#[ as they meet their end. it's not a /spear/. it's not to keep them at range-- it can draw them in. ]

[babocka]

... This is such a little detail that no one will go looney over like me, but she drags her scythe across the floor as she rushes in.

#[ ooc. ] i'm gonna go paint the wall. i have to finish fifteen walls today. sigh. #[ i don't know what it is with scythes but it's ridiculous. i don't know what /i have with scythes/ but i think too much. ] #[ but this is really just about the physical presence of it-- we're excusing the fact she stuffs it into her invisible gamer pocket. ] #[ but when she has it out; it's massive. it's so imposing and it makes me go crazy wondering why. /why a scythe/. ] #[ it's so heavy; it's so intense; it's so over-encompassing. like symbolisms aside-- it's just very impractical. ] #[ it's also very oddly intimate of a weapon. it's a far reaching one but it's... it's hook-shaped. it can drag enemies in... ] #[ as they meet their end. it's not a /spear/. it's not to keep them at range-- it can draw them in. ] #[ or better yet-- /she/ can draw /herself/ towards them. ] #[ she also wields smaller blades as we know from her 'intervention' of a pickpocket during bronya's speech. ] #[ she's very close-up-- very personal. which fits many other elements of her character in my opinion-- except. /except/. the obvious. ] #[ keeping people at bay because of her upbringing; because of the abandonment. because of /seeing people leave/ and worse yet... ] #[ seeing people die. ] #[ /makes big dramatic gestures. ] #[ big lines i know-- but i just rewatched the trailer to capture a scene for her answered banner and here we are. ] #[ ps: she's so petite. SEELE. COME ON. ]

[yueebby]

happy wife, happy life  — gojo satoru

synopsis. not fawning over his wife may prove to be harder than gojo thought.

contents. fluff, gojo is so whipped for his wife and everyone is tired (whats new), ooc gojo?

notes. this was pure self indulgence. i wanted to slander and coddle gojo all at once and this was it teehee :3

the first thing you hear when you stand up to leave the staff meeting is a wolf whistle.

“looking good,” satoru looks you up and down. you roll your eyes playfully, your husband’s behavior is not foreign to you. he taps your upper thigh, dangerously close to your butt as you take your leave. however, the others in the room don't take kindly to the action.

“highly inappropriate behavior gojo,” utahime mutters under her breath from across the table. beside her, nanami is giving your husband a hard stare. 

satoru pays no mind to them though, smiling up at you as you walk out of the room. you shake your head when he continuously blows a series of kisses. he ignores your rejection, opting to mouth crude comments instead.

the moment the door shuts, the strongest sorcerer immediately deflates, disinterested in whatever matters the rest had to discuss about. 

“i don’t know how she puts up with you,” utahime takes a long sip out of her cup of tea. beside her, shoko snorts.

“probably for his body.” shoko is not unfamiliar with satoru’s antics, having witnessed it since his rowdy school days. she applauds him for coming far with you, but it was still fun to tease him.

gojo crosses his arms, emitting a disgruntled sound. “and my golden personality?”

nanami sighs, “ieiri’s conclusion is most likely right.”

the limitless user wiggles his finger playfully. “nanamin, how scandalous of you to fantasize about my body! i’m a married man y’know~” 

nanami looks like he has eaten something sour. unlike you, nanami’s attitude towards gojo has not softened as the years passed.

“i’m surprised she’s still with you.” utahime snickers. “she’s a sensible woman and you’re–” 

satoru frowns at her statement.  he’d never thought about how you felt about his behavior. perhaps that was his fatal flaw. gojo satoru had a nasty streak of negligence. and the last time he failed to notice someone dear to him —   

“well i’m glad she ended up choosing me, yeah?” his frown is quickly covered up by the wide smirk on his face. he leans back on his chair that’s starting to feel less comfortable by the second. the chair creaks under the weight of his body. honestly, how old are these old wooden things? “as much as i’d like to keep chatting about my lovely wife, i’d like to get this meeting over with so i can see her again.”

the rest of the meeting ensues as usual.

“sensei has been weird… right?” itadori offers his hand after knocking megumi down during a sparring match. the black haired boy grunts as he is pulled up.

“if by weird, you mean normal.” megumi glances back at you and gojo who are watching intently at the first and second years practicing close combat on the training field. it was a bit peculiar to see satoru not throw himself all over you. gojo without pda is like a jigsaw puzzle missing its most essential piece, leaving the overall picture incomplete and lacking the electrifying energy that defines his existence. 

“i feel like i should be happy, but it’s unsettling to see him not initiating some misconduct. do you think they’re fighting?” nobara is panting on the grassy floor. she raises her hand in surrender when maki leaps in to take her head off with a spear.

maki retracts her blade, turning back to observe you and gojo, “nah, gojo would fold at her command.” 

“salmon.”

from across the training field, you turn to your husband nervously, “why are they staring at us?”

satoru hums, his blindfolded gaze focuses on the field in front of you, “hm, maybe they’re admiring their very beautiful [name] sensei.” the blindfolded man pauses. compliments should still be okay– right? satoru can’t imagine a life without lavishing you with love, yet he will content himself with gently sprinkling you with affection. 

you smack his shoulder playfully. to your surprise, your husband doesn’t reciprocate with some form of physical affection. you tilt your head, perplexed. 

quickly dismissing it, you yell at your students to continue their training.

you don’t notice the way satoru clenches his fists, keeping his eyes trained anywhere but you.

the next time satoru is tempted by your presence is when he comes back home after a mission. it was a walk in the park, but the heavy stack of paperwork that followed it had depleted his energy. all he wanted was to snuggle in bed with his wife, selfishly keeping you all to himself.

and you’re not making it easier to resist with the way you warmly greet him with a smile in nothing but a small cotton tee and those tiny pajama shorts. eyes up, eyes up, eyes up, satoru mentally chants.

he thinks he might actually die.

“toru!” you abandon the book you had been reading to pay your husband taxes (kisses that satoru demands he must have). “you’re home awfully late.”

“mission… paperwork,” his clipped response is mumbled as he hurries past you and to your shared bathroom, avoiding your touch. satoru silently prays to the heavens that you don’t notice his suspicious efforts as he makes his way to take a much needed ice cold shower.

you stand in your spot in confusion, letting your husband go. slowly, you start to connect the pieces of satoru’s strange behavior from his refusal to touch you to his sudden responsible disposition. gojo satoru never does paperwork– not unless you bribe him with a dozen kisses. speaking of kisses, you don’t even remember the last time he had demanded one. something was definitely wrong. 

without missing a beat, you quickly follow your lover’s trail into the bathroom.

to your delight, your husband had failed to lock the door. in the hush of your silence, you can hear the subtle rustle of satoru's garments.

his sky blue eyes go wide when he sees you walk through the door.

“toru… is there something wrong?” your voice is careful. 

the white haired man in front of you nervously laughs as he covers his bare chest, “geez, ask me out to dinner first.” 

“gojo satoru.”

your husband winces at his full name being used, but he puts on another mask. a faux smile plays on his lips as he shrugs. “i don’t know what you mean, gojo.” 

your heart drops at his insistence to shut you out, but you stand your ground. with sheer determination, you walk up to your husband, closing the gap between the two of you. you cup his cheek with a hand while you start to lean closer, your lips nearly brushing.

satoru shuts his eyes, inhaling a deep breath to regain composure. he even sucks in his lips, making him look utterly ridiculous. despite the dangerous allure of your proximity, he resolves to stand firm.

"you won’t even kiss me anymore! satoru, this is absurd. what's happening?" you distance yourself, seeking answers.

despite his towering stature, a snort escapes you as satoru resembles a mere child when mumbling something under his breath.

"come on, use your big boy words."

"i don't want to drive you away," he avoids making eye contact now that his blindfold is off. "i know i can be a bit overwhelming at times."

upon hearing his excuse, you snort loudly, “seriously?”

“seriously.”

“i can’t believe i married such an idiot.” you huff, wrapping your arms around his neck.

satoru pouts, “you’re breaking my heart wifey.”

your lips softly kiss the corner of his mouth. like it was muscle memory, satoru’s lips chase yours even after you pull away. you smile.

“for such a genius, you really are stupid ‘toru.” you flick his forehead. he whines and you know it didn’t hurt, yet you entertain him by leaning up to kiss his injury. “believe it or not, i married you for reasons beyond your pretty face and body.”

“you think i’m pretty?” his eyes shine bright as they lovingly gaze into yours. you take one hand to cup his cheek. he nuzzles his face into it.

“of course you’d say that.” you laugh softly. “but honestly, i’m offended that you thought i would ever be annoyed by your affections. might i remind you that we have been madly in love since our youth? i found myself captivated by your ability to love effortlessly, and the way you hopelessly pined for me for years? i knew i was a goner. that… and your bank accoun–”

satoru kisses you with an intensity that leaves you feeling blissfully lightheaded. lost in the haze of the moment, he showers the rest of your face with tender, wet kisses, and you stand there, surrendering to the sweet assault.

upon withdrawing, satoru wears a broad grin. "i was an idiot today, wasn't i?" you nod, breathless. "how about i make it up to you tonight?" he proposes, drawing you close. you are all too familiar with that feral grin adorning his face.

#kt.writes.·:*¨༺ #gojo x reader #gojo satoru x reader #gojo satoru x you #gojo fluff #gojou x reader #gojou satoru x reader #gojou satoru x you #gojo satoru x y/n #gojou satoru x y/n #jjk fluff #jjk x reader

[ghostfacd]

SAVE THE GIRL

pairing: coriolanus snow x fem!mentor!reader

summary: when you start to feel bad for the tributes, it’s when snow slowly starts to crack. when you snuck into the arena to properly send your goodbyes to one is when he loses it, making it his mission to get you out, even if it means costing his life

warnings: SPOILERS. descriptions of killing, Snow being a bad friend to Sejanus and manipulative, reader essentially replaces Sejanus in the movie’s original scene

“We all know how this works right guys?” Lucky Flickerman says, his eyes held a sparkle within them. “As soon as your tribute dies, you’re out!”

The screen flickers on the arena, its dusty surroundings filled you with a sense of dread.

You had gotten Lamina, a girl who you were afraid would die as soon as the timer went off. But she managed to impress you, and completely won you over when she had speared the other tributes’ pain and suffering by killing them with an axe.

“Coryo,” you whisper to the blonde hair boy who was almost drifting into sleep. “Coryo.”

“Hm?” He fixes his posture, “is something wrong with Lucy Gray?”

You shake your head, and only pointed to the empty desks surrounding you. “Many died.”

“Your point?”

It almost seems as if Coriolanus was bored of your commentary, he probably was, you did wake him from his sleep.

“This doesn’t feel right Coryo. Not at all. Any of it.”

Coriolanus lets out a breath of annoyance. It was always like that with him, he seemed always to be one step ahead—or at least he presented himself in that way, and he seemed like he was annoyed with anyone who wasn’t on the same level as him.

You and Coriolanus went way back. You were the first few to have known of the death of his father, Coriolanus had told you about it with tears in his eyes. Not because he missed his father, not really, but because he was afraid that there would be nothing left of the Snow family by the time the war was over.

When you first entered the Academy, Snow linked himself with Clemensia Dovecote, a pretty black haired girl who he had gotten close with, and if anyone didn’t know better, they might’ve been more than just friends. But Coriolanus and Clemensia came off as acquaintances by association to you more than anything.

He stopped doing group projects with you so he could do it with her, and he had made himself friendly with Sejanus, a boy who was originally from the Districts but managed to buy his way into the Capitol. Or at least, that’s what all of your seething classmates said as they looked at him in disgust.

“You sound like Sejanus.” Is all Coriolanus says, glancing back at his small television screen.

“Sejanus is our friend, Coryo.”

“Sejanus is district.” Coriolanus slams his hand on your desk, making you flinch. “No matter how much money he has, no matter how much he tries to fit in, he will always be district. And you? You might as well be district with him if you keep acting like this.”

Your brows furrow, and you start to get angry. Who the fuck does Coriolanus Snow think he is?

“And I suppose you’re so well off Capitol yourself, Coriolanus?”

The way your words drip with such venom makes Snow almost crumble, but he doesn’t, instead, choosing to inch his face just a meter over yours. “Don’t say anymore things you don’t mean, Y/N.”

And that was the end of it. Coriolanus Snow wins every argument, and you hated him so much. Why couldn’t he see this was wrong? You knew he had a heart in there somewhere, which was why he was helping Lucy Gray Baird in the first place. Unless he was doing it all for the Plinth prize, for the money.

As you watch your tribute fall to her death, the loud crack adding all to your misery, you wanted to throw the television and desk across the room, just like Sejanus had previously. They were monsters, all of them.

“I’m sorry Y/N.” Coriolanus says, his eyes flickering up to meet yours.

But Coriolanus Snow can’t be sorry, he can’t feel empathy, he can’t feel pain, and most importantly, he can’t feel love.

As the games went on, Coriolanus was slumped into his chair, sleep overcoming his senses.

Dr. Gaul clears her throat, her loud but snake like movements made Coriolanus jolt awake, hissing as he accidentally hurt himself on the edges of the desk.

“I see you’re still here, Mr. Snow.”

“Is something wrong?” Coriolanus asks, eyebrows furrowing. “Is Lucy Gray okay?”

“Oh her? She’s fine.” Dr. Gaul waves the girl off like she meant nothing. “It’s your friend, I’m worried about.”

“My friend?” Coriolanus whips his head around to try and find you, but you were gone, leaving no trace.

“Yes.” Dr. Gaul motions to the wide television in front. “She’s in the arena right now. Doing this goodbye thing for her tribute.”

Coriolanus doesn’t want to believe Dr. Gaul, but how could he not when you’re shown so clearly in the cameras, putting flowers into the hand of your tribute. Almost as if you saw her as human.

“Now Miss. L/N hasn’t done anything like this in the past, so it does spark questions in my mind as to why she’s suddenly..” Dr. Gaul pauses. “Rebelling.” She says this as if it were poison on her tongue.

“From Sejanus, I would expect this. But from our own people, Coriolanus? Now this is absurd. I’ll make sure to get the name of the peacekeeper who let her in and have them executed.” Dr. Gaul gives him a smile, one that sends chills up Coriolanus’s back. “Now I happen to know you two are friends, close friends even; so I need you to go into the arena and fetch her out.”

“Me?” Coriolanus stutters out, hesitance clearly showing in his voice.

“Is that hesitance I hear, Mr. Snow?” Dr. Gaul steps even closer. “Everyone in the Capitol is asleep by now, which means they won’t see the foolishness Miss. Y/N is currently causing. You will go into the arena and take her out before she does anything more stupid. I will not let these rebels make mockery of my game, Mr. Snow. I will simply not allow it.”

And Coriolanus knows he has no choice but to obey Dr. Gaul’s orders.

He makes his way quietly into the arena, making sure his footsteps weren’t creating such loud noises to alert the tributes.

“Y/N,” he whispers as he gets close to your kneeling figure. He watches as you slowly put your hand over Lamina’s eyes, closing them for her. “Y/N.”

“You shouldn’t be here,” you reply, not bothering to turn around to face the boy.

“But I am.” He grunts out in annoyance. “I’m here to save your ass because that’s what friends do, Y/N. So help me, and get up.”

You don’t listen to him, choosing to keep kneeling and watching your dead tribute instead. She looked peaceful, and you felt so guilty knowing there was nothing you could do to save her.

“Y/N, I mean it.” Coriolanus says in a more assertive tone. “You’re going to die out here. These tributes? They might as well be animals now, they’re gonna kill the both of us if we don’t get out.”

He grunts in annoyance when he doesn’t see you move, so he carefully walks over, placing his arm under yours, practically dragging your body up from your kneeling position.

“Cmon Y/N, you’ve got to help me.” Coriolanus whispers out. “You don’t want to die here, trust me.”

“HEY! YOU!” The two of you whip your head so quickly at the voice that it sends a dizziness into your head. “HEY!”

The remaining tributes, none of them were Lucy Gray, Wovey, or the boy from 11 with speed so quick that it took the breath in your lungs away.

“CMON!” Coriolanus grabs your hand, the both of you fiercely running towards the doors.

One of the tributes with one of his eyes shut had a sharp blade in his hand, successfully slicing into Coriolanus’s back and your arm. The two of you let out a moan of pain, the frenzy feeling of adrenaline overwhelming the both of you.

Coriolanus lets your hand go for a second, pushing the tribute back harshly, managing to make him drop his weapon. Coriolanus picks up one of the broken poles, repeatedly hitting the male tribute with it until his body stopped moving completely.

You thought he’d be done with it, but he lets out a scream of anger, plunging the pole into the tribute’s body, making you shriek out in horror.

“You’re okay, you’re okay!” Coriolanus breathes out to you, practically limping hand in hand with you as he sees the other tributes catching up from the distance. “Open the door!”

The peacekeepers opened the door, closing it right as one of the more fiercer tribute sticks her trident out. “You’re lucky you’ve escaped this time.” She growls out.

You fall onto the ground as soon as Coriolanus lets go of your hand.

“Hey,” he croaks out, kneeling to cup your face into his hands. “Hey, you’re okay, you’re okay.”

He sounds so reassuring, so kind, and not like the Coriolanus you had despised from earlier.

“I..” you can’t even get a word out before you’re full on sobbing, not caring if you were embarrassing yourself in front of Coriolanus and the two peacekeepers.

“Shh, it’s okay.” He places his hand on the back of your head, bringing you into his chest. “Everything’s gonna be okay. I’ll make sure of it.”

“No one will ever hurt you, Y/N.”

And if there’s one thing Coriolanus Snow is good at—it’s ensuring he gets what he wants.

#coriolanus snow x reader #coriolanus x reader #coriolanus snow #hunger games x reader #hunger games

[razzle-n-dazzle]

ᯓ★ "YOU PROMISED!" Adam / Angel! Reader | Drabble

ᯓ “Dad, watch out!” Charlie’s piercing scream filled the air as she reached out, trying to grab her father’s arm to drag him away from the oncoming attack. Yet she was all too late, watching in horror as an exorcist, one that utterly ignored any commands given, drove her spear through Lucifer’s back and out his chest; Missing his heart by near inches. “No!-” Lute shouted, standing injured on the rubble of the hotel with wide eyes, staring down the scene. Yet Charlie barely heard her as her ears began to ring, tears welling quickly in her eyes as she stared down at the scene, helplessly. As she watched her father helplessly look down at the spear that had been driven through his back and chest, his breath suddenly heavy as the pain hit him all at once.

There was a yell of frustration that came from the exorcist as they drew their weapon out harshly, causing Lucifer to hiss in pain, before they stabbed it right back through before he could turn to defend himself. Golden blood patterned on the ground, stained Lucifer’s clothes as the weapon was twisted and yanked back out again, accompanied with a sob. Yet, before the spear could impale the Demon Lord himself once more, Charlie had yanked her father out the way, causing the angelic weapon to dig its pointed tip into the ground; And Charlie, now kneeling next to her father trying to help him to hold his wounds, winced at the strength that kicked up sediment and rocks. Silence sat heavy in the air, Lucifer’s gasps and Adam’s struggle being the only other noises besides the sobbing, as the exorcist held onto their weapon for dear life. Charlie was sure they were about to scream out some sort of blood murder, she can see the intent shaking their very core and yet it was cut short as they were grabbed and yanked away from their weapon; Which still stood upright, buried in the rubble and gravel. “WHAT THE FUCK WAS THAT?!” Exclaimed Lute, harshly grabbing onto the exorcist’s arm, tugging them once more towards as her glare pierced down at them. And all she got in response was a shaky gasp, followed by what sounded like them choking on their own tears. Charlie glanced down at her father, watching as he tried hard not to seep into the weakness. Vaggie rushed over as soon as she could, sliding down when she was close enough and ended up at Lucifer’s back. A quick conversation and panicked struggling as Charlie and Vaggie help Lucifer shrug and take off his jacket, allowing for Vaggie to tie it around his wound to keep pressure. And Charlie couldn’t help but let her eyes wonder back to Lute and the exorcist, holding in her breath as she noticed that Lute had snagged off the Angel’s mask to only stare at them in horror. And Charlie barely missed the way that Adam also stared at them, standing by the mouth of the crater, hand pressing down into his wound, as he stared; Charlie was so sure she had never seen him so pale and terrified. 

“What… what are you?” Adam’s breathless voice reached your ears, and you could feel as his eyes scanned over your face with some sort of horror, or maybe fear. Yet, all you could do was choke out a sob, your tears falling heavier down your face as Lute dropped your stolen exorcist mask, backing away from you. “You shouldn’t be down here…” She would stare, equally as horrified as Adam; Who she glanced over, making sure she hadn’t missed a memo of a meeting. Yet the way Adam slowly crept towards you, wincing in pain he tried to hide, made it apparent that she had not missed anything, “Babe, you should not BE down here.” Adam’s voice grew hostile, but you had a hint that it was more out of anger for himself; Adam always prided himself on keeping you safe with these exterminations, he also prided himself on knowing every Angel that worked on his crew… and you just happened to slip through without him noticing. He should have caught you! He should have known you would come and should have stopped you! He should have– he shouldn’t let you see him like this. Weak. “Adam,” You started, voice cracking as you stared at him, “Adam… You PROMISED you would come home and I came along just to make sure and THIS IS HOW I FIND YOU!? ADAM WE HAVE A KID!” You shouted, standing your ground as Adam paused in his tracks, staring directly at you with this wide-eyed look.

And you hope it was realization that dawned on his stupid face and nothing else. Because you sat here choking on your own tears, having stabbed the Devil himself just to try and save your own husband when he promised he wouldn’t get hurt. When he promised you he would make it back home to have dinner with your son. When he promised- “YOU PROMISED ADAM!...” “I FUCKING KNOW!” Was his only response for a second, his eyes drawing down to the ground as though he was searching for some sort of answer. You could tell he was keeping in the tears that threatened to spill, “I fucking know… I…” And yet his words fell short, hanging in the air with no explanation of the state you just found him in. With no sort of explanation of what he was possibly doing down here, getting beaten up by Lucifer himself! When he said this would be like any other normal extermination, and in and out, a quick cleaning of the damned souls. You loathed Adam for downplaying his mission, you were infuriated he would lie to you just so you wouldn’t worry, and yet all at the same time you were relieved he wasn’t lying dead in that crater. That you didn’t have to pick up his body to bring back and have to explain to your son why his father wasn’t coming home. So, no matter how much your blood was boiling, you still found yourself walking over to Adam and pausing in front of him, watching as his eyes flickered from the ground and up to you, not being able to give you an excuse. But you didn’t want an excuse, you just wanted an apology and to get your idiotic husband to a hospital before he might actually pass out from blood loss.

So, you cupped his cheeks and brought him a little closer, “I’m… mad at you, but we’re going to talk about this later. Maybe when you’re not bleeding out all over the floor okay? Let’s just… get home.” You would mutter, hoping Adam would just agree and not argue, saying his job wasn’t done and he still needed to kill some bitch. “Babe, these bitches fucking just disrespected!-” Adam would start, yet quickly hushed as you grabbed one of his wrists and began to drag him away, “Ow! Ow, Bitch! I’m injured, be more fucking gentle would you-” “It wasn’t a request Adam we’re fucking going home before you die on me!” You shouted back at him, causing Lute to pause and glance over at the others; Slightly unsure what to say as she noticed them watching you dragging off Adam like he wasn’t just killing and slaughtering them. She would take a side step before spreading her wings and quickly following Adam and you, calling for all the exorcists to fall back. Though there was a growl that escaped her lips, and she knew that this battle wasn’t over. But she also knew the battle to get Adam to the hospital had just begun, because even while literally bleeding out he wouldn’t admit he was about to pass out and die from blood loss. His ego was too inflated for that shit; But she trusted you to get him the help he needed, even if you had to force him into that hospital room.

Home | Masterlist

ᯓ★ All posts/fanfictions posted under this blog is owned by @razzle-n-dazzle. Please do not steal, copy, or plagiarize the works! Likes, reblogs, and comments are always appreciated.

#hazbin hotel x reader #adam x reader #hazbin adam x reader #hazbin hotel #hazbin adam #hazbin hotel adam x reader #hazbin hotel adam #adam hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel lute #hazbin hotel season 1 #lute hazbin hotel #adam x you #hazbin x reader #drabble #light angst #x reader #alex brightman x reader #reader insert #gender neutral reader #gn reader

[smutty-ki113r]

🛩Masky🛩||Toxic

NSFW||~ One shot x afab gn!reader, includes- vouyerism, pleasure dom masky, mirror play, teasing, edging, pilot masky, minors—dni (3.4k)

Inspired by: Britney Spears

(Fun fact I wrote this on the plane 😗)!

Working as a flight attendant was such a hassle, keeping you up at ungodly hours and having you deal with customers that complained about their seat. But it certainly had its perks, learning how to balance 4000 ft in the air and ending up in some incredible places, layovers in Hawaii, Dubai, Spain. Out of all these things you never would have imagined joining the mile high club…

You had an hour to get from terminal 1 to 3, your last flight was to Miami, so you were at MIA, looking around for a bathroom. Fixing up your hair quickly and adjusting your uniform before reaching the gate.

The other attendants were also waiting to the side, you were early. Of course you had to board the plane beforehand to check the seats and restock the drink cart.

There was only a few passengers waiting around too, you swayed against your luggage. Looking around to see the two pilots that would be driving the plane walking towards you, one of them you had flown with before, Brian Thomas.

The other one, particularly, caught your eye- probably because you had caught his first. Your heart skipped a beat and you gave him a friendly smile, then averted your gaze to avoid being awkward.

You had never seen him, he was probably new, laughing at something Brian said, but his sight was on you.

The corner of his lip was raised just slightly, he was practically undressing you with his eyes. You couldn’t even complain, he was hot as fuck, and he was flustering you. But his face remained innocent, nobody noticed but you.

He had this dark brown hair and defined features, he was classy, wearing his white uniform and a tie, you couldn’t help but let your eyes wander to how it fit him so perfectly. His build so defined- you stopped from staring at his pants.

If there’s one thing you loved it was a man in uniform.

Nobody had ever flirted with you on the job, and while no words were exchanged, you could feel his burning gaze.

You gulped and tried to look ahead, relieved when they called for all the attendants to board, it took the pressure off.

You took your post at the front of the plane and awaited for the passengers to board to then do the safety demonstrations and make sure everybody had their seatbelts on.

Soon enough zone 1 people started coming and you greeted them all, the door to the cockpit opened and you found yourself face to face with the pilot, glancing at his name embroidered in gold.

“Wright” you said softly, meeting his gorgeous eyes.

“yeah like the Wright brothers” he joked, looking you up and down and giving you a subtle smirk.

“That’s fitting” you told him. “Nice to meet you…”

“Tim” he finished, catching your name as well. “We’re about to take off, be a dear and get me some water will you?” He requested.

Nodding obediently and scurrying off to find him some water, he watched you go. Knocking on the door to the pit to alert them of your arrival and handing him the drink.

“Thank you gorgeous” he said, your face turning red at the compliment and instead moving to greet the other pilot, Brian nodded to you and you left.

Your thoughts remained on the beautiful man and you mindlessly did your rounds before the plane took off. Strapping in and listening to the men over the intercom.

“And we are ready for departure, flight 113 from MIA to JFK”

Smiling at yourself at the thought of your one day vacation in New York City. You wanted to go shopping and maybe visit the Statue of Liberty.

It was two hours into the grueling flight, your ears had already popped from the altitude, you never did get used to that.

You sat at the back, passing around the cart once and letting your other fellow flight attendants do the rounds for trash and such. You were all alone, looking out the window, your head in the clouds, and being almost startled as you saw the handsome man approach.

“I thought you were driving this thing” you whisper-hissed.

“Brian’s doing it, I’ve been at the wheel for almost three hours” he said, stressed. Flexing his arms out and stretching, leaning against a wall.

You couldn’t help but stare at his hands, his thick fingers, how you wished he could fill you up and make you pant out his name and-

Shaking yourself out of your thoughts and getting up, “you can have my seat if you want” he was probably exhausted.

“Sit back down” he said, his tone low. You did as he said; a tingle in between your legs at how commanding he was.

“I just came here to get a- snack” he said slowly, smiling as if he wasn’t looking at up and down you when he said that.

“I can make you something if you like” you offered, his tense posture relaxed.

“You’re a godsend, yeah, I’ll take a black coffee” you nodded attentively and got up to make his drink. Focusing on making sure it didn’t spill and stirring it for him.

Turning to him and handing him the drink, he took a sip and set it down on the counter. “Thank you beautiful”

You shook your head, it was nothing, “yeah of course” you laughed nervously, “whatever you need” you told him in a passing tone.

His gaze pierced through you, “whatever I need?” He said, his voice teasing, dripping with desire.

Right then you knew you had made a grave mistake, gulping and looking away. He approached you, his lips so close to your ear, tucking hair behind your ear and letting his fingers brush upon your neck.

God damn turbulence betrayed you, swaying the plane and making you lose your footing and slide right into him. His hand at your waist to keep you upright.

“Now that you mention it” he whispered in your ear. “There was something else…and I’m still hungry” his gentle touches were making you weak at the knees.

You glanced behind him but nobody was watching, you were afraid of what would happen if you were caught, he seemed to notice.

“I’ll be careful” he promised, his head an inch away from being buried in the crook of your neck, and he smelled so good, like this expensive manly cologne.

“We’ll be quick” his words so soothing and convincing you. There was already a feverish throbbing at your clit that you severely needed to attend to. A wave of desperate heat at your lower abdomen that you craved for him to satisfy.

You couldn’t resist this man, he had a mesmerizing effect on you. So you focused on his lustful gaze as he walked you back into one of the bathrooms, locking the door behind him and wasting no time in leaning down to kiss you.

Tim sealed the small space separating the two of you, a knee already in between your legs because of how compact the space was. You let out a few pants at the way he rubbed you, unable to stop yourself even though there might have been people just outside that door.

His kisses passionate and needy, like he had been craving you ever since the moment he laid eyes on you. And everything he did was intoxicating, you were so receptive to him, slick already gathering in your panties as he met your lips in an open kiss and bit down on your lip, nibbling and teasing you,

There was barely any space in that bathroom, moving around and escaping him would be difficult, it almost didn’t give you a choice, but Tim felt so good, you couldnt help but whisper his name in need.

“Oh fuck” he cursed, “your kisses are so delicious” he reached a hand down to your stomach, trailing it down your torso to your most intimate area, replacing his knee and pressuring your cunt gently through your skirt, “I wanna know if the rest of you tastes just as good”

Your breath hitched when he hoisted you on the small counter, your pussy embarrassingly wet at every one of his touches. He spread your knees open and bent down to get to work.

“So this is what you meant by hungry” you said in the middle of the heated moment.

His eyes met yours and you gulped at the mischievous glint swirling his pupils. Feeling a throb at the view of the captain on his knees. “Exactly” He chuckled lowly and pressed his lips to your thighs impatiently, sinking his teeth into your soft skin and leaving marks nobody would know about but him.

You whined, having to bite your lip to stop yourself from letting any lewd noises escape. “Oh god” you whispered, when he finally got to your pussy. It was too much tension, his hot breath lingering where his teeth marks lay, and now- right on your clit.

He hooked his fingers to your panties and brought them down, amused at the wet spot on them. Now there was nothing else below that short skirt. Your body involuntarily bucked forward, and his big hands held you in place. “Impatient are we?”

But he was just as rushed as you, it was supposed to be a quickie in the bathroom not lovemaking. If you wanted to do that later he would gladly lay you down in a proper bed and do so, but for now all he was focused on was your pussy glistening with your juices that he so desired.

Bringing his lips to you and lapping a stripe up your slit before opening you up and tasting you in full. Groaning at the sensation of your sex clenching around his tongue while he fucked you with it.

His fingers digging into your skin to bring you closer to his face and encourage you to ride as wildly as you pleased. You weren’t one to resist, your knuckles white as you held onto a handle on the wall and the roof above you. Praying that the passengers on the plane thought the rough movement was from turbulence and nothing more.

Tim ate like a starved man, in a way you had never felt before. There was no stopping him either, he wouldn’t cease his tongue fuck until he was satisfied, and nothing would please him more than you gushing over him enough to let him know you were ready for something much larger.

Besides, he couldn’t get his eyes off you, he was particularly enjoying making you squirm at the brink of your first release. He liked teasing you this much, it showed him that he held all the power, and you were wrapped around his finger. Technically you were, when he slipped one in and curled it in your soft spot.

His lips sucked at your bundle of nerves hard enough to make you spasm and clench your legs around his head, everything was going according to his plan. “Yeah? Does that feel good?” He asked, taking a breath and dipping another digit inside your dripping pussy.

You struggled to keep your voice bellow a whisper, but he didn’t seem to care about a possible audience. All he was focused on was pulling more of those pretty cries from your swollen lips. “Yes-yes” you repeated.

Your brows furrowing at the pleasure he was providing you with, and Tim himself was getting off at just the taste of you. His cock twitching in his uniform pants, he was painfully hard so he had to take himself out and stroke when you creamed on his tongue.

“You taste so sweet honey” he praised, “I love it when you struggle to speak because I’m making you cum with just my tongue” he smirked. The flat of his tongue once again swirling your swollen clit enough to make you let out a mutter of incoherent nonsense.

Too drunk off the bliss you couldn’t argue back, you didn’t want to. It was like you were in heaven, preforming acts that were so sinful they would have led you to hell.

“T-Tim” you gasped, “I’m close” you warned him, “gonna cum”

Once again he started eating you like you were his las meal on earth, your eyes rolled back in delight. But he wasn’t going to let you get off that easily, you should have known. “Not until you ask for permission”

He pulled his touch away slightly, enough to keep you just at the edge of your orgasm for a bit longer.

“Please” you cried, tears in your eyes. “Can I please cum, captain?”

The man saw the look on your face but just cooed, “you haven’t said my name” he reminded you.

“Captain wright” you babbled “captain wright”, again and again because once you spoke the magic words he just kept going faster. Pumping his thick fingers in and out of your sopping hole hard enough to make you come undone. Crying out for him and gripping onto the edge of the counter to restrain yourself.

“That’s right, just like that” he coaxed, helping you ride down from your climax so perfectly, You were thankful that he was there to hold you steady. Lapping at your release before standing up again and pressing his bare cock to your entrance.

“Gonna need you to beg for this one too” he said, to fuel his ego and also for consent reasons. His lips to your neck now. You had barely managed to come down from such ecstasy before registering what he was asking.

But you were far too gone, your cunt still clenching for him. There was nothing you wanted to do more than to satisfy him like he did you. Nodding and letting a few “please’s” to let him know you craved it too.

“Mhm that’s what I thought”, you could hear the cockiness in his voice, looking down to see if he had the package to back it up but your jaw hug open once you felt it. Prodding at you and letting his precum mix in with your slick.

“‘S not gonna fit” you said in a hiccup, eyes wide and narrowed at his heavy cock that pressed against your slit as you dripped on him. “It’s too big” you squeaked.

“Oh it’ll fit” he panted, mimicking the motions of sex but just grinding himself raw on you. “I’ll make it fit” he hissed. Finally rolling his hips into you in one swift movement. “Fuck” he cursed under his breath, it was quite a tight fit, enough to make him pause because he didn’t want to cum instantly.

A stray groan fell from your mouth but he caught it with his own, meeting you in a heated embrace. His hands on either side of you, pressing prints onto the mirror behind you. He pulled out and thrusted back in, working a good pace. You slowly acclimated to his thick girth with every stroke in your pussy.

Even with the stretch it felt so delicious, your hands clutching his once ironed uniform into wrinkled bunches. There was barely any space in that god forsaken bathroom, but it just gave him the excuse to stay closer to you. That and he just had to give smaller, quicker thrusts.

His big cock splitting you open time and time again, his tip reaching your cervix, thudding against your g spot in a way that made you squeeze him like a vice.

A hand keeping your knee open while he fucked you, practically pounding you. Making you lose your breath and your head go fuzzy. “You’re so tight” he hissed, “practically milking me”

He was panting, pulling out momentarily to turn you around and fuck you doggystyle. Except now, you could see your reflection and his own. The whole image of the captain pounding your pussy till it turned red on full display for you. A grin making its way to his lips, he liked seeing you struggle to fit him fully.

But the look on your face and the way you gripped around him told him that you wanted it, that and those obscene noises you were making every time he hilted. “Thats a good, pretty baby” he rasped, “servicing all your captains’ needs”

You looked at his eyes in the mirror, a pout on your lips from how he was acting. A hand making it’s way to your chin to redirect your gaze to your own body. “Watch yourself” he whispered, his breath hot on your ear.

“Look at yourself while you take all of me” he panted, and you felt yourself melt at the obscenity of his words. “I want you to see how good I’m fucking you”

Doing as he said and feeling his balls clap against your ass, it was almost more unholy to watch your expression and the way he made your body bounce back and forth on his cock.

“Do you see it?” He asked, “that fucked out look on your face from how deep my cock is right now”, a gentle touch at your lower abdomen to press where he was bulging. “Here, all the way inside that slutty little hole of yours” he teased.

It was all too lewd, you felt yourself sizzling with desire, about to burst again if he kept whispering those sweet words in your ear.

“You look so hot when I’m inside of you” he praised. “Mhm with me stretching you out, you’re so hungry for it” he growled. “Isn’t that right?”

“Yes sir”, You were struggling to piece together your words, the ones you could were just ‘more- more more more”, so thats exactly what you said.

“Please” you cried “please sir, more”,

Your noises getting a bit too out of control, he had to discipline you. A hand moving to your lips to hold your mouth as he told you to be quiet, but that almost made it worse. Now the sound of the lewd squelch and clapping of balls was the only thing that could be heard along with your muffled groans and pants.

“Shh that’s right” he said, softly. “Just keep taking it, just let me take care of you” you nodded at the finger at your lips telling you to be silent. “stay and let me fuck that pretty pussy just a bit longer.”

You bit your tongue and did as he instructed, trying to hold on but the throbbing at your cunt was aching. “Please captain, let me cum” you whispered.

Meeting his eyes through the mirror and he seemed to relent, it’s not like he would hold on much longer either. You were squeezing him too tight, and he couldn’t pull out too much, there wasn’t any space in that damn little cabin.

His hand gripped the rails to steady himself, the other at your ass to take a handful of. “You’ve been good, go ahead, you can cum” he whispered in your ear.

It felt like such a relief, shivers going down your spine and directly to your pussy. “I’m cumming-“ you warned, fluttering around him as you found your release.

“That’s a good baby just let yourself go” he said in a raspy tone, his fingers digging so deep into your ass there would definitely be marks. “Let your captain take care of you”

Your legs were weak, trembling as he hilted and spilled deep inside of your hole, groaning into your shoulder as he filled you up.

His cock twitching as you squeezed him until his balls were empty. Eventually he pulled out, his release dripping out from your hole and down your legs.

His big hands helped you pull up your panties once again, it wasn’t much help concealing the act, your hair was all disheveled and your cheeks rosy.

His release still inside of you a lewd reminder of what had just transpired on the planes bathroom.

“You did so good for me” he praised, making sure you were good before sending you off.

He put your skirt in place, “welcome to the mile high club” he whispered with a chuckle, “have a safe flight now”

#creepypasta #ben drowned #creepypasta smut #slenderman #lemonaid #jeff the killer smut #ben drowned x y/n #ben drowned headcanon #eyeless jack x you #masky fanfiction #masky x hoodie #creepypasta masky #masky mh #masky creepypasta #marble hornets masky #masky marble hornets #tim masky #dilf masky #smut masky #masky smut #marble hornets #marble hornets smut #cp smut #slenderman x reader #smut #creepypasta x reader #masky x you #masky headcanons #masky x y/n #masky x reader

[mcondance]

hush baby. william afton. (allusions to daddy issues, general old william using / taking advantage of young reader yk the drill)

william fucks like his age. he fucks like a man who knows what he wants from years of getting. he will get what he wants from you, too.

he drains you of everything you can give him and then, he pushes for more, craving complete control of every thing you feel. its why he picked you, could just see you ending up like this, a slut for his taking, nasty and open to the filthiest things he’s only ever dreamed about.

it’s sad, what you went through to end up like it like this, used and shown no respect in your most vulnerable state, but he pays it no mind when he’s driving into you from behind, towering over your body and stretching your cunt to its limit.

amusement is written over his hardened face, the hilarity of what you allow him to do to you overtakes him as he watches himself breach your entrance over and over again, your cunt having to work to take him like your body knows this is wrong.

but it lets him in, you let him in like it’s right, wince through the pain until it turns to pleasure and he’s battering your pussy with no regard for the pain that’ll resurface the next day.

pain is how he got you, tucked away in your brain, steering you toward a man like him. and pain is how he keeps you, the dull ache of his cock abusing your pussy, the digging of his fingers tucked between where your thighs and tummy meet, the stimulation sending sparks shooting through you.

you’re so nasty when you’ve got a nastier man inside you, when his want to unwind you and use you is reciprocated. drooling on his bed sheets, leaking on his cock, the perverted desire of his heart is realized.

he’s got you singing, speared on his cock and taking it so well. he fucks you like he’ll throw you out tomorrow and you welcome it, soak his cock every time your mind registers the brutishness behind his thrusts, every time he manhandles that spot inside you.

your fingers curl around the column of his headboard, clamping down on them to award yourself some semblance of grounding but it’s in vain, he’s too ruthless and horrific, fucks you too deep with every sob he retches out of your raw throat.

you let him do what he wants, and that’s exactly what he does. you’re all wet cunt and choked moans, a test subject for his disregarded boundaries. his boundaries are your boundaries, the wires crossed and fused incorrectly a perfect path for his will to become reality.

he’s taking advantage of you, it’s what you both know, know what business a man his age has with a girl yours.

but being taken advantage of is how you like it.

every push into you is meant to to hurt, to make those crossed wires fizzle and spark with satisfaction. maybe it doesn’t count as being used if it’s what you want, too. it’s lost in translation, by now, only left with william fucking you exactly how you’d expect him to, how you fantasized about from the moment you saw him.

he’s thankful to have someone like you, someone who’ll let him push and poke and prod and mold into his. he goes crazy every time you bite and choke on your moans, every time you huff and rasp like he’s wounded you but make no move to run from him or to stop. he likes it filthy, and in you, he can have that whenever he wants. he can be what you need, if you let him have you in return. you do let him have you.

you say his name like a prayer, choked and battered and begging for him to twist and turn you inside out just like he wants to. willing to be used, to be fucked dumb and brash.

you like it like this, domination has revealed you as a drooling, moaning, vile mess. it lay dormant, waiting for someone to draw it out. waiting for william to lay you bare and new.

#william afton smut #william afton x black reader #william afton x reader #did all this just to say william is a freak and he brings out the freak in you #william afton x you #steve raglan smut #steve raglan x reader #steve raglan x you #steve raglan x black reader #cw daddy issues

[mysteryshoptls]

SSR Trey Clover - Platinum Jacket Voice Lines

When Summoned: Never expected I'd ever end up an art museum supporter... I'll do my best to tout the beautiful art.

Summon Line: An art museum, hm... This is a good opportunity to train up my imagination. Alright, I'm going to take a look at everything I can.

Groooovy!!: A cat that can turn invisible, huh. Ooh, maybe it's right behind you even now～ Just kidding.

Home: Celebrating the 100th anniversary is pretty amazing.

Home Idle 1: I'm not terrible at designing cakes, but drawing is a whole different matter... Even if they both require the use of imagination.

Home Idle 2: Cater told me to go on ahead, because he just couldn't get the angle right on a photo he wanted to take... How he can keep up with that for each photo, I'll never know.

Home Idle 3: I think I should be able to recreate the cake that was in the picture with the Queen of Hearts... I'll use mousse for the base, and add meringue on top... Hm...

Home Idle - Login: With all these exhibits, what's the best route to take to view them all? ...Well, I guess I'll just have to start heading towards the exit and view them all in that order.

Home Idle - Groovy: I was pretty impressed that even though we were looking at the same painting, Leona was capable of thinking on the actual story it might have been trying to tell. Art appreciation goes deeper than I thought.

Home Tap 1: Azul shared with me an anecdote about the Sea Witch that I had never heard of before. It's very cool to see the difference in which stories get told on the surface and under the sea.

Home Tap 2: Idia was checking out a painting of the Lord of the Underworld, but I don't think I've ever seen him be that focused before... He must have really liked it.

Home Tap 3: The shop had some toothpicks made to look like the card soldiers' spears. Might look good to decorate the dishes for our parties, so I think I'll buy some.

Home Tap 4: So, the magic lamp only grants three wishes, huh. I feel like even if I got my hands on it, I'd just end up asking for something worthless.

Home Tap 5: I can't help but be a little stiff wearing formal attire like this. ...It suits me? Well, that's good, at least... Thanks for the compliment.

Home Tap - Groovy: Did you find a painting you liked? You'll have to tell me later which one was your favorite.

Duo: [TREY]: I'm counting on you, Leona. [LEONA]: You owe me one, Trey.

Birthday Login Message: Thanks for celebrating my birthday. But I have to say, I wasn't expecting you to have my gift delivered to my dorm like that. You should have just handed it to me directly, since we were meeting up, anyway. Was I shocked? Well, yes... Ah, so it was supposed to be a surprise present! Haha, oh man. You're always finding ways to startle me.

Requested by Anonymous.

#twisted wonderland #twst #trey clover #leona kingscholar #twst trey #twst leona #twst translation #twst birthday #mention: cater #mention: azul #mention: idia

[dollfaceksj]

BDSMSBSKFNSKSNKSD A DOSE OF WHATENDKSBSKSND DND FKDNDKDNSKSMS. CLOVER IM DKS SLSNSLSNS SKS. OC IS PISSING ME OFF. WTF IS WRONG WITH U IS A PERF TITLE BC WTF IS WRONG W HER !!! WHERE TF THEM PILLS COME FROM !!!!

this was written in a hurry. didnt feel like bullet point format would fit w this chapter. its not my best work but i hope yall get the feel i was trying to convey <3 (i won’t answer asks that spoil the story! gonna wait a few days so i don’t spoil the other readers who arent active currently!)

tw: body image issues(!!!) very deeply rooted issues that majority of women n ppl go thru. u have been warned. <3

wc: 2k ish

can’t afford love | myg (m) #20

⋆ TAGLIST ⋆

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“Why the fuck do you have a dose of birth control pills?”

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The instance the words leave his lips, your heart free falls—no, plummets—to the pit of the Earth. This isn’t how it was supposed to go. He shouldn’t have found out this way.

You can’t bring the anxious quiver in your lips to stop when your mind travels at lightning speed trying to come up with a response. An explanation. An excuse. A lie.

But nothing comes out.

There’s nothing that you can bring yourself to say.

You messed up.

Are you even sorry? Or are you Just sorry you got caught?

Your eyes mindlessly stare at the box of pills like it’s going to vanish into thin air and you desperately want to witness it.

Doesn’t happen, though. The box stares back at you like it’s mocking you. Laughing in your face whilst being in his grasp.

He says your name. Quietly. Angrily. Repeats it when you don’t respond. Sounds like his voice is inside your head yet it also sounds like it’s coming from a galaxy that is seven million light years away.

After what seems like ages—which in reality was just a few seconds—you finally find the voice in the back of your throat that seemingly abandoned you in your time of need. “It’s an old box of pills and besides, why are you snoopi–”

“The label says you bought these two days ago. I’m not fucking stupid.” The words don’t just roll off his tongue, they launch out of his mouth like a spear. Penetrates your chest. The tip of said deadly spear nudges at your heart. Pokes it a little. Maybe makes it bleed a little, you’re not too sure.

Your panicked gaze slowly shifts to meet his angry eyes after he aggressively throws the box back onto your dresser.

“And if you’re going to berate me for snooping, someone has been trying to reach you. Called you 3 times. Just went to check to make sure it wasn’t an emergency.” He steps aside and nods towards your purse, which is now lying on its side, wide open with the contents spilled out. Your phone. Lip gloss. Wallet. Tube of Vaseline. 3 q-tips. Pack of gum. Few loose pain killer capsules.

You slowly start shaking your head and take a small step back, hoping to enlarge the distance between the two of you that you had tried to close just a few moments ago. “You won’t get it, so just–”

“No,” he says as he stomps to you, wrapping his hand around your bicep to stop you in your tracks. “You’re going to stop fucking lying to me. What the hell has been going on with you? Why are you acting like this?”

You try to wiggle your arm out of his grasp but he doesn’t let you go that easily. Tightens his grip. Enough to keep you still. Doesn’t hurt, though.

“Let me go.”

“No.”

“Let me g–”

He pulls you a little closer. Not in a romantic way. In a don’t-you-move-an-inch way. “Why won’t you just talk to me? I don’t understand why you keep pushing me away.”

Swallowing is starting to feel like sandpaper scratching its way down your esophagus. “Please, just– stop.”

He shakes his head, damp black hair swinging back and forth. Water dripping off his ends onto his shoulders like shiny pearls. They drop onto the fabric of his shirt, creating tiny little polka dots that are darker than the color of his shirt. “No, I won’t stop. You’re crossing the fucking line and you know it.”

He’s got you. That much is clear.

The silence that envelops around you is so prominent. Heavy. Wraps around you. Kind of like you’re a fetus in a pregnant belly.

Heat starts rising to your nose and cheeks, enough for you to realize that you’re starting to get emotional. Doesn’t take much longer for tears to start rolling down your cheeks.

Is there any point in hiding it now?

“You’ll never understand, Yoongi.” You shake your head as you bring your hand up. Wipe your nose with the back of your hand. Sniff softly.

His chest deflates as he heavily exhales. Feline eyes soften for a moment before his brows pinch together again. “Then make me understand.” His voice is still angry. Furious. Fuming.

“Nothing’s been the same for me, don’t you get it?” you shakily murmur, finally wiggling out of Yoongi’s grasp but not bothering yourself to get rid of the proximity between you two. Somewhere there’s comfort in it. “I know I shouldn’t have got those, I fucking know. But what you don’t know is what it feels like, okay?”

“Like what fee– What the hell are you even talking about?”

You cut him off. Burst out. “I feel disgusting, okay?”

His frown deepens. Eyes never leave you. The intensity on his features keeps you glued to the floor beneath your bare feet.

Before he can even respond, you continue with your outburst. “You don’t know what it’s like to have been the it-girl, to have been looked at and craved by any- and everyone and to now look and feel like this.”

It’s the truth. Yoongi was the king of your college because he had you. You made heads turn. You made guys fight their best friends. You made girls copy your clothes and makeup.

And now, here you are. Gotten rid of a full-length mirror in your bathroom because you hated seeing yourself naked.

Silence prevails once again. Just for a few moments that feel like centuries.

His expression doesn’t change. “Like what?”

“Ugly! Fat! Disgusting! Don’t you get it? My hair fell out, I have stretchmarks and scars all over my body, my tooth fell out at one point, my boobs are saggy, I don’t feel like taking care of myself. I burst into tears whenever I even remotely look at myself.”

You continue, pointing an accusatory finger at Yoongi and press it into his chest until he winces. “And don’t you fucking get it wrong. I fucking love Jun. I would do it all over again. I love being his mother and there’s nothing, absolutely nothing, that I’d change it for. But nothing prepared me for this. I haven’t gone out, I haven’t done anything. I bring Jun to daycare and pick him up and that’s it.”

You start backing away from him. Lips still quivering and brows furrowed in hurt.

As you approach your bed, you sink down. Bury your face in your palms. Sob a little. “But then we started being intimate again and you made me feel so beautiful. So wanted. I didn’t see it coming at all. Like everything I was seeing was a lie and everything you saw was the undeniable truth.”

You take a shaky breath to continue, “I meant it when I said I wanted the baby, that was never a lie. I wouldn’t lie about that. But as we kept having sex, you just…” you sniff, “made me so addicted to the way you made me feel. Made me feel so good physically but also like I was the most beautiful woman on the planet.”

Your eyes involuntarily shift up to meet his but in the instance you do, you regret it.

He’s frowning. Black eyes staring you down. Arms crossed over his chest. Looks like his mind is racing at a million miles a minute.

You drop your head again, hurt coating your voice. “I got scared. Scared that I’d get pregnant when I was finally starting to gain some of my self esteem back. Scared that I’d have to end our arrangement and we wouldn’t have that anymore. That I wouldn’t see you anymore.” You steal another glance at him before shifting your eyes back to the floor. His face is still the same. “I decided to get birth control the day before the award ceremony. I swear, I just wanted to delay the pregnancy only by a month or two. I just wanted to feel okay for a little while longer.”

It’s quiet. Really quiet. Your vision is blurry. Makes the floor look like a pool of blood thanks to the bordeaux rug. Makes his feet look like two hazy clouds.

You hold your heart when he finally speaks up. “Why didn’t you just tell me?”

Ugh.

He doesn’t get it. He will never understand. Never.

“Because it’s humiliating! It’s embarrassing. I…” You exhale deeply in an attempt to compose yourself. “I’m ashamed, okay? The man that once saw me as the queen of the world has to see me come down to this? I didn’t want you to think of me as this… this pathetic, insecure woman. I didn’t want you to think ‘is this really what I once loved?’.”

The frown on his brows deepens. He kind of looks genuinely offended but still tries to keep the rest of his expression as neutral as possible. He’s failing, though.

Not possible when the line between his brows looks deeper than the Pacific Ocean. When his lips twitch like he wants to yell. When the veins in his neck look like they want to pop out of his skin.

You take a deep breath after the explanation. Hang your head down. Wipe your tears with your palms. Sniff quietly. Allow a soft sob to escape your system—which makes your frame tremble slightly.

All those days, weeks, months that you spent hating yourself. Mourning the you that once was. Mourning the Yoongi that loved you.

It all comes back to you in the form of tears. Sobs. Pain.

It’s so quiet that you hear him preparing to speak. The way his lips kiss his teeth. Clears his throat. He says your name. Once. Twice. Sighs when you don’t react.

Then he gently places your phone in your lap.

Mom

Missed call (5)

You sniff and wipe your nose clean. You clear your throat and dial her number. Hold your phone to your ear. Sigh softly before you let out a croaky, “hello?”

Yoongi turns his back to you. Sighs loudly as he runs his hands through his hair and tries to process all the information you just dumped on him.

Your mother sounds distressed on the other side of the line. “What the hell took you so long?”

“Sorry, I was in the showe–”

“Stop, stop,” your mom pauses. “You need to get to the hospital right now.”

Your heartbeat stutters in its rhythm. You shoot up from your seat right away. The back of your phone becomes slimy from the amount of sweat your palm has produced.

Goosebumps pop out of the upper layer of your skin. “What? The hospital? What happened?” The turmoil in your soul makes all of your limbs shiver.

Yoongi’s head snaps towards you. Horror is written all over his face. Lips parted in shock and body frozen in a state of panic.

“Just get here. I don’t want you to drive recklessly.”

You reach for your clothes as you tilt your head to your shoulder to keep the phone trapped as you slide your pants onto your legs. “Mom! I’m gonna drive recklessly now anyway! Tell me what happ– Oh, God. Is it Jun? Did something happen? What happ–”

Your mother cuts you off. “Stop it! Just get here.”

“Mom, I swear, you’re gonna tell me what the hell happened to Jun right no–”

A big pair of hands grab you by the shoulders and shake you out of your state of panic. At least they try to. Your eyes shift up, meeting black concerned eyes that are begging you to just listen to your mother for a moment.

The other line goes silent. Just for a few seconds.

“Jun had a seizure.”

To be continued.

⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ⋆

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a/n: and i hope everyone that hated on yn feels like a piece of shit😋🩷

— enjoyed it? you can always show your appreciation by buying me some coffee if you want ☕︎♡

@pamzn @jknoah @ahgasegotarmy116 @jaiuneamesolitaiire @Teddytaee @pnkmyg @yoongallery @agustdswifey @purp13st4r @busanstarkoo @busanboykoo @kookssecret @p34rluv @xumyboo @jojowantstocry @minjenna @codeinebelle @Futuristiclovedreamland @rirushu @taegicity @namgihours @ultminyoongi @swinterr @butterymin @partyparty-yah @bettybloop @secfir @coffeedepressionsoup @keroppitae @manuosorioh @whoa-jo @etaerealboyv @kaiparkerwifes @luvjiminandyoongi @luvbeomkai @petalsofink @paradiseyoongies @gaby-93 @MMFranklin @llallaaa @vickyyy97 @osakis-gf @luna-astro-star @shabbamadapot @rrrapmonste-rr @jjeonjennie @yoongisducky @s3l3n0phil3 @itsmina29 @namjoonsbuspass @hoseokshobagi @laurenrodr @keshiadeija @acquiescence804 @swga-ficrecs @sato-hana02 @honsoolhour @kimseokgen @Imene1609 @joonsmagicshop @yunki-yunki-yunki

#clover’s drabble series: cal | myg #yoongi #min yoongi #bts suga #min yoongi x y/n #min yoongi x you #min yoongi x reader #yoongi x y/n #yoongi x you #yoongi x reader #min yoongi smut #yoongi smut #min yoongi angst #yoongi angst #bts yoongi #bts smut #bts angst #bts reader #bts x reader #suga x y/n #suga x reader #suga x you #minors dni #dollfaceksj #yoongi fic #min yoongi fic #bts fic #yoongi fics #min yoongi reader #yoongi reader

[guess-my-next-obsession]

Elementary, Finale:

pairing: pre-outbreak!joel miller x f!reader

rating: E (18+ only—i choose not to list warnings for this one as not to spoil anything but you know how we get down over here on GMNO, happy endings only. read at your own discretion.) unedited/not proofread (for now)

wc: 7k

series masterlist | joel masterlist

June, 2004

“Don’t you dare,” Joel ordered as he surprised you from the doorway of your bedroom—your former bedroom.

You stood in front of a stack of cardboard boxes labeled “linens”, your hands resting on two sides as though you were caught mid-lift. He walked over to you with a smirk, shaking his head before lifting the box for you.

“You’re already carrying enough,” he said, eyes falling to your swollen belly, six-months into your first pregnancy.

“I think I’m more than capable of carrying a box of sheets,” you countered with a matching smirk, reaching for the box that sat below the one he just stole from you.

“Uh-uh,” Tommy came rushing in, sweeping the box from your grasp. “You got my nephew to worry about.”

“How do you know I’m having a boy?” you asked, following your fiancé and soon-to-be brother in law out of your old home to watch them load the moving truck.

“I can just feel it,” he replied, earning a smile from his older brother.

“I’m still hopin’ for another girl,” Joel admitted as he walked down the rickety metal ramp to meet you as you stood in the walkway, his hands sliding over your belly to rest on your waist. He placed a sweet kiss on your lips before letting you go. “You should go sit in the sunroom with Sarah and Jessie. Make sure they’re keepin’ room for Jesus and all that.”

“Oh, let them be. Not like we have to worry about teen pregnancy—“

“Alright, alright.” Joel covered his ears, wincing at the thought. “Still, I don’t want you workin’ too hard.”

“Joel, I promise, I’m not working hard at all. You and Tommy won’t give me the chance.”

“That’s how it should be,” he countered, walking inside the house with you following behind.

“Guys, guess what?” Sarah and her newly defined girlfriend, Jessie burst into the half-packed kitchen as you stood slowly making your way through your pantry, organizing a keep pile and a donate pile. Joel lifted a brow at her as he started on taking the metal barstools that stood at your kitchen island apart so that they could take up less room in the truck. “Britney Spears is coming to San Antonio next month.”

“Praise to the heavens,” Joel mumbled under his breath, earning a chuckle from you as you rolled you eyes at his lackluster reaction.

“That’s fun!” you replied, looking at the two fifteen year-olds. “How much are tickets?”

“Like thirty bucks,” Jessie sighed, frowning. “My mom’s gonna make me work at the restaurant to earn it.”

“Well, she’s got the right idea,” Joel stood, having disassembled the first stool. “Sarah, why don’t you come work with me and Tommy this week and I’ll buy your ticket.”

“Really?” she asked with a hopeful smile before remembering her fathers line of work. “Wait—at the site? I won’t know what to do.”

“I’m sure we can find somethin’ for you to do.”

“Yeah, I mean…Britney’s worth it,” Sarah sighed and shrugged before walking back into the sunroom with Jessie in tow.

“Hey, did I tell you we got a new hire?” Joel spoke to you as he started on the second stool.

“Oh, that’s good. I thought you were having trouble finding someone?”

“We were, but she got the seal of approval from Tommy. Guess she’s a real jack-of-all-trades type’a builder. S’just what we needed.” You smiled at him proudly, his construction company having taken off this last year and a half. They were almost too busy, too booked, leaving Joel and Tommy to stay behind and work the amount of four people instead of two just so that their projects remained on time. “Hopefully might start gettin’ two days off a week instead of one.”

“That would be nice,” you hummed, walking over to him to slide your hand over his sweaty but irresistible back as he crouched down to unscrew some bolts from the legs of the stool. “I’ve been like a lonely little housewife these last few months. Holed up waiting for my man to come back from the coal mines.”

“Oh, is that right?” He looked up at you with a smirk. It had been a few weeks since the two of you had last been together, long days at the site and, for you, at school forcing you apart. Aside from a few steamy but quick makeouts, you were left longing for your soon-to-be husband. “I been neglectin’ you, huh?”

You nodded, your smile spreading wider as you played along, your voice dramatic and theatrical as you tried on an old-timey southern belle persona. “All I got is this baby I’m brewing to remember you by.”

Joel stood up and dropped his tools on the kitchen counter before letting his hands find your waist, tugging you as close to him as your belly would allow. He leaned in, pressing a featherlight kiss to your cheek that caused your entire body to light with chills as his kisses traveled down your neck.

“Why don’t I take you into the bedroom and give you that attention you’ve been needin’ so bad,” he rasped against your skin, dizzying your mind as you clung to him, breathless and wanting.

“House full of people,” Tommy’s voice sounded, reminding the two of you why you’d gone so long without each other in the first place. “Thought this would be done by now. Been, what, three years?”

“Don’t mind him, his longest relationship has been with the goddamn Longhorns,” Joel mumbled, keeping you hugged to his body. “Don’t know a thing about real love.”

“Yeah, yeah, save me the lecture, old man.” Tommy batted his brother’s teasing away and continued on packing and moving in the living room.

“Have I really been neglectin’ you, baby? All jokes aside,” Joel asked in a whisper pressed to your ear. You squeezed him closer and laid your head on his chest, Joel’s chin resting on top of it as he held you.

“No, I mean…I do miss you, and it has been a while since we last were together, but you’re not neglecting me. You still come home and hold me and talk to me and makeout with me,” you spoke softly, your voice a soothing hum against his chest. “We’re tired people, and especially now with the baby…I didn’t expect you to be clawing my clothes off when I look like a whale—“

“Excuse me?” he snapped, pulling your head from his chest so he could sternly look into your eyes. “None’a that. You’re beautiful…carryin’ our baby. Drives me fuckin’ wild seein’ you like this. M’sorry I haven’t been energized enough to show it, but I promise you, baby…you’re drivin’ me crazy walkin’ around like this.”

His hands slipped to squeeze the globes of your ass that had grown along with your belly and hips and, well, everything else.

“Tommy’s gonna see,” you scolded in a whisper as Joel’s fingers pinched the fabric of your dress until it started to lift, allowing his hands to rest against your skin and the cotton of your panties. Weaker and breathier, you exhaled, “Or the girls.”

“I promise no one’s gonna see,” he rasped, pressing his against your neck.

“Dad, come out here quick! There’s—oh my god! There’s a scorpion!” Sarah’s high-pitched squeal had Joel rushing out into the sunroom, his teasing long forgotten as he searched the room frantically. Sarah pointed in the corner and Joel spotted it, black and bigger than any scorpion he’d seen before.

“How the hell’d you get in here?” he muttered to the insect as he guided the girls inside the house before coming inside as well to grab a cup and the dust pan.

You stood in the frame of the sliding glass door, watching him as he carefully approached the scorpion as though he was Steve Irwin approaching a crocodile.

“They don’t jump, do they?” you asked, wincing as Joel started to make contact, guiding it towards the cup. The girls were behind you as though you were a shield, both of them letting out a squeal when the scorpion tried to strike Joel’s wrist, just barely missing. “Joel, just leave it! This can just be his house now, it’s not worth it.”

“Oh, hush,” Joel barked, keeping focused on the task before him. With either skill or luck, Joel managed to sweep the ground-hog sized scorpion into the glass cup and placed the dust pan over the mouth to keep him inside. “See, I got it.”

“Dad, don’t!” Sarah got gravely serious, sternly ordering her father to remain where he was with a point of her finger. Joel grinned and continued over, making both of the girls squeal and run off through the house.

“It’s so gross,” you cringed, leaning over to look at it through the glass with extreme caution and hesitancy.

“I don’t know,” Joel lifted it to his eye level to study it. “I think he’s kinda cool lookin’. Maybe we can keep ‘em as a pet.”

“Yeah, ri-IGHT—Joel!” you shrieked in terror as he pushed the glass towards you with a bark, making you jump backwards. Joel cackled as he watched you stand with your hand over your heart, your stern eyes watching him unamused. “That wasn’t funny.”

“I thought it was,” he chuckled. You watched him walk out to the backyard and set his new friend free, your heart still thumping in your chest. “Gotta get your heart rate up every now and then.”

“I don’t think you do.” Joel laughed and walked to hold you but was stopped by your hand pushing against his chest. “No, you don’t get to touch me. I almost pissed myself!”

Joel laughed again, proud of his prank. “God, it was good.”

“I’m glad you’re satisfied. I can promise you that’s the only satisfaction you’re gonna get for a while, pal.” Joel poured immediately, following you as you walked through the house out to the front yard where Tommy, Sarah, and Jessie laid out in the grass, staring up at the sky. “Everybody, we’re shunning Joel.”

“What?” he chuckled, looking at you with amusement and affection, so rarely seeing you worked up like this.

“Sure thing,” Tommy replied, mellow and relaxed as he looked at the clouds, a beer in his hand.

“Sounds good,” Jessie agreed before pointing at the sky. “That’s a dragon.”

“Yeah it is,” Sarah agreed. “And why are we shunning dad?”

“He threw the scorpion at me.” You knew you were exaggerating, your smirk growing as you watched Joel scoff at the claim, a look of amazement on the entire time.

“I did no such thing,” he defended. “I jumped it at her—“

“Oh, that’s right. He jumped it at me,” you repeated, still smirking at him. “A pregnant woman.”

“Oh, the pregnancy card again,” Joel playfully sighed, earning a gasp from you.

“Pregnancy card? How dare you?” you laughed. “I rest my case, Sarah.”

“Alright, yeah. Dad’s shunned.” Joel rolled his eyes at you before walking over, wrapping his arms around your waist from behind, his chin resting on your shoulder.

“I’m sorry,” he sang, widening your already smitten grin. “I promise not to throw any more scorpions at ya. You forgive me now?”

“Mmhm,” you hummed, melting into him.

“I ain’t shunned?” he murmured, kissing your shoulder innocently.

“No, but the threat’s always there. As you just saw, I have the votes.” Joel chuckled against your skin.

“Trust me, I know my place.”

A Week Later

It was a Friday, you’d been stuck at the house all alone, Sarah off with her dad at the site to earn her Britney Spears ticket money. After doing a few hours of nesting, marrying your things to Joel’s around the house, you perked up at the sight of Joel’s name on the caller ID of your cell.

“Hi,” you sang with a smile.

“Hey baby,” he greeted. “Was wonderin’ if you could pick me and Sarah up in about a half hour?”

“Ooo, I get you home early tonight?” Your smile turned into a grin.

“Yeah, but Sean’s havin’ a barbecue at his place. Invited the whole crew so I guess we should show up.”

“Well, I’m in.”

“See you in a little?”

“Sounds good, baby.”

You smiled as you flipped your cell shut, but the task of dressing yourself quickly wiped your grin away.

You felt like a whale in everything these days, and despite Joel’s eagerness for you each and every day, you felt like a stranger to yourself. Even in the dresses you’d been living in, you felt every change in the way your body used to fill them out. You quickly shooed the insecurity from your mind and dressed yourself for comfort before heading out to go pick the Miller’s up.

Rolling into the construction site, you spotted Joel and Sarah standing in the dirt parking lot out in front of the project, a woman in front of them talking. You furrowed your brows as you got closer, seeing that whoever this woman was, she was pretty—the kind of pretty that makes you wonder why the hell she’s here in a construction lot instead of on billboards and magazine covers.

Your chest felt tight with insecurity as you pulled up to them, hoping with all your might that Joel didn’t try to introduce you to Construction-Barbie.

“Alright, Meg. See ya at the party.” Joel waved to her as he opened the backseat for Sarah, a friendly—too friendly—smile on his face when he hopped in the passenger seat. “Hey baby,” Joel leaned forward for a kiss but you were still too jealous to oblige, giving him your cheek instead. “You alright?”

“Yeah,” you lied, nodding as you pulled out of the lot, the rest of the drive silent besides the pop on the radio and Sarah's soft hums.

After giving the two of them time to change into nicer clothes, all three of you piled into the car again with Joel in the driver's seat. Sarah talked about her day at work, how cool it was to work with Meg, and how surprising it was that the newcomer managed to make her dad laugh. You tried not to picture the scene.

Joel stopped at a grocery store, running in quickly to grab some beer and a few bags of chips to bring to the party while you and Sarah remained in the car.

“Meg sounds great,” you spoke, unable to keep your jealousy to yourself.

“She’s alright,” Sarah replied, seemingly noticing your insecurity. “A little chatty.”

“Your dad didn’t seem to mind,” you mumbled, mostly to yourself.

“She was a little flirty,” Sarah replied. “But dad didn’t seem to notice.”

You tried to shake the jealousy, knowing that it was silly and hormone-driven. Joel loved you. But that didn’t mean that he still couldn’t find someone else attractive at the same time.

At the party, you kept mostly to yourself. You were introverted on a good day, but with this heavy insecurity weighing you down, you found yourself retreating inward while everyone else mingled and carried on.

You were inside the house of Joel’s lead plumber, his wife buzzing around the house as she tried to corral her five children under five. You sat in the living room, watching and praying yours didn’t come out like that—loud and disobedient and restless.

“So, how far along are you?” she asked, breathless as she gave up and sat down on the loveseat across from you.

“Six months,” you replied with a small but friendly smile. “Got any advice for me?”

She chuckled and rolled her eyes. “Besides not havin’ ‘em in the first place? I don’t know—sleep whenever you can. They’ll suck the life outta you if you let ‘em.”

“A little bleak, honey,” Sean, her husband, walked in through the patio door, Joel following behind him.

“It’s the truth,” she argued, giving him a passive aggressive sigh. “It ain’t easy. ‘Specially if there’s only one parent home to do it.”

“Alright,” he chuckled, trying to ease the tension.

You stood, ready to venture beyond the tension anf chaos of the house, even if it meant having to enter the crowded backyard.

“You comin’ out?” Joel asked, holding his hand out for you to take. You accepted it and let him walk you outside. “That was brutal in there.”

“Yeah,” you agreed. Joel’s eyes scanned you as you stood beside him, staring ahead.

“You sure you’re alright? Been awfully quiet,” he noted.

“Yeah, just…feeling a little off today,” you lied.

Spotting a familiar head of strawberry blonde curls snorting with laughter as she stood with Tommy and Sarah by the grill. They both looked comfortable around her, making your stomach curl with a new type of jealousy. She wanted your entire family.

“Joel!” she called once she caught you staring. “Come over here and join us, darlin’!”

You resented the petname. Turning to Joel, you watched as his cheeks flushed, his eyes flickering to yours.

“C’mon,” he looked to you fully, attempting to slide his hand across your back but you stopped him, swatting his arm away. “Baby,” he began, but you were already too worked up to be consoled. “She calls everybody that.”

“Oh, I’m sure,” you muttered.

“Baby, you ain’t really jealous, are you?” He chuckled. Wrong move. With a furrow in your brow, you reached your hands into his pockets and tugged out the keys to the car.

“I’m going home. Call me when you wanna be picked up from your date.”

Joel called after you only once, not wanting to make a scene by raising his voice or following you out.

Back at home, you stewed. What started as hormonal territorialism quickly snowballed into justified rage. She’d clearly met your eyes, seeing you standing there beside him, and ignored you. Then, she proceeded to flirt with him right in front of you. Joel did nothing about it except for defend her, which was what you were currently most angry about.

As you aggressively turned the pages of the book you were reading to distract yourself, you were surprised to see headlights through the window. Closing your book, you got up and peeled through the blinds to see Joel and Sarah stepping out of a taxi, your cheeks heating as guilt set in. You didn’t mean for Sarah to get involved in your fight with Joel.

Hurrying upstairs, you heard the front door open, the two of them speaking downstairs but it was too faint to make any sense. As you stood in the bathroom, hurting your clothes off so that you could jump in the shower, you felt more than heard Joel’s heavy footsteps up the staircase. Soon, after you stepped into the shower, Joel found his way into the bathroom, announcing himself in the doorway.

“We’re home.” His voice was gentle, but carried a sadness to it that made you feel less angry and more guilty.

“Okay,” you managed.

“Can I come in?” he asked, the question lingering in the air for a bit before you answered.

“Yeah,” you decided.

In the matter of a few seconds, Joel was stripped and stepping in behind you, his eyes locked on yours.

“I’m sorry,” he started, stepping closer to you and the stream of water. “I told her that pet-name stuff wasn’t cool with me, but I guess she ain’t as good at listenin’ as she is talkin’.”

“She’s pretty,” you replied, desperate to keep hold of this jealousy.

“Tommy thinks so,” Joel added.

“And you?” He shook his head and rested his hands on the swell of your stomach.

“I’m too busy thinkin’ about you,” he replied. “Thinkin’ ‘bout our family.”

“I know you love me, Joel. It’s not about that,” you sighed, moving to turn around but he stopped you before you could even flinch, forcing you to look at him when you continued. “I want you to think I’m…pretty like that. To want me.”

“You don’t think I want you?” He chuckled, shaking his head in utter disbelief. “For someone who ‘doesn’t want you’, I sure seem to paw at you every minute of every day.”

“I guess you’re right,” you chuckled, finally seeing the light beyond all the dark gray that this storm of jealousy and insecurity you were caught in. “Just seeing you with someone so pretty, who does what you do—“

“First off, she’s alright. She ain’t half as good as Tommy promised me was. M’pretty sure they’re fuckin’ and that’s why he recommended her.” You laughed. “Secondly, I need you to know that it doesn’t matter who I’m standin’ next to. I’m only ever thinkin’ about the next time I get to see you.”

“You’re good at this,” you smiled, reaching to hold his face in your hands. “Defusing the bomb that is a pregnant woman’s mind.”

“You know…I think that’s the first time I ever saw you jealous,” he hummed, leaning in to press a soft, teasing kiss on your lips.

“It happens a lot, I’m just usually good at hiding it,” you whispered back, stealing a few kisses for yourself. “Think you should prepare yourself for more of this crazy. Might be this way until the baby comes.”

“I like the crazy,” he smiled.

Five years later — December 25th, 2009

“Iris, watch out—“ Your five year old daughter ran full speed through the kitchen and living room, your two year old son, Miles, clumsily chasing her with his brand new stuffed dinosaur. It was hard to be mad at either of them, their giggles filling the room along with the crunch of the wrapping paper littering the carpet beneath their feet.

“Alright,” Joel scooped both of his children up and threw them over his shoulder, earning squeals and laughter as he walked them over to the couch you were sitting on. He plopped kids onto your lap but only Miles stayed. Joel sighed and sat down beside you as Iris got up again, a mischievous grin on her face as she stood before the three of you, all eyes on her. “Well,” Joel started, lifting his hands before dropping them back onto his lap. “We paid for a show. Are you gonna sing for us, Hannah Montana?”

“Daddy, where’s the phone?” Iris asked, making a fist and then tapping it to help illustrate what she wanted.

“The microphone? Somewhere in all this mess,” you replied, gesturing to the mountain of wrapping paper on the floor. “Gotta go fishing for it, baby.”

Iris quickly got to work, making an arguably bigger mess as she searched for her brand new toy, a microphone that was supposed to be its own speaker as well, but truthfully wasn’t much louder than Iris’s voice.

“Hey, hey!” Sarah walked in the front door with a smile, two large bags in her hands stuffed full of wrapped presents. When she took in the mess, she frowned. “Ah, did you guys already do gifts?”

“Iris already had them open before we even got downstairs,” Joel replied as he walked to the door to take the bags from his now twenty year-old’s hands before giving her a tight hug. “Martin come along?”

Martin was Sarah’s boyfriend of two years, the pair meeting in her biology class freshman year of college.

“Yeah, he’s getting the bags,” Sarah replied before coming over to hug you tight.

“How are you? How’s school?” You missed having Sarah at the house but were more than proud of her for getting into the pre-med program at Stanford.

“School is school, but it’s been way easier now that we aren’t living in the dorms anymore.”

“Sissy!” Iris rushed up to her sister and waved her new Hannah Montana microphone in her face. “Sing with me.”

“Oh…yay,” Sarah forced a smile but looked to you for help.

“How about we open the gifts sissy brought instead?” you proposed and your daughter instantly agreed.

“How was the drive?” Joel spoke to Martin as he helped him carry the bags upstairs to Sarah’s old bedroom.

“Not too bad. Sarah snored the entire way.”

“Sorry ‘bout that. Think she gets it from me.”

When Joel and Martin returned from the second floor, they immediately found their spots beside their partners, each of them making the same pained groan as they sat down.

“God,” you chuckled, looking to Sarah who was already looking at you. “They’re the same person.”

“Gross. Hate that.”

“You gonna pass out the gifts or what?” Joel asked, unamused by the comparison.

As Sarah and Martin sorted out the gifts, handing a few to Iris, a few to Miles, two to you and one to Joel. Joel shook his head at the box handed to him, but Sarah’s round eyes got her her way every single time.

“Told you no gifts for me,” Joel grumbled as he ripped the wrapping. “Don’t want you spendin’ your money—“

“Yeah, yeah, whatever,” she smiled, sitting down beside her boyfriend. “I think you’ll like this one. It’s a gift for everybody, but I think you’re going to have the most fun with it.”

You watched him rather than opening your own gifts, the small black box in his hand opening to reveal a key. Joel looked up with boyish eyes, shocked and excited and near tears all at the same time.

“What is it?” you asked, plucking the key from his hand.

“This ain’t—how—what?” Joel spoke through his shock.

“What’s it a key to?” you asked again, chuckling at the tears welling up in your husband’s eyes.

“My parents used to own this beat up old ranch in San Antonio, but had to sell it off when Sarah was a kid. I always wanted to buy it back and fix it up, but I just…never got around to it,” Joel finally replied to your questioning, turning to you with wet eyes and a big smile before looking at his daughter and her boyfriend. “How did—“

“My dad’s a realtor and knew the guy who was selling it, so Sarah and I put our money together to buy it back,” Martin detailed.

“In your name, so don’t get too excited. Mortgage isn’t gonna be that bad because we got it at twenty thousand and we put down a decent down payment,” Sarah added. “So, just a few hundred a month.”

“Baby girl,” Joel shook his head and looked down at the key. “How much do I owe y’all—“

“Dad, you took care of me my whole life. You deserve this. Besides, I just signed with a publisher for my book, so—“

“What?” you practically squealed, Miles covering his ears as he sat in your lap. “Congrats, baby girl!”

“Thank you, thank you,” she smiled and bowed, bringing your eyes to the shining rock on her ring finger. Joel seemingly noticed it too because his clapping suddenly ceased.

“What’s that?” he asked, his eyes shifting to Martin’s nervous stare.

“Shit—we were gonna announce it at dinner so Uncle Tommy could be here too, but…” She looked to her boyfriend. “We’re engaged.”

“Oh my god,” you gasped, your hands lifting to your mouth to hide the joy in your smile. “I’m so happy. Oh my god!”

“That’s bad, mommy,” Iris scolded. You nodded but pointed at Sarah’s ring.

“I known, but sissy’s getting married, baby!”

“Dad?” Sarah spoke to her father who sat frozen in shock. You turned to him as well, studying him carefully for any signs of anger or disappointment, but instead found only pride and joy. “Please don’t be mad. Martin wanted to ask first but I told him that’s too old school—“

“Baby, I’m not mad,” he assured softly, shaking his head as his eyes welled with fresh tears. “I’m just so happy.”

“Oh, dad,” Sarah cooed, her own eyes shedding tears as she walked over to hug her father close as he stood up. “I love you so much.”

“I love you, baby girl. So much.” Joel squeezed her once more before letting her go and turning to her fiancé. “And you too by proxy.”

After a long afternoon spent beside Joel at the computer studying the state of the ranch from the pictures Martin pulled up from the realtor, it was decided that Joel would take weekends off of work—not that he usually worked them anymore, the business having taken off so much that it forced him into a more managerial role—and drive down to the ranch to work on it, the kids and you invited of course but he understood if you didn’t want to, after all, “It ain’t gonna be pretty for a while, baby”. You agreed to let him check it out in person first before coming along because it seemed a little too dangerous for the kids with the property’s long, unmowed yard and old, untouched cabin.

Dinnertime came and so did Tommy and his girlfriend of one year—who also happened to be your good friend and a successful attorney—Maria, the two of them walking into a cleaner home than the one Sarah and Martin were greeted with. She had a six year old son, Kevin, who loved to play with your babies every time he came over.

“No fuckin’ way,” Tommy held up Sarah’s left hand to stare at the ring. “You were just a snot-nosed kid a second ago.”

“Yep,” she giggled.

“Well,” Tommy dropped her hand and looked to Martin, giving him a handshake. “You know who you’re gonna answer to if you hurt her.”

“Alright,” Joel interjected as he returned to the kitchen table that the adults were sat at while the kids played in the living room, The Grinch on in the background to busy them even more. He set a bottle of beer down in front of each of you, but Marin was quick to slide her bottle away from her. “No? And I bought the good shit just to impress y’all.”

“It’s just…” She looked to Tommy for help, the younger Miller smirking as he turned to the table.

“We’re havin’ a baby,” he announced and the table roared with applause and cheers. Joel’s smile was the widest, the two brothers locking eyes. Joel lifted his beer up to toast to life and the rest of you gladly clinked your bottles together in agreement. To life, indeed.

March, 2010

“So,” Joel started, a proud but nervous grin on his face as you climbed out of the passenger seat of the car to get a good look at the ranch. “What d’ya think?”

The long, unmowed grass was now trimmed neatly, making the land look so much bigger. Joel had fixed the gate, but you noticed that when he pulled in; he made sure to have a sign placed at the entrance reading “Miller Ranch” to properly fulfill his lifelong dream. The old, rickety cabin was now renovated and converted into a private den in case Sarah and Martin ever wanted to come stay for a while. Beside it stood a brand new ranch house, modest in size compared to the surrounding ranches, but it was big enough to hold three bedrooms, two baths, a kitchen, and a living room. But the part you loved most was the wrap-around porch he built by hand, painted a soft, pale yellow to contrast to the white of the home.

“I think,” you started, a smile growing on your face. “I wanna live here now.”

“Yeah?” he chuckled and approached you at the passenger side door, pressing you against it. “Why don’t we go inside? Maybe…test it out.”

“Mm, might as well take advantage of Tommy and Maria watching the kids,” you replied, your lips ghosting over his.

Joel tugged you along by the hand up the gravel driveway, allowing you the time to admire the little details like the swing he built onto the big oak tree between the den and the house, or the sneak peek you caught of rose bushes in the backyard. With each detail, you fell more and more in love with the property, and what was once a joke now turned into a serious longing—you wanted to move here. Bad.

“Ready?” Joel asked as he opened the screen door and rested his hand on the doorknob of the main, wooden door painted that same, soft yellow. You nodded at him and he opened the house, letting you walk in first, he flipped on the lights behind you as he entered. You gasped at the living room, how spacious but cozy it felt with a fireplace built in, not that the San Antonio weather ever really called for it.

Turning to the other side, you saw the dining room that connected into the kitchen via a square archway. You started that way, admiring the hand-made dining table before walking into the kitchen of your dreams. You let out a moan at the size of it, the brand new appliances that were a surprise but don’t worry, they’re on a lease.

Back in the hall, you carried on, admiring the framed pictures he’d hung of your joined family over the years, the smiling image of Sarah’s mother and Mary and Paul and everyone you’d lost bringing tears to your eyes.

“This is gonna be Miles’ room,” Joel opened the door to a room set up for a kid rather than a toddler aside from the bed with safety rails on it. You smiled at the thought of your son growing up here.

“And this?” you reached for the door across the hall and opened it to find a bathroom, modest but new.

“Kids bath,” he replied. Guiding you to the room beside Miles’, Joel opened it and displayed a soft pink painted bedroom that Iris was going to absolutely adore. “For baby girl.”

“Which means this has to be our room, right?” you asked, reaching for the door across from your daughter's room. “Little close, no?”

“Mm-mm,” he shook his head and entered the room, shutting the door behind him. He made a lot of noise, or at least that’s what you assumed from his heavy feet jumping on the hardwood floors, but you couldn’t hear much of anything. When he emerged, he was breathless and smiling. “Hear anything?”

“Felt you jumping around, but no,” you grinned. “You soundproofed it?”

“Yeah,” he nodded. “Took me a while to get it right but…we can make all the noise we want now.”

“Well,” you began, sliding your hands up his chest as you batted your eyes at him. “Why don’t we give it a proper go?”

“Yeah,” he hummed, leaning down to kiss you teasingly, forcing you to seek more of his mouth in yours. “Come on,” he rasped, tugging you into the bedroom. “There’s one more surprise on the tour before I can get you naked. Go take a look in the bathroom.”

You did as you were told, leaving him by the bed to walk into the en-suite. You gasped at the clawfoot tub perched by a large bay window, looking out at the garden of flowers he’d planted.

“Joel…you—“ You shook your head, eyes now raining tears as you stood in the middle of the bathroom. Joel laughed and came over to hold you as you buried your face in his chest. “I love you so much.”

“I love you, baby,” he chuckled, amused by your reaction. “You like it, I take it?”

“Like it?” you lifted your head and shocked him with the amount of tears soaking your eyes. “I’m about to get down on my knees.”

“You can get down on your knees after I get my fill, how about that?” he husked against your cheek as he kissed your tears. “Go lay down on the bed, baby. Everything off.”

You didn’t waste any time in obeying, practically skipping out of the bathroom and into the bedroom. Your shoes and jeans came off first, then your top, and finally your undergarments before you climbed onto the mattress to test it out. Joel walked in but remained patient at the foot of the bed as you laid in the center of the mattress, beckoning him closer with the curl of your finger. Joel grinned and peeled his t-shirt off before slowly, painfully slowly, undoing his belt and jeans.

“Roll over,” he commanded. “Wanna see somethin’.”

“I wonder, what ever could that be?” you joked, rolling onto your stomach and instinctively arching your ass into the air. Joel’s knees dipped the mattress as he crawled onto the bed behind you, his hands gripping the globes of your ass as he let out a groan.

“So pretty like this,” he hummed before surprising you with a broad lick up the seam of your cunt. “My country girl.”

“I’ll be whatever you want me to be, just don’t stop.” Joel laughed at your plea but obliged, licking you again. He kept at it, his tongue greedily and filthily lapping up every inch of you it could find before tensing and burying into your cunt while his fingers rubbed circles over your clit.

“Mm,” he hummed as he pulled away for a moment to speak. “There’s a gift for you in the nightstand. Why don’t you have a look?”

You chuckled hesitantly and crawled over the mattress to reach into the nightstand on your side of the bed, finding a long black box inside. You pulled it out and turned over to sit, facing Joel as he sat on his ankles at the foot of the bed. “Open it.”

“Is this—“ You silenced yourself by opening the box, your eyes taking in the sight of one of those wands you’d been desperately dropping hints about wanting to try out. “Oh, baby. You’ve got competition now.”

“Oh, do I?” he smirked, crawling to lay over you, forcing your head to rest back against the pillows. “That’s alright. Gettin’ too old to do all that work anyways. Might as well take all the help I can get.”

“You know you’ll always have one thing no one else has,” you purred, reaching to stroke his cock as it rested on your belly. “They couldn’t replicate this if they tried.”

“Mm,” he smiled against you. “You’re just flatterin’ me now.”

“Uh-uh,” you shook your head. “It’s perfect. The way you fill me up, the way it feels inside. I’ll never get enough.”

“Fuck, baby,” he whined against your jaw as he nibbled there. “Turn it on, wanna get you ready to take me. So damn hard for you, can’t even think.”

You flipped on the vibrator, gasping at the power behind it while Joel simply groaned.

“Go on,” he urged. “Press it to your clit, baby.”

“Fuck,” you hissed as you lowered it to your bundle of nerves, the whir of the vibrations making your thighs tense and jerk, but Joel’s hips stopped them from closing.

“Does it feel good?” he asked against your pulse as he kissed the skin there.

“Yes,” you panted. “But I want you.”

“Not ‘til you cum,” he replied, trailing his fingers down your belly, past the vibrator, and into your soaked entrance. You let out an animalistic moan, something primal and so unlike yourself. “God, baby,” he moaned against you as he curled his fingers up towards that dizzying spot inside. “You don’t make those noises for me. Maybe I do got competition.”

“Joel,” you whined, unsure of what to say or how to describe how good it felt to have him inside you along with this gift of an invention. “Please. Please.”

“Cum on my fingers,” he ordered, low and dark and right into your ear. “Then I’ll give you what you want.”

As if your body had simply been awaiting the order, you came immediately, squeezing him as you writhed beneath his weight, the vibrator turned off and tossed across the bed. Joel slid into you while you were still clenching around nothing, your breath getting knocked out of your lungs at the force of his thrusts inside. You felt like you transcended into some sinful sort of heaven, one where only you and Joel resided.

“God, baby,” he whined, his arms slid beneath the arch of your back to hug you tight as he pounded into you. “So fuckin’ wet. God, I need to cum. Been too long.”

“Those fuckin’ kids,” you managed a joke, earning a laugh before he found his rhythm again.

“Baby, fuck,” he warned, his voice as wrecked as yours as you screamed his name into the empty home, your nails scratching down his back as you begged him to let you cum again, as if he ever denied you. “Go on,” he urged, sitting up on his knees to watch his cock disappear into you only to come out covered in your shine. “Fuck, come on. Cum for me. Right fuckin’ now, baby.”

“Oh!” you screamed, again unlike yourself, and clawed at his arms for purchase as your orgasm hit so hard it might have been painful if it hadn’t felt so fucking good. “Joel, please, please, please. Cum inside me.”

“Yeah,” he agreed, his face scrunched up as he watched himself let go into your pussy, his eyes glued to where you were connected while pulsed inside of you with a deep growl. When he pulled out, he quickly lowered himself to the mattress and nestled between your thighs, fucking his spend back into you with his finger while his tongue swiped round and round over your clit until you were begging him to stop. “Too much?”

“For now,” you grinned. “How much longer do we have until we have to get back on the road?”

“I’d say a couple hours,” he replied, sated but a hint of mischief in his voice. “We could always try out that new bath.”

“God, I love you.” You pulled him up and kissed deeply. “So glad you showed up to that parent teacher conference.”

“Thank you for givin’ Sarah and I a family again,” he whispered. “I love you so much, baby. I—gonna get me all choked up. I love you.”

“I love you.”

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#pedro pascal #pedro pascal fic #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedro pascal smut #pedro pascal fluff #joel miller #joel miller fic #joel miller x reader #joel miller x y/n #joel miller fluff #joel miller angst #joel miller x reader smut #joel miller x you #joel miller smut #joel miller reader insert #elementary

[netherfeildren]

The Cassandra Complex : Chapter IV : Aite

Series Masterlist : Moodboard

(Din Djarin x F!Reader)

Content Warnings: Hunter/prey dynamics; Dom/sub undertones; Spanking; Orgasm delay/denial; Overstimulation; Rough sex; Squirting

A/N: happy mando monday mother fuckers — literally nobody look at me i have nothing to say for myself 

also, again, canon deviation — he’s got the beskar spear here already.

Rating: Explicit 18+

Word count: 9.3K

Read on AO3

CHAPTER IV : AITE

MEGARA: You love the light so much?

AMPHITRYON: I do, I love its hopes.

Anne Carson, Grief Lessons: Four plays by Euripides

You stir hours later, sweltering and tangled under the covers in the dark, cramped alcove of his narrow bunk, sweat pooling between your breasts and at the nape of your neck. It takes you a moment to gather your bearings and take in the steaming beast of a man, heavy muscle and a solid chest pressed into your back. Din’s nose nuzzles into your hair as he breathes deep and steady. The bunk is so narrow, and he is so broad, half draped on top of you, and you’re being smothered by his heat and weight. 

“Din,” muffled, sleep graveled voice, “Heavy.” He doesn’t answer – dead to the world after everything the two of you had been through. The two of you’d crawled into the cool darkness of his bunk and promptly lost consciousness after the emotional ordeal of everything you’d talked about, but now you are hot and aching, and as you try and shift and wiggle, murmuring supplications to rouse him he huffs in his sleep, disturbed at your wriggling, and that unyielding arm of muscle presses you deeper into his chest, constricting your ribs, at the same time that his overly large shirt he’d put you in shifts up to reveal your naked bottom half, and his hips shift up to press his hard, seeking cock to the wet seam of your cunt. His hips rock into you, rolling you further onto your belly, and he growls a sleepy sound deep in his chest that you’re sure would translate to sleep, little one, were he conscious. He keeps trying to push in, frustrated grumbles when he meets only soft thigh instead of the warm cunt his dreams expect. 

You can feel them on the periphery of your conscious mind, he’s dreaming of you, of your wet pussy, and the feeling of your slippery walls clenching around him. And you’ve no other choice but to give in, pulling a knee up to your chest you sense him step into this side of consciousness, and then he’s fucking in deep, meeting the end of you and grinding his hips against your ass with a low, hoarse groan. “Fuck, I was dreaming of this.”

“I know,” you whisper, pressing your bottom to his pelvis and trying to tilt forward as far as the bunk allows to deepen the angle, but he pulls you back tight to his chest and lifts your leg to drape back over his hip. His hands snake up the bottom of his shirt you’re wearing to palm your tits and pinch your nipples, rolling the aching peaks between his rough fingers and mouthing at the sweaty skin of your neck.

“You’re sore and exhausted, little one. I told you no more,” he admonishes but doesn’t stop the rhythm of his thrusting hips, rolling up into your slick cunt over and over. 

“I don’t care. I don’t care if I hurt.” And part of you regrets it as soon as the words leave your mouth, painfully honest, humiliating, but the larger part of you is only desperate and aching for him to fuck into you, writhing wet and wanton on his cock.

“But I do. That’s all I care about.” He pushes inside again anyway though – the need too great, again and again until the two of you are trembling with orgasm together, wet and shaky and intimate. 

-

The next bounty finds itself on the planet of Kashyyyk and the Razor Crest makes planet-fall a few hours after the two of you finally stumble out of the warm cocoon of his bunk. 

You make tremendous fun of him and his ridiculously beloved ship, you can’t help it with a snickered, A Razor Crest? Really? Has the Guild been skimping out on you? To which you’re met with nothing but stony silence and then again, This hunk of junk is going to leave you stranded out in open space one day, I’m surprised it even still has the capacity to travel at– and then him spinning to pinch your cheeks between his fingers, forcing your mouth into a pucker, he gives your head a little shake. “One more bad word about my ship, and I’ll put this smart mouth to better use, do you hear me?” He’d forced your head into a little nod, but you’d rolled your eyes, snorting at him, as if you wouldn’t enjoy that. He’d harrumphed and turned to climb up into the cockpit after that while you’d washed the sweat and come of your nap from your body in the little fresher, the sound of him whispering his name to you ringing in your ears. 

-

“When do you think you’ll be back?” You pout up at him, spread out on your nest on the floor of the hull that’s become a permanent monument, your still damp, trembling, just fucked form covered only by a thin blanket. It’d been hours since the two of you’d touched down on Kashyyyk, and you knew he probably should’ve been gone ages ago, out hunting his bounty, but he’d not been able to pull himself from your soft wet clutch. He was grumpy now and insisting he had to go even though you desperately did not want him to. 

“It won’t be long – maybe two days, three at the most.” He’s re-donning the armor he hasn’t worn in days, slowly and meticulously adorning himself with each piece of beskar. 

“Alright…” you sigh, stretching out into lithe, soft lines, your hands above your head so that the blanket covering your chest inches down to expose one soft nipple to his gaze. He pauses deathly still to watch your display, and you spread your knees beneath the cover with a breathy, little moan. “I guess I’ll see you in three days… I’ll just be here.” You look up at him with the most guilelessly innocent eyes you can muster. One of his boots sneaks forward to toe the blanket away from you: He can see your little cunt, wet and gleaming, the reddened swell of recent use, and when you spread those soft, gorgeous thighs a little further apart there he is. The slow drool of his spend from your pussy. Fuck, that bounty is never getting brought in.

Squeezing your eyes shut, turning to hide your face in the bend of your arm — you need to be more careful about that, don’t know why it keeps happening. You listen to the clang of one of his pauldrons dropping to the floor. 

“What are you going to do while I’m gone?” His voice has taken on that deeper tone he falls into right before he’s about to sink inside of you. 

Shit, shit shit, this is too much. Too desperate. 

You spread your legs wider, slowly pulling one knee up to your chest, and gently running your fingertips up the sensitive inside of your thighs until you reach your messy center. Swollen and overwrought from his ferocity, and you don’t care, you still want more. You flutter your fingers over the wet mess, circle your clit and pass over your clenching opening. 

“Think about you of course,” you moan, and listen to a restrained growl from him, the fall of another piece of his armor and then the soft shuck of his shirt falling as well. 

“I can see myself drooling from that sloppy little hole,” he murmurs, now the crash of the helmet, you squeeze your eyes shut tight, “Push it back in. Fuck yourself.” He falls to his knees between your spread legs. 

It is hours later before he finally manages to make it outside. 

-

On the fourth day without him, you begin to stir with restlessness.

He’d promised three at the most, and you’d wanted to say that three days was an unbearably long time to be away from him. Yes, even this soon – weak hearted little wench, you’d griped at yourself. But you’d been cast in an unbearable silly wash of shyness, going hot and vulnerable from head to toe when the moment finally came that he’d dallied just too long, and he absolutely had to go now, really, I do have to go, the bounty isn’t going to catch itself, and we’re soon to be out of credits. As if you couldn’t just steal or trick your way into more credits if absolutely need be, but he’d hear nothing of such petty thievery. So you’d kept your pouting to yourself, and let him go. 

He was a day late now, and you knew it was silly to worry about him.

He was a kriffing Mandalorian. He didn’t need you clucking over him like some worried mother tip-yip, but you couldn’t help it. You knew, even with as little experience with him as you have, that when he said he’d do something he did it. So you were beginning to stir with a frenzied and restlessly anxious energy, thinking of all the potential possibilities of harm he could have come to. Could Wookies chew through beskar? You didn’t know, but it seemed highly probable with the sort of Maker blasted luck you’d been cursed with that he’d randomly get eaten by a Wookie or some other beast on this fucking jungle planet and leave you stranded and without him.

You step off the Crest’s ramp late in the afternoon. Clad in only a pair of soft, worn leggings and your breast band, saber hilt in hand, thinking that perhaps a spot of training would help dispel your anxiety over him, but when you make it outside the weather is so lovely, warm and temperate, and you can’t help flop down into the soft grass of the field he’d landed the ship in to take in the heat of the sun. 

The sky has been different every morning, but it’s almost pearlescent today, watery gray shot with silver white that coalesces into a sort of soft hued lavender. The planet’s single star, soft behind the protection of the clouds, has you going lazy and lethargic as it fights to push its way through. You think that perhaps, the training is unnecessary then, if the sun’s able to soothe you into peace for a few moments, and you cross your arms behind your head to lay back and close your eyes to the sky, feeling the warmth of it seeping through the thin membrane of your lids.

The two of you had both gone a little shy and awkward as he’d gotten ready to finally go four days ago. While he’d gotten dressed, arming himself to the teeth, you’d felt his eyes on you as you lay wet and trembling where he’d left you, and you were sure he could read how much you did not want him to go. You’d so desperately wanted him to bid you farewell with a kiss, to tell you he’d be back to you soon, but he’d done none of those things. Had gone quiet and awkward and given you a sharp nod of his head before he was spinning on his heel, cape snapping behind him and throwing himself out into Kashyyyk’s wilderness for his bounty. Why the fuck anyone would choose the Wookie homeworld as a place to hide was beyond you. You think you’d much prefer being caught by the tin can than eaten by one of those overgrown hairballs, but what do you know. 

Well, actually – no, you’re certain you preferred being caught by him. 

I like to be caught.

By me.

By you.

So all you had to do now was sit here and stew with your own thoughts. You wonder if maybe you should plan for what your next move will be after you leave him – but your mind immediately shies away from the possibility of that. No, you think,  you’ll consider that later, in a few days, a few weeks, whenever he finally gets sick of you, which you know will happen sooner rather than later. But despite your recalcitrance to consider the timeline of when this will end, there is no part of you that doesn’t know how this will end. In ruination, surely, come by your hand, him angry or hating you. You just hope you can hold off on your inevitable destruction for a while longer, for you so enjoy being with him.

If you’re being modest and not entirely honest with what you feel, then, yes, you enjoy being here with him, enjoyment verging on something much deeper, more intense. The warmth and comfort you’d found in his ship, even if it was a hunk of junk Razor Crest, being with him, fucking him, having him take care of you, you like this. 

And it is not so much a realization, but a reminder that you’d been unsatisfied with your life thus far. Again, if you were being modest and not entirely honest, then sure, you could call it dissatisfaction.  Dissatisfaction with what you are, what you had been, and you’re angry too. Angry at the things that were done to you, the things you’d endured. You did not deserve to have been treated so. You had not deserved such cruelty, and perhaps, this time here with the Mandalorian, with Din, could be taken as a recompense of sorts. A lovely and wholly unexpected prize, a gift, after all you had endured. You could take this time with him with a grain of salt, a seed of wariness, and try and keep yourself as internally stoic as possible, entirely plausible, sure, and then when the time was right you could part ways and take your losses for what they were. For as good as you are at lying to yourself, you are self aware enough to know that at the end of this it will be a loss, he will be a loss. A worry for a later time, though, you suppose. 

You settle back on your bent arms. 

Dissatisfaction with life… you laugh lightly to yourself. What a silly thing. You’re alive, you’re free. That’s more than enough to be satisfied with. 

But at the same time, you can’t help but wonder at what it is to be a God and a slave all at once? You feel you know both sides of the coin so well – both sides of yourself. And you find yourself dissatisfied and angry at the intimacy of the knowledge you hold. You wish you could wash your hands of both facets of yourself and begin anew.

You wonder if perhaps he could provide the answer to the start of that question. 

-

“What are you doing?” His voice comes, what could be hours or minutes later, and you feel a soft, lazy smile spread across your face. Finally, finally, he’s back, he’s back. 

“What does it look like I’m doing?” you murmur up at him. You think you must have dozed off.

“You shouldn’t be out here in the open – it’s dangerous.” You give a derisive little snort of self assured laughter at that. Dangerous, ha ha, yeah, sure. “Where are your clothes?” So grouchy.

“I’m wearing them, shiny.” You’ve still not opened your eyes, and you listen to the sound of his long suffering sigh, big smile stretched across your face now. 

“Little one–” Your eyes finally blink open to take in the sight of him after four long days – he looms above you, extraordinary and singular, like some warrior of old – a knight or some other silver burning effigy, standing as the face of all that is good and valiant and true. Your pathetic little heart gives a sickly sweet flutter inside your chest. The two of you stare at each other silent and still, caught in each other’s gazes – it’s been four days, four agonizing, interminable days and you’d missed him. You’d traveled with him for such a short time, and already you found yourself in the painful business of missing him. 

He’s got one inescapable hand clamped around the bounty’s arm, an unfortunate Mythrol, whose head whips back and forth between the two of you.  “Aww, there’s no way – No way, man. Is this your girlfriend, Mando?!” The Mythrol practically howls. “There is absolutely no way this hunk of metal got you to bang him.”

“Shut the fuck up. Do not speak to her,” Din’s head snaps away from you to shake the creature roughly, shoving him forward. But the comically unintelligent bounty fails to read the Mandalorian’s angry countenance and digs his heels in.

“I’d decided on a spot of training, but then I got tired and lazy and hot, and now I am resting. I’m sure you’ve heard of it before–” bratty drawl to answer his earlier question.

“The galaxy really does show you new wonders every single day,” the Mythrol goes on unheeded, looking down at you with moon eyes, and you snicker. “Tell me, gorgeous, is his junk at least normal looking? He’s not like … green or something under there is he? Scales? Any strange orifices?”

“You’re literally blue,” Din deadpans.

“Blue is a perfectly respectable color to be.”

“Well, I haven’t gotten a good look at all his orifices yet, but I’ll let you know once I do,” you say coyly, looking up at Din and batting your eyelashes at him.

“You have fucking gills–” and he sounds so comically offended, you can’t help but break out into hysterical giggles. 

“Listen, if he isn’t doing it for you, trust me, I'm getting out of this real soon. I’ll surely take care of you if h–”  And then Din’s huge, balled up fist snaps out to punch the poor bounty in the face, dragging him off towards the Razor Crest, and muttering under his breath about brats and no respect and piece of bantha shit bounties. You make sure your laugh follows him all the way into the hull while you lay your head back on your crossed arms and continue enjoying the warm sun on your face and exposed belly. 

“You’re fucking naked,” he growls a few minutes later, hovering over you menacingly, very aggravatingly blocking out your warm sun.

You open your eyes to look up at him, shading yourself from the glare shining off the curve of his helmet. He’s rid himself of his armor and duraweave and remains only in his flight pants, long sleeved undershirt and helmet, the expanse of his thick neck left naked without his cowl so that you can admire all of that gorgeously tanned skin. “Mandalorian, you’re in your underthings! How scandalous.” He’s got his beskar spear gripped in one hand, and you eye it dubiously.

“You’re naked,” again, cold and clipped.

“So are you.” Maker, just the stance on him is full of sass, hands on his hips, one foot propped out like he’s about to start tapping it at you, on the verge of shaking his finger at the ornery little girl. 

“Shut up, brat. And get up.”

“I think I won’t, actually.” You lay back on your crossed arms and close your eyes again, but he knocks the edge of his boot against your bare ankle, right at the prominence of bone on the side so that you’re yelping unexpectedly and folding your knee up towards your chest to get away from him. “Mean man,” you frown up at him accusingly. 

“Get up. I want to see what you can do – let’s spar.”

The laughing smile you have plastered across your face goes wan and melts away. “You want to do what now?”

“You said you were training – I want to see what you can do.” 

“Well, I don’t want to show you.”

“My mistake, it wasn’t meant to be a request. Get your little ass up.”

“Exactly – I’m too little. I can’t spar with you.” You look up at him with big, pleading eyes, pouting at him. 

“Yes, you can. Get up.”

“I don’t want to spar with you.”

“Why not?”

“I don’t want to hurt you.” And he laughs. He laughs, as if it’s the funniest thing he’s ever heard in his entire life. You scowl at him, bristling with indignation.

“You could never–” You take his legs out from under him with a single crook of your finger so that he’s hitting the ground with a jarring thud, knocking the breath from his lungs unexpectedly. You get to your feet, pinning him there lightly, but so that he’s not able to move even a millimeter. 

“You were saying?” Silence. “Do not mistake me for something I’m not,” you say slowly. “I could hurt you. Easily. I could kill you easily. I have to be conscious of myself and you and all the things around me every day so that I don’t unwittingly cause harm.”

More silence from him, and you panic for a second that you’ve actually gone and accidentally killed him. You fall to your knees at his side, letting go of your hold over him, and he stays still and unmoving, but then says, “I know. I know what you are. I also know that you would never hurt me. Even accidentally. You’d never let yourself.”

“Din,” you whisper, letting your forehead fall to his belly. He brings a hand up to cup the bowl of your skull and softly strokes your hair. He can’t know that. He doesn’t know you well enough to know that, and yet…

“Spar with me. It’ll be fun.”

You groan, rolling your forehead against his stomach in feigned denial. “Fine, you have a fucked up idea of fun, and when I whoop your ass you’re not allowed to be angry with me.” You move to stand,  clasping his hand in yours to pull him up with you. 

He slaps your bottom when he gets to his feet, squeezes just a little bit, “Brat.”

“You are not allowed to grope me when you’re making me do things I don’t want to do,” you say indignantly, turning your nose up at him, “And I want to make this interesting.” You move a few paces away from him, and then spin on the ball of your bare foot back towards him, igniting your saber on the come around. “Let’s switch weapons,” you say with a conniving little smirk. 

“You want me to use your lightsaber?”

“Scared?”

“Fuck off, and give it here.” Oh, he’s funny when he’s grouchy. 

You disengage the plasma beam and toss him the crossguard at the same time that he sends his spear your way. You catch it easily and give it an experimental twirl in your hands – it’s light, nicely balanced, and you give it a figure eight twist in front of you, once, twice, “Not as fancy – but I suppose it’ll do.” You take position, flexing up once on your toes to feel the tight stretch of your calves, a fizzy flutter of excitement in your belly. He’s right, you would never hurt him. A small, terrifying part of you even whispers that you think you’d do harm to yourself before you could ever even think of hurting him.

You can feel a deep hum of satisfaction coming off of him at the sight of you wielding one of his weapons, and he pauses for a beat, admiring you, and then ignites the saber, spinning the blade once in his hand, and then moving towards you on the defensive immediately, without thought. “No powers – just us,” he says, and he brings your lightsaber up above his head, the frame of his heavily muscled arms almost distracting you for a second, and then down upon you with all of his considerable strength. Fast as light, and he’s fucking strong so you feel the reverberation of the weapons meeting in your teeth with how powerful his strike is. 

“Maker– I didn’t think you were going to be a dick about this.” 

“That was your mistake.”

“Oh, you suck,”

“Not quite. But you will be later, trust me.”

“Did you just make a dirty joke?! I didn’t know you were allowed to do that,” you gasp. “This is not the way, Mandalorian,” you intone in a deep voice, imitating his baritone.

You disengage from his lock and spin away from him, twirling the spear above your head in a quick little flourish, hair fanning out around you, and then bringing it down upon him again. He’s fast and strong, but you’re small and sneaky, easily distracting. Your footwork has always been your greatest strength, like a dance and a game and a duel all at once. He parries your blow and steps to the side trying to evade you by going around. You take a light hop further away from him, and then pirouette back again, fast as you can, ready to strike once more, but he’s already there waiting, leaning heavily into your space so that the plasma blade flashes violet and angry, buzzing right up against your face. You feel the heat radiating off of it on your eyelids, and a bead of sweat slides down your temple.

“You’re not getting laid for a week,” you grit through clenched teeth, blowing a fallen piece of fringe out of your eyes. 

“Oh, you’re getting fucked as soon as this is over.” He shoves you back with all his strength, and you stumble over your own feet, giving an outraged little screech as you go ass over tits, and your bottom meets the hard ground. He circles your fallen form, “Get up. I'm not done with you yet, little one.”

Jerk. You spring back up onto the balls of your feet and meet him in a parry of blindingly quick strikes, one after the other after the other. He matches them all without even seeming to strain himself. Your strength is nothing compared to his, and for a second you feel a flash of anger, a memory of being weaker and smaller than everyone around you. He’s not even trying. You growl and spin again, going low, trying to get his legs, but he meets your blow, and then brings one of his hands up to shove you away by the shoulder. He’s never even wielded a fucking lightsaber before and this is how he does – you catch yourself with a supportive tendril of the Force on that one, and bare your teeth at him. 

“You’re stronger than me – this isn’t fair,” you pant.

“You know that isn’t true.” He strikes again, and you block it, barely. “But if it were, you’re tiny. Most people are going to be stronger than you. Tough shit – you can’t always rely on your tricks.”

“My tricks–” Fuck you. You jerk away from him, gasping for breath, sweating, angry at his words and full of reckless defiance. But you take a deep, calming breath and give him a small smile. “Oh, no?” you croon, and lunge at him again at the same time that you snake a ribbon of Force around his striking arm to pull the limb backwards, rendering it motionless and him without protection. He brings his other arm up to block your presumed blow, but you pull the saber from his grasp with your mind instead and knock the side of his spear against the curve of his helmet, loud clang echoing at the same time that you bring one small, bare foot up to the center of his belly and shove him back, sending him sprawling to the ground. How’s that for a trick? “Life isn’t fair, shiny. I'm going to use all the tricks in my book until I'm dead – and even after that, I still might find a way.” You stand over him looking down at the impenetrable dark of his visor. You crook your eyebrow at him, a little shrug of one shoulder, and oh, he’s fucking pissed, you can feel it rolling off of him. 

“I said no powers,” and grunts when you place a small foot on his belly, a conqueror over your felled opponent. 

“Oops.” You see the strain of his arms trying to fight against your restraints, biceps bulging and bunching, and he growls like an animal, like someone about to teach you a particularly savage lesson. You remove your foot from him and take a few, slow steps back from him. Retreating from the beast you’ve just purposefully enraged. “Now, now,” you try, “We were just messing around–” a nervous, hiccuping laugh.

You let him go, and he moves to his feet, long legs unfolding almost in slow motion. “You better fucking run, little girl. You do not want me to get my hands on you right now,” he says slowly.

You don’t need to be told twice, without a second thought you’re throwing both weapons to the ground and spinning on your heel, sprinting away as fast as you possibly can on bare feet. You’re pretty sure he even gives you a few seconds head start before he’s shooting after you. You can hear the pounding sound of his heavy strides over the hard ground, and you pump your arms and legs as fast as you can, making for the tree line far ahead, but there are rocks and small bric-a-brac hidden in the underbrush, and your pace falters, heart thumping painfully fast within the cage of your chest. There's a fine sheen of sweat covering your whole body, and right before his chest makes harsh contact with your back you have the thought that being caught by him is one of the greatest pleasures you’ve ever experienced in your entire life. 

He slams into your back and takes you to the ground, his hand coming up to protect your face, his other arm banding tightly around your waist seeming to press all of the air from your lungs. 

“Should’ve run faster.”

“Maybe I wanted to be caught,” you gasp.

“Oh? Are you sure about that?” You feel him lever himself up above you, and then he’s ripping down your leggings and underwear, the sound of seams popping at the ferocity of his movements, “You want to be my little whore? Want me to fuck you right here under the open sky for the entire galaxy and the Maker to see how I own this cunt?” And lands a stinging, sharp slap to your ass. He grips the meat of your cheek and spreads you wide for his inspection, you feel the probe of his thumb at the tight furl of your ass, then lower to your folds, your leaking entrance, your swollen clit. “Look at you, fucking soaked already, shit. You like being hunted and caught, little one?”

“Only by you,” you moan into the dirt, an echo of your past words to each other, your cheek squished against the grass, you watch the panting huffs of your breath disturb the blades and let him do with you what he will. He’s caught his bounty, he should enjoy the fruits of his spoils now. He presses his thumb inside, sliding it in and out of you slowly, and then unexpectedly slaps you again and you mewl, twisting the soft green blades between your shaking fingers, trying to find purchase, an anchoring, anything to steady your racing heart. You listen to the rustle of his clothes as he frees his cock and finally, finally, you can hear the change in his breath as he takes hold of his hard length. Make me so fucking hard, you hear him mutter. He reaches for your twisted hands then, pulling them behind you, “Hand here, and here–” he sets each palm on either of your cheeks, “Show me that little asshole. I want to see it.” Nasty man, and like the good girl you’re trying to pretend to be, you obey and pull yourself apart for him, presenting all you have to offer, hips lifted in a desperate little arc for him to fuck into you. He presses the wide head of his cock to your fluttering cunt, and starts to push in, stretching you painfully without having made you come before – it hurts to take him like this. Caught and fucked into the dirt, and he pushes in until he’s rooted to the hilt, heavy sac pressed tightly against your backside, and you love it. His strong thighs bracket your own, restrained in your partially shoved down leggings, making the fit all the more snug when he wedges that thick cock inside of you. “Fuck, yes,” he growls and sets a punishing pace. Slamming his hips so hard into your ass you can feel the rebound of your soft flesh in your hands, still holding yourself open, drooling and sobbing into the grass, hair a fallen mess, sticking to the wetness of your tears and spit on your cheeks. He angles his hips down and hammers into your g-spot. Fucking made for me, perfect little cunt, so pretty, you can hear him muttering hoarsely through the modulator behind you over the wet, sucking slide of his cock. He sets a brutal pace that has you going almost cross-eyed, weak little huffs of breath being fucked out of you on every push in so that you can’t even make a sound of pleasure or pain or anything. All you can do is take it. 

He moans an almost agonized sound, feels so fucking good – and oh, it’s too much, the punishing pace, the sound of his pleasure, the painful stretch of his thick cock inside of you, hitting against that ravenous little place, the feel of his desire for you pushing up against the periphery of your mind – he is devastating and life changing, world altering inside of you, and, “Din, Din, please – I’m going to come,” you hitch and cry. 

And he pulls out. Suddenly, painfully, he rips his sliding cock from the wet, fluttering clutch of your pussy on the verge of orgasm, dripping cock smearing wetly against the curve of your ass. “No,” he sits back on his haunches and turns you over roughly, your bare arms and back chafing against the grass and dirt. “Who said you had permission to come?” He rips your leggings down one leg to get at your sex and spreads your thighs wide, right here in the middle of the open field, and then hooks his fingers under your breast band at the space between your tits to pull you up into a sitting position. “Grab my cock,” he orders. “Bad girls don’t get to come.” You wrap your slim fingers around the swollen, slick length of him and start to slide your hand up and down, squeezing to the very root and then back up to the drooling head, ending in a little twist. You look up at the visage of his helmet, if his gaze had a physical manifestation it’d be all over your skin, licking and kissing and sucking. He pushes your breast band down to free the heavy, aching weights of your tits and squeezes them hard so that you’re moaning up at him softly, legs spread around his kneeling form, bare, pulsing cunt leaking into the grass beneath. You can see the skin of his neck where his stubble fades to tan sweaty skin beneath the edge of his helmet, and your teeth ache to bite there. You want to see what sort of sound he’d make if you bit hard enough to draw blood…

He twists your nipples between his fingers, and then switches to softer, soothing passes around your areolas, lifting each breast high to squeeze and then letting them fall to hang and sway heavily. “Too fucking beautiful for your own good,” he says in a low whisper, as if only for himself. Your other hand moves to cup the hanging weight of his balls and you massage them gently, and then twist a little, applying more pressure, eliciting a soft whimper from him. “No,” he grunts suddenly, pressing you belly back into the hard ground, pinning you there despite a whine and dolling out a quick, stinging slap to your spread sex. You cry out, trying to toe him away with one small foot lifted to his shoulder, escape his unforgiving hands, but he digs his fingers into the softness of your thighs and pulls you back towards him, gripping the base of his cock to feed it back into you. “This is your punishment, stop distracting me.” 

He lifts up the hem of his shirt, tucking it beneath his lowered chin so that he can fuck you unobstructed. He hooks his fingers under the fabric of your breast band around your waist and uses it as leverage to pull you onto his impaling cock, fucking up into your cervix painfully, sending you right to the edge of orgasm once again. The sight of his exposed abdomen shifting under the sunlight, sweat sliding down from his chest to the hair trailing from his navel, lower to the thick root of his cock, neatly trimmed, mouth watering – it has your already overwrought cunt pulsing and aching and drooling, clenching down painfully around him. “You are not allowed to come. If you do, I'm going to make it so much worse for you, do you understand me?”

“No, please. Please, Din. I’ll be good. I promise, I’ll be good,” you cry, deepening the arch of your back to open yourself further to him, to feel the jolt of his cock more intensely within you. 

“Too late.” His thrusts speed up, sloppy and unsynchronized, and he growls low in his throat beneath the helmet as he rips himself from you once again and takes his soaked length in hand, fucking his fist furiously until he comes over the gaping slit of your sex, covering your pusling cunt in the searing heat of his milky spend, spurting thickly onto the slope of your belly and your heaving tits. You let out an agonized sob, throwing your arms over your face to hide the sight of your tears from him. Your womb twists painfully, low in your pelvis, the echoes of his brutal fucking still felt in the unsatisfied frenzied fluttering of your muscles. “Bad girls don’t get filled up either.” He gives his slick length one final squeeze, twisting his fist viciously at the angry, red tip to milk out the last final drops of his come. You watch his fist, gripped around himself so tightly, beneath the hood of your wet lashes and crossed arms, and think it must surely hurt him, such a punishing hold on himself – but you also think that, like you, he enjoys a little pain with his pleasure. Or a lot… depending on the day. 

He drops his wet hand to your pulsing sex, smearing the thick viscosity of his semen into your painfully sensitive skin, and then slaps it again and again and again. Three stinging slaps in a row that has you twisting away, trying to escape him. “I want to eat your cunt,” and his voice is nothing but a gasp, “It’s so fucking red and swollen – and it gapes when I slap it.” He hits you again, presses a hand low on your belly to keep you in place and incite the coiled ball of unreleased arousal sitting inside of you, all at once. 

He leans forward, holding himself up over you on one strong arm and grips your jaw tightly, his hand wet and sticky with his come and your own slick, and squeezes your cheeks together, forcing your mouth into a pout and giving your head a little jostle, his hold on you, so tight, you feel the imprinted shape of your teeth on the inside of your cheeks. “What if someone saw you like this, being fucked full of cock? What would you do?” His hand leaves your face to press two thick fingers inside of your poor, abused pussy. 

“Please, no more–” you whisper, you can’t take anymore. 

“Quit. As much as I say – it’s mine. Isn’t it? It belongs to me.” You have to nod, you have no other choice, you must tell the truth right now, and then answering his first question: “Nothing. I don't care. What would you do?” And despite your protestations, you wrap both your hands around his thick wrist to leverage yourself against him and begin to ride his hand, fucking yourself on his fingers crooked inside of you.

“Kill them. You’re only mine to see like this– fucking mine,” but he pulls his fingers from you, again. You give a little undignified screech, feeling the overwhelming sensation of your opening clenching hungrily around nothing, and he sits back on his haunches again, taking himself away from you, and tucks his still wet, still semi-hard cock back behind the plaque of his trousers. He takes several deep breaths, the wings of his rib cage expanding so wide on the exhale you worry for a second he’d take flight, escape you, go somewhere where you could not reach him. 

“You’re so mean,” you mewl up at him, tears streaming across your cheeks and backwards, down your temples into your hair – making your already sweat damp hairline even wetter. Your whole body feels wet and trembling and raw. You move to press your knees closed, but he grips you around the ankle still wearing your leggings and pulls them off of you entirely. 

“I know,” he says, “Poor, little girl,” cooed at you, a little mean, a little condescending, his voice so soft and smokey and deep. “Perhaps, this’ll teach you what happens to bad girls who don’t follow the rules.” He pulls you by the wrist to sit up and curls to press his shoulder into the soft of your belly, unfolding from the ground all the way to standing, with the entirety of your weight slung over his shoulder, just by the pure strength of him. He turns back towards the ship and slaps your ass as he walks, right at the apex of your thighs so that you feel the rebound of it in your cunt. Tears drip down your upside down face while your arms hang limply down towards the ground, your head bobbing along limply with his gait, wild, loose hair swinging, entirely overwhelmed and conquered – just like he’d wanted you. 

And after everything, even without an orgasm, it’s really not so bad. 

-

He hauls your ass back to the ship without even seeming to lose his breath, carrying your weight easily over his shoulder. He’s so strong, and it makes you even wetter for him, if possible. Making his way up the ramp, he hits the button to disengage and shut it behind the two of you once you’re inside, and deposits your limp, trembling form onto your nest of blankets. A murmured: “I’m going to get us in the air,” and then he’s climbing up into the cockpit. You think you must fall asleep or go so delirious from the cramping deep in your belly that you lose consciousness for what seems like seconds or possibly hours later he’s back and spreading your legs again, you mumble something incoherently that sounds like his name or a plea for mercy or his cock, and then his unmodulated voice sounds, “Don’t open your eyes, little one.” You think you nod your head or give some sort of a reply of confirmation, but you can’t be sure. Your body feels so far removed from you, sun drunk and cock drunk and Din drunk. He shoves the breadth of his wide, naked shoulders between your thighs and hooks both thumbs at your soft outer lips to spread you wide and spits directly onto your swollen clit and blushed, fluttering hole. You moan and writhe, bringing your hands up to your face to dig the heels of your palms harshly into your sockets, sliding the tips of your fingers through your hairline to pull at the strands. He starts off light, whisper soft, the tip of his tongue tracing figure eights over your clit, and then further down to flutter lightly at the  mouth of your cunt. You’re sex is drenched in his own come, and he doesn’t seem to give a single fuck, tasting himself on your own skin and groaning at your combined flavors. He moves back up to your clit and sucks it into his mouth hard. Your back arches in an almost painful bend, bringing your knees up as far back as you can to your shoulders, hands hooked beneath the sweaty bend of your joints to hold yourself open for him.

“Are you going to be bad again?” he murmurs into your cunt.

“Yes–” irrationally, recklessly defiant.

“Good. I’d expect nothing less.” He licks a long, wet swipe through your slit, further down to taste your ass, his tongue applying pressure to the sensitive rosebud, then back up to your pussy, licking into you with the strong muscle of his tongue. You can feel him rutting into the blanketed floor. 

“Are you hard again already?” voice ragged, you want to know, you want it in your mouth.

“Fuck yes, I’m hard. I’m always hard for you. Most perfect little cunt in the entire galaxy,” and he literally slurps at your folds, wet and lewd and entirely obscene. You writhe on the blankets, one foot pressed to the thick mass of his muscular shoulder trying to push him away and rock yourself against his face all at the same time. He moves to kneel over you and grips your other leg open under the bend of your knee. “Never want you to fucking behave,” he presses two thick fingers inside of you, hooked against that spongey spot at the front of your cunt, thumb on your clit, and sets a quick fire pace, tugging your orgasm forward, jostling his fingers inside of you. “Means I get to do this to you as many times as I want,” he grits. “Get this fucking cunt wet for me, little girl.” He shoves a third finger inside of you, hooks his fingers against your g-spot again and presses down on your lower belly with his other hand, and rubs fast and hard inside of you. You whine high pitched, an animal sound, writhing in the nest of blankets, twisting them in your hands to press your face to them. He quickens his pace, his whole hand shaking within you, and then wrenches it from your cunt and you feel yourself gush onto the waiting blankets and his spread thighs. 

He moans a savage sound, “Yes, yes – fucking again,” and he pushes those three fingers back into your gaping hole, the palm on your belly giving a slow soothing circular stroke to settle you, and you think you must surely want to beg for no more, please, no more, but you cannot. He pauses for a second, and you listen to the sound of his heavy panting breaths over the sound of your own echoing heart in your ears. His palm is so big and warm on your abdomen, and it soothes you for a second, your limbs full of fired lightning. He pets softly at your g-spot, and then quakes his hand again, palm on your belly pushing down to apply pressure from the outside. It feels like there’s plasma melting down your spine, and your vision behind your closed lids bends and flashes blinding white. Again, it’s going to happen again – he rips his hand from you, and you gush once again, soaking wet. Yes, yes, yes, he’s chanting, sounding half delirious, nonsensical, and then his mouth is at your cunt again, drinking up all the slick wetness you’ve just made for him.

Mine, all mine, look at all this – made it all for me, didn’t you, gorgeous thing. 

He laps at you gently until he’s gotten all of it, every last drop of your come and slick and sweat. Your entire frame shakes and jolts with aftershocks, trembling and sweating and crying. Heart beating an overwhelmed symphony within your chest to the tune of his name. This is not like anything else, you think. This is something to venerate and fear equally, you think. You feel afraid. He mouths gently at the raw skin of your inner thighs, pressing slow kisses to your mound, up the slope of your belly, over the trembling hills of your breasts, up finally all the way to your mouth where he licks into you wet and hot. There’s a desperately hungry energy to him, ready to shove into your cunt and fuck you again. You feel the drooling tip of his heavily hanging cock bob against your belly, and he makes a soft sound, low in his throat, but pulls back, humming contemplatively. 

“Let’s take a shower,” he murmurs between kisses, “You’re filthy,” the soft sound of his self satisfied huff of laughter. He presses one last kiss to your mouth then gets to his feet with a soft groan, the hollow sounding pop of his knees, and you listen to him move into the fresher, starting the water and shuffling about. You’re beyond words, vaguely painful aftershocks seizing your throat and muscles, and you can’t open your eyes, you won’t. He’s walking around with so much trust, moving about the hull into the softly lit fresher helmetless and entirely vulnerable. He trusts you, and you don’t think you’ve ever been able to say that, ever been able to claim the trust of another person. Never. You need to protect this at all costs, guard it fiercely and nurture it as you would a fragile and delicate sapling. 

He returns to your side after a moment, wrapping his hands around you. Your limbs have been rendered limp and useless, entirely pliable for his strong hands to pull you up into his embrace, and you feel like water in his arms as he carries you into the warm spray of the fresher, submerged in his touch and his smell, your mind murky and floating with your eyes still closed. He shuts off the lights as he passes, sinking the two of you into a deep darkness once again and sets you on your feet, shaky, weak knees knocking together, coltish and frail. 

The spray of the water is warm and sets about a cloud of humidity around the two of you. You reach up to twist your arms around his strong neck, fingers twisting in the damp curls at the nape of his neck, and his roving hands slide along your limbs and curves, water slick and lust frenzied, but still slow, categorizing, exploring. He feels you, grips your soft flesh in his big hands, the rough calluses on his palms catching at your sensitive skin, his fingers pressing along your arms, gripping the joints of your elbows between his fingers, up to your wrists clasped behind his neck. He brings one hand down to his face to press a long kiss to the center of your palm, then presses your splayed palm to his cheek, nuzzles against you like an overly large cat. “I love how this feels,” he whispers low. You think you must have lost your voice, spit it out in the field where he’d fucked you and left it there, forgotten, but you press your face up into the warm spot beneath his jaw, mouthing slowly there at his burning hot skin. He tastes like the sun, like earth and life and all the goodness you’d never before had the chance to taste, and you want to drink him down, take a bite and swallow him, let him settle down, deep and heavy in your belly where you’d keep him always. Your heart gives a heavy thump of fear, but then his other hand is there, sliding down the arch of your spine and gripping your ass to press you into the long line of his erection. “Are you ready for my cock again, little one?” And his words return your mind to the slow cramping, deep in your pelvis. The hungry clench of your cunt and the shivers zipping down the lines of your muscles. 

Yes, please, you think you whisper, and you must, for he lifts one of your thighs, hooking it around his hip and bending his knees slightly to press the head of his cock to the slick mouth of your cunt, and then he’s surging up and sliding deep inside you, gripping your other thigh as he goes to lift you high up into his arms and settle himself deep into your belly, to what feels like the very end of you, knees hooked over the bends of his elbows. It feels like he presses all the way to the heart of you, your very heart, your very heart, he has it in his clutch. That heart you’d for so long feared had been taken from you, swallowed and destroyed. You moan softly into his open mouth and he swallows down your sounds, tastes the inside of your mouth with his tongue, grips and kneads all the soft contours that make you up – that softness that still makes up the hard creature that they’d tried to force you into. He feels it, takes it in his hands. 

You run your hands along him as well. The hard lines of him to juxtapose your own softness. His broad shoulders, muscled and strong and endless, seemingly wide enough to hold up the weight of the galaxy. The thick bulge of his biceps, the strength of his chest, the flat expanse of his abdomen that gently turns to softness lower down. The thick root of his cock fucking up into you. You softly circle your hand there, feeling the slide of him thrusting into you, pressing into the swollen bud of your clit. You can feel your orgasm churning like molten ore in your pelvis, the base of your spine. You’re both scarred all over, mottled in the painful history of your individual pasts, and he has scars on his hands, covered in them, for some reason these hurt you more than any you’ve ever endured on your own body. Such strong, capable, gentle hands – you pull them to your mouth one by one and kiss each and every one of them. 

He grips your ass to pull you onto his impaling cock harder, bends his knees to deepen the angle inside of you and you keen and mewl weakly for him, a supplication in the shape of his name, shared here in this warm darkness he’s pulled you into with him, and you think of the dark and of the opposition of light. Of being alone and together and here with him, afraid and protected and how the darkness had never seemed anything more than a cruel and suffocating mantle meant to only ever subjugate and enslave you, and how here, with him now, with him inside of you and held in his arms it feels like nothing more than protection. A safe place to cast away your fear. “Are you going to come for me, cyar’ika?” he murmurs into the lush of your breasts, sucking your nipple into his mouth and biting down gently. 

Cyar’ika, Cyar’ika, Cyar’ika.

My good girl, taking me so well.

And no one had ever baptized you with a veneration such as that. No one had ever called to you in gentleness or care, and so you do. You come for him at the sound of it, at the feel of the wide head of his cock kissing your womb on every press inside, the grip of his hands, possessive and hard and gentle and coaxing and inescapable, all at the same time. It’s like he’s all the things in the world that a man could ever be, and you give him your pleasure, and he returns it in kind, filling you with the heat of his spend, coating your insides with himself. Sweet and full of heart, just like he’d said.

Chapter V

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[tibbythetiger]

Hello friendsssss! We have an official tag on AO3, we’ve all grown so much in just a few days. Amazing work all around! 

I’m just dishing out some general HCs today! Hopefully, I can actually get the time to turn my main DreamTheory meeting as coworkers at Sparky’s into a real fic soon! 

Both of them enjoy their height difference greatly. Mike usually hates feeling smaller or shorter than people, but he’s never met someone as genuine and nice as Ness so it doesn’t bother him, and makes him feel kinda safe. Ness just loves his pocket-sized boyfriend. 

I know someone else has already said this, but Ness with freckles!!!! Ness with freckles is so very important to me. I think they’re super light during most of the winter, but once it gets warmer and the sun comes out they’re fairly noticeable. Mike likes to kiss each one he can find, it always makes Ness laugh. 

I know we all agree that Ness is Conspiracy Boyfriend, and I agree! I think he particularly loves those paranormal ghost-hunting shows that were super popular back in 00’s, and he’s a HUGE Unsolved Mysteries fan. When he’s looking to get the same thrill but looking for more fictional media, he loves the Twilight Zone. 

Mike makes a mean grilled cheese and tomato soup, this is in part because it’s Abby’s favorite food and he decided if he had to make anything really well it would be this. Ness actually doesn’t like grilled cheese, but Abby talked it up so much he gave it a try and he ended up really liking it. It is one of Mike’s proudest moments. 

I think Ness is really good with kids, he seems to me the type that was the oldest cousin at parties. (This is just projection), so he’s used to having younger kids following him around and having to keep them entertained. While he’s used to it, he’s really genuine and loves doing it. He’s always overjoyed to hang out with Abby, and she adores him because of it. 

Ness and Mike cannot draw to save their lives! They are horrible at it, Abby likes to hold “drawing classes” where she tries to show them how she makes her masterpieces. Ness always tries hard, but it’s just not his strong suit. 

They are the couple that slow dances in the kitchen or living room. Mike is always reluctant about it, he’s fairly paranoid at romantic gestures, and he’s always scared someone will see them, but he always enjoys it when Ness convinces him it’s okay. Abby thinks it’s the most magical thing, so she draws the two of them as princes when they dance during a Disney movie night.  

Ness absolutely tells Mike and Abby stories to help them sleep. They both think he has the most soothing voice, Ness just loves being able to help them, sometimes he’ll even sing to them, but he’s still really shy about it. 

I think Ness really loves listening to musical soundtracks, but he’s also a pop girly through and through, like, he loves Kelly Clarkson, Paris Hilton, and Brittany Spears. Meanwhile, Mike doesn’t listen to music super often, he usually lets Abby or Ness pick. Otherwise, I feel like he’s really into grunge or early rock. He listens to Nirvana sure, but also Radio Head. (I also think he’s a very big Weezer fan) 

I think Mike is a big writer, he started journaling to help him take note of his dreams/memories of Garrett, then really leaned into it once his parents were out of the picture since he didn’t really have anyone else to turn to to vent. Sometimes he can be a little poetic, and he’ll write lil notes to Ness and leave them in his apron or pockets for him to find later. 

Ness thinks this is simply the cutest thing he’s ever seen actually, and attempts to do the same thing. He’s a little cheesier, and are usually filled with lil hearts and things doodled around them, but he sticks them on the mirror or on Mike’s alarm clock. Mike saves everyone he finds and slowly they start to cover the walls in his bedroom. 

The three of them cannot have board game nights. They are all waaaay too competitive, and the last time they played Uno and Ness won, Mike pouted so much and Abby locked herself in her room. They settle for movie nights or puzzles when they’re doing things the three of them. 

When Abby first starts dabbling in painting her nails, she practices on Ness and Mike. Eventually Ness and Abby usually just have matching nails, Ness doesn’t let the looks he gets bother him any. 

Abby absolutely knows they’re dating, Mike tries not to keep secrets from her, especially after the debacle of Freddy’s, and what happened with the Aunt. She’s too young, so she doesn’t get why people are weird about it, but she understands enough that she can’t tell anyone that Mike and Ness are dating. When she does talk about them, most people assume Ness is a girl, just because of his name. Abby just stops correcting people, the only person outside of them who knows is Abby’s therapist(?), but she supports Mike so it’s not really an issue. 

Ness loves stealing Mike’s sweaters and coats, they’re so much bulkier than the ones that Ness buys himself, so they’re so comfortable. In the winter, he’ll steal them and wear them to work or around the house. Mike grumbles and pretends he cares, but he thinks Ness looks cute in them. 

Ness has the worst road rage, Mike is both horribly amused and terrified of this when it occurs. Ness always apologizes afterward usually followed up by an “If people could just learn how to drive, I swear to GOD”  

Mike and Abby will go into Sparky’s when Ness is working just to get desert and to see him. Most of the employees at Sparky’s know there’s something going on between Ness and Mike, but they all let it remain unspoken. It seems like everyone is taking good care of each other, so no one decides to interfere.  

Well, that’s all I have for now! I’m really loving seeing everything everyone is putting out, and getting to read everyone’s work and see their art is amazing!

#mike schmidt #mike x ness #ness the waiter #securitywaiter #dreamtheory #fnaf ness

[coolnameloading]

Lute x Fem!reader

Came up with this idea a while ago and decided to make it a fic, I'll update eventually but it might take a while. basic gist is sinner reader gets saved by Vaggie and now works in the hotel to pay her back and meets Lute who she becomes a simp for almost instantly, enjoy.

You’ve been in hell since…well a while. You died sometime in 2021 or 2020, the details are blurry. 

The second you got to hell you knew why you were there. It’s because you ran. Whenever things got hard you ran, when you saw horrible things happening to people you ran, when your family was in danger you ran, and now that you’re in hell all you do is run.

Your soul has taken the form of a pastel blue and pink-haired human with 2 cow licks on your hair resembling cat ears...but they just resemble cat ears! Sure they might twitch sometimes and you can hear better now than when you were alive but it’s just weird tufts of hair.  Your skin is also powdery blue with pink stripes on your arms and torso, and your fingers have retractable claws. 

You were also given 2 small powers in the afterlife, it’s nothing like the V’s or Alastor’s powers but they got you out of a few tight spots.

Your first one was your speed, turns out that if you spend your life running like hell you also spend your after-life running like hell while in hell.

The second one was the ability to turn invisible for a few minutes at a time.

These abilities combined with your appearance have gotten you the nickname Cheshire which was just fine by you because you couldn’t remember your real name anyway but it felt a little too on-the-nose that your soul took the literal form of a scaredy cat. 

The unfortunate and unforeseen consequence of your powers and appearance ended up making you the favorite pastime of some bored overlords. Catching you has become a bit of a game for some of them.

Which is what led you to the hotel. You were running from some small fry overlord trying to heighten his status by catching the Cheshire.

He got pretty close actually, you were exhausted, had been running for days at this point and your invisibility wasn’t helping you out because you were being far too loud with how desperate you were to get away.

You kept running and running until you ran over Vaggie who pulled out her spear and pointed it at you until she saw your disheveled state and noticed that you were being chased.  

Once she realized what was happening she slashed at the overlord, injuring but not killing him and causing him to run away. 

After she helped get you to the hotel where Charlie let you have a room for a night and asked if you wanted to stay permanently the day after you agreed.

Do you believe in redemption? No, not really. But if you stay in the hotel the overlords can’t hunt you and you get a nice-ish place to sleep. Also, you feel like you owe Vaggie for saving your life so you help around with random tasks here and there. 

And everything was good for a while.

Until Charlie went to meet with Adam and Vaggie asked you to go with her to make sure she was safe. 

A few minutes after Charlie left she’d come to you with a worried expression and said,

“She’s too trusting, what if they try something? Just keep an eye on her please?” 

And you could hardly deny the woman who saved your life something so simple.

“Whatever ya say, boss.”

So you did, you turned invisible and followed behind Charlie while she tapped-danced her way to a giant elevator-looking thing. Where she had to sign in before walking into a large room with an exterminator and an angel with golden wings.

You hid behind Charlie’s chair paying close attention to everything happening with 2 major things standing out to you. 

The golden-winged angel is Adam and he’s a dick.

The exterminator standing next to him has a hot fucking voice.

After several minutes of listening to Adam talking about fucking some woman at a concert Charlie finally gets to pitch the hotel. 

Only to get cut off immediately by the exterminator, with the hot as fuck voice, who goes on a small rant about how the only reason Charlie and the other hell-borns are alive is that Lucifer cut a deal with Adam and the exterminators. 

Then she gets a little too close to Charlie for comfort and you reveal yourself hissing slightly at the exterminator. She immediately goes for her spear and Charlie stands in front of you.

“The extermination is over!”

She growls out, her horns showing and her eyes glowing red.

“You can’t touch her.”

Adam and the exterminator glare at you before he clears his throat, “Stand down danger tits…we’ll get her next time.”

He grumbles, clearly annoyed with the situation. 

The exterminator keeps glaring at you holding her spear tightly and it takes everything in you not to run.

You can’t help but look at her wings which are fluffed up in what must be aggravation, but you can’t help but notice how fluffy they are.

If she wasn’t pointing a spear at you you’d reach out to touch them. 

Your thoughts are interrupted by Adam yelling, “Lute get your flat ass back here now!”

The exterminator, Lute, walks back to Adam’s side and stands there glaring at you while Adam and Charlie continue their conversation.

Charlie goes back to explaining the hotel with her song only to get cut off…by a song….at this point, you’re thinking of asking Vaggie to pay you for this shit. 

The general idea of the song was that sinners deserve death because you all suck and that they’ll be back in 6 months.

Then the hologram of Adam somehow grabs Charlie and throws her out, when you run after her you see Lute’s hand trying to grab your wrist and you move out of the way.

 You’re sure as fuck not getting caught by an angel.

The Cheshire isn’t getting caught by a fucking angel…even if it’s one with a hot raspy voice…and who probably has hot abs….and you kinda have a mask kink now.

You might legit be into this bitch…but that’s a problem for later. 

For now, you have to check up on Charlie. 

“Boss, are you alright? That dickhead didn’t hurt you did he?”

You whisper, looking over her wrists for any bruising.

“N-no I’m fine Cheshire but what were you doing in there?”

She asks you taking her hands out of yours.

You giggle nervously and rub the back of your neck, “I was worried about ya boss, had to make sure you were alright.”

You feel guilty for lying to Charlie but you’d rather not get Vaggie in trouble for being worried about her girlfriend.

Charlie looks suspicious but doesn't ask any more questions and just nods her head. 

“Alright, now come on we need to go back to the hotel and come up with a plan.”

“Whatever you say, boss.”

The two of you walk back to the hotel to deliver the news to the others.

#lute x reader #hazbin hotel lute #fanfic #hazbin hotel #hazbin chaggie #hazbin angel dust #hazbin adam #hazbin vaggie #fem reader

[djarrex]

unsustainable

Captain Rex x f!reader

read on ao3 | masterlist

Falling in love with each other is just not sustainable.

finally have some juice to work on a couple of my half-baked and forgotten wips that would have otherwise sat in my drive to rot. enjoy 1.7k words of this smutty rex angst. 18+ only. explicit.

You grip his shoulders just a little harder as you double your efforts, chasing the feeling you’ve longed for since the last time Rex was here. You’re slick with sweat, your top clinging to your skin. Rex is still wearing some of his armor, only having removed the pieces that would keep him from entering you comfortably. Hardly any of his skin is exposed, except for a patch around where you’re speared on his lap – where he hastily pulled his cock from the waistband of his compression suit. 

“I’ve missed this,” you say breathily, bouncing harder on his lap. You reach for the waistband of his compression suit, sliding your hand up and along his abdomen, something made easier after he removed his cuirass. His skin is always pleasantly smooth and soft, warm as the thick muscles flex beneath your palm. 

“I’ve missed your fat cock – how it feels when you stretch me open.” Rex groans at that, tilting his head backward as you keep going. “You’re such a good fuck, Rex. Always know what I need and what gets me off.”

You can’t help but get talkative with Rex – it’s something about the way he reciprocates. He’s always listening – astute – to your words and to your body. If you get the ball rolling, Rex takes it and runs. It turns you both on even more.

“Yeah?” He groans again, meeting your eyes. His pupils nearly swallow the deep brown in his irises and you’re utterly lost in them. “Fuck – keep talking like that. I’m so close.”

Rex takes over then, his hands gripping your sides as he rocks his hips upward. 

“Shit, Rex. Just like that. I’m gonna cum.” You let your head fall backward only briefly as you let him take over. Heat brews in your belly. Fuck, you missed how it felt to have Rex reach so far into your cunt, knocking the breath out of you. 

Breaths, words. 

Anything.

“Harder.”

Rex grunts with the extra exertion – complies with your request.

“Harder, Rex.”

His forehead beads with sweat – his breath becoming ragged. It’s so good. You’re floating – drifting among the stars. Cool sparks prick your skin. It’s so much and not enough. You need him. All of him.

“Yes! Rex – right there.”

More breaths. More words. His name.

“I love how you feel–”

Then – the wrong choice of words. A mistake.

“–I love you.”

And just like that – you’re snatched from the edge, pulled away when Rex halts all movement. When you lift your head, his lips have sealed into a thin line, his brows furrowing. He’s watching you. Picking your brain. Your hands fall into your lap.

It slipped. You didn’t mean to let it out. Fuck.

“Sorry.”

You can't love him. He can't love you. It violates the very necessary agreement the two of you had discussed at the beginning of– of whatever this is. Loving the other means attachment. For you, attachment could end in heartbreak, among other things. For Rex, though – attachment will inevitably lead to distraction. You'd both agreed long ago that anything more than sex just would not be sustainable. Impractical. Dangerous – for both of you. 

You must not fall for each other.

Not again.

He exhales softly, but squeezes your thigh with just enough reassurance to pull a little apologetic smile from you. Still unmoving on his lap, his cock twitches with want inside of you. His eyes are still pooled with desire and you can’t help the little gasp you make when he carefully adjusts his angle against the bunk.

Rex runs the pad of his thumb against your bottom lip. “Do you want me to keep going?”

You do. You really do. And you thank the Maker that Rex isn’t lingering on your comment – that he won’t let it ruin the moment. You nod, dragging your palms under his compression suit, this time reaching his firm, heated chest, feeling the raised skin of his scar. Leaning toward him, you whisper, “Make me forget.”

Rex is great at making you forget – and he prides himself in that.

He smirks. “Yes ma’am.”

You’re lifted off his lap and tossed onto your back. As your head hits the surface, Rex pulls down the bottoms of his compression suit, granting himself enough give to spread his thighs. The blood rushing  in your ears like a rapid river, you clench at the sight.

The rush you feel is only amplified when Rex just as quickly slots himself between your legs, pushing against the underside of your thighs and spreading them to his liking. He sinks into you with a single breath – and doesn’t waste any more time with getting you both back to your peaks. He has you crying out his name in moments, and he gets right into the talking – ever his usual self.

“You’ve missed this, yeah? I’m gonna make sure I make up for it – gonna fill this pussy.” He swallows thickly. “Ask me to fill you. Beg me.”

“Rex…” you gasp. Your cunt sucks him in so perfectly, making the most obscene sounds. “Fill me, Rex. I need you to fill me.”

He growls at that. “Good girl.”

It doesn’t stop there. You’re beyond floating now – more like crashing through hyperspace. You’ve since been flipped onto your stomach, laying completely flat with Rex pounding into you from above. His weight is hovering over you, bits and pieces of his remaining armor imprinting your skin. You feel his breath against your ear – hot and ragged. 

“Tell me how much you're gonna miss this when I’m gone,” his broken whisper comes. The sound of it goes straight to your cunt. “Tell me you’re gonna think about this – about this right here – while I’m gone.”

Before you can begin to formulate your gasps and moans into a response, Rex’s arm snakes around your hip, his newly-bare fingers finding your clit. You know he still has armor pieces on his arms, and you’re sure there are going to be impressions of it in your skin, but you’re unable to feel anything other than the molten pressure building in your core. Your orgasm hits you faster than the blink of an eye – knocks you off your axis.

You scream. Rex lets out a loud, shaky groan. He holds you there, pushed into the mattress.

“Good girl. Now take it. Fuck, yes, that’s a good girl. So good for me. Take it all, mesh’la.”

You do – and you allow yourself to bask in the moment, knowing it’ll disappear–that Rex will disappear–far too soon. 

When he finally climbs off of you, you feel entirely too empty. 

Instead of getting up with him, you just lay there, trying not to think about how his cum seeps out from you with every relaxed breath – how he’s claimed you so long ago – ruined anyone else for you – and this is a reminder. 

You can hear Rex reattaching parts of his kit, but he’s silent otherwise. You begin to mentally kick yourself again for slipping. It’s the fear that you’ve ruined everything. Again. The only thing you can think to do with your already sky-high anxiety is to keep talking. You turn to lay on your back, not having it in you to get up and dressed just yet. It’s easier to not meet his eyes this way.

“I’m sorry, Rex,” you say more to the ceiling than to him. 

He comes into view then, peering down at you. There’s an unreadable expression on his face. You’re unsure of what he’s thinking – and you’re even more confused when he sits down at your bedside, taking your hand into his.

“Stop apologizing.”

Finally meeting his eyes, you can only press your lips into a line, unsure of what to say next. Unable to stop it, the burning feeling of tears heats your eyes. You go to turn your face away, embarrassed, but Rex doesn’t have it.

“Hey,” he soothes, reaching to instead hold your cheek in his palm and gently redirecting you to focus on him. You’re forced to meet his eyes, but something’s changed. His expression is now clear, a distinguishable look of sincerity written in the way his features have softened. Even his eyes don’t feel as intense – a rare sight – something you haven’t seen from him in a long time.

“We– we tried before,” he begins, the pad of his thumb running along your cheek. You miss the way his hands feel, too used to the rough material of the gloves he wears. An extra layer of him that adds to keeping his true feelings buried far beneath the exterior. “I know it’s hard, but it’s better this way.”

Your voice finds its way back to you. “It’s not hard.” Pausing, you level him with a stare. “It’s impossible to not love you, Rex.” 

He considers that for a beat, sighing heavily. 

“You know how I feel about you. That will never change.”

It’s far from a confession, but it’s something. It’s all you’re going to get from him.

When all you give him in response is a faint nod, you could swear you see those deep brown eyes begin to swell, the faintest glimmer or tears brimming as his words sit like dense fog in the air. 

Just then, his commlink beeps faintly from inside his helmet, briefly redirecting Rex’s attention over to where he set it down across the room. It seems like a thousand seconds go by until he finally meets your eyes again, both of you hiding your disappointment. 

“I have to go,” he says quietly, almost a whisper. It’s like he forces the words out, tasting bitter as they leave his mouth. He stares at you, seemingly waiting for you to say something, anything. Maybe he’s waiting for a fruitless argument for him to stay, or one last unnecessary apology – or even one final declaration of your feelings. 

But nothing you could ever say to Rex in this moment would change how the two of you can never be together, would never supersede the duties he feels he has to free his brothers, would never stop the Empire from committing more atrocities, would never stop Rex from fighting.

The words feel just as bitter in your own mouth, even before you can speak them.

“I know.”

#djarrex writes #captain rex x reader #clone thirsting #captain rex smut #rex x reader #captain rex x you

[naffeclipse]

Just realizing that the fact that there exists an “Angel Eyes” Eclipse implies the existence of either a more foreboding or comically innocent version of him called “Devil Eyes”

oh, Lumi, you just unleashed something devasting

As entertaining as a detective Eclipse would be, innocent and way in over his head when it comes to dealing with a mob boss Y/N who just so happens to find him devilishly handsome and too clever for his own good, I'm thinking of something worse than a mob boss.

As a young rookie cop, you are attempting to put out so many fires in the city. The crime rate is abysmal. The politicians are running on fumes and bribes. The police force is barely hanging on through constant corruption. Animatronics are still considered inhuman, unalive, objects to be owned and used, and disposed of. You're hoping that the laws declaring animatronic rights will pass soon.

Murders happen every single day in a city racked with gangs, crime lords, and thieves. You and a few other officers are tasked with dealing with a particular crime scene. It's not unusual for a politician to get assassinated, but there's something particularly brutal about the killing that sits in your stomach wrong—there was blood everywhere.

Then another important person gets knocked off, the carnage grisly and crimson, then another, and another. You can't shake how savage the murders are.

High-ranking officials start having you and other cops stand as bodyguards, taking them where they need to go, standing outside their meeting doors and on the street of their homes at night.

The killings keep happening. You learn of police officers who were standing watch were gutted, too. Slained just as well as the intended target.

You do your job, but you don't like it. You became a cop to help the city. This wasn't what you had in mind, much less babysitting powerful and possibly corrupted individuals that you despise.

That's how you confront him.

Late one evening, sitting in a squad car with a fellow policeman, you two keep each other awake with small talk until you hear the faintest scream. You both take off, and you take the back of the house. When you enter the gauche kitchen, there's a cook animatronic knocked to the ground. You stop to speak to the poor robot, her optics fuzzy until you offer a helping hand and get her back onto her wheels.

Before you can send her somewhere safe, a cold shudder rolls down your spine, as if someone were walking on your grave. You whirl around to find a towering figure at the far end of the room, dark and threatening. Black optics with pinpricks of electric yellow peer at you in judgment. The devilish eyes startle your soul.

You yell out commands to stop but the animatronic—you realize—doesn't head and disappears deeper into the house.

You give chase. You hear a gunshot upstairs and a shout from your partner. When you reach the second landing, you lift your gun to take aim, but a large fist clamp around your own. You fire once, hitting nothing. You're thrown against the wall, dangling by the wrists under the looming killer. Sharp rays, burgundy and royal blue, circle his face plate, splattered in bright blood.

It's too late. It's too late for the politician, it's too late for your partner, and it's too late for you.

He takes your gun and drops it far away. His staggering height gives no hope that you can fight him off, and already, he has you pinned. You simply hope that it will be quick, painless, but your heart sinks when he lifts a hand to your throat. His optics glint. You close your eyes.

A cold, slick finger tilts your chin up. He commands you to look at him, and you aversely obey. The optics scan your face. You wonder if he takes a sick pleasure from causing harm. You loathe that he most likely finds fear in your eyes but you are determined to not make a sound.

"Officer," he says in a cold, dark voice that spears your heart. He studies the badge on your chest, reading your last name etched in brass. You clench your fists, still suspended by his one large hand.

"Who are you?" you demand.

He doesn't answer. He cocks his head with a flash of sharp teeth in a metallic grin. When he drops you, you nearly crumple to the ground. You're aware of the blood underneath your chin where he had touched you. When you try to reach for your handcuffs, he's already down the stairs and out the door, fleeing the murders. Trembling, you fumble for your gun, but you find the clip gone.

The killer animatronic left you alive.

#ahhhh lumi! you make me go feral!!! #brain worms are worming #devil eyes #<<< au title hehe #listen this is dark and grisly and gonna involve psychological horror as eclipse stalks you lovely little cop you #he makes it knows that he knows where you live #you later find the clip of your gun on your table as if you set it there that morning but no that's not right #you keep chasing him #he keeps finding you at night #you're certain he's gonna kill you one day but he keeps busy with targets--specifically ones that oppose the animatronic rights #and you slowly start piecing together the puzzle that is eclipse #okay rant over thanks for reading my word vomit #officer!y/n #killer!eclipse

[bubbles-for-all-of-us]

Hi hello! I just found you blog and I love your every work, I read almost all of them, rarely I found someone who writes for so many characters and not just the main ones, and I love the fact that you put the same effort and dedication in writing for all of them.

So I have request for Garrick x reader, I really loved the one where reader was Xaden’s little sister, and how about shes a little bit (a lot actually) shy and quiet and it took a lot of time for Garrick to make her talk to him and be comfortable around him (shes also oblivious and not used to guys coming up to her because of Xaden and not beliving a guy like Garrick might like her) …and hes like very soft for her and going out of his way to help her and like getting distracted because of her and having a secret crush on her since their childhood, but his feelings being off limits since reader is Xaden’s little sister…A lot of slowburn and fluff.

Take as much time as you need!! Thank you for keeping on writing for the characters we love💐

Idk this just gushed out of me today so here’s a little something. Thanks for reading, darling, and for the kind words. 🤍

Constellations

He felt like an idiot. Absolute fool. Cursing fate ever since his eyes had landed on your soft features. The gentle soul gazed at the cruel world through the most gorgeous eyes Garrick had ever seen. He had never minded the brutality of the world. Quite the opposite he had found calmness in it. In the fact that he could use his power as a weapon. But that day for the first time he had hated that you had somehow ended up between these blood-stained walls. That someone was cruel enough to bring this destiny to you.

“I need you to look out for her”, Xaden pulled both Garrick and Bodhi aside one evening. “I can’t always be around her but I can’t…”, his voice had trailed off. Xaden never showed emotion. But this. You. You had been the only weakness in his otherwise unbreakable walls. “You know that we will”, Bodhi had been the first to speak that night, “We look out for our people”. Garrick had simply met Xaden’s pleading eyes that night. Granting his long-time friend a tight nod. Watching as worries slipped away from Xaden’s eyes.

But Garrick had never imagined that watching over you. Being near you. Would stir the parts of his heart that had been rusting for years. The violence inside him clawed at the fluffy softness that you carried. Yet he kept his distance. Mortified to tarnish you in any way. You two simply locked eyes over and over again. And with every glance, a spark of warmth flickered.

He was exhausted. A meeting stretched out longer than it should have. Longer than he liked. Mindlessly Garrick yanked at clasps on the collar of his leathers. A long night of sulking awaited him. Until his eyes caught on a movement down the corridor. Hand instantly reached for a dagger at his side. He knew that if he was quiet enough he could outrun the person lurking. And the fact that someone was lurking on this level was bad enough. This could very well put the whole rebellion in danger.

So, Garrick acted quickly. Moving through the low-lit side paths to cut off the person right by the stairs. Convenient too if you were to ask him. In hand-to-hand combat, he would win with ease. Meaning that if he needed he could throw the person over the edge of the staircase. He breathed in once. Hand reaching out into the dark. His blade caught the glisten of light from above.

A shriek bounced off the walls. Garrick’s whole body went still because the frame now fully pressed against his chest was way tinier than he had first anticipated. He looked down. Turning to person around in one swift movement and making spear his soul his dinner nearly came up.

“What in the right fuck are you doing here?”, he hissed through clenched teeth. His glare was sharp. Or a version of sharp he tried to muster. “I… the… I was…”, the string of meaningless words slipped past your lips. Xaden would hang him if he found out that Garrick has spooked you. “It’s late. This”, Garrick gestured, “Ain’t your floor, shorty. Not good”. He explained it almost as if he was talking to a toddler and you instantly crocked your head to the side with a frown. “Xaden’s room is here. I stay here sometimes”, you said crossing your arms over your chest, “I just wanted a jacket”.

Garrick knew your life here hasn’t been easy. At this rate, at least two-thirds of the war college had attempted to harm you in one way or another. A message to Xaden. One that had turned him into a maniac for the most part. “What for?”, he asked simply making you blink a couple of times. He barely spoke to you. Barely acknowledged you. You knew he watched you as required by Xaden. But he never came close. “What for?”, you repeated, making Garrick let out a sigh, “What do you need the jacket for, shorty?”, “Oh”, you mussed, feeling your cheeks flush, “It’s the… It’s silly”, you muttered under your breath. Reaching to tug a loose strand of hair falling from your messy braid, one that Garrick’s fingers had been itching to pull back.

“Try me with that”, he muttered, trying to stay as cool as he could. You licked your lips in anticipation and fuck did he not need a visual of that because his mind would… “It’s the clearest the night sky will get this summer. I wanted to stargaze”, you cut right in, somehow merging to flip the last thought with such unintentional innocence that it felt as if Garrick had gotten a whiplash.

“Let’s go”, he said quietly, making you let out a slight chuckle. “What’s so funny? Go”, he urged you, and the smile died on your lips as quickly as it lit up. “But…”, you shook your head, “That would incline that you’re coming with me?”, you muttered. “Oh, so you aren’t just pretty, you’re also smart”, Garrick huffed stepping towards the stairs, making your heart flutter in your chest as his words slowly registered. A strange warmth fills your chest. “Will you report this too, Xadens’s pup that you are?”, you chirped, matching your steps to his. The corner of his lips turned upwards, “Maybe one day I will bark for you too, princess”.

The light wind kissed the heat away gently. The long grass swayed alongside it. Crickets well deep into their nightly concert. Garrick lay not far from you, hands beneath his head as you continued to thread greens into crowns, sending one after the other in the river. The silver of the stars makes the water glisten. For the first time in… He had no idea how long if Garrick was being honest. He felt content. As if nothing was missing.

“What devil did you wrong for this?”, Garrick’s voice cut through the late-night magic. “I don’t think I follow”, you muttered, only stopping your movements for a moment. “A soul like yours don’t belong in Basgiath”, he said sitting up. You scoffed, “Thanks, being bullied for weakness wasn’t on my list tonight”. “You’re putting words in my mouth, shortly”, Garrick chirped, pointing a finger at you. “Your communication skills are shit, Tavis”, you huffed, “And don’t call me that”.

Yet another smile tugged at his lips. Too many smiles for one day. “You shouldn’t be upfront facing…”, “Have you ever heard of the worries who found their way back with the help of stars?”, you cut in. The message was clear. That conversation was off the table. But for the first time, Garrick didn’t care that he wasn’t getting the information he so desperately wanted. “Memorize the art of constellations, Tavis”, you breathed out. Eyes looking up at the sky. But Garrick’s eyes stayed on you. No matter the beauty for the world around you two, nothing compared to the flicker of hope dancing in your eyes. “One day they might lead you home”, you muttered and Garrick couldn’t help but wonder if they hadn’t done that yet.

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[sciencebecameouraddiction]

it all fell down

part one: the mighty have fallen

ratings: M (talk of war, rebellion, death and destruction, bleeding, wounds, lots of curse words, etc etc.)

summary: after adam died in the first extermination, lute calls for more frequent exterminations, rallying heaven’s population into believing that hell is a threatening force. once she succeeds, the legion of angels can come down to hell every 6 months, the only difference, charlie and lucifer aren’t safe any more. with their backs against the wall, rebellion is the only option but what happens when heaven pulls their final ace in their sleeve?

part two

the fighting was like a vortex, pulling one in and spitting one out. thankfully, no one had been hurt that was a patron of the hotel. that didn’t mean that the chance wasn’t still there as husk yelled, “they just keep coming!”

i realized as a spear caught my side, an angel sneered at me as then a blast threw me back, we got here by our own doing but we were here due to two mistakes. mistakes that we couldn’t have corrected even if we wanted to, because even though we were in hell, we were incredibly naive.

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after the first fight with heaven, many things had transpired. with adam dead, lute became general and her thirst for vengeance transcended even the most deranged hell born. she pushed and pushed for quarterly exterminations. sera disagreed and pushed back. in one of the meetings they had, lute had pushed too far, causing emily to speak out against everything that had happened. we only knew what happened when golden light ripped through the sky a few months prior. lucifer froze seeing it and rushed out of the hotel, the only thing we could understand was when he yelled, “someone fell!”

maybe that was when all of our problems started. when everything turned to shit, was emily falling. 

after emily fell and recovered we were told about heaven’s plans. what they were trying to do. the most recent meeting that caused emily to fall, lute had brought up the quarterly exterminations, but now she wanted more. she said that the legion of exterminators should have the ability to kill charlie and lucifer morningstar and anyone who comes between the legion and their targets. as they were a threat to the very foundation that heaven stands on.

the silence that fell onto the hotel was deafening as i gripped the couch i was holding onto, my gaze automatically falling to lucifer, eyes wide as he looked disgusted. he shook his head as charlie looked up at him, worried, as vaggie clutched charlie’s hand. his jaw clenched as he excused himself from the group, stating he had business to take care of. my heart was seized in my throat at that moment as he motioned for me to follow him and i squeezed charlie’s shoulder. trying to provide some comfort.

when we reached his room, he sat on the bed, his head in his hands as he broke down sobbing. “i knew this would happen, but i thought they’d point their hatred at me. not charlie. oh, not charlie.” he sobbed, his words coming out broken and disjointed as i quickly kneeled in front of him, pulling him into me and clutching him to me. he was worried for charlie, and i was too, but i was worried for him too. i couldn’t loose either of them. 

the months that followed were many meetings with sera and heaven, fighting against what lute was demanding. lute, though, we underestimated. our first mistake. 

she had gathered a lot of heavenly support, calling for the extermination of hell itself. the entirety of it, as the heavenly residents felt that even the very existence of hell was a threat to themselves. we then learned that sir pentious, who was redeemed in the last extermination was being held in heaven’s prison, partially to protect him but also because the support lute had gathered demanded that the “sinner be locked up.”

we were at our wits end, with no footing to hold onto. it was seemingly the end of the road and that solidified when sera let us know that there had been a compromise and that they would do the extermination twice a year. the new terms included that charlie and lucifer could be killed during an extermination now, but they could defend themselves. it was the lowest and most hopeless i had seen lucifer and charlie. the rest of the hotel were somberly aware of what that meant, hiding or fighting.

after much discussion, lucifer and charlie explained they were fighting. a rebellion was to start and we’d take it to heaven’s door if need be. i stood beside them, clutching lucifer’s hand, the only show of how scared i was showing in the tremor i know he felt.

“we don’t expect you to fight in this. it is most likely a suicide mission. heaven is hell bent to protect the order that has been upheld for thousands of years. charlie’s hotel and the idea itself, was proven with sir pentious, and has scared them. lute is leading this force and will have eyes set out for all of you. if you are not fighting, it would be best to hide.” i explained, speaking up. the crew looked at eachother, many like they were going to cry but shockingly alastor stepped forward.

“while we have believed charlie’s idea to be a fools dream, i was at least proven… wrong. i will be here to help defend the hotel.” alastor said, with the others stepping up. lucifer looked at me shocked as he nodded at alastor in appreciation. this was our second mistake.

__________________

the ringing in my ears signaled me coming back to, not realizing i had passed out on the battle field. i looked up and saw angel swimming in my vision. 

“doll, get up. we gotta go.” he said shaking me and trying to drag me up.

“fuck, angel, i was stabbed. hold on.” i say clutching my side as he all but drags me through the battle field.

“no time. we gotta go.” he says, for the first time fear is on his face. 

“angel, what happened?” i ask, trying to walk to help him.

“lilith. she’s here. she’s here and alastor let her down here. she owns his soul. he’s her little fuckin’ pet. and she’s on heaven’s side. charlie and lucifer are fighting her now but lucifer told me to get you somewhere safe.” angel says. my eyes widen as i see the crew waving at angel. husk telling angel to “hurry the fuck up”. 

“no! i can’t leave them.” i stop angel as he turns to me and i drop to my knees. i quickly pull out a large vial i had around your neck, i unstopper it and drink half, grimacing. i feel myself stitching back up, and i stand up. handing the vial to angel, i instruct him to share it with the others, ignoring the questions i knew he had. “it’ll help heal you.” i explain as i turn to where i could see red, black and green light combating in the sky like a sick fire show against the muted red sky.

“what are you doing?” angel said, tears falling.

“i’m going to help them, and i hope to see you on the other side.” i smile, reaching my arm out, grabbing an angelic axe in an angels body. i wave to the group as i jump in the air and let my wings materialize for the first time since i was in hell. i quickly make it over to the fighting and narrow in on the green magic. my eyes lock in on alastor as i tackle him, my axe at his throat. 

“do you want to fight?” i ask simply. he shook his head no. “i’m knocking you out and tying you up over there. we’ll talk about this shit,” i motion to the green chain on his throat, “later.” i then take the dull end of the axe handle and quickly knock alastor out, angelic ropes quickly binding him. as i turn, my wings disappear as i walked up to what seemed like a tame scene. lucifer was talking to lilith as lilith looked like she was crying. lucifer held his hands up to her, almost like he was placating a cornered animal. trying to show he meant no harm.

“please mom, we don’t want to fight you.” i hear charlie say, and i see vaggie standing in front of her protectively.

“lilith, just stop this. you can live in heaven. i don’t care. heaven doesn’t care. we can make sure you have the peaceful life in heaven you wanted. the one that i robbed you of. just stop all this.” lucifer tried to reason. i saw her eyes turn green and watched as a branch like shadow came out of the ground, headed straight for lucifer.

it felt like time had slowed. it felt like i had gone through the five stages of grief i had heard of before but in a second as i screamed for lucifer to move. i ran toward him, wanting to push him out of the way. he turned toward me shocked, his back toward lilith, his eyes wide as he tried to stop me. i wasn’t quick enough as i watched as the branch impaled his chest and he stood there shocked, looking at the branch as an apple bloomed on it. he turned his head back to look at lilith, questioning why she would do this. no one heard her answer as charlie went into a fit of rage, shoving past vaggie and running over to her mother, tearing her apart limb by limb. the legion of angels seeing their leader, in essence be ripped apart sent them scrambling back up to heaven, looking like a flock of birds in the sky. i rushed to lucifer as the branch disappeared as lilith died, he collapsed to his knees, gripping onto me. charlie ran over to us, holding her dad, crying.

“please… no, dad. you can’t.” she cried, trying to stop the bleeding. “we can fix this? right?” she looks at me sobbing. “i just have to fix this.” her body shaking as vaggie kneels next to her.

“charlie, listen to me, you’ll be a great ruler of hell. okay? you’re going to do amazing things. and even though i wasn’t the best at showing it, i love you more than the stars and sky itself.” lucifer said, kissing charlie on her forehead as he collapsed into me. he rested upon me and i felt the warm liquid seeping from him be absorbed by my clothes. i felt as the fabric became so filled with his life that it dripped off my knees into the ground below. but so did my tears, silent as charlie sobbed, but running down my cheeks, soaking my shirt and his hair. 

“no, please. i have to do something!” charlie cried, looking at vaggie, who looked distraught. vaggie’s expression only making charlie cry harder.

“take care of her?” he asks me, looking up at me. 

“always.” i respond easily. charlie sobs harder, her head on lucifer’s chest, as his hand rests on her head.

“remember me?” is his last request.

“i could never forget you.” i try and smile at him but he smiles back at me, so genuine as if to say don’t worry. his eyes close and charlie screams out. my head falls to his as i press a kiss to his forehead. “goodbye, my love.”

part two

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