyes flash a dangerous red at the sight. he’s doing all he can to suppress the urge to eat you up.

literally.

he’s got this aching carnal desire to devour you. to consume you like it’s his last meal on earth. sukuna can’t stand it, though he tries his best. you’re an interesting human; the reactions you elicit from him are strong. like no one has been able to do so before.

“need more, my lord,” you beg between interrupted moans. you’re drunk on pleasure, oblivious to the fact that sukuna is fighting off his inner demons. you’re obsessed with the way his hips roughly slam against your ass. your body is on fire, “more—more, fnghhh, more!”

all four of sukuna’s hands tighten around your hips and waist. he squeezes you until you feel his nails painfully dig into your skin. you’re making it so hard for him; acting this needy, begging him to ravage you and claim your cunt, mind and soul.

“lost y’r fuckin’ manners, hm?” sukuna grumbles and slaps your ass as punishment, “beg properly.” he spreads your asscheeks after that, squishing the plump fat in attempt to withstand his own sick thoughts.

you look delicious. your dripping pussy that’s wetting both his cocks looks delicious. your body that is much smaller compared to his looks powerless and. . . delicious.

“‘m sorry—please, pleaseee!” you mewl, eyes rolling back into your skull. you’ll never get tired of being pounded until you’re unable to think or talk properly. it’s even better with sukuna, his two cocks are enough to keep you stuffed and satisfied for nth amount of time.

your breath hitches as you feel your feet being lifted from the floor. your legs dangle in the air as sukuna readjusts his grasp on your body so he could support you up against the wall. the new angle he’s fucking you in only increases all the pleasure.

you’re not sure if you can even keep up with him at this point. you’re brainlessly allowing him to position your body however he sees fit.

“shittt, yeah,” sukuna nearly salivates at the sight of your small body accepting its fate. you’re either super easy to please, or he’s just good at what he’s doing. no matter which one it is—sukuna’s making sure that you’re not going to be able to walk after he’s done.

he plunges his upper cock in and out of your wet cunt. each thrust is different than the one before, the pace quickening before slowing down again. he’s clearly teasing you and that’s exactly what drives you crazy.

“my lord—mmh! so deep,” you hiccup, nearly crying because of how many times sukuna hits that sweet spot deep inside your leaking pussy. your brain has shut down and all you can focus on is his thick cock that’s making you moan uncontrollably.

sukuna curses under his breath. you’re so desperate and it makes him want to do unspeakable things. he wants to have you all to himself. he doesn’t know what that overbearing emotion is and it’s frustrating him to no end.

the king of curses only increases his pace after that. he attempts to decrease the flow of thought inside of his mind by pounding you harder. your entire body is trembling and jolting back and forth in place, every thrust of his is met with a loud moan of yours.

“quit whining ‘n just take it,” sukuna pants, not paying mind to your jumbled up sentences. there’s no need for words, his current and only goal is to make your cunt overflow with his cum. if he can’t claim you in an inhuman way, he’ll resort to mark your insides, so no man even thinks of speaking or touching what’s his.

you can feel the passion behind sukuna’s thrusts. you’re still not over the fact that he’s using you like a ragdoll to get himself off. but, it also feels insanely good at the same time. you nod and nod, wanting to satisfy each of sukuna’s desires.

“i’ll let ‘em know,” the king of curses groans once he feels you involuntarily squeeze his upper cock. his lower cock slides between your thighs, back and forth, getting its own stimulation. sukuna finishes his sentence with a guttural grunt, “i’ll let everyone know y’r mine ‘nd mine only.”

he’s serious about this. his hands squeeze your form and you moan at the act of ownership. by the increase of his harsh thrusts, you can tell that he’s close. close to dumping his hot load into your cunt and breed your womb full of him.

sukuna can’t get the image out of his head. you, fully bred, by no one else but him. how you’d walk around the estate with his cum pooling between your legs. the other concubines are going to seethe the second they smell his scent on you— something they can only dream of.

“take it — fucking take it,” sukuna gets more aggressive with the second. he yearns for a release, one that will destress him. though the closer he gets to his climax, the more those carnal desires threaten to take over.

you squeal as you feel one of sukuna’s hands wrap around your neck. he squeezes your throat until you’re gasping for air. you don’t know what’s suddenly got into him, but you’re too far gone to care.

you can hear him growling in your ear from behind—his hips not stopping even as you reach your own orgasm. you curl your fingers around sukuna’s wrist, trying to loosen his grip around your throat before you lose consciousness, “m-mmhhh, can’t breathe.”

your sobs echo throughout the chambers. your climax leaves you spasming in sukuna’s grasp, your cunt feels like it’s on fire as it continues being overstimulated.

sukuna’s too far gone as well. you can feel drops of his drool fall on your bare back. his red eyes are wide, looking down at you like you’re his meal for the day. figuratively, you are. though the king of curses has a desire that urges him to take it literally.

“r-ryo, please!”

it’s only then that sukuna snaps back to his usual self. hearing you call him by that nickname you created both calms him down and turns him on. he loosens the grip on your throat and instead presses you harshly against the wall with one final thrust.

he spills all his heavy balls have stored into your cunt. your pussy floods with his potent seed, the sticky fluid easily finding its way into your womb. you whimper at the warm feeling—sukuna always cums so much. literal buckets.

you can feel the same sticky feeling on your thighs, as well as on the wall after his lower cock spurts out ropes of cum too. you feel yourself being lowered to the floor and you lean against the hard surface to catch your breath.

you take a look over your shoulder and see how sukuna’s eyes are partially hidden behind his sweaty bangs. there’s a dark aura surrounding him, though it slowly disappears the more he calms down.

his hands are still holding your body in place, not ready to let go of you. his upper cock softens up inside of you and you’re unsure of what to do. the silence - except for the heavy breathing - makes you question if you did something wrong.

“something the matter, my lord?” you ask between faint gasps. sukuna doesn’t answer you and instead lets go of your body, pulling himself out of you right after.

if he keeps himself inside of you, he’ll lose it. he’ll do something he feels like he’ll eventually regret.

“get dressed,” sukuna commands harshly. he doesn’t even look at you anymore. he simply pulls the robes over his body again and covers himself. you’re confused, but you do as told either way.

you’re shaking as you fix your undergarments before pulling your kimono over your body again. you’ll fix your make up and disheveled hair later. first, you need to figure out why sukuna’s acting so cold.

sure - he’s always been like that, aftercare and affection was never really his forte - but it’s somehow worse today. once you’re done dressing up, you obediently stand in front of sukuna, looking up at him like you’re expecting another command.

this is usually the moment where you can just relax in his chambers until you fall asleep or until you’ve calmed down. though, today felt off. you’re uneasy by the tension in the air.

the oblivious look in your eyes nearly makes the king of curses pounce on you. you’re so oblivious to what’s going on in his mind. the images that flash through his mind—of you underneath him as he claims your flesh and bones.

your soul. your heart.

“get out,” sukuna hisses. he does not need to spend another second with you in his personal space. no good will come out of it anyway. he can smell himself on you and it’s triggering those same urges that he was fighting off just moments ago.

he longs to sink his teeth in every part of your flesh. to eat you whole like it’s his right.

he clenches his fists and moves to sit on the edge of his bed. to you, sukuna looks mad. perhaps a bit confused with how he’s feeling. he still doesn’t understand why he’s having such strong feelings towards you.

he yearns to claim ownership over you in more ways than one.

you gulp and know that sukuna is not to be messed with when he’s like this. even if you don’t realise why, you simply nod and bow at him before walking out of his chambers. not a word has to be spoken.

you close his doors behind you and yet can’t seem to move away. you’re unsure of what that last interaction between you two meant.

the look in sukuna’s eyes contained something so primal. no, feral.

you remember how he choked you until you were on the verge of passing out. how he held you like he wanted to possess your every being. how he squeezed your body between his and the wall, leaving you no space to breathe.

you run your fingers over the mark on your shoulder. you hiss; the bite mark stung. it didn’t during the moment because of the adrenaline, but now that the effects of the hormone have worn off, you realise just how deep it was. sukuna normally gives you light and small bites, but this one was different.

everything about that passionate session was unusual, overwhelming and… primal.

just what in the world was that?

#sttoru writes.#jjk smut #jjk x reader #sukuna smut #sukuna x reader #sukuna ryomen smut #jjk x you #jjk x y/n #sukuna x you #sukuna x y/n #jjk imagines

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surferblues · 2 years

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nothing but trouble ! ˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆

austin butler! elvis x fem! reader

warnings semi public sex?, praising kink, unprotected sex, very short, and obviously, sexual themed.

You and Elvis were strictly just friends, that's what he liked to call it. Nothing more than friends that enjoyed one another's company, one on one time, but as said... that's what Elvis liked to call it.

But you hated the title, the secrecy, and the bullshit commitment to only seeing him as a friend and nothing more.

Those were the rules he set, the rules he made sure were set in your head before he started this ongoing game of ... sneaking in your small bedroom every night just so he could seek for you to fill his pleasureful urges.

You spun at the sound of your window opening, book ready and weaponised in your hand as you waited with fearful breath for the unknown presence to reveal themself. "Elvis?" you muttered quietly, a scowl appearing on your face at the unexpected visitor.

as the sound of his name rolled off the tip of your tounge, the dark haired devil jumped , smacking his head into the rusted metal connected to the window, and scowling when you laughed.

"What are you doing? My parents are here!" You whispered loudly, fighting back the humourous grin on your face as he held his head in pain, a playful scowl still clear on his face. "I just wanna see my girl." Elvis muttered slowly, his scowl now replaced with a playful smirk as his feet lead him towards the bed where you body had been resting.

The boy placed himself on your floor, careful not to make too much noise so as not to cause suspicion from your parents down stairs.

"What happened to not sneaking around when my parents were here?" You voice laced sarcasm and annoyance, scoffing at Elvis as he sat on the floor near the end of your bed, right infront of where the upper half of your body was.

"They won't mind, just' oughta be quiet." his thick voice drawled out, placing a straight finger over your mouth before letting out a small "hush".

"Elvis, you know what would happen if my daddy saw you in here." You were basically begging him to not do anything stupid, the warning in your eyes evident. He chuckled lowly, nodding in an understanding manner before rising from the floor and walking towards your closed bedroom door.

"Your dad loves me, wouldn't lay a finger on me." Elvis placed his hand over his heart, hissing in fake pain, but the smile on his face showed the he was feeling nothing but pure humor and amusement.

"Even if he caught me wandering around in here." Elvis slowly began to turn the handle of your door, his mischievous smile growing wider just as the door opened wider. "he still wouldn't lay a finger on me." Elvis spoke in a volume above a whisper.

You quickly scrambled on your feet, as soon as you saw the hallway of your home, you were quick on your toes to shut the door. "Are you trying to get me killed!" You groaned out, pushing the taller boy away from the door and slamming the door with a bang.

"Come on, don't hold out on me. " Elvis cooed out, as your attempt in pushing the man away failed miserably so, he enveloped both of his calloused hands on your cheeks. "I've been good, all week just for you." he said in that dumbfounded tone he knew would make you fall to your knees everytime he used it, the same tone that had gotten you two in situations you would later regret the next day.

"Good as in completely acting as if I don't exist?" You lifted your eyes up to meet his, crossing your arms as a stern expression spread on your face.

"Y'know it's not like that, I just can't let the Colonel know that I gotta' girl." Elvis rasped, gracefully sliding his hands from your fleshed cheeks to your bare arms... you wished you could have opted for that grandma gown rather than the revealing slip dress.

You felt your skin prickle under his touch, his rough hands glding back and forth between your shoulder blades and elbows. "I know, it's just, i hate the sneaking around ." You words came out breathily.

"It'll only be a little 'while til I'll be able to show you off, show everyone your mine, yeah?" he nodded slowly, his thick accent drawing out as you pulley away from him with an slight irritated expression.

He relentlessly followed before letting out a sigh, his hand running through his greased jet black hair. You sat on the edge of your bed, looking at him with full of expectation.

"Let me make it up to you." He rasped out, nodding in an understanding manner as he lowered his eyes, seeking your face for any desperate form of confirmation. "My parents are downstairs." You reminded unsurely, but as soon as those unsure words left your mouth he shook his head.

"If you're nice and quiet, they won't hear a thing." He says in a readily way stays tall as he stands, his hands on your cheeks as you looked up in his direction with hungry eyes.

"lemme treat right, like you deserve, mama." he slowly whispered as sinked to his knees, seated right infront of you. his hand guided themselves towards your bare thighs, opening them... and giving him sight of where you needed him the most.

"elvis." you bit back, desperation and unsureness as you saw the way he kept his eyes on you with every inch he moved. " haven't even done anything, and you're already calling my name out." he chuckled cockily, gliding his hand gracefully between your parted thighs.

you hated how he cockily smirked as he felt the cloth that was basically with the juices that released everytime he spoke so dangerously, everytime he kept his eyes on you with the lustful waver, and everyone his fingertips touched you.

"Now, mama, tonight, I'm doin' everything in your favor. ." He whispered in a warm tone, pickpocketing the pink lace that had been on your body moments ago.

You shuddered at the new foreign feeling, his fingers lifting up the silk dress that rid up short. The new sensation of cold air hitting your upper thighs, and Elvis's new interest in making sure you were pleased. "I'll be real gentle, real nice." He nodded, sticking out two fingers before edging them towards your throbbing button.

#elvis smut #austin butler smut #austin!elvis #elvis x reader #austin butler elvis #elvis presley x reader #austin butler fanfiction #austin butler imagine #elvis presley smut #austin!elvis smut #austinbutleredit #elvis presley imagine #elvis 2022 #baz luhrmann elvis #austin butler x reader #austin!elvis x reader #austin butler #elvis presley #elvis imagine

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suashii · 3 months

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FRI(END)S — some suggestive fluff for suna :p

your alarm hasn’t gone off yet, your eyes haven’t opened yet, but you’re awake.

and something feels… strange.

when you finally peel your eyelids back, you’re met with another pair—gray and sharp—staring back at you. the unexpected sight makes you suck in a startled breath. you almost question what suna’s doing under the covers on the usually unoccupied side of your bed before memories from last night rush back. the line between friends and something more has officially been blurred.

“why are you staring at me?” you pull the blanket up to your chin to cover yourself, as if suna hadn’t seen much more than your naked collarbone only a few hours ago. “it’s creepy.”

a grin tugs at his lips. it’s familiar and makes the tension in your shoulders dissipate, if only a little. “i thought people liked being watched while they sleep. it’s romantic or something.”

you shake your head. “it’s not when it’s you.”

he chuckles and stretches his arms above his head, groaning with the action. he doesn’t seem to care about his skin being on display as he lets the comforter rest at his hip. “fair enough.”

silence blankets your room. the sunlight peeking in from the sheerness of your curtains lights up suna’s skin, casting its golden rays on the blank canvas. except, it’s not blank. there’s a mole on his chest and a small scar on his ribs, neither of which you’ve ever seen before. never had a reason to, you suppose.

his voice, still thick with sleep, cuts through the tranquil air. “did you know that you snore?”

“i do not.” you frown and your fingers twitch with the urge to flick his forehead or pinch his arm but touching him, even in a friendly, jesting manner, feels like it isn’t allowed. so you keep your arm at your side.

“you do, i heard you. don’t worry, it’s cute.”

you’re not sure if it’s the way he keeps insisting that you snore or the fact that he called you cute like it was nothing, but the blanket over you suddenly feels suffocating—heavy and too hot on your warming skin. it forces your arm out into the cool air of your apartment and you find it impossible not to kick him in annoyance.

“shut up,” you mumble as suna laughs. he’s having too much fun with this. to see him this energetic in the morning is odd. “why are you even awake right now? i thought you slept until noon on off days.”

he shrugs. “kind of weird sleeping in someone else’s bed, i guess.”

it’s a relief to hear that suna finds at least part of this situation foreign. you’re both dancing around the subject, not bringing up what happened last night and how that changes things, but you’re in the same boat.

no matter how, you’re sure you’ll figure things out—together.

“do you want breakfast?”

suna nods enthusiastically at the mention of food. it makes you smile for the first time this morning as you move to get out of bed. though, as quickly as you do, you stop. “turn around so i can put some clothes on.”

“i’ve already—”

you point a finger at him. “don’t you dare say it’s nothing you haven’t seen before.”

“fine, fine.” he raises his hands in surrender before he rolls onto his other side, all while fighting the stupid grin pulling at his lips.

inspired by v's new song fri(end)s :3

#here take this!#suna is so friends to lovers shaped it hurts #suna x reader #haikyuu x reader #suna drabble #haikyuu drabbles #ᯓᡣ𐭩 mantaro

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ickaimp · 1 year

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[BotW] Excuse Me While I Kiss this Guy (discontinued)

My SidLink fic, ‘Excuse Me While I Kiss this Guy’, has been getting a lot of attention on Ao3. It’s two parts, and I tried to write a part three from Link’s POV. That was back in 2018, and I’ve since moved five times. Needless to say, it never got past the WiP stage and the HTTYD fic, ‘Coming Down is the Hardest Thing‘ ate our brain instead. But in honour of Tears of the Kingdom, figured I’d put everything in roughly a chronological shape and post what got written. It’s not complete, prolly never will be, but hopefully it’ll give a couple chuckles. 2900 words. There is also now a bonus scene at the end of Excuse Me While I Kiss this Guy on Ao3.

+++ He didn’t mean to return to the Zora Domain.

Death Mountain lived up to its name, Vah Rudania had been freed from Ganon’s touch, and all Link wanted to do was go somewhere cooler where he could relax and recoup from climbing over a moving metal structure that was standing over gigantic pools of lava. So his duty done to the Gorons, he’d pulled out the Sheikah slate and hit the first shrine that looked near water. Finding himself facing a handful of angry armed Zora guards had been a bit of a shock, but he’d honestly been too tired to care. Getting the helmet off and breathing the cool humid air of the Zora domain helped, more so when Sidon arrived. The shock on the prince’s face was comical. Even more so when he told his guards to stand down and offered Link a bath. +++ The kiss to the top of his head was unexpected, and made his chest feel light and fluffy. The gesture was as unexpected as it was confusing, but not in a bad way. Sidon’s explanation, his offer of kisses, just made it funnier. +++ Kisses. Link reminded himself as he struggled and fought his way through the shrine. Sidon believed in him, and when Link finished, he could see Sidon again. And get another kiss. +++ He didn’t know how to pay back Sidon for the encouragement. For the kisses. And he wanted to. He wanted to show Sidon how much it meant to Link. How much Sidon himself meant to Link. Armour was important to Zora. Milpha had made him armour. He was pretty sure there were books in the library that explained how to make armour. And armour would keep Sidon safe when Link wasn’t around. He could do that. He had gems and supplies from his travels all over Hyrule. He could make armour. +++ He couldn’t make armour. He could, but not armour for Sidon, who was much larger than Link, or the average anyone. The armour came out the same every time he tried, just the right size for him to fit in to. This was a problem. +++ “You’re making something entirely new.” Rhondson said, shaking her head over Link’s confusion. “You and your magic have seen jewellery and many kinds of armour and know what shapes to make things it has seen before. But to make something new, you’re going to have to do it the hard way.” Link looked down at his hands. Well, it wasn’t as if he didn’t have the time to learn something new.

+++ Zora made their armour from scales, but Link didn’t have scales. Which meant that he needed to get scales somehow. What had scales? Fish, of course. Zora, but he couldn’t ask them for scales, not for this. Dragons. He had a small collection of their scales and horns. Not enough for armour. Which meant that he’d have to get more.

“I’m gonna go fight a dragon.” Link declared, anticipation singing through his body.

“Link? Is everything okay?” Zelda looked worried as she peered into his face. “You’ve kind of got your crazy eyes on.”

He just grinned at her.

“Okay then.” Zelda sighed and shook her head. He knew that he worried her, that before the Calamity he’d been raised to be a knight, with all the genteel manners and stuff, but he didn’t remember any of that.

And really, it sounded completely boring and dull. He liked who he was now, he couldn’t go back to whatever he’d been before. Zelda had accepted that, but she still fussed at him. It was kind of... nice, in a strange way.

She kissed him on the cheek. “Go do your thing. Try not to come back all bloody.”

He appreciated the fact that she never referred to the castle as his home. It was hers, certainly. And while he didn’t mind staying here, it didn’t feel like home to him.

His heart called him elsewhere.

‘No promises.’ He agreed, kissing her cheek as well. Her kisses weren’t like Sidon’s. Still sweet, in a different way. Softer, for one thing. And not as varied, she liked to kiss and be kissed mostly on the cheek.

He liked Sidon’s kisses better. The feeling of rough scales on skin was more welcoming to him than that of soft Hylian skin. Kissing Zelda didn’t leave his heart fluttering and skin tingling and wanting more. +++ The dragon scales were too large and unwieldy to just make into armour. Especially for someone who was as streamlined as Sidon. Cutting them down with normal tools didn’t work, they shattered swords and shears alike. The only thing that seemed to be able to cut dragon scale was dragon scale itself. Link growled to himself, realising that this meant he needed to get more scales, some for the armour, some to use as tools. Which meant more time away from Sidon. He sighed. He could do it. +++ ‘Think it’ll work?’ Link signed, as Bazz looked contemplative, looking over the scales Link had harvested and started to cut into shapes based off the books and patterns he’d found.

“It should.” He agreed. “My biggest concern is what are you going to attach it to? You’re going for shock resistance, so metal is out, which means some sort of really heavy duty hide or cloth. If you use leather, you could boil it, making it harder and shape it, but I don’t know what would be thick enough.”

That was a problem. Monster hide might work, but he’d killed most of those.

And he wanted something for the shock resistance too. It was kind of worrisome that Zora couldn’t even touch shock arrows, leading Link having to collect them from the Lynel....

Link paused, looking up towards the tip of Shatterback Point. ‘Be right back.’ He signed, and took off running.

“Wait! No!” Bazz hissed. “Link! He’ll kill me if you come back dead!”

Link laughed as he jumped off a balcony, his hang-glider snapping open and catching the ocean breeze. The breeze wasn’t strong enough to get him all the way to the top, but it’d get him part way there.

+++

A few hours later, Link pulled the fresh Lynel hide out of his pack and set it in front of Bazz. ‘Think it’ll work?’

Bazz made a sound like he couldn’t decide if he was laughing or crying. “You’re certifiably nuts.” He said, shaking his head. “The two of you deserve each other. Yeah, I think that’ll work.”

Link tilted his head to the side, wondering what Bazz meant by that.

“We’ll have to sit down sometime with a pint or two and I’ll tell you some of the things our Prince has gotten up to in the past.” Bazz grinned, his sharp teeth glinting. “You heard about him being eaten by the Octorok and going up against Vah Ruta on his own? That’s nothing.”

Link grinned. He knew he liked Sidon for a reason. +++

“Link, I’ve been meaning to talk to you about your new habit of carving dragon scales during meetings.” Zelda’s lips pressed together in a disapproving line. “It’s scaring some of the Council.”

Link grimaced. It was about the only time that he sat still long enough to get any carving done, he was constantly interrupted otherwise. ‘You want me to stop?’ He offered. He’d just have to figure something else out.

“Oh good heavens, no!” She beamed at him. “Could you please sit next to Councillor Tyrol? We might be able to get some work done if he stops sharing his ‘hunting’ stories. He’s quite terrified of you, you know.”

+++ Zelda glanced around before tugging on Link’s arm and pulling him closer. She had a mischievous curve to her lips and he leaned in so no one else could overhear what she was saying. “Some of the Council thinks you’re dating a Gerudo woman.” She whispered, then covered her mouth with a hand to contain her laughter.

It made a certain amount of sense, he was in Gerudo town a lot. … He also wore the clothing a lot while coming back. Did they think that he was dating himself? Or someone else? He paused, eyes narrowing as he remembered the inquires to the Gerudo Chieftain's health. “Riju’s twelve.” He deadpanned. She may have been the steadfast leader of the fierce Gerudo, but she was also a kid who loved soft plushies, especially those of Sand Seals.

Zelda nodded with barely repressed glee. “I know that and you know that, but how many people here do you think have meet a real Gerudo in their lives? Much less know who the Gerudo chief is?”

That was a good point. They should probably fix that, get more of all the various tribes together more often. ‘Should I start mentioning Isha more?’ He offered.

She thought about it, then giggled. “You should invite her to the castle as a merchant.” Zelda grinned. “Plus, I’d like to meet her.”

+++ ‘You need a break.’ Link signed with a frown as he looked Zelda over. She looked kind of like she wanted to punch something then take a nap. “I can’t.” Zelda closed her eyes, looking frustrated. “There’s no where in the castle I can go that someone won’t find me with some sort of emergency. I feel like all I’m doing is putting out fires.”

Link pulled out a bomb and offered it to her. She stared at it for a moment, which he was starting to think was the default reaction to being offered a bomb. Although it wasn’t like he offered them to just anyone, but Sidon always looked so surprised and confused by the bombs.

Zelda looked like she was contemplating using it.

“No.” She shook her head, pushing the bomb away. “Thank you, but no. That’d just undo all the hard work we just finished constructing.” Which was a pretty good point. With a shrug, he put it away again. A thought hit, and he looked her up and down, silently measuring her with his eyes, a smirk growing.

“Link.” Zelda crossed her arms, turning her body away, looking uncomfortable ‘We’re almost the same height and size.’ Link grinned at her. He was a little broader in the shoulder, she a bit broader in the hip, but still about the same proportions. Well, given his lack of height.

“And?” Link bounced a little on the balls of his feet, feeling pleased with himself. ‘That means you should fit my clothes.’ He explained. ‘And I should fit yours.’ She stared at him for a moment, her mouth agape. “There’s no way it’d work. I mean, you don’t talk, that’s easy for me to mimic, but the ruse would be over as soon as you opened your mouth.”

That was easy enough too. He held up a finger, silently motioning for patience, then rubbed his nose vigorously, until it was red, then coughed a couple of times. “I’m sick.” He rasped, trying to pitch his voice slightly higher. “I need to stay in bed.”

Then he fluttered his eyelashes at her and grinned.

Zelda gaped at him. “No.” She said, then immediately wavered. “I mean. No. It couldn’t possibly work.” He shrugged. ‘I need to finish carving some scales, I could do that while you go on a ride, get some fresh air. Wear the champion tunic, everything'll run as soon as they see you coming.’

Link could see her visibly waver. “Oh.” She glared at him, stamping her foot in irritation. “This is a horrible idea. Give me your tunic.” Link grinned and tapped the Sheikah Slate, switching clothing until he was wearing the Champion’s Tunic, pulling it off over his head and tossed it to her. Zelda wrinkled her nose, holding it away from her face. “When was the last time you washed this?” He gave her a puzzled look back. He never washed any of his clothes, any rips, tears, burns, or other assorted damage were gone whenever he dismissed them and put them back on. “Nevermind.” She shook her head, pulling the tunic on. It was a little big on her in the shoulders, but nothing too obvious. He pulled off his pants and handed them to her as well, before wandering over to her wardrobe and sorting through it before finding a long nightgown, pulling that over his head. This method of getting dressed was such a hassle, it was so much easier to get dressed via the Sheikah Slate. Less fabric to get tangled up in. “You’re hopeless.” Zelda informed him sounding amused and fond as he felt hands tug the fabric down over him. He gestured his thanks, smiling a bit to see her in his clothing. It was kind of strange, seeing her dressed like this. He reached up, undoing the pins in her hair, fingers quickly undoing the braids and messing up her sleek smooth strands. He could never get his hair nearly as soft and nice. The thought of if Sidon liked his hair, so different than the Zora’s scaled flickered through his mind, then he dismissed it. He was pretty sure that Sidon liked him, scales or no scales. Pretty sure. “Gah.” Zelda batted his hands away, stepping backwards out of reach before moving towards her vanity, checking her hair in the mirror. She made a face at seeing it so disordered, then grabbed a tie, pulling it back in a messy pony tail, then teasing the hair out on the sides of her face a bit. “What do you think?” She asked, looking up at him. Link walked over so they could see each other in the mirror. They looked disturbingly alike. They could almost be siblings, possibly even twins. He nodded, and she echoed the movement. “Okay.” She agreed. “This’ll work.” He gave her a thumbs up. +++ A knock on the door interrupted Link’s concentration and he growled in annoyance. He stood up, detouring long enough to grab a blanket from Zelda’s bed and tossed it over his head, wrapping it around himself like a cocoon before opening the door. “What?” He snapped, his voice low and rough. “n-Never mind.” Councillor Tyrol scurried off. Link huffed, shutting the door with a slam and went back to making smaller scales out of larger scales for armour. +++ “Got any clothing in red?” Bazz inquired, idly twirling his trident in one hand. It immediately put Link on edge, because there was something a little too casual sounding to the warrior’s tone.

‘No.’ Link signed, confused. Almost all of his clothing was blue, unless he took the time to dye it. ‘Why?’ “Could you get some?” Bazz asked. Link shrugged. He didn’t have any at hand, but it’d be easy enough to swing by the Hateno Village and talk to Sayge at the Kochi Dye Shop. He could spare five rupees for payment, and a few extra apples or spicy peppers he could use for red dye. ‘Yeah. Why?’

“The next time you come to see the Prince, you should wear something red.”

This was starting to sound really suspicious. ‘Anything specific I should wear?’

“Doesn’t matter. Just something bright red.” Bazz shook his head. “As a favour to me?” He asked, attempting to look as sweet and innocent as a kitten. It didn’t quite work.

Link did kind of owe Bazz for his help in making the armour, making sure it’d fit the prince and keeping it a secret from Sidon. “Okay.” He agreed. It was easy enough.

“Thanks.” Bazz gave him a bright grin, full of razor sharp teeth and Link wondered just what he’d gotten himself into.

++++

“Link! My Dear!” Link had just enough warning to brace himself before he was picked up and pressed against Sidon’s ginormous chest. “It is such a pleasure to see you!”

“Sidon!” Link wrapped his arms around Sidon, pressing as close as he could. Sidon smelled like he usually did, water and musk, something always made Link relax.

It meant safety, comfort, and laughter.

He kissed the nearest part of Sidon he could reach, his jaw just below the fin that framed his face and felt a small shiver run down Sidon’s frame.

Sidon eased his grip slightly, pulling back so he could look Link over. “It’s so good to see you healthy. No new scars?”

Link smiled and shook his head. Sidon beamed in delight, taking Link’s hand and kissing the palm. “I’m glad.”

Seriously, Sidon was the only person who worried if Link could take care of himself. Well, maybe other than Zelda, but she was more likely to laugh at him for it.

“Is this new?” Sidon asked, peering at Link’s shirt. It was just a basic tunic, but he’d dyed it the bright red of fresh chillies, as Bazz had requested.

Link shrugged. Honestly, he couldn’t remember where he’d picked the shirt up from.

“I like it!” Sidon beamed at him, and Link wondered how he could contain such joy in his face. “We match!”

… They did. He looked at the shirt against Sidon’s scales and realised that they did, the dye almost the same colour as Sidon. Anyone seeing them together would probably assume they were a matched set.

He didn’t know whether to be grateful or to strangle Bazz for his meddling, when Sidon barely set him down for the remainder of the day, almost always keeping in contact with Link. He also made a note to wear more red, if this was Sidon’s reaction.

-fin- -And that’s all folks.

#legend of zelda #prince sidon #link #sidlink #breath of the wild #botw

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