#i literally made this lady just barely squeeze past me | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

bbangsoonie · 1 year

Text

days in memory

member: jaehyun (hyunjae) genre: angst word count: 3,385 synopsis: jaehyun reminisces the past as he longs for you and his youth

The bear keychain bounced against your backpack as you ran ahead. The wind blew strands of hair into your face but your smile remained unfazed.

“Come on, slowpoke!” you teasingly yelled.

Jaehyun watched you from the window. His apartment was only a floor up from the ground, meaning he could converse with you from the comfort of his bed.

“What are you up so early for?” he grumbled, wiping the sleep from his eyes.

“It’s the first day of senior year, Hyunjae,” you grinned.

Hyunjae was the nickname you gave him since the start of your friendship. There were too many Jaehyuns at your school and you wanted to specially differentiate him from the others.

“Yeah but you’re like 20 minutes early.”

“I wanna be the first to choose a seat!”

“Good for you. I don’t care where I sit, so I’m gonna sleep in a little more.”

“You’re really not gonna come with me, Hyunjae?” your expression was a mix of pouting and huffing.

“We’re literally in the same homeroom for the 6th year in a row. You’ll survive 20 minutes without me,” he rolled his eyes as he climbed back under the covers.

“Don’t complain about your seat later!”

Jaehyun gasped as he jolted awake. Glancing at the clock, he sighed.

7:12 AM.

Every year on this day, his body woke him up at this time with the same dream. Or was it a nightmare?

With a grunt, he got up to start his day.

He began by turning on all the lights to rid the place of any darkness. It was a habit he picked up over the years. He couldn’t explain why it brought him comfort. It just did.

Trudging over to the bathroom, he relied on muscle memory to go through his morning routine. He blanked out until he was done freshening up.

Staring at the empty fridge in front of him, another sigh escaped his lips. He had forgotten to go grocery shopping last week.

He threw on a hat and slipped into a pair of worn out sneakers to head out to the nearby mart. It was a small family-run shop located in front of a bus stop.

As he was looking at the cases of water bottles placed outside, he heard footsteps rush by him. The noise made him turn around, catching sight of two teenagers running towards the departing bus. They were a second too late, causing them to groan in frustration.

“Kim Sunwoo, this is all your fault!” the girl accused.

“Me? Oh yeah because I’m the one who spent 15 minutes putting on makeup,” the boy retorted.

“15 minutes is really short for makeup!”

“Whatever. Now we’re gonna be late for school.”

Jaehyun eyed the uniforms they were wearing. Hanlim Arts High School. His alma mater.

He almost chuckled at what seemed to be a familiar scene. You used to always blame him for being late. Even if he was ready and waiting outside by the time you ran out the door with your bow in your hand.

When the bus inevitably passed you two by, he would help you put the bow on as you waited for the next bus to arrive. Bickering all the while.

The old lady’s voice snapped him back to reality. He quickly picked out some things before paying and leaving.

Just like the passing sunset Memories of being immature and innocent They make me stop in place And draw out the days in my memory

By the time Jaehyun left for school, it was raining. It was a complete change of weather that caught everyone off guard. Wondering if you made it to school dry, he grabbed an extra umbrella for you to use on the way back home.

The sky angrily greeted him with a thunderclap. It nearly made him jump in surprise.

“Better hurry up to meet Y/n before she starts crying,” he mumbled to himself as he made a run for the bus stop.

You were terrified of thunderstorms. The loud noises made your heart race and your body tremble. Only Jaehyun took to comforting you without making a snide comment about your fear at the age of 17.

He anxiously waited for the bus that was delayed by the sudden downpour. He barely managed to squeeze inside before the doors closed tightly behind him.

Unluckily for him, he arrived at the school gate 10 minutes late. The dean shook his head as he handed him a detention slip, to which Jaehyun whined at.

“Come on, Mr. Choi, how could I have prepared for the storm that wasn’t even predicted by the weather app?”

“Hurry up and go to class. You’re already late and you’re getting wet.”

With an exaggerated sigh, Jaehyun begrudgingly complied.

When he finally made it to the classroom, the teacher was in the middle of introductions. Sheepishly apologizing, he scanned the room for an empty seat and made a beeline for it.

It was straight in the middle. Literally in the middle of the front and back rows as well as the left and right rows. Your voice nagging at him to not complain echoed in his head. He could already picture you snickering at him.

Except you weren’t.

He looked around but couldn’t find you. Puzzled, he wondered if you tricked him into thinking you were in the same class as him.

“Y/n?” the teacher called out.

When you didn’t reply, she looked up from the roster and eyed the empty seat in the front.

“Absent,” she said as she checked off your name on the sheet.

“Excuse me?” Jaehyun found himself raising his hand before he even realized it. “There’s no way Y/n is absent. We live in the same apartment complex and she left for school before I did.”

“Well, she’s not in her seat so that makes her absent.”

While the teacher continued to take attendance, Jaehyun pulled out his phone and hid it under the desk to text you.

After asking about your whereabouts, he asked if you were okay amidst the thundering. When you didn’t respond to his messages, he began to worry.

He snuck out at the end of first period to go to the bathroom to call you. It rang until it reached voicemail. Now he was really worried.

You were a nerd who was excited to pick your seat in class. Not the type to skip school on the first day.

After 3 missed calls, he hesitated to call your mom. What if he was just overreacting? What if you had finally decided to rebel a little for the first time in your life and he would be the one to ruin it?

His fingers fidgeted in contemplation, hovering over the phone screen.

“Whatever. She’s tattles on me all the time,” he decided as he looked for your mom’s number.

“Jaehyun?” Jacob waved his hand in front of his friend’s face. He looked over to Younghoon, who shook Jaehyun out of his memory.

“You okay?” Younghoon asked carefully.

“Y-Yeah, sorry,” Jaehyun apologized as he poured himself another drink.

His friends stared at him with concern in their eyes. Sensing this, he looked up and forced a laugh.

“Really. I’m fine,” he lied.

He wasn’t fine. Everyone knew that. And he knew that as well. If anything, he was trying to convince himself more than others.

“We can talk about… what happened, you know,” Younghoon assured.

“Today marks 3 years, right?” Jacob sadly recalled.

Jaehyun’s jaw clenched at the mention of the incident. His attention turned to the raindrops hitting the window outside. The forecast had warned him of a storm.

When it began to thunder, his heart ached in memory of you. Unable to bear it any longer, he excused himself from the table.

He stepped outside in hopes of clearing his head. The canopy roof did little to protect him from the rain. It did, however, hide the tears that escaped from his eyes.

With the sound of the raindrops as my companion I used to fall asleep during those endlessly happy times I’m thinking about those days with tears

4 days had passed since your disappearance and the entire town was thrown into a panic. After you were reported missing, the community came together to look for you.

Jaehyun was summoned to the police station for a witness statement. He wanted to do everything he could to help but his last encounter with you haunted him.

“You’re really not gonna come with me, Hyunjae?” your voice lingered in his mind.

“You’ll survive 20 minutes without me,” his own voice mocked him.

If only he had gone to school with you that day. If only hadn’t chosen a mere 20 minutes of sleep over his best friend. If only he wasn’t late and had noticed you were gone earlier. If only he had immediately called for help.

Such regrets consumed him as the cops around him were busy picking up calls and having emergency meetings. One got away from the chaos long enough to finally take his statement.

“I have here the first communication we had with you on the day of Y/n’s disappearance,” the cop said as he flipped through pages. “You were the last person to see her.”

“I told another officer exactly what happened that day,” Jaehyun’s head hung with guilt.

“Yes, we just need a little more insight into Y/n’s personality and life to fully rule out a couple of scenarios. And maybe retracing your steps could help you remember an important detail.”

“She would never just take off without a word. She’s always been mature and responsible. She’s the one who drags me to school and even left early for the first day because she was so excited for our last year of high school.”

“And you don’t know of any changes or new issues she had?”

“There’s absolutely no possibility of her hiding anything from me. She’s the type of person who just has to share whatever’s going on in her life. She also hates being alone so she wouldn’t wander off by herself. If she wanted to go somewhere, she’d beg me to go with her and if she was planning to go somewhere, she’d brag about it to me.”

He felt hopeless as he watched the older man in front of him write everything down. How would this information be of any use?

“Is there anything that would help identify any traces of her?” the officer asked.

“She has a scar above her collarbone from a surgery. A-And she jokes about how she sheds more than a dog because she always leaves a trail of hair behind. Could a police dog maybe find her through that?”

“I don’t know about that, kid,” he sighed. “We have some stuff we found on the path you two normally take to school. Could you come with me to see if you recognize anything to be her belongings?”

Jaehyun nodded before following him to the evidence room. He felt a chill run down his spine the moment he entered.

He put on gloves and began looking through the items. A broken lipstick. A notebook. A hair pin. A reusable water bottle.

Then he saw it. The bear keychain he gifted you on your first Christmas together.

With a shaky hand, he reached into his pocket to pull out his own matching keychain. He compared it to the dirtied one on the table.

A wave of dread dropped his body to the ground. Before he could hear the cop yell out for help, he lost consciousness.

Jaehyun still had the bear with him every second of every day. It symbolized a lot of things. Seeing it gave him hope. Holding it made him feel like you were still with him. Talking to it eased a tiny bit of the pain in his heart.

He was doing all of it back at the table in front of Jacob and Younghoon. Drunk, of course. His sober self would never let his friends see this vulnerable side of him.

“You’re playing a very cruel joke on me, right?” he chuckled, petting the bear’s head. “Well, the joke’s been running for quite a long time now. It’s not funny anymore. In fact, it never was. But if you come back, I’ll forgive you for it.”

Jacob quietly emptied Jaehyun’s glass into his own. Any more alcohol in his system would certainly cause a scene.

“Or are you mad at me? Did you decide you no longer wanted to be friends?” Jaehyun pouted.

It took every ounce of will in Younghoon to hold back his tears. Jaehyun was the only one who never moved on from that day. He still believed that you were alive.

“If not that, what else could it be?” Jaehyun frowned as he tried to come up with an answer.

“Jaehyun-”

“See that? It’s always Jaehyun, Jaehyun, Jaehyun. No one calls me Hyunjae anymore. How irresponsible of you. You came up with the nickname so you gotta keep it going.”

Younghoon had to step out after that. He didn’t have the confidence to choke back his cries anymore.

He and Jacob also lost you back then. He was closer to you than Jacob was, but the 4 of you were close nonetheless.

Your disappearance took a toll on everybody. Everyone mourned and felt a hole in their lives. But Jaehyun had it the hardest.

He blamed himself and spent a whole year relentlessly searching for you. He was burnt out and devastated by the end of the second consecutive year of grasping for straws. Entering the third year, his coping mechanism switched to convincing himself that you weren’t gone.

The image of the bear keychain swinging off your backpack flashed in front of his eyes every time your name was brought up. And each time, his hand reached inside to squeeze his own bear keychain.

“Not very “best friends forever” of you to leave me hanging like this, Y/n!” Jaehyun’s voice raised, drawing attention from neighboring tables.

Jacob took this as his cue to take him home.

“You think she went to Australia without me? She wanted to go for like years. Maybe she just dropped everything to study abroad there? Or maybe she went to Canada! She loved hearing you talk about Toronto.”

“Let’s get you home, Jaehyun.”

“Call me Hyunjae.”

“Okay, let’s go home, Hyunjae.”

Covered by the traces left by time Will I be able to find the days of my youth? The stars in the night sky that shined on me Are they still in the same place?

A funeral was never held for you. Like Jaehyun, your family refused to believe the worst. They left your room untouched, entering it only to keep the dust from piling over your stuff.

As months went by, the “missing” posters faded in color and nature started taking them down one by one. Your case went cold and your whereabouts remained an unsolved mystery.

Despite all that, Jaehyun persistently went around neighboring areas to put new posters up. Almost all local businesses knew him and had a poster hanging in their store.

Like that, he grew older but your smiling face in the picture didn’t. Your social media accounts stayed the same, offering minimal solace.

He looked through your old posts, reminiscing. His favorite was your most recent one—or rather, your last.

It was a photo dump on Instagram, highlighting your last summer together. The two of you hung out nearly every day. That year, you went to Everland, the beach, and Gyeongju.

Now, he could only bitterly smile at the memories.

The first New Year without you broke a lifelong tradition. Your family and Jaehyun’s family usually spent the holiday together but that year, it was different for obvious reasons. He expected that.

What he didn’t expect, however, was an email from you.

His heart dropped at the sight of your name in his inbox. He had to pinch himself to make sure it wasn’t a dream.

“Hi Hyunjae! Wow this is weird and embarrassing. I really hope my future self doesn’t regret this. I scheduled this email to automatically send at midnight. Why? Because I’m a scaredy-cat who can’t bring myself to confess. Everyone around us keeps telling me how painfully obvious it is that we both like each other. Yet I still can’t find the courage to say the words just yet. So this is a time bomb I’ll have to dismantle before the new year comes. If our friends are wrong and you actually don’t have feelings for me, then uh this is awkward. And New Year’s breakfast will be really awkward. If you feel the same way, wear a purple shirt in the morning. If not, wear black. Wear any other color and I’ll kill you for you confusing me.”

He laughed and cried at the same time. He didn’t think that was possible.

Once the initial shock wore off, he completely broke down. The sobbing shook his entire body and his heart physically hurt.

He wore purple on the first of every month since then.

Jaehyun woke up with a throbbing headache. He groaned, kicking himself for the consequences of his own actions.

He dragged himself to the kitchen to pour himself a glass of cold water. He gulped it down in seconds and let out another groan before plopping his torso onto the counter.

After staying like that for a bit, he pulled his phone out of his pocket and started scrolling through pictures. A soft smile rested on his lips as he picked out that week’s highlights to compile into an email.

With 5 photos attached, he began to type out a letter.

“It’s officially been 3 years, Y/n. 3 years without you feels like 30 years. The first year was full of desperation. The second year was when despair started to kick in and I became a little delusional. Even now, by sending you these emails, I convince myself that you’re out there somewhere reading them. Or that they’ll be here for you to catch up on missed times when you come back. All you need to do is come back. Everything is exactly how it was since you disappeared. Your parents keep your room clean and I have all these photos and updates for you to know that not a day went by without me thinking of you. Best friends forever means forever. Forever means I will wait for you until you’re by my side again. I believe that just as much as I’m searching for you, you’re also trying hard to come home. So please don’t give up. I won’t either. It doesn’t matter how long it takes, though sooner is better. I miss you and I love you so so much. I won’t be at peace until I’m able to say it to you in person.”

After hitting “send,” he stared at the suit hanging up. He had left it out in preparation for his internship the next day.

The image of you in your school uniform haunted him each time he saw himself in formal wear. He was aging in the mirror but you remained a student in his memory.

He didn’t get to see you graduate. He didn’t get to see you go to college. He didn’t get to see you get a job.

Time stood still without you. He looked at your pictures every day to make sure your face never became fuzzy.

He was riddled with guilt but made the decision to live to find you and to build a life for you to come back to. He went about his daily routine but at the end of the day, you were the last thought on his mind.

Today was no different.

He pulled himself together to get ready for class. He never missed or was late to school ever since that day.

“I’ll see you later, Y/n,” he smiled at the framed photo of you two before grabbing his things and leaving.

My dreams of my first love are far away now But my heart is still the same The flowing tears are asking me Can’t I go back to those times?

tag list: @wooyoung-a @cloudskyu @bb-fic-rec @junjungsunwoo @karsohn @changmin-wrlds @jwnghyuns

157 notes · View notes

bluberimufim · 4 months

Text

Your suffering is a price too steep for me

Hello! I took out a wisdom tooth today and after such a tragic ordeal (it was extremely easy and quick), I have decided to ease my pain (I'm literally fine) by posting a new snippet!

This is the biggest one yet (about 1k words) but I love this scene so so much and I want to share it with you! It was in the snippet poll a couple of weeks ago. It was the "Seth and Theo arguing about the war" one.

taglist: @little-mouse-gardens @wildswrites

No trigger warnings today!

Now, every time she and Theo strolled through the hospital, she felt the other healers’ eyes on her. Their voices lowered to whispers as she passed, but she could hear them rattle on enthusiastically when they walked out of her field of vision. Theo found it very funny. “Ever since I healed that soldier, they won’t leave me alone,” Seth grumbled. “They’re giving me a headache.” “Well, I think they’re adorable,” Theo replied, looking over her shoulder to make sure the healers they’d run into were no longer within earshot. “I like their enthusiasm.” Seth looked away, her eyes fixed on the windows that filled the corridor with light. She could barely wait to return to camp. “They’re healers,” she sighed. “I have… complicated feelings about that.” Theo placed a hand on her shoulder and they both stopped in the middle of the empty corridor. The sunlight made her eyes shine, like two red stars. “I know,” Theo said. “I know how you feel about them.” “I don’t want them to feel the need to heal people. I’d have preferred it if they’d never discovered the potential of their own magic. So many of them are so young…” Seth paused, furrowing her brow. “But also… I can’t stop thinking about how things were when I was on their side. I still remember the Master Healer Lady, encouraging all those girls to give up their souls to any soldier that needed them. And seeing Asha do the same, knowing that, despite it all, she’s still enforcing it, makes me feel… small.” Theo squeezed her shoulder. “I can’t say I fully understand what you feel, but-” “Even if a single healer can prevent dozens of deaths, I’d prefer it if none of them ever saved any lives. No one deserves to have magic like this.” Theo stretched her arms out to hug her, but Seth stepped back, grabbing one of her wrists. “Why aren’t you ever like this at camp?” she asked. She was neither angry nor sad, just put off by her behaviour. “Why have you suddenly stopped ignoring me?” “Seth…” “No, Theo. Why are you behaving as if the past few months never happened?” Theo sighed, ripping her wrist from Seth’s hand. The small medal she wore over her chest jingled with the sudden movement. “Can’t I spend time with you? Can’t we talk normally anymore?” “Why do you only do that when we’re here?” Theo sighed. She looked to the side, avoiding Seth’s gaze. “When we’re here, I can pretend that we’re not in the middle of the war.” “You’re the one who wanted to come!” “I know!” Theo shot out. When she turned to Seth, her eyes seemed to spark for an instant. “I know it was me! I know I dragged you here with me! You don’t think I think about that every day?” “I chose to come! I came for you! If you’re so desperate to pretend you’re not in a war, why don’t you go home? It’s not as if the Goddess of Time can find you there.” Theo’s shoulders lowered with a sigh. She choked on her next words. “I… I hate the war too,” she murmured. Her hand flew to her medal, and she turned to look at how it glistened in the light. “I hate it so much…” “Then go back home.” “I can’t!” “Of course you can! If we ran right now, the Goddess of Time wouldn’t be able to catch us.” She reached towards Theo’s hand and squeezed it reassuringly. “We’d be safe from her. At home.” “And the rest of the time?” “Extend your dominion to the whole town. Make all the people subject to your divinity. I don’t care. Come home.” Theo shook her head, but she still held Seth’s hand, hidden in the fabric of her embroidered healer’s cloak. “I can’t.” Her voice was weak, as if she was on the precipice of tears. “I can’t. They need me. I believe I can end this war.” “By killing more people?” “More people would die without me. At least like this, they have an advantage, even if it is… even if it hurts me a lot.” “Screw them! Let’s go home!” “And let the war go on? And let more people die?” Seth sighed.

“I don’t give a damn about the war. Let them all die. Let the war go on forever. I don’t care.” She brought Theo’s hand closer. “As long as you’re with me, in peace, I couldn’t care less. I don’t mind the war if I’m not looking at it. It isn’t hard.” Theo pushed her away and took a step back. “You’d let this violence continue for years and years just because it’s not directly in front of you?” Seth straightened her spine. She knew that Theo hated what she was saying, and it felt like being stabbed through the chest “Yes. As long as you’re with me and the war is far away from us. Yes.” “I can’t believe you’d let the war go on for such a selfish reason! We finally have a chance to win, to stop the deaths of all these soldiers and healers, and you say you want none of that because you want me by your side. Don’t you see that, for the first time in decades, we can be, finally, once and for all, at peace?” Seth looked into her flaming red eyes, now covered in shadow. “At the cost of your suffering?” “My suffering is nothing compared to theirs. My Mother created me with her own hands to fight in this war and this is what I’ll do.” “Even if it kills you?” She took a step closer. “Even if you end up like Dora?” “Yes. Because I’ll have ended this war.” “What about me.” “I’ll spend the rest of my life with you. As soon as the war is over.” With no reply, Seth began walking in the opposite direction. She held her cane more tightly than usual, pressing it against the marble floor with such force she thought it would crack. She felt as if she was going to fall at any moment. “Your suffering is a price too steep for me,” she said, turning back, already a few steps away. “To me, it can compare to nothing.”

(Sorry for the weird break in the text. Tumblr wasn't letting me post otherwise...)

First time Seth's cane gets featured in a snippet?? Iconic

Also, Theo saying "I'll spend the rest of my life with you once the war is over"??? Sure you will, girl. All 5 minutes of it.

I genuinely love this snippet!! It was so fun to write!!! Seth is such a selfish character and she's got a kind of... unhealthy attachment to Theo, I'd say? And this has already been shown extensively (i.e. Seth hunting down a goddess for 30 pages to look for Theo), but this is the first time she's verbalizing the extent of her possessiveness. Literally, her only motivation is "be with Theo".

I hope you enjoyed today's snippet! Because I did! Have a great whatever time of day!

#Seth: I can excuse war but I draw the line at hurting my friend #Theo: You can excuse war??#if you are wondering: no! Theo's death will not make Seth more well-ajusted!#she will not work through that! tbh she gets kinda scary after it #girl pls seek a therapist #writeblr #writing #my wips #devourer of souls wip #snippets

10 notes · View notes

husbandohunter · 3 years

Text

A Small Predicament [Baby Genshin x Reader]

Characters: Scaramouche, Diluc, Kaeya, Childe, Xiao, Zhongli, Albedo

Synopsis: Cursed for a week, the boys either have to live with it or find a cure as soon as possible. You on the otherhand hoped otherwise.

(A/n): It only takes ONE glance for me to start having ideas. It was twelve in the morning yall, enjoy~

Oh here's part 2

--------

Scaramouche

• "Oh you shrank? I couldn't tell-"

• Threatens that he will murder you to pieces and burn your remains but his voice was so squeaky and high pitched (voice crack) that you couldn't help but burst into a tearful laughter.

• Its payback time Bully him, take his hat and hover it above his head. Truthfully, without his hat Scaramouche looks like a little schoolboy. Overall less intimidating.

• Tries glaring. Cute. He's really bratty as a kid, sitting on a high chair (which you had to help him get on) and demanding his servants to do his bidding. In reality, his personality never changed. You realized that even as a grown up he still acts like this (bratty kid in a grown man body).

• The curse made his week a living hell. Signora had the audacity to pull his ear when he misbehaves. Childe constantly messes with his hair while giving head pats and the WORST of all, pinching his cheeks. Scaramouche never wanted to commit arson so bad in his life.

• Eventually finds a cure so he doesn't have to deal with it anymore and orders everyone to never speak of it again. Though, he's plotting how he'll get revenge on everyone who made fun of him using the very same curse (You better run).

~~x~~

Diluc

• "Oh…Oh my! Diluc you're just so cute!"

• Diluc grimaces as you glomp him in this state. How can you help it? With his head so small it makes his hair all the more fluffier! His coat no longer fits him to the point the sleeves had made past his fingertips. He tried wielding his claymore again, only to lose balance and fall flat onto his bum

• (insert kid voice "Retribution!") Did I mention the babyface?

• Diluc tries to act as if everything was normal, acting like the Darknight hero and Mondstadt's Tycoon but fun-sized. He couldn't. There was no way people would take him seriously in business meetings. Same with fighting abyss mages, his smaller form was too much of a disadvantage. Thus you ended up doing most of his paperwork.

• One time you caught him sitting on the floor couldn't reach his office desk while reading away the various books for a cure. It was three in the morning. You told him it was way past his bedtime and he argues saying when did he ever have a curfew schedule. In the end you managed to convince him and he begrudgingly obliges.

• The type to NOT ask for help even when it's obvious that he really needs it. Before he was the one who helped you reach things from the top shelves, oh how the tables have turned. He avoids Kaeya like a plague unless he was in it for another round of funny remarks. When he wanted to go out and get some fresh air, you insisted on accompanying him. Worst mistake in his life. A travelling merchant bumps into you and commented that you had a very cute son. Diluc was mortified.

• The day ended up with him sulking in his room. Although it was tempting, you resisted from cooing over his adorable form after days of treating him like a child. It wasn't because you were teasing him, Diluc just works so hard that you wanted to spoil him a bit. At least he could still play a game of chess with you.

• When things went back to normal, Diluc ensures that you will NOT see him as your son.

~~x~~

Kaeya

• "Well look who it is, my little Prince Kaeya~"

• Tries really hard not be bothered by it at all. Kaeya still maintains his suave facade, throwing in a couple of flirting lines here and there (and forcing his voice to go a few octaves too low in which puberty has yet to occur HA). Though no matter what approach, he couldn't ignore the sparkling mischievious glint in your eye. You were obviously not taking him seriously.

• Things couldn't get any worse. He lost his masculine physique and boob window, he wasn't able to go to certain places without supervision. But the worst thing of all was that he was underaged. Kaeya hated the fact he couldn't drink anymore, he even insisted you to sneak him a few bottles (which you refused) and had to settle with plain beverages such as fruit juice (what an insult). He was never really grounded since his childhood days but he certainly felt like he was grounded now.

• Kaeya still kisses you on the lips whether you like it or not. If you ask him to sit on your lap, he will find a way to turn the position into his favour such as resting his face between your breasts. You're not gonna treat him like a kid, nuh-uh, he actively avoids it.

• Since his personality still remains, Kaeya is a naughty child. He will use his innocent appearance to sway people (even you) to get what he wants. That was how he was able to take a sip of the wine he stole somewhere (he wouldn't tell you). Diluc scolded him heavily and threatened to ban him from drinking from his Tavern for a week (they ended up arguing, Kaeya being the passive aggressive little shit he is).

• He was extremely relieved to return back to his normal form again. He has so much to catch up (specifically his bedtime activities with you *wink wonk*)

~~x~~

Child(e)

• "Hmmm to be honest, this actually suits you very much."

• Unlike the other boys, Childe was completely okay with it. Turns out that YOU were the one who was not going to be okay. If you thought taking care of Teucer was energy-draining then expect Childe to take that tenfold and beyond.

• You've officially became his full-time babysitter who is in desperate need of a raise (and rest). You can't take your eyes off of him and archons forbid that he will ever meet Klee. One point he'll be running ahead by your side and the next you'll find him getting himself in a 1vs7 situation with some shady looking treasure hoarders. Childe genuinely thinks he could take them on but the curse downgraded his abilities. You carried him and barely made out of it alive. (This made you ponder whether the best solution would be to strap him against a chair for the time being…)

• Childe being a child will eat all the candies and ice cream he pleases. You wonder if the curse also turned him a few years back or was it that he acts like this simply because he wanted to (it was the latter). He loves being spoiled, spoiled by you! Childe demands your full attention, spoon-feeding his meals, back rubs and head pats. Yep, he's definitely doing this on purpose.

• Did he just call you 'mommy'? (Childe has mommy kink confirmed). He has so much energy that it was exhausting, you literally had to drag him away from what ever he was doing in order to get him to bed. "No Childe, your sleeping time is 9p.m stop whining." He bargained that he'll sleep if you sleep beside him (you didn't get any sleep. You knew what he was planning. In the end, you tried to make sure he didn't sneak out behind your back.)

• Finally you were able to get out of that hell-hole. Childe promised to make it up to you, you deserve it after all~

~~x~~

Small (aka Xiao)

• "Did you know in the Liyuean language, Xiao translates to small?" You didn't say that out loud. Not when he's this angry (this angy)

• He just stands there, crossing his arms and grumbling. You were hesitant to touch him in case he might hiss at you. Xiao has always been short, maybe an inch taller than you, but seeing him like this made you think 'my almighty yaksha can't be this cute♡'

• He gets mad when you no longer call his name for help. How could you? He's just so precious~ Xiao makes it clear that no matter what form he takes, it doesn't make him weak ("Adepti and you mortals are nothing alike." Or so he says but you could tell he wasn't running as fast as he used to because…small legs). You may not comment on it aloud but he can tell just by the look on your face and it irritates him.

• Also the type to not ask for help but worse. Xiao is an agressive little kid, he seems as if he'll be willing to bite someone's finger off if they try to pet him (He gives strong cat vibes, so thats understandable). His spear was too big for him to wield so he often has to put it away or else he might knock someone over with it. Xiao hates being short so you'll be hearing him complain alot.

• Since he was an adepti, he didn't need to sleep however, the curse must have brought down his power by a significant amount to the point you DID catch him napping. You almost swooned out loud just by taking a glance upon his face. For once he didn't wear his signature grumpy look. Xiao appears like a normal child, one full of innocence. His snoring was soft and breathly but that just meant he was deep asleep. (You wished to take a picture).

• Of course, everything had to come to an end (much to your disappointment), he still complains about the incident to this day.

~~x~~

Zhongli

• How is it possible for a baby to still look so handsome? (Must be his godly abilities)

• Zhongli is unfazed by this 'curse' since his past lives have already taken many forms. Though for some reason whenever he walks down the streets of Liyue, young girls, mothers, ladies all come him was and start complimenting him and gushing over him (he was suffocating). They'd squeeze him tight or squish his cheeks, it only takes once glance before the little girls start blushing and hiding behind their moms.

• Needless to say, despite what form he is in, Zhongli is still able to get free stuff. He got some free candies and some free kites to play with. You had to help him carry his items. Zhongli ends up tripping too much because his tailcoat reached his feet (he decided to just take it off. You had to hold that too). Seems like he can have anyone do things for him in the end HA.

• He still got that drippy voice and you're just like ???? "What on Teyvat Zhongli, you're a kid." This is why you can't see him as one, its nearly impossible.

• Actively avoids Hu Tao and Childe. Once Hu Tao caught sight of him and chased him for hours, he couldn't stay in one spot knowing that she might just pop out of no where. Childe still spoils him, however Zhongli feels irritated by the fact the only things Childe buys him toys (its different when other people do it.)

• Everytime you guys go back strolling through Liyue, you had to hold his hand in case more women come swarming hin again. You swear that at this rate he might get kidnapped because hes just such a beautiful baby.

• Zhongli learned an important lesson after his curse was lifted: no matter how many years he lives throughout never take a form of a child.

~~x~~

Albedo

• You find him buried beneath a pile of books and had to dig him out before he suffocates.

• Albedo has the cutest eyes, they're big and round full of curiosity and they sparkle too (he has the prettiest eyes out of everyone tbh). He is the only person who is fascinated by this outcome and immediately goes in the wild to test out his new physique.

• He was always curious why Klee T-poses when she runs so he decided to try it out himself. She was thrilled to find out that she now has a little brother to play with. In the end, Albedo indulges in the games she always wanted to play but couldn't because he was too old: princess dress up tea parties.

• You felt many things when you saw Albedo wearing a frilly gown and a plastic tiara tucked on his head. Deep down you knew regardless of what gender Albedo was still pretty. Klee even had the guts to redo his hair and hardly anyone was able to recognize it was him at all. He has pigtails, PIGTAILS! You made sure to burn that image into the very depths of your mind forever.

• The only advantage was the he was ablw to fit through small spaces, other than that, being small was way too inconvenient. He knocked down a few of his potion bottles which damaged the floor (thankfully not him) because they were lethal (he wonders how Klee was able to not injure herself when using bombs). You carried him and lifted him to alot of places such as trudging through the snow because Albedo would surely fall on his face due to his small form.

• Enough was enough, he only lasted a day with this and decided to just make a potion and put an end to the curse once and for all.

#genshin impact #diluc x reader #kaeya x reader #albedo x reader #zhongli x reader #xiao x reader #childe x reader #genshin impact scaramouche #genshin impact headcanons #diluc #diluc ragnvindr #Kaeya #kaeya alberich #tartagalia x reader #genshin impact scenarios #genshin x reader #genshin impact x reader #nya writes #scaramouche x reader

7K notes · View notes

astaroth1357 · 3 years

Text

Brothers Accidentally Make the MC Cry

Hello, this is the obligatory italics blurb that I have to put under my titles or else things look weird and it bothers me. Don’t mind the blurb. The blurb is a friend. (Though I could start writing pieces of a little story up here just to see if anyone even reads them… Hm…. Ideas, ideas...)

Warning: Angsty

Lucifer

If he were being honest, he’d say that a part of him had always feared this would happen...

Lucifer likes to tell himself that he’s invincible, but everyday stresses can get to him just like anybody else. And like other people, he may not always act his best when he’s dealing with a full plate…

The MC hadn’t meant to make his day harder when they told him that they accidentally broke a lamp. It was a genuine accident! But Lucifer was still dealing with the fallout from another one of Mammon’s failed schemes, Satan had cursed all of his ties again, and Beel had eaten every scrap of food in the House… for the second time that week...

In comparison to everything else, a broken lamp was quite minor, but for Lucifer it was just the last straw and, for just a moment, he lost control…

His palm slamming against his desk hard enough to snap its legs and send it crashing to the ground. He scarcely knew what kind of look he had on his face, but whatever it was, he had made his human jump back in shock...

Really, it was silly for them to assume that he had gotten that upset over a lamp, but he saw tears starting to gather in their eyes all the same as they stammered out a quiet apology…

It felt like an ice spike to the heart. Damn his temper… He really ought to have been more careful with them after… well, everything he’d done before…

He was quick to go over to them, catching their face with his hand and giving them the most sincere apology he could muster while wiping away their tears… Overreactions aren’t becoming of him and he hated to cause them pain…

He, of course, took care of the lamp himself as penance and on the surface that seemed to be it (but to anyone paying attention, he had softened up on the MC considerably for at least a week. They probably could have sworn in front of Diavolo and he’d let it slide, he felt that bad about it...)

“I’m sorry, MC, I shouldn't have reacted like that… You haven’t done anything wrong, I promise… Please, there’s no need to cry…”

Mammon

Oh? What's that? His heart is now in a million pieces now...? Well, that seems fair…

He and the MC were out on one of his gambling nights and he was actually on a killer winning streak for once! Jackpots around every corner, he was rolling in it!

The MC had tried to convince him to just throw in the towel early, take his winnings while he had them and bail, but he wasn’t hearing any of it.

In hindsight, their insistence must have really shown how much the MC cared about him and wanted him to keep his earnings... but in the heat of the moment all he saw was someone trying to spoil his one night of fun.

To be fair to Mammon, it’s rather rare for him to lose control of his anger like he did. But when they tried to pull him away from the roulette table, he genuinely snarled at them and told them to get lost...!

Fortunately, he regretted his actions immediately after he saw the hurt in their eyes…

If their goal had been to get him to step away from the table, they achieved it. But only because he got up to pull them into a hug while stammering out apologies… Watching them actually shed tears hurt worse than any rope Lucifer had ever tied around him...

He spent the rest of the night away from the casino and trying to cheer up his human like his life depended on it... Seeing them in pain just tore him up that much.

"Ah, come on MC… I'm sorry, honest…! Please don't look at me like that, I'll do whatever ya want okay...? Just no more cryin…"

Leviathan

Now thinks he's the worst, literally the worst. Lower than lesser demon spit. Lower than Cerberus' shit. Lower than… well, you get the idea…

Levi can get very… intense when things involving his passions are brought up. This can be a fairly endearing quality… but it also means he gets disproportionately impassioned about seemingly minor things.

Levi ended up snapping at the MC when they let him over-sleep one day. This wasn’t unusual for them to do as Levi’s sleep schedule was notoriously shitty, but they shouldn't have done it that particular day…

An item he wanted on Akuzon was going to go live that morning and he had to be awake to participate in the bidding. He had mentioned it to the MC the day before, but he blew past it so quickly they didn’t actually remember…

He found out that he missed the bidding after he woke up and he was pissed. Genuinely enraged that they didn’t remember to wake him up to the point that he was shouting and baring his fangs!

… Really it was not a good look and he should have known better.

The look of fear and the tears gathering in the MC’s eyes snapped him out of it like a hard slap to the face, and somehow, it stung even more than that would’ve... It wasn’t long before he was crying along with them, practically begging for forgiveness...

He made it up to them by having a private showing of their favorite movie using a projector in the Planetarium, cuddling with them under a blanket while still, occasionally, muttering apologies under his breath.

“M-MC…? MC don’t cry…!! Please don’t cry, I- I’m sorry!! I… MC… I’m so sorry…”

Satan

Like Lucifer, he always worried this would happen and he hated when it finally came to pass…

He’d spent all his life learning how to restrain his temper, but it’s not a perfect science. There are the occasional times where the heat of the moment gets the better of him and he does something he regrets…

The MC had walked in on him one morning while he was fuming about Beel leaving the fridge empty again. It hadn’t been the first time they’d seen him like this, but this time he was absolutely furious.

He had told Beel again and again and again to get his snacking under control or to, you know, get up early and get more food so the whole family wouldn’t spend the morning starving but noooo! Mr. I’m Hungry never thinks about anything but his own stomach and then leaves whoever’s on kitchen duty to pick up the slack like some dimwitted muscle-bound meathead and THEN-!!

When the MC tried to take his arm to calm him down, he jerked their hand away from him and roared right in their face. He may not be a lion, but the full sound of a pissed off demon could make humans have breakdowns all on its own…

Which was more or less what the MC began to do as he gripped their wrist, panicking while taking shallow, stuttered breaths…

Satan's anger left him swiftly and he let them go, only reaching out to touch them again when he tried to wipe the tears from their cheeks… He had to coo and beg for them to calm down, which was only so successful because he was fighting back tears himself…

On a scale of 1-10 of the worse things his temper has ever done, he'd rank this a firm 200... He refused to touch them for about a week afterwards and it took a long time for him to trust himself again… He just didn't want to hurt them...

"MC?? MC…? M… Oh no… MC, I'm so sorry, I would never hurt you! I… I wouldn't dare… please believe me..."

Asmodeus

Oh baby! Sweetheart! Love of his life!! No, please no… don't subject him to this…

MC and Asmo were out dancing and some witch came by to try and flatter him.

Now, Asmo is a flirt normally, but get a few drinks in him and well… Let's just say his love of attention overrides his better judgment far more often than it should and friends don't let friends go home with creepy witches.

When the MC told the witch to scram, Asmo was confused and, frankly, quite irritated. That lovely lady had been stroking his ego in all the right ways and his human just scared her off so rudely!

Under most situations, Asmo would have kept his cool better but the haze of Demonus made his tongue loose... which let the venom fly…

He couldn’t quite remember what he said. The words left his mouth so quickly that they slurred together on his clumsy tongue, but it must have been enough because the MC flinched away from him.

That hurt all on its own, but as he started to process the pain in their eyes… he had never sobered up so fast...

He had their cheeks cupped in his hands and were kissing away their tears within the instant. Though the loud music at the club should have drowned out his apologies, the MC could see it written all over his equally tearful face…

He pulled them into his arms and then out of the club shortly after, the fog of Demonus that plagued him just moments before had long left him and all he knew was that the MC needed to be brought home and cuddled… stat.

“M-MC…? I’m sorry was it something… did I…? I’m so sorry… Please don’t cry…!”

Beelzebub

He really didn't mean to shout so loud… honest...

Beel becomes a completely different person when he’s hungry. He’s not entirely to blame, as his hunger can get so intense, but he still can snap from time to time when he really doesn’t mean to…

It was right after one of his practices and Beel hadn’t gotten a chance to eat in a few hours by the time the MC came to grab him from RAD. That already had him in a bad mood, but practice hadn’t gone too well for him either…

He honestly didn’t realize how sharply he snapped at the MC when they asked him how he was. The irritation and frustration of the day all hit him at once and he became much harsher towards them than he ever intended…

It must have been the shock of seeing ever-sweet Beel suddenly get so aggressive with them that startled them so. He saw a couple tears gathering in their eyes before they could hide them and his heart just sank…

The MC was picked up in a crushing bear hug before they even let out their first sniffle. Beel didn’t even have to say how sorry he was, they could feel it in every squeeze he gave them. All while he completely ignored the growling of his stomach...

Beel wouldn’t let them go until he was certain they’d forgiven him which, honestly, took a while. Mammon was the one to ask why he had carried them all the way back to the House like a baby but… well, he didn’t need to know, now did he?

“MC, I’m sorry… I shouldn’t have shouted… Are you alright...?”

Belphegor

Stubborn boi is stubborn and trying really, really hard not to crack right now...

That's not going to last long.

Belphie can be a bit of a brat and since he's the baby of the family so he's used to getting his way. He and the MC don't argue a ton, but when they do, he always digs his heels in and refuses to budge an inch on anything.

So what started out as a simple disagreement on how often Belphie would flake out on his chores turned into a kick-the-door-down argument over how much his laziness left the MC to pick up the slack...

It ended as all their barn burning arguments do, with demon-form Belphie sitting cross-legged on his bed refusing to look at them and the MC angrily pacing about the room until he cools off…

And then he heard it.

First a sniffle… and then a hiccup. Another sniffle then muffled whine…

Oh no… not this… Why are they crying…? They don't normally cry…

To his credit (or perhaps discredit), he managed to hold out for about two minutes before he finally glanced back at them. Seeing the MC wiping their tears all alone on the floor crumbled his resolve real quick.

The MC found themselves enveloped by Belphie's arms before they even noticed he got up. Naturally, he was pouting and trying to make it seem like "not a big deal or anything" but they could tell by the nervous twitch of his tail that he was hurting too…

Needless to say. Belphie started remembering his chores a lot more after that.

"Humans are so fragile… I didn't mean to make you cry, you know? I'll get things done just… Don't cry… please…"

#obey me #obey me shall we date #shall-we-date-obey-me #obey me lucifer #obey me mammon #obey me leviathan #obey me satan #obey me asmodeus #obey me beelzebub #obey me belphegor #obey me headcanons #obey me scenarios #obey me imagines

7K notes · View notes

no-droids · 4 years

Text

Beginner’s Luck

Part Twelve of the Rough Day Series

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 14.6K

Warnings: 👀👀👀 SMUT. Oral sex (male receiving), cockwarming, sexual acts in public, the use of blasters and other canon-typical weaponry

A/N: Twas the night before Mando season 2, and all through the house—NO IM JUST KIDDING SDKSFKSVS anyways I am so sorry for not being here for basically all of last month but I could not miss this incredibly momentous occasion for anything. Merry season 2 my lovely baby yoditos

***

“Well,” a modulated voice gruffs expectantly from behind you, clearly tired of waiting. “Turn around, let me see.”

“No. I look ridiculous,” you sulk from the corner of the hull, refusing to do as he says. You thought this was stupid from the very beginning and openly told him so, but you’re also a complete pushover for him with just enough backbone to be frustrated when you inevitably give in. “And don’t you ‘sweet girl’ me, it’s not gonna work this time.”

“Sweet girl,” Din’s deep voice lulls through the helmet, raspy and soft.

Fucking fine, if he’s gonna twist your arm about it. You spin around with a deep frown and a chrome visor stares back at you as you waddle forwards, and you don’t even need to look at the kid cradled in his forearm to know he’s smiling toothily as you clunk and rattle. Once you’re standing directly in front of them both, you blow the stray hair out of your eyes and plant your hands on your hips, just waiting for the inevitable response.

Only, you don’t get practically any response at all from him. He stays perfectly still and says absolutely nothing, and though the baby’s mouth falls open with happiness and he reaches for you, he doesn’t make a sound either.

“I told you,” you grumble after a few moments of pained silence. “I look ridiculous.”

Still, nothing. You purse your lips, shifting from side to side uncomfortably, and eventually your suspicion grows and festers until it finally bursts forth. Oh for the love of Maker—

“I know you’re laughing under there,” you accuse with a growl. He doesn’t move a single muscle but you don’t buy it, not for a single fucking second.

Then suddenly the helmet glances away from you and stares purposefully at the wall of the hull as the kid starts giggling, and you knew it. You fucking knew he was laughing.

“You look great,” comes tightly through the modulator after a moment, and you pull your lip up into a snarl, vindicated in your findings but not happy about it.

“Is that how this is supposed to protect me?” You wave your arms, hearing them squeak and clank like you’re a droid that hasn’t been maintenanced in centuries. The rough metal jerks up and smacks your chin with the shoulder movement and you grimace. “Make the bad guys laugh themselves to death?”

“It's bad,” Din finally turns back to you and admits with zero shame, and your cheeks burn at how stupid you must look right now. “Way too big.”

“Too big?” You blink at him. “That’s your criticism?”

When he presented it to you, your first impression was some sort of brown paint—but no. It’s fucking… rust. It’s damaged and scraped up and it looks like it’s been through the ringer and back, and not in a way that gives it character. There’s almost a literal hole in the fucking chestpiece and it’s dented so much that it actually creates more than enough space for your breasts, what the fuck happened—?

“You’re telling me you went from this—” You ask pointedly, knocking your knuckles against the ill-fitting piece of metal and feeling it wobble against your chest, “—to that—” you tap the pristine, gleaming armor strapped to his body that easily costs more than probably quadruple your entire life, “—without any go-betweens? It’s missing one of the shoulders, Din.”

He ignores you, flipping the chestpiece over your head with his free hand and letting the metallic clatter of it meeting the floor behind you ring out through the hull. “I’d hoped at least something would fit,” comes his filtered sigh. “This planet isn’t nice.”

That sobers you up a bit, and you feel your heart thump painfully. “Are we on Corellia?” You ask without thinking.

“No,” he tells you immediately, quelling your panic while pulling off your one singular pauldron. “Tatooine.”

You’ve never heard of it, but from the grave undertone of his voice, you know the drill. Different setting, same kind of people. Smugglers, rogues, criminals—the type he’s used to being around and knows exactly what to expect out of them. You always feel safe when he’s with you, but when he leaves?

“Oh,” you say, because you don’t really have anything else. It’s quiet for a little bit, but then he continues on before you can come up with something to fill the sudden uncertainty on your end.

“I know someone here,” Din murmurs, bending his knees and sinking down to start undoing and pulling the shoddy thigh braces off your legs. “Someone… nice. It’ll be safe as long as nobody sees me leaving or coming back, and the kid would be happy to see her.”

Your eyebrows pull inwards, something… unfamiliar settling inside you. Din doesn’t have friends, he’s made it clear that he doesn’t really like anyone that he knows well enough to introduce you to. Even when he’s lowered himself in front of you and is technically undressing you, you feel a spark of… no, not jealousy, that’s crazy. But for real, who is he talking about?

“Why can’t me and the baby just lay low somewhere remote like normal?” You ask instead, but he shakes his head.

“No such thing,” he grunts, pulling off the other thigh brace. “Tuskans or Jawas will find you even in the middle of the Dune Sea.”

“I like Jawas,” you blurt, having had many positive experiences trading with the little creatures on Arvala-7, but his helmet immediately tilts up to pin you in place and you shut up, feeling the tangible unamusement radiating from the thin blade of the visor even when the kid starts giggling again. “I mean I… don’t like Jawas?”

Din sighs and rises back up to his full height, finally handing the baby over to you now that you’re not weighed down by that ridiculous getup anymore. “You can either stay with her while I get the quarry or run the risk of pirates finding you drifting above the atmosphere,” he reasons bluntly, not mincing words. “But it’s not a good idea to be stuck on the surface without protection, someone will find you.”

You bite your lip, hugging the kid closer to your chest for a second. “Okay, that’s fine,” you murmur quietly after a moment. “We can stay with your… friend.”

You clear your throat and move to let him pass by to get to the cockpit, except Din doesn’t take a single step. You blink up at him and after what feels like an eternity of no response, the helmet slowly tilts sideways at you and… oops.

Was that not subtle? You didn’t know what to call her, genuinely, that’s why you hesitated. You didn’t want to use the word acquaintance, it felt too detached for the fact that he said the kid would be happy to see her again. That’s what’s called a friend, right?

Maker, why are you being so weird about this?

Thankfully, you end up getting away with it. After a few painful seconds of looking at every single thing in the hull besides him and humming a song you make up on the spot, Din slowly walks past and disappears up into the cockpit. You take a deep breath and gently rub the baby’s ears between your fingers as the Crest powers up with a ferocious rumble beneath your feet.

***

It’s bright. Fuck, it’s so bright here. You hold the kid to your chest with one hand and shield your eyes with the other as the ramp slowly descends, dust immediately kicking up around it. Din’s palm is resting against your lower back and his thumb gently brushes back and forth, but your heart decides to drop the very moment his hand does, and as soon as the ramp clanks against the landing platform, he’s striding down into the blazing hot desert sun without you.

Something in your chest squeezes and whispers to you that he probably doesn’t want to touch you when he’s about to see an old friend again, so you wait a few seconds of space before descending down the ramp behind him, not really knowing how you feel right now. But you’ve barely taken a single step to follow when a woman’s voice screeches out from across a vast distance. “Oh no, no no no—don’t you even think about it!”

Din slows to a halt at the end of the ramp and gives whoever it is a small nod, nothing beyond it, and if you weren’t purposefully looking at him for cues right now, you’d probably miss the greeting entirely. You stand on your tippy-toes from behind his cape as a fiery little middle-aged lady in a mechanic’s jumpsuit marches up to him with an attitude that more than makes up for the height difference.

“You’re not allowed here anymore,” she pokes his chestplate brazenly with one hand and props the other on her hip, clearly not excited to see him. “Not after the ruckus you caused last time, no sir, not on my watch.”

“That won’t happen again,” he gruffs shortly, not providing a single thing beyond it, and you blink. What… what happened last time?

“It sure won’t!” The strange woman agrees shrilly, crossing her arms and widening her eyes until she looks a bit like she’s been out in the suns too long. “I’m still recovering, Mando!”

“I compensated you,” he reminds her, a quiet edge of frustration beginning to creep into his voice.

She suddenly narrows her expression at him, going from manic desert lady to sharp and discerning skeptic within a split second. “How much do you think my life is worth?”

Din takes forever to respond, seeming to either be choosing his words very carefully or grinding his teeth under the beskar in frustration. Probably both. “I brought my ki—”

“You bring trouble!” She bursts out, stomping her foot on the dusty landing platform and holding her ground. “I don’t care how cute your little one is, go park your ship on some other poor soul’s hangar bay!”

He doesn’t say anything back, staying completely silent while you stand there awkwardly and wait for his response, and it’s almost like you… forgot. How quiet Din can be, how unnervingly little he can choose to offer to conversations until he deems the information absolutely necessary to provide. He allows you to forget that reserved nature of his. He talks to you. He never used to at the beginning, but somewhere along the way it just became increasingly common to hear his voice, both with a high-pass filter and blissfully without. Now though, there’s just too long of a weirdly tense pause in the reunion for you to handle without doing something about it.

So you step out from behind him with the child in your arms, giving her an apologetic smile with as much friendliness as you can possibly put into an expression.

“Hello,” you greet her gently, musically, lifting the baby’s hand to give her a companionable three-fingered wave from the both of you while he coos. “I promise I’m not trouble, but he did bring me along this time.”

Din and the woman simultaneously turn to look at you; her like you’re just as strange and jarring of a sight to see on this planet as the tiny unnamed boy in your arms and him like your voice by itself is enough to loosen his shoulders. Though neither one of them ultimately respond to you, you can tell by the way his fists unclench that you’ve at least helped him relax, even if the frizzy-haired lazy otherwise ignores your introduction entirely.

“Now just what in Maker’s name are you doing with a poor little stowaway like that?” She faces him and pokes his armor again. “You runnin’ a charity out of that battered piece of junk you call a ship?”

“Three hundred credits to let them stay with you for a week,” he turns back to tell her, cutting directly to the chase. Alright, so you don’t really understand their relationship at all at this point. He said she was nice? And yet he’s already bribing her that handsomely?

“Five hundred,” she immediately shoots back, and your heart sinks. Fuck, there’s no way. There’s no way he would spend that much, you’re going to have to find somewhere else to stay.

But… he doesn’t respond. Which you now remember with a jolt of surprise, means confirmation. Not wasting words agreeing, he’d say something back to her if he had an issue. Maker, five hundred credits. You’re starting to wonder if he’s really able to make any money at all doing this, or if the job is just… fitting for him, so he continues to do it. He’s spending more and more credits on you every single time you turn around, and while you don’t feel great about it, you know Din well enough to know he’s stable and independent enough to make the decisions he wants to make.

So you just stand there and hold the baby to your chest, unsure of your place, while Din eventually turns around to face you.

Sometimes, if you’re being honest, you almost find yourself wanting to… do soft things with him that you know you shouldn’t while other people are around. Granted, he’s never told you not to, but the last thing you want to do is undermine his reputation by unintentionally revealing his gentler side. You want to give him a hug and maybe hand him the baby to say goodbye, but you don’t know if that’s how he wants to present himself to company right now. Unfortunately, that ends up translating into you just looking at him and awkwardly waiting to see what he does. Your feelings won’t be hurt if he just takes off without another word now that you know that that’s his intent—you promise, they weren’t hurt the first fifty or so times he’s done it. You understand him, it’s alright, he doesn’t need to—

But then he leans in and lowers his voice until only you can hear it.

“I’ll be back soon,” he tells you, and you feel warmth creep into your chest.

You understand him. Which is why you feel like you could almost burst with how much he didn’t have to say that but chose to do so anyway. You already have a solid time frame—a week—which is more information than you usually get, and it’s such a small thing. It’s insane; if you made a list, you’d have 1) talking to you, 2) knowing his first name, and 3) seeing a glimpse of his forehead as your top reasons why he might care just as much about you as you care for him. That’s insane.

He takes a second to reach a glove out and rub the baby’s ear as he makes his adorable little baby noises up at him, before the helmet tilts back up just slightly to look at you.

“Be safe,” he waits for you to whisper back.

And you think now is finally the time to go, right? Except he waits just a few precious seconds more, just holding there, silently. Maker, you don’t want to miss him, why is he doing this to you? You’re trying to play it cool, see-you-later’s have been commonplace between you for nearing a full year now, so why does it feel like now is the first time he truly doesn’t want to go?

You hold the kid with one hand and start to reach for him the split second he turns to walk away, and you quickly drop it as the dry wind snaps through his cape. He leaves and doesn’t look back.

Still, you watch him disappear, until eventually you’re reminded of your host’s presence with the tap of a wrench against your shoulder.

“Hope you know your way around a hyperdrive,” the woman says with a smirk. Maker, Din didn’t even give you her name, you’re going to have to ask. “Gotta repair at least two of ‘em by sundown.”

You catch the hefty tool with your free hand and turn to her. “Pre-Imperial or post? Never done a restoration, but I’m a quick learner.”

She blinks at you like that was probably the last thing she expected you to say, but you give her the same friendly smile from before and look towards the entrance of the hangar for the ships needing maintenance.

***

So Peli is… a character.

She’s quick and entertaining and whip-smart, but you worry that if she had a whip, she might actually use it. She’s nice—she is, but she damn near works you to the bone once you prove yourself capable. You don’t think she expected the extent of your practical knowledge of mechanics, she went into it assuming you were going to be useless and did a hard U-turn that very first night. You both worked together to fix two malfunctioning hyperdrives by sundown, just like she told you she needed, but then she looked vaguely surprised and nobody showed to pick up until two days later.

The second day is more hectic, and the third day is worse. You cradle the kid on your hip while you work one-handed, smudged grease all over your forehead and sweat sticking your hair to your neck. Using Peli’s sonic shower never leaves you feeling clean no matter how many times a day you find yourself wanting to wash the dust and grime from your body, the same way yours used to back on Arvala-7, and you immediately get why her dark hair seems so frizzy and dry whenever you step out of the stall and catch sight of the similar rat’s nest on your head in the small mirror. Hypersonic waves dry it out more than the blazing hot suns on this planet—you look the same exact way you’ve looked for decades and while you don’t mind hard work, you can’t stand the complete lack of water on this forsaken rock.

Din was right, though. She is nice, but in a way that she never wants anybody else to find out about. She cooks you food every night but expects you to clean the whole kitchen after, she lets you have free reign over the caf maker as long as you remember to make enough for her, and she allows you and the kid to pass out on the beat-up sofa in one of the secluded back rooms for the time being. On more than one occasion, when she assigns you chores that require two hands and a steady focus to complete, you overhear her babytalk behind the control panel as she bounces the kid in one arm and plays with his ears. It fills your chest with a quiet, subtle kind of warmth, and you understand why Din trusts her with him.

At least you stay busy—which, understatement. She works you so hard that eventually she starts handing you tasks that don’t really seem… pressing. Replacing the spherical joints on her three pit droids, hand-scrubbing the grime off the pots and pans she uses to cook the same two meals everyday, polishing the dusty windows overlooking the landing platform even though they’re caked over with dirt not even an hour later. You realize soon enough that she doesn’t have nearly the workload here as she claims, periodically catching her playing cards with the droids while you’re busting your ass doing chores once all the real work has clearly been accomplished, but you’re not upset. You like being busy, it’s how you’ve lived most of your life. However, at some point, you actually end up running out of things to do. After that, it’s like she has to actively look for tasks she still needs completed.

One morning you find her in the parked Crest, ripping open the guidance systems paneling and talking to herself. You sip your caf and watch silently from the landing bay, hair pulled up in a messy bun and the baby on your hip as the suns rise on your shoulders and she mutters, whole sheets of metal being tossed out from the insides of the Razor Crest.

You've also learned she responds incredibly well to the prospect of credits, so you don’t spend too much time wondering what her goal is—find something in the ship for you to fix and then charge Mando extra for the materials whenever he comes back.

Hilarious though, as if there’s anything in your ship that actually needs fixing.

You spin around with a sigh and walk back into the hangar, knowing today will probably be the first slow day in awhile.

***

A few hours later, you’re invited to play a game of Sabacc for the first time in your life.

There are so many rules—so many suits and names to keep track of, so many values to memorize, only to be forced to choose one card after every round to keep just in case the rest of them happen to shuffle at random, which occurs at least once or twice every game. There’s too much luck involved to figure out any sort of strategy; you feel like sometimes you’re hopelessly lost and end up winning anyways or you wager nearly your entire stack of bolts on a perfect hand and then you lose the entire thing regardless.

It’s an unpredictable nightmare. But it’s something to do, and you’ve learned that playing just as stupidly as you bet allows you to easily stay in the game. The baby sits in your lap and plays with one of your rusty metal gambling pieces while your leg bounces, and Peli grumbles under her breath once it appears you get ahead of her in winnings.

“Beginner’s luck,” she tells her favorite pit droid quietly, who focuses its singular eye at you in a way that somehow feels unfriendly and nods on a brand new swivel, courtesy of yours truly.

You don’t argue, because there’s no point. The whole fucking thing is luck, but there’s no point. You know enough about this game to know that you might give something away if you speak, so you keep your mouth shut and let her fill the void. You know how to stay silent, you’ve learned from the best. Wordlessly drawing a card from the deck and tucking it in between two others of the same value, you decide to trade one of your other cards at complete random and hope it all just works out.

“Ship looks like it’s brand spankin’ new on the inside,” Peli mutters into her mug out of nowhere, and you pause for a moment, before silently nodding at the offhanded comment and trying not to show how pleased you are by it. “Was falling apart the last time I saw it.”

You keep bouncing the kid on your knee and fan out the cards in front of you, hoping his big black eyes aren’t reflective enough to reveal your hand. “I have a lot of free time.”

“I can tell,” she acknowledges, crossing her legs and leaning back into her chair. Peli sets the mug down and sighs. “You’re a good mechanic. I’d offer you a job here, but something tells me you wouldn’t even consider it.”

Now, you do smile. But it’s a hidden one. A fond one. One you find impossible to fight when you’re reminded of him. You miss him and ache for him and all those collectively angsty things, yes—but mostly you’re just… able to find a bone-deep solace in even thinking about him. Your heart tightens, but it’s far less constricting than it is a comfort, a firm embrace. It surrounds you in its safety; Din’s mere existence is your protection, wrapping around you the same way the beskar protects him. Nothing can touch you. You’re safe, from all the things you used to fear and all the new things you’ve learned to fear.

No, you’d never consider it. This planet is too much like Arvala-7, just slightly more populated and dangerous. You love the baby. You love him. You’d never consider it.

“Don’t you get bored?” She asks you with a raised eyebrow, and your smile admittedly drops the slightest bit. “Just waiting around for him to come back?”

You don’t have to think about your answer. Of course you do. If you’re being honest, it does feel a bit like your life is split between worlds—one with him, and one without. Whenever he’s not here, you’re thinking about how much you want him to come back, and whenever he is here, you’re thinking about how much you don’t want him to go. You’ve never experienced anything like that before. There were a few local farmers scattered far across the arid landscape of the place you used to call home, and three of your neighbors all had kids around your age. So you experimented when you were younger, since you never had much else to do in your spare time, but you never loved any of them. You’d always go back home and continue to do chores, continue to look up at the sky and wonder what you were missing.

“Yes,” you admit quietly.

But what you don’t tell her is that in exchange, you get to see the galaxy. You get to have experiences you’ve only dreamed about, take care of the cutest little baby you’ve ever seen and become part of a family. You don’t know of anything you could want more. Adventure, companionship, pleasure, and fulfillment. Sure, you get restless, and sure, you don’t necessarily feel good about the fact that Din seems to be your driving force even when he’s away, but you know independence. You know what it means to live for yourself. You’ve done it long enough that you’ll never forget how to, you’ve experienced it more than enough to know you’re happy about throwing yourself off the cliff and falling into something different. As much as it’s new and terrifying, it’s better. Now you have other people to live for, too.

You marvel at the change—not just from a year ago, but from a handful of months ago. He used to terrify you. You used to keep your mouth purposefully shut around him because you were scared of overstaying your welcome and being dropped off somewhere equally as remote as the place you grew up. Never could you have imagined that the fiercest guardian the galaxy has ever seen would decide you’re also worth protecting.

No, you figure, you just need to… find something in addition. Something else to also commit to, give yourself something to do. You can practice the new self-defense maneuvers he taught you, that’s a good idea. But maybe you can also…

You eventually decide to prompt Peli in a change in conversation. “Hey, can I ask you something?”

“What do you want now?” She takes another sip of her caf as if you’ve been bothering her about this all day long, and… well, it’s times like these that you wish you had a helmet, too, if only so you could roll your eyes.

“I’ve got a few pieces of rusted metal in the Crest,” you eventually tell her, careful with your phrasing and not sure how much you want to reveal. “They’re in bad shape, but I want to keep them. Could I use some of your tools here to hammer out some of the dents, dissolve whatever crud is on the surface? I saw you have a forge back there that’s barely been used, just need the metal hot enough to be pliable without sacrificing its integrity.”

She furrows her eyebrows at you. “But I still need your help with…”

You wait, but she’s got nothing and you both know it. Still, you keep a pointed silence and wait for it, wondering if this’ll actually work. This is what Din does, right? Just refuse to say anything and make the other person crumble under the crushing quiet? Miraculously, it proves to be successful—you watch her flounder for a response, her will wavering the longer you sit there and stare expectantly at her.

“Fine,” Peli finally acquiesces, and you grin. “But only if you win this round. What d’you got?”

You set down your cards to reveal your hand. A perfect twenty-three if you’ve been counting right, unbeatable unless she or any of the droids managed to get the same, and you know it didn’t happen as soon as she takes a few seconds for mental math and then scoffs.

“Beginner’s luck,” you tell her kindly, pushing all your winnings back over to her side of the table with one hand and scooping the kid up with the other, before turning around and heading towards the Crest in search of Din’s old armor.

***

It’s late afternoon on day five and you’re on your back on a creeper seat, sweat dripping down your neck as you reach up to fiddle with the engine of a T-16, a Skyhopper similar to one you built yourself on Arvala-7. They're not space-faring vehicles, they’re only capable of reaching the upper troposphere, but owning one allowed you to develop solid flight skills without ever truly being able to leave. Honestly, you don’t think you’ve ever despised a ship more.

You know you’ve got engine grease all over and you feel like you’re boiling in your own sweat, but you’re almost done. After this, you’ll be able to go back to working on your side project.

As soon as you’d been granted Peli’s direct permission to do so, you mixed the chemicals necessary to eat away at everything besides the basic structure underneath, and then spent all day yesterday manipulating the metal to better fit someone your size and shape. You slaved over the wickedly hot forge and developed a whole new muscle in your arm from hammering and reheating, hammering and reheating. You had to repair the way the chestpiece was tapered into a concave point by folding the thin metal back in on itself multiple times, strengthening it without flattening it back into its original shape too much, and then you ended up melting down some of the extra material from the needlessly large shoulder and thigh pieces to fill in the gaps.

Granted, you still have a ways to go on replacing the crushed magnetics box that was falling off the chestpiece and filing down the rough scrapes and sharp edges, but you’re now left with almost a full set of armor that’s a uniform dull silver in color and molds way better to your general figure than before. You’re not a blacksmith or armorer by any stretch of the imagination, but you’re good with your hands and did what you could in the time allotted. It looks better than you ever thought it would, and without access to Peli’s enormous collection of tools and machinery, you know it would’ve been better off in the trash.

Still, you have to finish this engine first before you can rip apart the control unit wiring on the armor to see how the whole set fits together and what else needs to be repaired. You’ve been working on it for a few hours before you hear the door to the hangar open. Yet, when you don’t immediately hear Peli’s voice calling out to you, or anyone else’s voice for that matter, your heart thuds in your chest with sudden excitement.

“You’re back early,” you tell the engine suspended over your head, knowing he must’ve already thrown the quarry into the Crest parked outside before coming to see you. Right on time, footsteps approach and then a boot carefully catches the flat platform between your legs, slowly rolling your seat out from under the ship until the rest of the sunlit hangar is revealed to you.

You know you must look a hot mess right now. Your hair is a disaster and there’s not a clean spot to be found on your body—sweat glistens and pools along every curve you have and you’re probably drenching the spare jumpsuit Peli let you borrow, but Maker, there he is. Every time you see him is like the first time all over again, except this time the Mandalorian is looming like a giant over you, the helmet tilted down and silently taking you in.

Instead of settling you, his daunting presence gets you hotter than dual suns in the sky ever could. Fuck, he hasn’t said a word to greet you, and yet you’re already wondering if you can entice him to shove you back under here and join you.

You slowly push yourself upright and he steps back just enough to allow it, but not an inch more than that. You have to crane your neck up to keep looking at him, and he stands close enough over you that you wouldn’t have to reach far at all if you wanted to touch him.

And it’s crazy to think that… you absolutely could touch him, if you wanted. He radiates danger, he hunts and tracks for his continued survival, he’s probably got fresh blood staining the dark fabric of his cape and he’s so fucking intimidating—and if you wanted to, you could touch him.

Maybe you can partially blame your sore muscles as to why you immediately drop your head back down, but mostly you just want to stare at a part of his body that happens to align perfectly at eye level. And fuck, nothing stops you from looking. He doesn’t help you up, but he also doesn’t move so you can haul yourself to your feet, either. He just holds perfectly still with his body standing tall over yours, content to stay exactly like this while your hand slowly reaches out to wrap around one of his ankles.

He’s so warm, his muscles flex strong under your palm as you let it drift upwards, biting your lip as you flick your gaze back up to the chrome visor and then down again to the apex of his thighs. Your other hand comes up to scale the beskar strapped to his leg and you roll yourself forward slightly, wondering if he’d let you…

The black fabric stretching over his crotch just barely touches your fingertips before his hand is suddenly whipping out and grabbing hold of your wrist.

You gasp and jerk your head up to look at him, somehow equally hoping that you’re both in trouble and not in it at the same time. Din’s abruptly chest raises with a large, labored inhale, as if he wasn’t breathing at all that entire time, as if he just now remembered the setting, the fact that he’s not alone on the Crest with you right now. Peli and the kid have to be somewhere in the hangar, you know that, but…

“We’re leaving tonight,” he breathes out through the modulator, and you have absolutely no fucking problem with that at all. “But… shit, but…”

“But…?” You prompt, wanting nothing more than to let your hands reach back up to his pants again, but you settle for slowly dragging one palm up his forearm as his grip on your wrist tightens.

“Fuck, I wanted to take you somewhere first,” he groans like your feather-soft touch is actually hurting him, his hands suddenly dropping yours and pushing you away to clench into fists at his sides. “Maker—why do you always f-fucking do this to me…”

You raise an eyebrow at him this time, the curiosity starting to mix with the heat simmering down low, the kind that you'd feel even on a frozen wasteland of a planet as long as you were with him. All at once, you decide to channel him and his trademarked silence, enthralled by the incredibly slim chance that it will work equally as well on its creator.

“…Distract me,” he finally growls out an answer to the question you never asked him, sounding frustrated with you for reasons you still haven’t figured out, and your mouth is drier than the desert outside. Oh stars, you feel… fucking powerful. “From everything,” he goes on, talking honestly and openly, more words given to you in thirty seconds than he’s probably offered to anyone all week long. “Fuck, I feel like I can barely do fucking anything anymore, I’m losing my fucking mind.”

Your heart slams in your chest, wondering if he possibly feels the exact same way about you as you feel about him. Missing you whenever he’s gone, dreading the moment he needs to leave again whenever he’s with you. The thought alone is enough to set off fireworks through your veins, pumping hope and excitement from your fingers to your toes.

“I’m sorry,” you breathe out, biting your lip in a way that doesn’t look or feel sorry at all.

“No, you’re not,” Din grunts, before reaching out and hauling you to your feet, and even if there wasn’t a flat seat under you with wheels, it’d still be awkward and uncoordinated as fuck. “Shit. I… I need to clean up. Grab your things, go tell…”

Din trails off after a second, suddenly sounding at a complete loss. You catch your footing and stare at him as he falters. “Uh. Go tell…” He gestures with a sense of finality to the control room, as if he’s actually successfully communicating with you by doing so. “Her. That we’re leaving tonight.”

“What?” You ask him, thoroughly fucking confused. “What are you saying right now?”

“The woman,” he clarifies, clearing his throat. “The mechanic, with the… droids. Tell her I’ll pay her before we leave, but we’re g—”

“Peli?” You blurt, completely flabbergasted at this point. “Did you forget her name, Mando?”

“I…” he shakes his head slightly at you, like you should already know him better than that. “Never asked.”

“But you—?” You blink at him. “But you said she was your friend?”

“You said she was my friend,” he immediately points out, with—oh Maker, just biting accuracy. It wasn’t necessarily a jab or anything, but you still feel dizzy with how fucking spot on he is about it. Yikes, you absolutely did say that. You forgot.

“Oh…” you mumble, at a stunning loss for a response. “Ha. Oh. Yeah, huh.”

There’s too many beats of awkward silence after that, probably because he’s just so blown away by your way with words that he’s just attempting to analyze the wisdom. Stars, you’re making a complete fool of yourself in front of him, aren’t you?

“Were you jealous?” He suddenly asks, and you jerk upright, your heart kicking up to a gallop in your chest at the question.

“I’ll go tell Peli we’re leaving soon,” you quickly agree and go to scurry away in abrupt panic, but he catches your wrist and hauls you back before you can get far. You run into him with a gasp and immediately start to repeat your explanation for why you very suddenly need to depart, but the tips of Din’s fingers catch your chin and force you to look up at him.

“Hey,” he cuts your rambling short with a hushed murmur and the pad of his thumb brushes down your jaw. “Tell me the truth.”

You don’t have an answer that won’t be incriminating, and you don’t think you can get the delivery right on a lie, not to him and especially not when he’s got you so cornered. So you just keep completely silent and look up at him like a scolded child would. Innocent, wide-eyed and scared shitless about the unknown consequences of your actions.

His helmet slowly tilts as he studies you, watching you look up at him for help. His fingers gradually spread out across your jaw, flattening under the curve of your throat but so gentle, so careful that you’re almost worried he actually is mad.

“I’m sorry,” you immediately offer before he can say anything, your eyebrows pulling up in the middle. “I’m so sorry, it’s just—I just…”

His thumb carefully stretches up to brush your bottom lip, and you… Mind blank, no thoughts. Stars, you’ve got fucking nothing.

“I’ve got nothing,” you admit, giving up before you can even try. “There’s no reason. I was jealous. It’s stupid and I wasn’t going to say anything because I know it’s stupid, and I shouldn’t feel possessive over you but I do, and it’s stupid. I don’t want anyone else to know you the way I know you, and I’m really sorry if that makes you feel weird, I don’t want you to feel like you can’t have—”

Your chin lifts slightly with the gentlest movement of his hand and the subtle pressure is enough to cut your mindless oversharing off. Din’s voice lowers until it’s throaty and quiet.

“See that wall?” He asks, keeping the visor pinned to you while carefully turning his hand to the right, and your whole head easily follows the movement as he guides it. You have to blink your eyes into focus a few times, but then you immediately see what he’s talking about. It’s a partition separating the welding room from the rest of the hangar. He waits until you nod in the cradle of his palm, before leaning in and murmuring to you. “If we were alone, I’d take you around behind it and show you exactly how that makes me feel.”

You pull back from him with a startled gasp just as a voice calls out from the entrance of the hangar. “Well, look who finally decided to come back!”

Din slowly drops his arms and stares at you for just long enough to make you seriously worry that he’s going to say fuck it all and do it anyways, before finally turning around and greeting Peli with another silent nod.

She plants one hand on her hip once she’s standing right in front of him, cradling the kid on with her other arm, and you have to take a second to collect yourself now that you’re not at the direct center of his attention anymore. “Sure did take you long enough, didn’t it?”

“I’m two days early,” he grunts in his immediate defense, but it’s like she doesn’t hear him.

“You’re leaving soon I hope,” she drawls while handing the baby over to him, who makes an adorable little happy squeak at seeing his dad again. “You owe me five hundred credits.”

“It was five hundred for the full week,” he reminds her, and… he has a point. Though it was never part of the agreement, you wonder if she’ll be willing to accept less compensation for having the burden of your company be lifted early.

“Five days count as a full week, far as I’m concerned,” she shoots back, and your heart suddenly sinks when Din’s shoulders tighten and he doesn’t respond.

“Peli…” you sigh from behind him before you even realize you’ve spoken aloud.

Your host quickly sidesteps your bodyguard to eye you dubiously, and at the same time, you also jolt and wonder what your goal is here exactly. You’re ultimately just attempting to diffuse any tension sparking between them, you figure, knowing you’re probably the best mediator here. She looks at you up and down for a long time, hard and judging, before the baby babbles something wordlessly and she sighs.

“I suppose we can just call it even,” she finally huffs, turning back to him. “You’re lucky your girlfriend earned her keep, Mando.”

And then your jaw drops. Holy shit, is she serious? You assumed Peli valued credits above almost anything else, you never expected her to just… turn down the entire offer like that, so willingly. Clearly Din didn’t either, because you both just stand there for a moment in front of her in a baffled silence.

Also… girlfriend?

Is that what you are to him? Admittedly you haven’t talked to him about what to call your relationship, but then again, you’re a practical person and you never really saw a specific need to do so. You care about him, he cares about you—what else is important? You don’t need a title to recognize your value to him, and for some odd reason, calling yourself his “girlfriend” just feels like you’re a teenager again. If you were actually looking for a different word to use instead, you wouldn’t be able to find it, but you know that one just feels… not enough. Not old enough, not encompassing enough, not complex enough. It’s an elementary school version of what this is. And to refer to someone like Din as your boyfriend? Maker, just saying it aloud would probably make his eye twitch.

“Uh.” He stands there awkwardly, and you’re so blown away by both the sentiment and specific verbiage she used that you’re practically useless at this point. Shit, what’s beyond girlfriend, you wonder? Lover? No, not good enough. Partner? No. No, not wife, definitely fucking not— “Thank you.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Peli waves him away and spins around to leave, but not before throwing one final thing over her shoulder. “That ain’t an open invitation to come back, by the way.”

All of a sudden, you just can’t stop yourself from breaking out into a wide grin, tucking your chin in hopes that she won’t see it with her back turned and decide to pounce on the display of weakness. The three of you watch her stride out of the room and immediately bark an order at one of her droids to get back to work, who starts looking around in desperate search of something to do, and Din’s palm finds its usual place on your lower back as she disappears.

“What a nice lady,” you offer to him, and he gives you a wordless grumble in response.

***

So it’s a couple hours later and you think the kid might actually have the right idea this time.

You find yourself wishing you had a little hover pod of your own that followed Din around, one you could close the lid on and hide in while blaster fire whistles through the air around you like the baby is currently doing. You’re trying to listen to instructions—you’re trying, but there’s a lot going on here. Voices chatting, guns firing, targets being pinged, a lively little band playing in the cantina next door.

When Din first led you through Mos Eisley and inside this specific adobe hut, if you’re being completely honest, you had hoped for food. A comparatively large restaurant, perhaps? Peli didn’t starve you by any stretch of the imagination, but her dinners were the exact same every single night, and you’ve learned to thrive on new things. While you didn’t necessarily think he was going to take you on a… a date, or anything, you certainly didn’t expect him to take you to a shooting range.

Well. Now that you think about it, this might actually be a date.

Luckily you’re hidden away in the furthest firing partition from the door, but even without the near-constant barrage of gunfire to your left, the distractions are still plentiful. The kid actually reached down and pressed the button to close his crib himself as soon as the bright beams of plasma started zooming past and reflecting in his large black eyes, and oh how you wish that were you. You don’t necessarily feel like you’re in danger or anything, but you’ve also never seen so many guns in one place before and you’re worried you’re accidentally going to hurt someone else.

So far Din has taught you the fundamentals for any firearm—always keep the safety on until you’re ready to fire, never point at anything unless you’re a hundred percent willing to shoot it, yada yada yada—and also the safety fundamentals for blasters specifically. So, making sure there’s no leaks in the gas cylinder when you first load it, never letting a strong magnet get near the power pack, checking the surface of your target for deflection curves if you want to prevent a ricochet, or maybe in his case, inspire one. He’s taught you your stance, he’s taught you how to read your sights, now all that’s left is just to… shoot.

Your arms raise up in front of you and the metal feels too heavy and awkward in your hands, and you have to hold the handle in your left and creep your right index finger all the up the side of the barrel until you feel the indented safety switch. It clicks and you reset your grip to slowly ease your finger onto the trigger, staring down the sight, right at the bullseye. Din is standing directly behind you next to the kid’s tightly closed hovering pod, arms crossed and just waiting for you to pull it.

Come on beginner’s luck, come on beginner’s luck—

You fire, and… well. You don’t think you’ve ever seen a shot miss its target that spectacularly in your entire life. You’re almost surprised the beam of plasma didn’t somehow ricochet back into the booth you’re both standing in, that’s how spectacularly you missed.

“Try again.”

There’s no amusement in his voice, nothing mocking about it. Pure monotone under the helmet, as if he was just naturally expecting that to happen.

No, you think in frustration. You want to surprise him again, impress him with how quickly you can pick things up, turn him on like last time. You just fucking know that would get to him—seeing you easily hit the target dead center with his own blaster, you know that would get to him.

You adjust your aim and fire a few more times. Miss, miss, wild miss, miss. Fuck, so many distractions, plasma flying in the corner of your vision and an increasingly heavy gaze from behind you. Another miss, a miss, yeesh that’s a miss—

Alright, so you're just embarrassing yourself at this point.

“I think it’s broken,” you shrug in defeat, taking a second to find the safety switch and toggle it before going to set the gun down on the raised adobe platform separating the line of booths from the targets—but then Din suddenly snatches the blaster from your grip and extends his arm over your shoulder, firing off six rounds in rapid succession so wickedly fast that you jump backwards into his rock solid chest in surprise. He doesn’t give an inch under the collision and even wraps his forearm tight around your tummy as he hits the bullseye with such deadly accurate precision that even the char marks and the line of smoke left wafting from the target’s center are razor-thin.

“Works just fine,” he grunts, setting the weapon back down again before urging you forward a bit. “Go ahead, give it another shot.”

But you’re on a remarkable delay, just trying to process his sheer speed, how fluid and seamless the entire fucking motion was. Fucking Maker, blink and you’d miss the whole thing. He waited to grab the gun from you until you turned the safety on, but then… then how did he fire it so insanely fucking fast? That’s like five different things he had to do with one single hand within a split second…?

“I turned the safety on,” you blink down at the blaster, clearly just trying to process.

“Yeah,” he agrees blankly, as if he’s unsure as to what specifically you’re so stuck on right now.

“So how did you toggle so fas—?”

He picks it from the shelf gracefully and lightning quick—as if he just can’t help but go that speed around his weapon—and then he twists it on its side, flexing his wrist back until the barrel is pointed upwards and you can clearly see his index finger extend all the way up to the safety switch, flipping it up and down while his middle finger rests over the trigger guard.

“How in the f…?” You mutter, lifting your hand up next to his and positioning your fingers in the exact same L shape, only the tip of your index finger barely stretches an inch shy of the switch. “Psh,” you huff, dropping your arm back down again. “Design flaw.”

“For you,” he acknowledges, using the trigger guard to flip it back to its proper position in his hand like fucking spinning it like that is just the easiest and most natural way to handle the deadly weapon. “This gun was made for me, it’s a feature. Yours would be smaller and lighter, have the safety towards the back of the chamber instead of along the barrel.”

The words and the casual display of ability cause a rush of stirring excitement to burst forth inside you, suddenly giddy at the very thought.

“Wait,” you draw the word out with a grin, leaning back into him and gently nudging him with your elbow to make sure he knows you’re only mostly joking. “You gonna buy me a blaster, Mando? I did earn my keep this week, didn’t I?”

“Have to find one that fits a big enough sight first,” he mutters while setting the gun down on the table, and you scoff at him as his hands come to rest on your hips. They squeeze and try to guide you forwards once again. “Prove that you can at least hit the target with mine and we’ll see.”

“You only get to make fun of me if you give me a real answer,” you rule, planting your feet and refusing to budge.

“Okay, but we both know I’ll make fun of you anyways,” he sighs, and you have to dig your heels in and push back into him to keep yourself rooted to the spot.

“You’re not being a very encouraging teacher,” you accuse without trying to hide your grin. “In fact I feel very discouraged right now and I think that y—”

But then Din suddenly tips his helmet closer to your ear and lowers his voice, cutting you off. “Did you know that gifting someone a weapon is considered a proposal of marriage on Mandalore?”

Your smile quickly drops and you gasp, wholly startled at the implication and immediately trying to spin around to look at him. “Holy shit, are you serious?”

“No,” comes his modulated grunt, tightening his hold and keeping you firmly facing forwards. “Of course not. Pick up the gun.”

Okay.

Okay, so that one gets you.

You immediately start giggling, painfully aware that this isn’t the time or place for it, but that one actually fucking got you. Din easily guides and parks your gullible ass in front of the window carved out of dried mud before picking up the blaster himself and forcing you to hold it with your loose hands, grumbling under his breath.

Shit, okay, focus. Focus, you can do this. You clear the laughter from your throat and suddenly get deadly serious, staring your target down like it’s personally gone out of its way to ruin your entire life. The blaster feels cold in your palms but not when Din’s hands wrap warm and tight around the back of yours, letting you hold the gun how it’s most comfortable for you before gently settling his fingers down over yours. His chestpiece presses tight against your shoulder blades when he guides the gun up and out, and his arms are long enough to extend yours fully even though he’s behind you and still has some bend to his elbows. He uses his feet to kick your ankles apart until they’re shoulder-width and then you both carefully find the trigger together.

He’s quiet and slow about it and the whole thing is one giant fucking turn-on. Maker, chill out. Chill out, he’s teaching you how to shoot. This is important stuff, there are people around, chill out…

Din takes a moment to aim the barrel and his hold is so fucking steady, so unwavering and strong. You wonder if it’d be too obvious if you pushed your hips back a little, you might be able to feel his—

“Fire,” Din murmurs next to your ear, and you pull the trigger without a second thought.

The bright red plasma beam launches from the end of the blaster and hits the target dead center. You gasp, pulling the trigger again, and unsurprisingly, it’s another perfect shot.

He suddenly lets go of your arms and takes a small step back, but the second he removes his body from yours, the rounds start bouncing wildly off the edges of the target. Your eyebrows furrow and you try to emulate how you think the angle felt before, but you can’t find it anymore and you’re just failing spectacularly.

When you decide to pause for a second, Din steps up close behind you and wraps his arms around you once more. You can feel the exact moment he’s locked in his aim, and you fire wordlessly as soon as you know it’s going to hit. Bullseye, right on the nose.

This time, he lifts just his hands away from yours, staying perfectly still otherwise and you swear you don’t move a single fucking muscle in your entire body before pulling the trigger, but it still hits the far corner of the target.

“It’s broken,” you shrug once again, and Din drops his helmet to your shoulder with a sigh. “This gun was made for you, which means there’s obviously some mod you have installed that reads biometrics and ruins the shot no matter how good it—”

“Not even close, but that’s not a bad idea,” he tells you, watching you click the safety on and set the uncooperative blaster down. “I can’t figure out what you’re doing wrong. Are you just distracted?”

Uh, fuck yeah you are. So much is going on and more than that, he’s here and he’s just… fuck, you know what he meant when he said he felt like he was losing his mind. He’s your biggest distraction, all the time. He’s still standing so close to you and the baby is still isolated and tucked away in his hovering sphere, and you take a moment to think about it.

Yes, it’s… it’s possible that you may learn better by example than anything else.

“Can I watch you do it?” You ask him, and Din shrugs before reaching around you and quickly grabbing the blaster from its mud shelf. “Wait—” you tell him while he raises and extends his arm over your shoulder, and then you wiggle sideways as much as possible in the small booth to squeeze around behind him. He doesn’t say anything as you swap places with him and scoot up behind him, but you can tell by his body language that he’s confused. You wonder if he liked that position and watching you shoot his gun, even if you’re complete shit at it.

He stands in front of you for a second and you give him an encouraging, “Okay,” to let him know you’re ready, but then the helmet turns back to look at the target like he’s still unsure as to what you want specifically. You keep your mouth shut and let him figure it out. You meant what you said—you want to watch him shoot. You want to watch him where he’s infamous, watch him do what he’s best at and let completely loose in front of you.

As if it finally clicks for him, Din turns to face the target and suddenly throws the blaster into his left hand while reaching down and pushing a button hidden under the hollow platform with his right. You have to lean around his broad shoulders to watch the target slide backwards on its track easily triple the distance before squeaking and slamming to a stop. Din stretches his non-dominant hand out and subtly tilts his helmet before firing six times, easily hitting the bullseye with just as much accuracy as before, and you frown when you notice the only shots that have actually hit the target so far have all been dead center.

He sets the gun down and stands there for a second, staring across the range like it’s nothing at all to him and it’s… remarkable. Not that he’s a wicked shot, you’ve known that the second you laid eyes on his armor all those months ago. No, it’s just… you would think this is where he’d thrive, if anywhere. The entire place is full of smugglers, raiders, scavengers, mercenaries—occupations that define themselves by their grit. They’re talking as much as they’re shooting, conversing in languages you’ve never heard but suspect Din easily understands. But instead of fitting in, he’s just… there. He doesn’t look comfortable, but he also doesn’t look uncomfortable, either. He doesn’t look like he’s having any fun at all.

None of this is considered a hobby to him, you suddenly realize. It’s not fun because he’s too good at it. This is life. This is going back to school for the most basic fundamentals of a job he’s excelled at for decades—it’s not interesting, he’s gaining absolutely nothing from practicing.

You try to think of the last time you’ve seen him truly in his element. You think back on all the different settings—he looked out of place on Canto Bight, got into fights on Corellia, hated Coruscant, seemed stressed on Nevarro, and even on Naboo, even in the middle of paradise, he looked unsure if he actually deserved to be there with you. Now here on Tatooine, where he has real people that he trusts, where he’s surrounded by like-minded individuals shooting his favorite things in the world, it’s like he’s still not able to fully let go.

Is it just you, you wonder? Does he stand out more just because you’re the one looking?

No, you think. No. You have seen him relax. You’ve seen him laugh before, you’ve seen him be himself with you.

But… only with you. A hardened bounty hunter that much prefers the company of a young woman and an infant to literally anyone else in the galaxy.

Fuck. Why does that turn you on so fucking much? It’s the display of prowess, the sheer skill he’s developed, how fucking deadly he is—and how you’ve felt him use that trigger finger to trace slow circles around your clit. The Mandalorian standing with his blaster raised has probably been the last thing too many people have ever seen in their lifetimes, and yet watching from this angle just makes you feel protected, guarded, and… so fucking horny for him.

“Do it again,” you eventually murmur, touching both your palms to his back this time just to feel it. You want to feel him shoot, you want to feel his muscles move with it. You want to touch how mechanically he’s able to aim, you want to know if he’s loose or tense when he fires, you just want to… feel it.

Din grabs the gun and as he extends his arms out, you slide your hands up his back to rest under his shoulders. He’s so broad, he feels so warm and strong, and his trigger releases are so steady that nothing above his wrists move.

Shit, before he’s even finished setting the blaster back down again, you’re already scooting up behind him as close as possible and carefully slithering your arms around his waist, hugging your body tight to his back. Din stays completely still while your mouth presses against the fabric of his cape and your hands begin to slowly slide down his stomach.

He doesn’t say a damn thing, which makes it even hotter for some reason. There’s no warning he gives you, no low growl of your name or sweet girl being dragged through the modulator. He stays completely silent and holds there while blasters continue to fire from stalls to your left, and it gives you the thrill of your lifetime. Big strong man holding perfectly still for you to touch in the middle of a crowded room.

Your hand slips under his waistband and sink down low until you can trail your fingertips along his cock, hidden from sight beneath the edge of the clay shelf. The small sound you make at feeling it already firm and at attention for you gets lost in the noise of the shooting range, but you wrap your palm around it and give it a good, slow pull upwards, feeling Din’s back expand with a breath from the sensation.

“Do it again,” you whisper into his shoulder blade, slowly playing with his cock in his pants with one hand while keeping the other wrapped tight around his abdomen.

Din immediately snatches the blaster off the platform and fires it the very moment he takes aim, and you can feel his cock pulse in your palm as he lets off the shots. Dead center, as always, but he clunks the metal back down with a bit more force this time and then lingers his fingertips at the sloped edge of it for a second, as if he’s considering whether or not he should hold onto it.

You’re already wet between your legs, but it gets worse the longer he allows you to keep doing this. His skin is furnace-hot and he throbs for you, and you trail your thumb up to check—oh, Maker, he’s leaking for you, too. You drag the pad of your thumb over the tip and gently rub the wetness along the curve of his head, before easing back down to give the shaft another slow pull.

A quiet puff of air comes through the vocal filter, but that’s all you audibly get out of him. Still, it’s more than enough to fill you with a wicked heat and a desperate desire for more. So you bite your lip and glance around just to double-check that nobody else has wandered over behind you and the kid is still tucked away in his crib, probably passed out in the secluded darkness at this point. And then you barely take a split-second to consider it before your knees are bending and you’re slowly sinking down the length of his body.

Din is a fucking statue. He doesn’t do anything to allow your wiggling underneath the raised platform anymore than he widens his stance to prevent it. Once you’re on your knees in front of him in the dim isolation of your hiding spot though, he takes a single step forward and pins his waist to the hardened clay above your head, and a thrill skitters through you at being completely walled in on all four sides.

You reach up to hook your fingertips in his hem of his trousers and begin pulling them down, so tight and achy between your legs that you want to shove your hand down between them already. You don’t though, not yet, because you need two hands to be extra careful in getting his cock out. You don’t even want the fabric of his pants to touch it, you want your mouth to be the only sensation he knows here.

At the very last second, you decide to pull the waistband down far enough to let his balls rest outside the confining clothing, getting increasingly hotter at the thought that this isn’t going to be sneaky and dirty, even if you’re in public. Din’s wide stance and the floor-length cape hide you perfectly from any prying eyes behind his back, so it’s going to be soft and it’s going to be slow and he’s going to be comfortable while you go down on him.

Your mouth is already watering, so you bend down just slightly and lift your chin to gently drag your tongue along the smooth skin of his balls before anything else. Honestly—you don’t think he’s expecting you to go there first, because his whole body suddenly jerks at the velvet soft sensation between his legs and you let out a low hum in response. He can’t reach you down here unless he tries to, so you scoot your knees up a little bit and just decide to go for it. This way he won’t be able to get it confused, he won’t pull you out from under here halfway through when you suck on his balls before anything else. This is what you want from him, what’s right here in your mouth.

You switch to the other one and Din twitches with a filtered breath, the skin already tightening up and responding gorgeously under your tongue. His hand hovers somewhere near the raised platform above your head, fingers curling in his leather gloves and caught right between stopping you and letting you continue. While he allows it, you ease your way up and make it just tantalizing enough to make him ache without providing any real stimulation, slowly trailing your tongue up the length of his cock and pressing plush lips to the flared head.

Din exhales a shakily while you take your time, tasting the precum as his body produces it, just kissing and licking and purposefully refusing to touch him with anything besides your mouth. Without being able to see the rest of him from this angle, you're left to your own devices—you’re so gentle and soft about the pleasure that you start to separate the man from the throbbing erection you’re currently playing with. You begin to enjoy yourself without thinking too much about the struggle he must be withstanding right now, you moan softly against his heated skin even though you know you’re being a tease at the worst possible moment, but no matter how you decide to take your time with it, Din continues to allow it. He endures. Silent, perfectly still, until you eventually decide to wrap your lips around the head of his cock and flutter your tongue up underneath it.

But then he jumps and your eyes open when a deep, unkind voice from the stall to your left calls out, “Hey, Mando! Gonna fuckin’ shoot or just stand there, huh?”

You can hear his immediate frustration in the blaster scraping against the shelf over your head, and you moan softly around his cock the second you feel him tense and start firing. The smooth skin pulses on your tongue and you slide your fingers around the backs of his knees, opening your throat and slowly taking him deeper.

And, for a man that has repeatedly fired six perfect shots every single time he picks up his gun, he falters after just three this time.

The heat of your mouth must be too overwhelming. Too fucking good, too detrimental to his focus and composure to even perform the most basic tasks he typically excels at. Like a seasoned mathematician that suddenly struggles to count to ten, a renowned author that can’t recite their ABC’s—Mando can’t even fire a weapon right now and it’s all because of you.

He has to keep trying though, he has to make an actual effort now that you both know someone nearby is paying at least some sort of attention to his performance. The sound of more plasma arcing through the air over your head slowly disappears into the background in a way that it never could while you were the one firing—you’re completely hidden and safe down here, you can moan low in your throat while keeping your hands around his knees and begin to bob your head without another thought or worry whatsoever. Handling it is all on him. He just needs to stay quiet, be still, and shoot his gun. It should be the simplest thing in the galaxy for him, right?

Wrong. So wrong. You hear the way the bolts are pinging off the sides of the target now, you listen to him grunt and let off a few more shots that also sound like they miss. Your soft palate lifts and you’re practically drenching yourself at how wide he stretches your throat while you take him down as far as you can, and there’s a moment where you’re holding there and you think about doing something about the dull ache throbbing between your legs. But once you pull off him for air and automatically touch your drooling tongue to your palm, you decide this is what you want more.

Your slick hand wraps around his cock and starts to slowly jerk him off while your mouth moves down to attach to his balls once more, your touch gliding strong and wet along his entire length. Din almost doubles over into the platform, his hips stuttering up for the first time at the hard stimulation you’re finally giving him. His skin swells and tightens in your mouth—you can feel the tension locking his thighs down, you can hear the shots above you start to decrease in frequency, and you know he’s already close.

So you move back up to suck on the head of his cock again and slowly swirl your tongue around it, continuing to use your hand to pull steady and firm on the rest of his shaft, and you just close your eyes and wait for him to give you what you want. His firing soon stops altogether and you squeeze your finger between your thighs and press hard against your clit, just needing to relieve some of the ache. You keep doing that, you keep drawing circles with your tongue while slowly jerking the rest of him off into your mouth, and at some point, it all just becomes too much for him.

“Shit,” Din gasps, along with the sudden sound of metal skittering against the clay above you, and your eyes pop open in surprise. “Ah, sh—shhhhh—”

Maker, did he just drop his fucking gun?

You start to pull back, but then suddenly a trembling hand shoots down and clutches tight under your throat, hooking hard behind your jaw to make sure you stay right there.

His cock starts throbbing and he shudders, slamming his other palm on the shelf and cumming hard in your mouth. You’re already swallowing before he even gives you anything but Maker, you’re fucking desperate for it that your hand moves to curl your fingers against the exposed skin at his hips as if that’ll somehow help you get it sooner. The first taste of him comes as soon as you dig in and drag your nails down his flesh, and Din is helpless to do anything else besides clutch your jaw tight and gasp raggedly while emptying himself down your throat.

He shakes and shudders and you don’t spill a single drop, clutching his hips and pulling him close to keep him in your mouth, and as he slowly comes down from that plateau, you lick every inch of him clean. His fingers gradually lose their rigidity around your jaw and eventually, his fingers drop down to press gently against your throat while his hips pull back.

He slips from your mouth and you wipe the wetness from your chin, staring up at his cock wistfully and almost wanting to keep going. Is that fucked up, you wonder? What would he think?

He hasn’t moved yet, why isn’t he moving? Your job is clearly finished here, no matter what kind of way you may feel about that. The coast must not be clear, you have to assume. Perhaps someone is wandering around behind him, maybe he’s still being cautious about the nosy person next door—all you know is that you can tell he wants to move but he isn’t, which likely means he can’t. You know his cock must be so unbelievably sensitive right now, but he’s not easing his body back far enough away from the shelf to tuck it into his pants. He’s keeping it right in front of your face and expecting you to stay there until he deems it appropriate for you to get up.

The longer you wait for him to step back and let you out from under here, the more your need sparks and grows. What would he think? That you’re so desperate for his cock that you still want it in your mouth even when it’s soft and spent? Maker, he’d be fucking right on the money.

At some point, you can’t stop yourself. You lean back up to slowly take his soft cock back in your mouth, and Din nearly spasms while you slip your hand under your waistband and widen your knees.

You don’t do anything spectacular to it—you’re not that cruel—but you do hold him on the heat of your tongue and keep him there, fluttering your eyes closed as your finger finally touches your clit. Air puffs shakily through your nostrils and you think Din is actually shaking harder than you are, his body fighting oversensitivity while yours starts the race towards bliss. He doesn’t stop you but it also feels like he’s purposefully trying not to, like everything in him is rebelling against the wet heat of your mouth but knowing you’re only doing this because you’re so painfully turned on. You’re doing this because you need it, in spite of the electric shocks of wicked sensation it seems to be inspiring in him.

Your finger speeds up and you start gently sucking on the warm, giving flesh, and his hand trembles as it grabs at your hair. Fuck, you don’t care if he thinks you’re desperate—you want him to recognize it, you want him to know exactly how much you love his cock—

That thought sends a dark thrill down your spine and pleasure burns bright and needy where you’re still rubbing your clit, dropping your hips and rolling them forwards against your hand. And oh, your only lament is that you wish he was the one doing this. You wish Din was building your pleasure instead of letting you use his body in search of your own, you wish it was his hand working between your legs and about to shove you over that ledge, but then again. Something about this whole fucking scene is just so… undignified. Debased. And you’re getting off on it, quicker than you ever thought possible.

When you cum, you’re good and you don’t make a single sound when you cum. You squeeze your eyes shut and your entire body jolts with every single shattering wave of ecstasy, and Din tugs a handful of your hair and slowly rocks his hips once, twice, fucking your mouth while you endure wildfire burning through your veins. By the time you finish convulsing on the fucking floor of a Tatooinian gun range, you know you can go for another and probably get it equally as quick as that one, but Din is already pulling his cock out of your mouth and shoving it back into his pants. You’re like jelly as your elbow is immediately caught in his arm and you’re hauled up from your hiding spot, dazed and disoriented.

The chrome visor stares you down and you want to shrink in on yourself, thinking he’s going to take your happy ass back to the Crest. You should be in trouble, you know you should be in trouble. Leaving the recesses of your dark cubby and coming face to face with your surroundings brings a brand new clarity to light—you totally should not have done any of that. He was trying to teach you, for Maker’s sake. He was taking the time to show you the valuable knowledge he’s gained regarding weaponry and self-defense. Fuck, you even told him on Naboo that you wanted to shoot a gun, and he brought you here to do just that.

Except then he just spins you around and picks up the blaster from the adobe ledge in front of you, placing it firmly in your hands.

“Okay,” he pants quietly next to your ear, breathing hard and shallow through the helmet. “Now you should be able to focus, right?”

Fuck… Fuck, is he serious? You can barely hold the damn thing, you’re shaking so hard. How does this work again? What does this do?

“Wh-What?” You croak—fuck, your voice is gone. “I… I can’t—”

“Try,” he encourages, helping your comparatively tiny hands flip off the safety but other than that, stepping back and leaving you to it. Completely and hopelessly lost, you weakly twist around to watch him stand next to the kid’s closed metallic shield. “Hit the target,” Din reiterates with a nod, trying to catch his breath. “You can do it.”

You look back out with unfocused eyes to see it still all the way on the far end of its track, and there’s just absolutely no fucking way. “I… can’t.”

“Hit the target and we can go home,” he tells you, and while you don’t exactly know what home is anymore, something tells you it’s somewhere in hyperspace. A resting baby, a metal floor, a pitch black hull, and your cheek pressed against a warm chest.

It sounds… wonderful.

Inspiring a newfound kind of desire in you, you lift your arms as best you can and work so, so hard to keep them steady. The target is in your sights and you do your absolute best—fuck, you really do, but you pull the trigger and the shot sadly bounces off the edge.

You drop your hands, already defeated and drained. “I can’t.”

“Hit the target and I’ll buy you a blaster,” he ups the ante, and you instantly lift your dead arms again. Fuck, come on, come on, you can do this.

You shoot. Nope. So you shoot again. And then you shoot again, and again, minutely adjusting your wrists purely based on where the bright red plasma is landing and ignoring the scope entirely.

“A nice one,” he continues over the pew pew pew of you just continuing to fucking miss, fucking miserably, over and over again. “Expensive. Hand-crafted, one of a kind…”

Miss, miss, miss, and—no. Just, no. There’s only so much glaring failure you can take before you snap. You finally stop shooting and growl in frustration, going to slam the metal down on its resting place. “Mando, I ca—”

“Hit the target and I’ll marry you,” he says quietly, and you freeze just before impact.

… What? N… No…

Miraculously, you somehow manage to calmly switch the safety on and set the blaster down before turning back to see the helmet staring at you, unmoving.

You… you know it must just be a joke, right? Just a stupid extension to the one he made earlier, it must be. You blink dumbly at him and flick your gaze between the visor and two large black eyes staring at you from the crib, wondering if you glitched or if you’re just hallucinating.

“Uh…” you hear yourself say, even though you’ve got absolutely nothing, but Din doesn’t offer anything else to fill in the gaps of your startled misunderstanding. If you didn’t have such a wild fucking reaction to the words, you'd probably wonder if he actually said them or not—that’s how much he gives away. Silent, so unbelievably silent when you’re begging him to give you at least something. Is he messing with you again? Is he just that confident that you’re going to fail?

It takes forever for you to turn back around and face the target, but you eventually do when he refuses to elaborate. Your heart slams in your chest and you wonder what you’re doing even attempting this.

The moment you lift your trembling arms is the moment you know your heart is pounding too fast—your finger twitches with the wild rush of blood flow and you end up pulling the trigger way before you’re ready. You fire before you’ve checked your sights, you fire before you’ve taken any sort of aim whatsoever, you fire spontaneously enough to surprise even yourself and it—

—it hits dead center.

Your stomach drops and a jolt of some rabid feeling punches through you, you have no idea what it is. You whip around so fast that you get dizzy, seeing him standing there, completely still.

“That was just beginner’s luck,” you quickly reassure him, suddenly feeling faint. Holy shit, holy shit, what the fuck just happened? “Listen—hey, no, listen, I can’t get it again,” you explain shrilly to the utterly dead silence from him. “Look, watch this, double or nothing.”

You spin back around, well aware that absolutely nothing about what you just said or what just happened made any fucking sense at all. Beginner’s luck when you’ve been consistently awful at this, telling him repeatedly to listen when you’re very, very fucking aware he hasn’t said anything, double or nothing on a literal proposal as if double marriage is something that actually exists?

No. Shut up. Don’t even think that word, don’t think about fucking anything. Fire, fire without thinking, just lift the gun and pull the trigger—

You do, and oh. Oh, no.

“Uh?!” Your voice comes out on a squeak, now in a complete fucking panic. What the fuck? No fucking way. Perfect, perfect, the odds are fucking astronomical—another deadly accurate shot. “Ah, um, okay, scratch everything I said—th-third time’s a charm?”

Wide-eyed and having absolutely no clue what you’re doing at this point, you fail to see Din slowly turn his helmet down and to the right as he stands behind you. You go to lift your arms and pull the trigger, but then he suddenly reaches out lightning-quick and bumps your elbow upwards at the very last second.

The abrupt push causes your shot to be angled off course spectacularly and you can’t do anything but look up and gasp in horror, worried it’s going to ricochet off the ceiling and land somewhere this building isn’t architecturally designed to absorb. There’s just enough time to wildly wonder why the fuck he did that—

—but then, like pure magic before your eyes… the beam of plasma adjusts itself in midair.

It fucking bends. Across the length of your entire firing lane, it curves in a downward trajectory and hits the target with absolutely impossible physics.

Your jaw fucking drops and you whip your body around in dumb shock to see Din staring hard at the closed shield next to him.

… that’s not closed.

The baby tilts his head at you and coos happily, one ear tipping up while the other tips down, and you’re completely blown away. Not only at the entirely unexpected demon-power display, but what specifically he was hoping to get out of it. You’re still stuck, blinking down at the adorable little goof with abilities you’ll never understand.

Only, a hand suddenly grabs yours and drags you back to yourself.

“We need to leave,” Din says quietly, switching the lid shut on the hovering crib and pushing it towards the booth’s exit while tugging you along behind him. “I don’t know how many people saw that, we need to leave.”

Sure enough, voices in the next partition over start picking up, likely the only ones in here who had a good enough angle to watch the physically unthinkable shot somehow meet its target, and your adrenaline quickly begins pumping while you keep your head down and power-walk your ass to the door. You don’t know the kind of consequences that could potentially arise from others witnessing the kid’s literal sorcery, but you know you’d rather not take the chance. The voices start growing louder as you three make your quick escape, beginning to ask others around them if they just saw that, but you’re already out of the rectangular adobe structure and long gone by the time anybody steps out of their panels to hear the uproarious accusations of cheating beginning to fly.

***

Stay tuned for the next part!

#the mandalorian #the mandalorian x you #the mandalorian x reader #din djarin x reader #din djarin #din djarin x you #star wars #fanfic #reader insert #no-droids

5K notes · View notes

donutloverxo · 3 years

Text

Good little girl

*gif is not mine*

Note - Requested by @holacia2 and a part two to good little wife. And special thanks to @gotnofucks for all her help! I'm so overwhelmed with all the love that fic got I hope y'all like this little follow up as well❤❤

Dividers by @firefly-graphics.

Summary - Married life isn't always easy. Will you be able to solve your problems?

Warnings - 18+ only explicit sexual content, younger woman/older man, daddy kink, soft dark!Andy, SO MUCH MISOGYNY, housewife kink, innocence kink, (accusations of) cheating, arranged/forced marriage, spanking, possessive Andy.

Pairing - Mob!Andy Barber x reader

Word count - 4.9k

Masterlist is linked in the bio and the pinned post!

You handed your mother the brownies you had baked, she thanked you, telling you how it was so unnecessary, before Andy placed the wine you had gotten on the way over on the kitchen counter.

“Why don’t you go keep your father in law company, Andrew?” your mom told him. He only nodded before making way to his boss.

“So? How are things going with him?” she asked. “You are positively glowing honey! Do you have any good news yet?”

“Mom!” you gasped.

Over the past seven months you had only seen your mother a handful of times. You were still a bit upset with her for marrying you off to an older man you barely knew, a man who you thought despised you so much he refused to even touch you.

You knew she didn’t really have a say in it. Your father never really valued her opinion, there was no way she would’ve been able to stop it but she hadn’t even so much as tried.

“No, I don’t. And I won’t any time soon,” you huffed.

While being a mother was something you’d like to experience someday, you didn’t know if you were quite ready for it yet. Which was good because Andy didn’t want kids for the next few years either, he had taken you to a doctor to get you on birth control as soon as the holidays were over.

He stated that he wasn’t ready to share you just yet. That he wasn’t sure he wants his kids to be a part of the mob, which you didn’t want either.

“Oh, but you have to, cookie. I need a distraction. Being a mom is all I’ve ever known and ever since you left the house has been so empty.”

“Well, what about daddy?” you frowned. He had never really liked spending time with your siblings or your mother, but to leave her be on her own like that.

“He’s always with Charlotte,” she rolled her eyes. “I would’ve been fine with it, he’s always been like that, can’t expect him to change now, but he brought her here, now, to a family dinner.” She sighed in resignation.

You had heard a familiar high pitched annoying laugh upon coming home, but you thought that to be one of your brothers floozies.

Charlotte, or Cherry, used to be a good friend of yours in college. Before you brought her home for the holidays of your freshman year and she decided to shack up with your married father, who was almost thrice her age. You lost touch with her after that.

“I’m telling you, honey, a kid is a good way of securing your marriage and starting a family. You are young now... but you will grow old someday. Andrew’s a good man... but he is still a man at the end of the day.”

You scoffed at that, “I won’t have you talking that way about my husband! We are already a family, we’re in love each other and he’s nothing like dad.”

She gave you a teary smile, “Young love--is just so innocent and beautiful. You always see the best in people, cookie. I hope I’m wrong about this. Any man would be an idiot to not appreciate you.”

“Andy does appreciate me. And take good care of me, ma...” you trailed off.

He did take good care of you. After the night you consummated your marriage he brought you breakfast in bed. He hadn’t kept his hands off of you for the past few weeks, doting on you any chance he could get, telling you he loved you every chance he got.

But you wondered... did he love you?

The kind of love you’d only ever read about in classical novels. The kind of love you’d dreamt of having ever since you could remember, the kind you thought you once had with someone, but didn’t. You didn’t love Alex the way you love Andy. You were in love with the idea of Alex. You knew Andy now. You knew how kind, passionate and fierce he was, your love for him consumed every single part of you. Where you would literally die for him.

But did he love you for you. Or was he just lonely because it was Christmas. You had avoided taking the tree and the decorations down, begging him, even dropping to your knees and making love to him with your mouth, you didn’t know much but Cherry had taught you that you could get men to do anything for you just by kneeling before them.

While he was very obviously pleased with your passion, returning the favor tenfold, till your thighs burned from his bread and you were shouting for him to stop, he still took the decorations down. He said he wanted to start anew this year. He made a resolution to be the best husband he could.

But you were going to protect your heart this time, hope for the best but still prepare for the worst.

Unfortunately, you had been seated next to Cherry. You found out that your father was living with her now and that while she had hoped he’d leave his wife for her there, but apparently there was no such luck.

“They never leave their wives do they,” she shook her head. “Oh I’m sorry! I shouldn’t be saying these things to you...”

“Its alright,” you shrugged. It would be hard to see your mother be unhappy but there was never any love between your parents. Your mother had learned to live without him and find happiness in other things, and other people, she was just a bit more sneaky about it.

“Well...” you hesitated “how do you keep a man?”

“What kind of question is that?” she giggled. “There are many ways to keep a man but you’ll have to be a bit more specific...”

You ended up changing the subject. The kind of questions you wanted to ask were not suitable for the dinner table, and you didn’t like the way Andy was staring daggers at the pair of you, almost displeased with the two of you chatting.

***

You smiled at him from the passenger seat when he put his hand on your knee, giving it a light squeeze. He had been quite the whole ride home so you decided to speak first.

“Can’t believe Cherry’s like my... step mom.” You laughed out loud at such a ridiculous notion.

“Step mom?” he furrowed his brows, turning his head to look at you.

“Oh I’m just joking,” you waved him off. “Dad would never leave my ma. He’ll move on to another one soon enough.”

He hummed, nodding, “Alright. I was just worried she was troubling you at dinner.”

“What would you have done if she was? Would you swop in like a knight in shining armor and save me from the big meanie?”

“You know I would,” he smiled.

You had asked for a piggy back ride from Andy from the garage to your home, he rolled his eyes and tried to say no but then gave in when you used your princess eyes on him.

He placed you on top of your bed, kissing the tip of your nose, he started unbuttoning his shirt to get ready for bed.

“Andy... um... Daddy?” you corrected yourself instantly.

He liked you addressing him as that whenever you both were alone, he had warned you that you would receive a punishment if you ever failed to comply.

You didn’t know what his punishment would be and you didn’t plan on finding out anytime soon. You’d withhold all affection from him if he ever dared take away the platinum card from you, or lower your allowance as your father had told him to at the dinner, ‘to tame you' supposedly.

But that wasn’t a very good plan... what if he just looked for love elsewhere.

“What is it, honey?” he asked.

“Um... do you think... you would ever take a mistress?” you gulped and prepared yourself for his answer.

“I wouldn’t...” you sighed in relief, “one woman is enough trouble.” he said flatly.

“Daddy!!” you whined, stomping your foot on the floor and folding your hands over your chest.

And he had the audacity to laugh. His laughter at your expense only fuelled your anger. “Do you want to sleep on the couch tonight?”

He finally stopped laughing, “Look at you being a big girl,” he tried to pinch your cheek but you swatted his hand away. “You don’t wanna be daddy’s little girl anymore?” he pouted.

“No... no I do!” you answered all too eager. “I’m sorry...”

“I’m sorry too, honey. I shouldn’t be making fun of you.”

“No, you shouldn’t,” you hugged his hard stomach, rubbing your cheek against his undershirt. “It’s mean, and you promised not to be mean to me.”

“I was just teasing,” he cooed, stroking your hair. And while you knew that and secretly enjoyed it even, you still wanted a serious answer out of him.

“I intend to keep my vows forever. There is just no way I could ever want anyone who’s not you.”

“Really?” you propped your chin on his abdomen, looking up at him through your lashes.

“Promise.”

***

“Um... I’m here to see Andy,” you told the lady sitting outside of, what you had been told was Andy’s office, you assumed her to be his secretary Erica.

You always packed a lunchbox for Andy, always remembering to leave a sweet note for him and he would always call you to thank you for it. You also made sure to have dinner ready before he got home on the nights he wasn’t taking you out on the town. It was just your duty as a good wife.

But Andy had been working way too much the past couple of weeks. Where he would be gone before you wake up and be back when you were already in bed. You knew his job was demanding, working for your father and being a partner in a law firm, the job was like a mistress, stealing your man away...

So you simply decided to make his favorite, food pack it up and come to him to eat it together.

“Mrs Barber! It’s so nice to meet you. I’ve heard so much about you,” she gave you a toothy smile, shaking your hand.

You would��ve been happy, elated that Andy talks so much about you at work. If you hadn’t smelled her perfume. So familiar... you couldn’t quite place it at first but then you remembered.

The night you had slaved away, hoping to profess your love to your husband, when he had rejected you and smelled of chanel.

“That’s a nice scent...” you wondered out loud.

“Oh thank you! I love it as well,” she said, taking in a whiff of the inside of her wrist. “It’s the new chanel one!”

“Hmm....”

You almost didn’t hear Andy calling for you. “What a nice surprise.” He kissed your cheek.

You set the food before him, thinking of telling him what was on your mind.

Was he really so cliché to have an affair with his secretary?

Could you really blame him though? Although you had been married for almost seven months, you were strangers living under the same roof for the majority of them. He wasn’t really cheating... but what if he was still doing it?

“Honey,” he shook you to get your attention. “What’s up with you today? I have a meeting in a few minutes.”

“You’re always working.” You complained.

“Well...” he grinned, grabbing at your thighs and pulling you on his lap, “I have to. If I had the choice I would never come into work, I would stay home forever, between your legs, right... here,” he snaked a hand up your leg and stroked the inside of your thigh. “You would like that wouldn’t you?”

You nodded, “I’ve been so lonely without you.”

He hummed, biting the shell of your ear before speaking into it, “I know, honey. I miss you too. But you do still remember the number one rule right?”

“Yes, daddy. Never touch myself without your permission.”

“And why is that?”

You whined, to embarrassed to say the words, “Because... it’s your... pussy.” You replied in a small shy voice.

“That’s right, sweetheart. It’s mine to do whatever I want with,” he cupped your mould, just to demonstrate what he meant but then frowned when he felt your soft curls and wet slick against his palm.

“You’re not wearing any panties, sweetheart.” He noted, surprised to your boldness.

“Um... I must’ve forgot.”

So maybe you had ulterior motives behind coming here. Your body was used to be doted on everyday now, and to not have his touch for so long was agonising. You had hoped to maybe bend down to pick up a napkin that fell ever so conveniently and flash him, it would work, he would be driven mad.

“Forgot huh?” You nodded in reply as he gathered your slick in his fingers, tracing your labia with them. “That’s too bad, If you had left them on purpose I would’ve cancelled my meeting and fucked you right here. But since it was just an innocent mistake I wouldn’t do that,” he retreated his hand, placing a soft kiss on your hair. “Thanks for lunch.”

***

You were determined to prove your worth to Andy. If he did have a mistress, whether it be his secretary or any other woman, he would forget all about her when he saw how you could do everything for him.

You had went all out today, baking a pie and a four course meal from scratch, lighting up candles, the pink babydoll that Andy had gifted you was under your dress.

He was as always exhausted when he got home, his face visibly lighting up upon seeing you, you took his hand in yours taking him to the couch and making him a glass of whiskey, you handed it to him before kneeling on the soft rug.

“You work so hard, daddy,” you murmured as your fingers worked on unzipping his pants.

He looked at you in confusion, shaking his head, “You don’t have to do that, honey,” cupping your cheek in his plan, stroking your cheekbone with his thumb.

“But I want to make you feel good,” you blinked at him.

He groaned, unable to say no when you looked so willing to please him, but at the same time he wanted to do more with you. To cuddle and watch a movie and talk, it felt as if he hadn’t in ages.

“Very well,” he nodded.

With the green signal from him, you licked your lips, tasting some of your minty gloss, taking his length out of the confines of his underwear, you took a minute to simply marvel at the sheer size and beauty of it.

You licked a stripe up the underside of it, suckling at the crown, you remembered that he liked that the best, at least from the way he twisted his hand in your hair, pulling at it till it caused a slight burn to your scalp.

You slurped his precum up before he pushed his hips up till his tip hit the back of your throat, causing you to gag around him, didn’t take him long to come down your throat.

His neck and cheek covered in a crimson blush, his chest heaving as he threw his head back against the couch.

“You did good, honey...” he rasped. “I don’t know what I would do without you.”

He absolutely loved the dinner you had made for him. But when you subtly, because you were raised to be a good lady and wife, tried to coax him to make love to you before bed, he.... rejected you.

Sure, he was kind about it. He told you he was simply tired and would make it up to you. But it was still shocking how a man as insatiable as him would ever say no. You truly didn’t know what to make of it.

***

“Oh... I don’t know about this... it’s a bit too bold for me,” you bit your lip.

“Just try it on! You might end up liking it!” Cherry urged you, putting the bright red lipstick on you without waiting for an answer, “There is nothing more classic than a red lip. Or a red anything. Men go crazy for it.” She told you.

You simply hummed through closed lips as she put some finishing touches on it. “Doesn’t that look nice?” she asked, holding up a mirror before you.

You smiled, it did look different. Maybe different was what you needed. “It’s very pretty. It makes me feel... confident?” Which was strange. Because how could a simple lipstick make you feel confident?

“See! I told you. Confidence is the key to sexiness. Now, let’s talk lingerie.”

***

“Honey, I’ve been waiting for over fifteen minutes,” you heard Andy call out to you from the bedroom.

“Just a minute,” you said, perfecting your edges with a lip brush.

This was something you had never done before. You wore a lot of lingerie for Andy, but most of them were cute pastels or white nighties or babydolls. Nothing like what you were wearing right now...

A sheer black lacy body suit that clung to your body, leaving literally nothing to the imagination.

Top that off with your red lip... you looked like some kind of dominatrix. Cherry told you that most men secretly wish to be dominated. Although you highly doubted your daddy would want anything like that. Or would he?

“Alright, I’m coming out,” you announced, before shyly stepping out, your eyes trained on the floor as you twiddled with your fingers to maybe distract you from your nerves. “What do you think?”

He was speechless. His jaw almost dropping on the floor when he saw you like that. So far from his sweet girl. You were just as much beautiful and sexy, and while it wasn’t something he was used or prefer to he would welcome it if it was what you wanted.

He extended an arm to you, ready to tell you that you were sexy, that he wanted to spend hours worshipping every inch of your body, that he wanted his cock stained the shade of red you wore on your lips, that he was ready to make up for being away for weeks.

Until he saw... that.

He lowly growled your name, making your head snap up to look at him, “What did you do to your pussy?” Because from what he could see, through the sheer material, there was nothing where your pubic hair used to be.

“Uh... I uh... waxed it...” From the tone of his voice you could tell that he wasn’t too happy about it. “Do you not like it?”

“Like?” he scoffed, shaking his head. Taking a seat on the bedding, “C'mere, let me take a closer look.”

Hesitantly, you walked the few strides it took till you were standing before him.

He studied your mould, trying to take the fabric off so he could see it more properly and then tutting when he couldn’t even open the stupid thing.

“Wait, it um... opens here I think,” you interrupted his scrutiny, undoing the zipper that was on your side and taking the suit off of you.

He sighed in resignation when he saw what you had done, making you regret your ever spending so much money and going through all that pain.

He parted your lips apart, running his fingers along your vulva, acquainting himself with this new strange feel of you, “When did do this?” his blue eyes looked up at you.

“Just a couple of days ago. It’s just hair... it’ll grow back in like three weeks.”

“Three weeks?” he scoffed.

You could feel your eyes getting misty. You tried to go all out for him, to please him, be completely naked and vulnerable before him, only to have him get angry at you.

“You don’t like it,” you sniffled.

His furrowed brow softened when he saw you crying, pulling you down till you were straddling his lap, “The question isn’t whether I like it or not,” he explained, his thumb wiping your wet cheeks, “I could... maybe live with it. But I wouldn’t prefer it.”

“Okay,” you nodded.

“But for you to have done this,” he touched your newly waxed skin and almost winced at the smoothness, “You must’ve let someone else see you naked. See what belongs to me.”

“Bu - but they were all women...” you stammered, squirming in his lap as his fingers toyed with your clit.

“It doesn’t matter,” he tutted, pushing two fingers inside you, “Only I get to see you. This is MY pussy. Only I get to decide what to do with it. Do you understand?”

You nodded, holding onto his tshirt as he twisted his fingers inside you. “So-sorry, daddy.”

“No, honey, since you were bad you don’t get to call me daddy. For tonight you will address me as sir. And of course you’ll have to be punished.”

“Punished?” you pouted. “Can’t you just let me go since it was my first strike? I’ll be good from now on I promise!”

“No, you have to learn your lesson. Come on,” you yelped as he manhandled you so you were face down across his lap, “What is your safe word?”

“Unicorns” you giggled. You thought you were so witty for coming up with it. Since he for some reason was jealous of your unicorn stuffie.

He hummed, stroking the soft skin of your butt, “How does twenty sound?”

Your eyes went wide as you gasped, looking at him over your shoulder, “No!” you said.

He didn’t really plan on spanking you... did he? He liked swatting your ass here and there, and truth be told you liked it too. But you had never been spanked or even hit as a punishment.

“Well, if not this then maybe we can make you go a week without cumming.”

Your gasp was louder and even more incredulous this time. You could most definitely take twenty swats, but just the thought of not being able to finish, after knowing what an orgasm with Andy feels like, made you shiver.

“You will count each one, and then thank me for it. You are grateful I’m teaching you, aren’t you?”

“Yes, sir,” you nodded.

“Do you know how to count to twenty? Or would I have to teach you that too?” he asked ever so condescendingly as you huffed.

“Of course I do! I was just two semesters away from graduating college!” Never mind that you learned that in kindergarten.

“That’s good. Are you ready?” he asked, cracking his knuckles as he got in position.

With a nod from you he delivered the first slap to your right buttcheek, the sound of it reverberating in the room, his palm stinging slightly as he stroked the skin he had just punished, it was already warmer.

“One, sir. Thank you, sir,” you held onto a moan, it wasn’t half as bad as you thought it would be...

You jerked forward as he unceremoniously hit your other cheek, since you were unprepared for it, and he was much more brutal.

“Tw-two, sir,” you sniffled.

You considered throwing in the towel and saying your safe word by the time fifteen rolled around. Your behind was on fire, while you couldn’t see it, you just knew it was bruised. But you wanted to be good for Andy and it was wrong of you to do something that drastic without his permission.

“Sixteen...” you hiccupped. You could feel your slick running down your thighs but at this point... you just couldn’t bring yourself to care.

“Do you want a break?” he asked, taking pity on you.

You nodded frantically, “Yes please! Can you... can you touch me? Down there?” Since the pain in your throbbing pussy was unbearable. If you didn’t receive any attention, you might actually burst.

“Down where? Here?” He had the audacity to play down, while you were suffering, and touch the back of your knee to patronise you.

“No!” you whined.

“Well then you’ll have to be a bit more specific, princess.”

“In my... between my legs... my pussy...”

“Are you sure you deserve it though?” he asked.

You thought about it for a moment, before coming to the conclusion that, “No I don’t. Not until I finish my punishment.”

“That’s a good girl,” he praised, his hand massaging your raw ass as your heart swelled in pride.

“Nineteen, sir,” your mind was hazy. It didn’t even feel as if you were in your reality anymore... it was as if you were floating, while you could still hear and feel him spanking you, for some reason it wasn’t as painful anymore.

“The last one, doll, hang in there,” he said before delivering the last swat.

You whimpered, “Twenty, thank you, sir,” willing your nose with the back of your hand.

Andy collected your weak form in his big string arms, rocking you back and forth in his lap as he kept whispering soft praises in your hair, “My sweet beautiful doll,” he pecked you on your lips.

“Sorry about your pants, daddy...” you said when you realised what a wet mess you had made on him.

He shushed you, “Don’t you worry about that right now. Do you want to take a bath?”

You pouted, your red lip jutting out, “No.”

He chuckled, kissing your forehead, “Do you want daddy to fuck you?”

“Yes,” you nodded.

“We have to be careful about your butt, baby,” he said as he gently placed you on the mattress.

Your head on your pillow, besides your two most trusted stuffies--your unicorn and teddy. Andy only allowed you two in the bed after complaining they made it hard for him to cuddle you. You demanded he buy you a shelf to display them or you would go back to your old room. Which of course made him comply instantly.

You made grabby hands at him, impatient to have him closer to you, but then were glad he took the time to take off his tshirt so you could ogle the wide expanse of his chest, the light scattering of fuzzy hair over it, his numerous tattoos along with one of your name, which marked him as yours forever.

He took a hardened nipple in his mouth while his hand tweaked the other, nudging your legs apart to make room for him, he placed his length at your entrance.

Slowly pushing into you, letting you get accustomed to the size of him. Although your pussy was always so welcoming to him, he knew you often struggled to take him.

You whimpered at him, tears rolling off of your face. “What’s wrong, honey? Does it hurt?”

“No... it’s just so good,” you sniffled.

“Okay, just hold on,” you held onto his shoulders as he slowly fucked in to you.

Your pussy clamping around his length, the soles of your feet digging into his ass, “Can I come, daddy?”

“Of course, baby. You earned it.” He groaned, his hips hammering against yours as you bit his neck, letting out a muffled scream.

You hummed against his neck when you felt his warm release fill you up, he pulled out of you, frowning when he looked at your naked and hairless pussy, dripping with his cum.

“From now on I’ll be picking out your clothes,” he stated, rolling off of you and pulling you into his arms.

“Okay, daddy,” you hummed.

“And no more surprise bikini waxes.”

“Mmm...” If that’s what you had to do to get in trouble and be punished, then so be it. “We’ll see.”

***

Three days later

“Lotion time, doll,” Andy said, pausing the movie you were both watching to go get said lotion.

He had rubbed your lotion on your backside when he spanked you and decided that he wanted to be the one putting your body lotion on you from now on since he had too much fun doing it. He insisted on doing it twice everyday since it was still very cold.

You followed him to the bedroom, lying face down on the bed a he squeezed some on his palms, rubbing them together to warm them up.

You winced just a little, your skin still a bit sensitive, you even had to sit on a pillow the time.

“Will you be going back to work tomorrow?” you wanted to know.

He didn’t like the sadness in your voice, “Yes,” he sighed. He hated leaving you all by yourself.

“I’ll be all alone then.”

“Didn’t you want to go back to college?” He remembered you telling him that your parents forced you to drop out so that you would marry him.

“I do actually. Hate leaving things incomplete... maybe I can even go to a law school and become a lawyer like you!” you perked up.

“You’re not working for your father though, you’re too good for that world.”

“You’re too good for him too.” You said. “Maybe I can work with you.” And you and him could be like a power couple. It would be so exciting.

Tags will be in the reblog! Click the link in the bio to be join the taglist or shoot me an ask/dm. Comments and reblogs are really appreciated! ❤❤

Please note that my work is not to be reposted or published anywhere other than my Tumblr or AO3 account without my permission. Reblogs are most welcome though!

#andy barber x reader #good little wife #steve rogers x reader #andy x reader #andy barber x oc #andy barber x you #chris evans x reader #steve x reader #defending jacob fic #andy barber fic

2K notes · View notes

lepusrufus · 3 years

Text

To bargain for immortality pt.1

It's here fellas, the mutation sequel that I've mercilessly teased you with!

Content warnings: gore, torture, blood (like... lots), just a bunch of puking up blood, Miranda being her usual mad scientist self, torture in the name of science, Nicole be sick af (both literally and of crow mommy's bullshit), a little bit of blood drinking as a treat, medical procedures.

////

Tic toc tic toc

God that clock is so annoying.

Nicole wasn’t nervous. No. She chose this, at least for the most part. She had a long conversation with all her family, Alcina and Esteria both assuring her that it would work. It’s been years since the beginning of the experiments and by this point the process was almost perfected.

Miranda knew what she was doing.

That mattered little to her nerves though.

She instinctively pushed herself further into Cassandra’s side, who’s grip around her waist tightened ever so slightly.

The waiting was downright tortuous.

She, along with Cassandra and her two sisters were in her infirmary. The room mixed the ancient decor of the castle with modern medical equipment in a beautiful way. Not that anything less would be acceptable. Not that the familiarity of her workspace brought her any comfort either.

All their eyes snapped in the direction of the door when a heavy set of footsteps, with two lighter ones, were heard down the hallway outside. Soon the door opened with a barely audible creak and the two matriarchs entered, followed suit by Mother Miranda. Her presence alone was enough to make Nicole’s breath get lost somewhere in her throat, on its way to an exhale. The black wings, even partially folded as they were, did their job of making her look so much more intimidating than she was. Not that she needed them to begin with, a look from those icy gray eyes more than enough to send anyone to their knees.

Mother Miranda was, in all ways that mattered, a goddess.

A goddess that was about to infect her with the same thing that failed countless times in the past. The same thing that made the crawling mindless beasts used as guard dogs in the undergrounds. Or that made all the lycans.

Nicole gulped, a gesture gone thankfully unnoticed to anyone other than her painfully dry mouth.

But Miranda didn’t spare her a glance. She simply busied herself with some tools she had brought on one of the metal tables. With each clink the room seemed to close in on her slightly more, until Nicole felt as if she somehow ended up in one of Heisenberg's death traps. Spikes moving closer and closer until they would pierce her body and leave her in a messy pool of blood and entrails.

She shook her head and took a long inhale. No. This was going to work. She was not about to lose her family over a pesky thing such as mortality. She was not about to lose Cassandra. If getting infected by the Cadou was what it took to spend eternity with her lover then so be it. Possible side effects be damned.

Mother Miranda finally seemed to have finished, a now empty flask labeled Cadou sitting on the desk behind her while the parasite was writhing in her hand, thin whip-like tentacles extending frantically around itself. She called her over with a nod, and with a deep breath and a parting hand squeeze from Cassandra, Nicole forced her legs to take her across the room. Her steps didn't waver, she'd be damned if she'd show any hesitancy in front of this.

"Shall we begin."

It wasn't a question really, merely veiled impatience. Miranda did not like her, plain and simple. The fact that she was there to begin with was already a miracle. Miracle that wouldn't have happened were it not for the Ladies themselves asking for it.

"Yes of c-"

Before her words even had time to completely slip out of her mouth, golden talons plunged into the base of her sternum.

"Hopefully this can teach you that I don't like people going behind my back."

Nicole let out a choked gasp, hands instinctively wrapping around Miranda's arm, weakly grabbing at black robes. Ironically enough, those very talons were keeping her upright and, when they were removed from her flesh with a disgusting squelch of blood, Nicole curled in on herself, falling to her knees.

"Wha-... cking ki-... -er!"

Cassandra's voice reached her ears broken up, barely passing through the deafening ringing. Miranda also gave a reply and then seemed to address someone else but her much calmer tone meant that it only sounded like a vague mumble.

Not that Nicole particularly cared at the moment.

She curled into a ball, her hands almost clawing at her chest trying to find some sort of relief. It seemed as if vicious tendrils were making their way into every vein and muscle, tearing their way through any tissue they found. Her chest felt as if it had a hot iron pressed directly onto the skin, searing pain radiating in a cruel pulse matching her frantic heartbeat. By that point she was either sobbing or heaving, something that involved shallow breaths for sure. Her lungs were protesting fiercely, emptying of oxygen and then refusing to refill if not with great strain.

To make everything worse, the pain seemed to shift, now engulfing her spine and sending jolts that made her head spin and want to throw up despite her jaws being clenched shut so tightly that she was sure she'd start to taste copper soon.

She was only vaguely aware of hands shifting her body and soothing words that fell on deaf ears. She was now on a softer surface, but that did nothing to alleviate the assault on each of her senses. Probably she had thrown up at a certain point as her sinuses felt like being scraped by sandpaper with each shuddering breath. Her mouth too had a lingering taste of both bile and blood that made her stomach turn all over again. She would give anything for her body to finally shut down.

Why was she still awake and conscious god damn it. There was only so much her body was supposed to take before the brain shut down and she was reaching her limit of how much agony she could endure at a moment.

Please please please just pass out please.

She didn't though. Her body seemingly deciding to feel every single bit of the infection process, complete with the unending waves of pain and nausea that hit her more than she wanted to count. Any bit of sanity left in her would've probably disappeared had she tried.

---

It took two days for the agonizing pain to subside. Another two for Nicole to be able to form any kind of coherent sentence. Cassandra's soothing voice was of immense comfort, always there to tell her how well she was doing and how it would all be better soon.

God she hoped.

On the fifth day, her stomach still lurched at any movement too sudden. Her lungs seemed to fill with blood, courtesy of the still gaping wound at the bottom of her sternum, with any inhale too deep. The fact that she got used to the coppery taste rising up in her throat was disgusting in and of itself. At least there weren't jolts of pain shooting through every nerve and muscle in waves anymore though. That was something.

The fog in her brain was still clearing. It was hard to focus on anything, and each time Cassandra, or anyone else, asked her a question they would have to repeat it at least three times. It was beyond frustrating, the mind that got her through med school drunk half the time was failing the insurmountable task of saying whether or not she'd like some water. Glorious.

A faint knock on the door reached her ears. A redundant gesture really, as she didn't exactly have the clarity of mind to answer. Besides it was hard to catch her in a more compromising state than curled up in the fetal position, covered in sweat and most likely blood clots stuck to her lips.

Esteria came in, her one blue eye that wasn't covered looking at her with all the gentleness neither of her parents had ever offered her. Or it was just the cruel trick of a delirious brain. Either way, light barefoot steps took the Mistress to her bed. She sat in the chair adjacent to it and, with taloned fingers brushing strands of auburn hair out of Nicole's face, she spoke softly.

"How are you feeling today?"

Her voice was just as melodious as ever. It was the voice one imagines they would hear from an ancient being found deep in the forest. It made Nicole just a tad guilty when the only answer she could give was a pathetic whine.

Esteria simply hummed, talons running through the long messy locks of hair sprawled on the sheets.

"Would you like me to braid this for you dear?"

Nicole frowned. The Mistress was an expert at braiding, quick fingers able to make beautiful designs, both simple and complex. Comes with having floor length hair, her hazy mind guessed. On any normal day, Nicole would've accepted without a second thought. But now? Now she was painfully aware of the state she was currently in.

"It's filthy," she croaked, her voice raw and like stones in her mouth.

And it was. Her hair was waist length and right now it was slowly becoming a curse. It was greasy and sweaty thanks to barely being able to move a limb for nearly a week, which meant no showers. Not to mention how she lost count of the times she bent down to empty the contents of her stomach into a bucket, only to have some rebel locks fall in her face and get subsequently dirty. God she felt awful.

Esteria didn't seem to care too much though, as she simply helped Nicole shift slightly and talons started to work at some pesky mats. In no time, her hair was in a comfortable braid that started relatively high, keeping the locks away from her nape which meant just a tad less overheating. Not to mention it kept it in place and away from her mouth that she didn't trust in the slightest right now.

"Thanks," she actually managed to not let her voice crack this time.

"Oh it's no problem. Also," there seemed to be an odd strain in her voice, "Mother Miranda is coming this evening. She said something about an examination."

Nicole couldn't help but openly wince and curl in on herself a little more at the mere mention of the woman. Her chest seemed to pulsate painfully at the memory of the golden talons embedded deep in her flesh. Right now she wanted those hands anywhere away from her.

"What time is it?"

Esteria looked at the clock placed somewhere on the wall behind them. "About twelve. Still got time."

How hard would it be to drag herself to the adjacent bathroom for a quick shower? The only way her situation could get worse was if none other than Mother Miranda came in to see her in that state. She took a deep breath that her lungs protested against and pushed herself onto her elbows. At Esteria's skeptical expression she tried to sound less horrible than she felt.

"I need a shower."

Esteria pursed her lips. "Sorry dear but I don't believe for one second that you can stand for more than a minute. I'll ask a maid to draw you a bath."

Nicole only nodded weakly and let herself fall back into the cushion.

---

It took far longer than Nicole would ever admit to get herself fully clean. Her muscles were sore and protesting at every pass of the soapy sponge. Her hair was a whole other battle and she had to bite down on her pride and ask the maid positioned outside her door for help. It was a tortuous fifteen minutes until the poor girl managed to detangle the long locks enough to be shampooed and washed.

After she was content with the level of cleanliness of her body and the maid was dismissed, she stood there preparing herself to get out of the basin. In the meantime she looked down at the wound at the bottom of her sternum. Maybe wound wasn't the right word. It looked more like a gray and black scar with vein-like tendrils spreading across pale skin. It looked downright gruesome. Miranda really did not try to do a clean job in the slightest. Didn't even think to use anesthesia, like she had with most other experiments, according to Alcina.

She sighed and finally pushed herself out of the water with shaky arms.

By the time Mother Miranda arrived she was feeling slightly better. Why she came personally was still a mystery to Nicole. Maybe some sick sense of satisfaction in seeing her in pain.

Either way, by the time their so-called goddess came into the infirmary and told Nicole to lay down on one of the tables, she managed to shuffle her way over without her body protesting too much. Cassandra also quietly made her way on the opposite side of Miranda, gaining herself a glare.

"Must you hover over her like that?" Miranda's tone was as even as ever, but her eyes betrayed annoyance.

"Does it hinder you?"

Cassandra was not an idiot, the growl she wanted to add into her question was instead replaced by a tone not too dissimilar to Miranda's own, who simply tugged her lips into a grimace.

"Very well."

At first they went through a normal examination. Pupil dilation, reflexes, all things a normal doctor would do. Then Miranda told her to unbutton her blouse so she could take a look at the infection scar.

Nicole couldn't help flinching when thankfully gloved fingers would poke and prod at the sensitive flesh there. Her cold digits felt like hot coals were spread on her chest and nails dragged uselessly on the metal underneath her body for some sort of distraction.

Mother Miranda decided to get a tissue sample and that's when Nicole decided that maybe she would rather spend eternity as a ghost. She squeezed her eyes shut when a scalpel was brought to the overly sensitive skin. It took her back to when she would do autopsies, years ago. Tissue samples were always an integral part of her work. How ironic that she found herself on the other side of things.

It's fine.

She winced when the blade cut into flesh and sent a jolt of pain through her chest. Nicole couldn't help but think of the long days she spent agonizing while her chest felt like it was burning her alive and hoping that it wouldn't repeat. A sigh of pure relief slipped past her lips when whatever fake deity there was besides this woman, listened to her and the sensation died out quickly. She dared to open her eyes, only to see Mother Miranda frowning down at the small vial in hand.

It was quickly given to an assistant and she unceremoniously grabbed Nicole's wrist, dragging the blade across the length of her forearm.

Nicole gasped at the sudden sharp pain, and even Cassandra dropped a few choice words in romanian due to the surprise. No. No no no. What the hell-

Any questions, or less dignified reaction, died in everyone's throats as they watched the skin stitch itself back together. The repairing muscles gave a tingling sensation but soon the only proof that a cut had been there were thin trails of blood.

Mother Miranda chuckled and wrote down something in the notebook she brought with her. "Accelerated healing. That can be of use."

Nicole couldn't help but throw a glance at Alcina, who was sitting in one of the many chairs with Esteria by her side. Her expression was unreadable, a mix of conflicting emotions flashing in her eyes like rapid lightning. She would've tried to decipher their matriarch's probable thoughts were it not for the smell that was starting to assault her senses.

"Ugh what's that…blood… "

Coherent sentences were still not something her brain wanted to do apparently, but judging by how her nose scrunched up in a grimace, Cassandra got the gist of what she meant.

"Um… your arm," she pointed to the still fresh blood slowly dripping from her skin.

Right. Dumbass.

"Or damaged sinuses. Should go away soon," Miranda added from where she was noting something down and giving instructions to her assistant.

Also fair.

She sighed and tried to ignore it. Her sinuses still felt like sandpaper all the way to the back of her throat. Every time she swallowed, it felt like needles scraping the inside of her neck down to her stomach.

Ugh.

Thankfully, Mother Miranda did not linger for much longer. She wrapped up any samples and was out of the room soon after with her assistant in tow. Then, Nicole could finally go back to laying down in bed and feeling miserable.

And miserable she felt. Her body seemed to have decided to rewire itself into its new mutation. It didn't have any effect on her physical appearance, but the insides seemed to want to liquefy only to be mended back together. It was another week of basically living with a bucket in her lap and throwing up blood clots that seemed to invade her lungs and organs. How she didn't straight up asphyxiate was a mystery that she didn't think she wanted solved.

And to top it off, she was starting to think that humidity from some leaky pipe somewhere in the castle was causing a slight mold problem. Almost everywhere she went, there was this faint moldy scent lingering in the air and it was mixing horribly with the coppery feeling inside her still offended throat and sinuses. Nobody seemed bothered by it though, so maybe it was simply a side effect of the infection that was yet to go away. It wasn’t nicknamed the Mold for nothing, after all.

#unhinged maiden™ my beloved #cassandra dimitrescu x maiden #lady dimitrescu #lady dimitrescu x maiden #momma esteria #mother miranda #fanfic #tw: gore #to bargain for immortality #in which nicole gets way too familiar with miranda's petty side

161 notes · View notes

hotdamnhunnam · 3 years

Text

Shades of You

A/N: Here’s the next in this ‘Kutte Too Deep’ series of flashbacks set in the AU of Kutte to Black! These fics can be read as standalone one shots or as part of this ‘KutteVerse’. This one is just a short ficlet of fluffy smut about you being Jax’s muse and the two of you having hot passionate sex outdoors…

Pairing: Jax Teller x F!Reader Warnings: smut, swearing, dirty talk, a fuck in the park (it’s a secluded little spot of greenery – no one else is actually watching but they could be in theory)

Word Count: ~1.2k

“Babe, can you do that again?”

You glance up from the book that you were just about to begin. In these few weeks since you and Jax became a thing, you’ve spent the better part of all day and night fucking, though you pause from time to time to take his Harley for a ride or something. Head off someplace far from all the dusty streets of Charming. Pack a picnic so that you can spend a lazy afternoon feeding each other grapes and talking.

For today’s outing Jax also packed a notebook, as he told you that he’s recently been bursting with a surge of inspiration for the novel he’d spent years struggling to write. Apparently just finding the right muse was all it took. He wants to churn out a whole chapter sitting in this park with you, admiring the sunlit view. Promised he’ll let you read his work after he treats you to another epic fuck later tonight.

Meanwhile you’re reclining on this big plaid picnic blanket with the paperback you’d packed, to catch up on some summer reading. But your badass biker boyfriend seems determined to distract. You’re not sure what he means by what he asked—‘do that again’ when you’re not doing much of anything—you’ve literally just been breathing.

From where he’s sitting on a rock nearby with his manuscript spread across his jean-clad thighs, Jax catches the confusion in your eyes. And so he clarifies. “The way you blinked real quickly twice. It was just really nice. Your lashes looked like butterflies.”

Oh Jesus Christ. He’s so fucking adorable, it’s honestly deplorable. You swoon and giggle, playing into it a little. Batting your lashes theatrically and shooting him a sultry look. Still have no clue, just what he sees in you, and yet somehow his every move makes you believe you’re the loveliest thing in the world. “Now if I didn’t know better, Mr. Teller… I’d think you were sketching me rather than writing a book. Draw me like one of your French girls.”

He laughs sunny and bright, shaking his head at your reference to the tear-jerker the two of you just watched the other night. Never did Jax Teller think he would spend a weekend getting all sappy romantic. Asking his girl if she wanted to cuddle and stay up late watching Titanic.

“Hey, I’d take any excuse to get you naked...” your tall blonde prince charming admits as he sets his notebook aside and strides across the grass to join you on the blanket, “but I promise I’m not a nude lady artist. Just an aspiring writer in love with his muse and everything inspiring about her because she’s the hottest.”

Jax brings his big strong body down to yours and then blesses your lips with a soft kiss to prove that he’s honest. Pulls back to adore you with his gaze of blue. “You’re in everything I do. I see the world in shades of you.”

Fuck—every word that he breathes is a sonnet. This love is a drug, and you’ll live and die riding high on it. “You’re corny as fuck and I love you.”

Grins darkly and grinds the stiff bulge of his cock against your crotch as he knows how badly you want it. “I’m horny as fuck, too.”

“Mmm, what else is new...”

Without words, with the crush of his summer-lush lips against yours, he replies though you already know this is true: Everything is shiny and new when I’m with you.

Every damn time feels like the first. Everything blurs, present and future ever fading into past. The thrust of untold fate—the rushed soul-crushing weight, the fucking curse—compels you both to take each time like it’s the last.

The man in him loves smooth and soft and full of slow sensuous passion. But the beast in him moves rough and hard and fast. The fucking sex god that is Jackson. Barely even needs a second or a fraction, for his huge cock to get rock solid once he is at half-mast.

Moan into his mouth at the feeling of his denim-covered length. Rubbing against the flimsy fabric of your skirt, so hard it hurts. His hand caresses your cheek, giving you the strength, to take this love that makes you weak. Love beyond words. Your tongues were made to tangle up and taste the truth too big to speak.

Sometimes he says it anyway, though you both know he means more than the words could ever say. Says it a thousand times a day.

“Love you so fucking much,” he murmurs and the love tastes so delicious, in the blissful midst of kisses, as you melt beneath his touch.

Jax’s hand wanders from your face down toward your chest, shape of his grip made for your breasts. Beat of your heart rewrites the lines across the palm to which it’s pressed. His other hand is frantically unfastening his fly, then hiking up your skirt with a firm squeeze against the slick flesh of your inner thigh. So pleased yet not surprised to find that you’re already a wet mess. Both know there’s no one else nearby... no witness, other than the sky... but still out here it seems safest, to free his meat and push your panties to the side but otherwise stay dressed.

And so he does and wastes no time driving in deep until his dick hits home inside your soaking hole. So deep it hits your fucking soul. Hits every time and it’s the motherfucking best.

Something so blessed... has to be cursed. You think that way sometimes and it’s the fucking worst. Like fate is twisting you to tempt the pearly gates ahead and this is just a test.

But when his hips are thrusting perfectly in sync with yours... his throbbing cock pounding and plowing through your pussy till it bursts... there’s nothing else on earth that matters—nothing else in all the universe... just ride this crest of pleasure, high together, as you crash the pearly gates until they shatter, and to hell with all the rest.

Sun spreads its golden heat and sheds light through the overhanging tree. So long content to shine upon this rock that orbits in its gravity—yet seething now in envy—so enraged at the eclipse, the air you’re breathing off his lips, the fire in his fingertips, so hot and heavy—heavenly. He is the only sun you’ll ever see.

The sun and shadow all at once. Heaven is here on earth yet someday hell will come claim what it wants. Can’t beat it back. But you don’t have to when he’s buried in your cunt. Beneath the shade of Jax, all else just fades to black.

You see the world in shades of him. Just as he does of you.

You love him, as he loves you, and you’ll make this love until the jealous sun burns out above you... even if it tempts the other stars to take it from you.

***************

Hope you enjoyed this and would love to hear if you did! 🤗❤️

– KutteVerse Masterlist

– Main Masterlist

*************************

Tag List – Join Here!*

*If you’re unable to use that link to join the tag list, just let me know and I’ll manually add you to it!

@itsme-autumn @rebelwrites @happyhunnams @band--psycho @witching-hour @est11 @edonaspanca @ughdontbeboring @neverland14353 @starbooty @coffeequeenxx @innerpaperexpertcloud @i-love-scott-mccall @six-camelot @alexa-rae-dreamz @justme2042 @awesomenatalia @auroraariza @rochyu @coffeebooksandfandom @inlovewithcharliehunnam @turner-cris @thesuicidalflower @chrmdnbeautiful @xladymacbethx @holl2712 @snow-white-74 @moonlight-fern @stitchesbystults @lilacyennefer @magic-room @sunflower12335 @trishmarieofficial @smoochesfroggos @o0idk0o @beth-winchester21 @flaireandsynch @littlebennettwitchsblog @got-to-love-a-badboy @noneofyourbusinessssblog @notquitecannon @wayward-avenging @travistheaussie @helloheyhihowdyheya @christycarnell6 @dinopin @leathercladmenfics @magictehnique @amberembers @addcrastinator3 @gemini0410 @waywardodysseys @foreve-free @midnvght-lies @wiccanash @batmanb @xbreezymeadowsx @louisianalady @perhapstan @beethebuzzbuzz72 @boredintheglade [hit the 50-tag limit – list to be continued in a reblog of this fic]

194 notes · View notes

equestrianwritingsstuff · 3 years

Note

Could we pls get part 2 for ‘Weaponized Villain’? 👀👀

-whumpilicious

Thank you so much for this ask!

So I neglected rereading the other part. Villain's tongue is meant to be cut off, but he talks in this. Just let's pretend that he has like a voice speaking box or something, I apologize for this.

Weaponized Villain Part 2

Part 1

@whumpilicious @the-sky-writes @maracujatangerine @kim-poce @octopus-reactivated

Warnings: sedation/anesthesia mention, semiconsciousness, drugged character, past body surgey, body modifications, unconscious character, guilt, descriptions of procedure, conditioning, dehumanization, weaponizing, blood drawing, blood tests, syringes and needles, delirium, hospital setting

There were six doctors in that room, and ten nurses. All just stared; no effort was made to advance to help the barely conscious human on the gurney.

All their fingers twitched, curling around various surgical implements and syringes decked with needles. One even aimlessly dangled a stethoscope from their tensed fingers and with the deep metallic armor protecting the weakened body underneath, it would serve no purpose.

"Aren't you going to do something?" Hero rapsed, a slight squeak to the pitch in her voice as her emerald eyes rapidly glistened over the stunned faces of the medics.

"There are wires literally connected to the ends of his nerves. I don't even know how that's physically possible," one of the doctors informed the concerned hero with a faint knowing tone to his voice. He glanced at the lightly trembling hero before averting his eyes. "If we remove them," he continued, "we could give him permanent nerve damage."

Hero gaped, trotting over to the bed where the injured man laid upon. They were able to safely remove some of the metal mask, revealing tangles of wires and humming boxes. He was practically a humanoid machine.

But at least part of his eyes were visible. At least she could gauge the state of his consciousness.

They were dulled and very unfocused, rolling up underneath his lids. Hero sighed and ran a tentative hand over the smooth metal.

"We can however," the doctor interrupted the tender moment with a spark of nervous hope in his voice, "slowly take off the armor, starting with his feet to study how it was put on. If we are successful, we may be able to figure out a way to completely get rid of it. I would like to take some blood tests first though to see what's in his system. Even though he is hurt and weak and very tired, he also seems sorta loopy."

Hero nodded, a smile dawning on her face and stepped away from the villain who had just started to whimper and mumble incoherently.

"M-mission," he wheezed. "Kill."

Hero looked up with a pointed edge to her gaze. The doctors and nurses stiffened in anticipation, sharing glances with each other.

One of the mechanical arms raised weakly, before plummeting back onto the thin mattress. Villain groaned and coughed, barely audible, before slowly turning his head to look at Hero.

"I-i tried sir," he whispered before his eyes drifted shut.

The doctors all let out a loud sigh, letting out a caged breath they were all holding. Hero nervously crept over to Villain and laid her hand on his head. Unconsciously, he leaned into it. Hero pursed her lips, surprised that he could feel her touch.

The medics began to buzz around Villain's feet, lifting them and prodding at them. Hero pulled a nearby plastic chair up and sat next to Villain, swinging her hand underneath his helmet covered head.

She watched as some heavy-duty pair of scissors and pliers were brought to the operation. They fluidly removed the thick metal casing. Hero's felt her heartbeat rise at the sight of the intricate mass of colors from all the little wires, but then it settled again when she came to the realization that it wasn't too bad.

The doctors started to untangle the wires. Most of them seemed to be powering another function in the suit with only a couple imbedded into his foot.

Even with this hindrance, the doctors were still able to expose his pale, wrinkled foot. The veins stood out like a bodybuilder's bicep, blue and thick.

"I've never taken blood samples from a foot before, but," one of the nurses chuckled as she ran a thin needle into the most strong looking vein, "I'm sure this'll work."

The blood running into the little vial was sort of thin for being blood, Hero noticed with a frown. And it went in there slowly, much slower than all the times Hero had to take blood tests for her yearly physical.

Eventually, the nurse capped the vial and put it in a little tray that a much younger lady, probably a med student, took to where Hero assumed was a lab.

"So," the doctor spoke, his experienced fingers lightly touching the wires strung through Villain's foot. "These are attached to his nerves, so the wires get very thin. This is not medically possible unless the doctor had some sort of power which enabled this."

"Can you fix it?" Hero asked softly.

"Yes, but slowly. He will have to be put under anesthesia for the procedure, but I don't know if his body is strong enough to be sedated for long periods. To fully rid of this suit, he would have to be operated on for at least fifteen hours multiple times at that," the doctor explained. "All we have to do is get a high-tech camera and snip the wires from the nerves. For all I know, because as we have seen, he can feel still, the nerves aren't damaged."

Hero nodded, prompting him to continue.

"It'll be slow and very shocking to his body. He'll been given a constant drip of mild painkillers- just to take the edge off- and will have to be intubated to be fed."

Hero felt a tad quesy to her stomach. She brought her hand to carefully cradle her torso, the other still lying languidly under Villain's unconscious head.

"If it works, do it," Hero said, nodding to the doctor. He wavered a smile before ducking out of the room, a trail of chattering nurses following him.

Hero was left alone to comfort the sleeping boy. His eyelids quivered and twitched under the blazing LED illuminating his face.

She felt somewhat guilty. All this time Supervillain's "indestructible drone" was actually a living, breathing human controlled by an android suit.

It was sickening. Especially since Hero didn't have the gumption to investigate when the seemingly nonliving machine limped away from battle, when it would sway and collapse in a bloody battlefield, when it would seem to react like a living body did when it was punched or thrown against a building.

Hero ran her thumb over the cracked paint of the helmet in small circles, deep in thought. Her fingertips followed the dents and edges, pressing against them. This poor guy suffered so much and all Hero did was aid in that suffering.

"Mm boss," Villain breathed, desperately trying to roll over to his side in his sleeping state. Hero put a hand on the busted metal of his shoulder and gently shushed him.

"Mmmnh no," he whimpered, pulling his body to himself. His eyes slited open, dancing over to Hero as an awaiting expression washed over them. "D-dont... hurt... me..."

"I won't honey," Hero whispered, smiling down at him. It was only then that Hero realized how young the semi-conscious man was. Barely twenty-two, even a tad younger than Hero herself.

Twenty-two years old, a whole life wasted away. A life feasted on rough hands, pain and experiments. Hero shuddered at the thought, brushing her fingers over the exposed skin on his forehead. Villain grunted and pushed into her hand like a cat, needing that close comfort.

He was just a kid.

Hero felt tears spiking at her eyes. She wiped them away with the cuff of her sleeve, sniffling quietly. The emotion in his glassy eyes quickly contorted into worry, then fear.

He jerked as hard as his fatigued body permitted him to do, trying his hardest to get away the possible threat.

"I tried," he screamed, squeezing his eyes shut. "I-i tried to kill... I did, please. Don't shock me." His screams rapidly ceased to muttered whimpers as his strength and energy ebbed away from him. He fell back into the gurney, eyes rolling to their whites.

Soon he passed out again, lost in the dark abyss of oblivion.

Hero looked down at the pitiful man on the bed with a sympathetic sigh before turning her face away, allowing the tears to come forth.

#villain whumpee #hero caretaker #supervillain whumper #doctor caretakers #injured villain #hospital setting #hero x villain #heros and villains #lab whump #past torture #sedation mentioned #surgery mention #body modifications #dehumanization #weaponized whumpee #thank you all for your likes and reblogs from part 1 #i hope you guys like this one as well

127 notes · View notes

darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 3 years

Text

Extracurricular

Warnings: noncon/rape; drinking/drunkenness.

This is a dark! fic and explicit. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Pairing: (Professor) Ransom Drysdale x Reader

Summary: You go out to unwind from your schoolwork but can’t seem to escape a certain professor’s attention.

Note: Pinched nerve don’t care. I’ve written this as I’m laying on a heating pad and praying for absolution. Hope y’all enjoy because by the time this goes up I’ll be at work and hating life.

Hope you enjoy it. Thank you. Love you guys!

Please leave some feedback, like and reblog <3

Midterms were finally over. It had been a long two weeks; all nighters, energy drinks, and stress headaches. Now you were ready to forget it all in a single night.

Your dress was a little too short and a little too tight. A pink number with large sequins. It looked straight out of the nineties; an appropriate choice for your girls’ night. A downtown club was hosting a ladies night with a retro theme and you felt like the spice girl you’d once idolized. And a little buzzed.

Lexi had invited you along with her roommates, Cece and Rima, to dance off the dread of your results. Study had been half the battle, it was still to see if it had done you any good. In your Twentieth Century Lit class, you were certain you’d fallen on your face. Figuratively, though you had done so literally your first day. It had set a precedent for your apparent cluelessness.

You followed the girls inside after your hand was stamped and the flashing lights mingled with the thumping music and filled your body. You were enlivened by the bodies already dancing and the voice that underlined the melody. A single pre-drink and you were already feeling tomorrow’s hangover.

You joined the chaos of the dance floor as Lexi searched her purse and came out victorious with a handful of bills. “First rounds on me!” She sang, “How about it girls? You ready for more?”

“Holy shit, Lex,” Cece giggled, “Another night with the sugar daddy?”

“Don’t call him that,” Lexi retorted.

“Well, what would you call him?” Rima countered. “You fuck him, he gives you money.”

“Shut up before I shut you up!’ Lexi whined.

“Hey, both of you,” you warned and grabbed Lexi’s hand, “And stop waving that around.”

“Oh thank youuuu,” she clung to you, “I’ll have a vodka soda.”

“Wha-- no.”

“Do they have whiteclaw?” Rima asked.

“Ew. don’t,” Cece wrinkled her nose, “I’ll have a vodka too.”

“Fine, vodka cran!” Rima nearly hollered. The girls must have started well before you showed up to their dorm.

You huffed and took the fistful of bills. You sidled through the crowd of pairs and groups writhing and waving to the music. Another drink would make you less aware.

You stepped up to the bar and found yourself nearly bowled over by another patron as she stumbled away with her drink. You knocked the arm of a man leaned against the bar top and turned to apologize.

“Oop, sorry, I didn’t--” You froze and blinked several times in disbelief. The familiar face grinned in recognition. “Professor Drysdale? What are you--”

“I didn’t know it was ladies night,” he spoke over the music, “Had my last exam and thought I’d unwind but--” He looked around. “I didn��t take you for the club type.”

You squirmed as his eyes strayed from your face and you got closer to the bar. “Well, not every night,” you chuckled.

“I almost didn’t recognize you,” he raised his hand and waved to the bartender. “Took me a moment, to be honest.”

“Ahh,” you watched the bartender near and he bent to hear your order. You got yourself a gin after your last sour experience with vodka.

You watched the bartender work, unsure of what to say to your unexpected company. His remark stuck in your head. You often sat in his class in your favourite loose cardigan or a sweat with fraying cuffs. Massachusetts was growing colder by the day and only the alcohol and your lack of a damn kept you warm that night.

“So, I guess you’re here with friends,” he said.

“Yeah, just a few of us.” You said as you rubbed your sweaty fingers on the bills. The bartender pushed your drink across the bar but Professor Drysdale was quicker than you as he held out a fifty.

“My treat.” He said.

“Oh no,” you tried to grab his hand but he waved it at the bartender again. “You don’t need to--”

“Come on. Save your money. You college kids need all you can get,” he insisted.

You smiled awkwardly and carefully took two cups in each hand. You lifted them as he watched you. You peeked over at him and found his eyes glued to you.

“Thank you, professor,” you said.

“Ransom,” he corrected you, “I’m not much of a dancer… but I don’t mind the music. Maybe we’ll bump into each other again.”

“Maybe.” You turned and narrowly missed another collision.

You followed the maze of bodies back to your group and doled out the drink. Your fingers were left sticky with soda and you took a deep gulp of your own. You tried not to think of the odd encounter with your professor. It wasn’t too unusual you spotted the occasional faculty downtown; students often stuck to the campus bar. Even so, you were surprised at his interest. In class, he barely seemed to recall your name, even if you were the only one who raised your hand. Well, maybe he had also indulged a little too much.

You forgot your paranoia as soon as you finished your drink. You set aside the plastic cup and lost yourself in TLCs greatest hit. You’d regret it in the morning when it mattered.

🥂

After the second drink, came the third, the fourth, and fifth that tasted more like a double. The lights blurred in your vision and the music made your head swell delightfully.

The night had worn on and as a slow R&B tune came on, you weren’t quite sure what to do. Cece had long ago found a guy to hang off and Rima and Lexi were all too happy to start dancing with each other. You hiccupped and contemplated a break against the wall.

You were startled as you felt a hand on your back and kept from your retreat.

“Need a partner?” Ransom’s voice flooded into your veins like the alcohol; warm and disorienting.

“Huh, oh, no, it’s--” You giggled bashfully. “That’s fine.”

“Come on,” he pulled you against him, your back to his front, “Wasn’t too long ago I was out here with all the coeds.”

“Professor--”

“Ransom,” he purred in your ear. “I like this song.”

“I don’t think--”

“Don’t think then,” he said sharply as his arm snaked around you and urged you closer. He leaned in and spoke in your ear. “Seeing your ass in that dress makes me wonder why you ever cover it up.”

“Pr--Ransom, please, I--”

“It’s just a dance, sweetie,” he grinded into you and you felt a twitch in his pants. “Just like that.”

He guided your drunken body against his as his fingers danced along the hem of your dress. The music swept you up as you dizzily surrendered to him. Behind the haze, you knew it was wrong, but you knew you were strong enough to resist. And part of you, didn’t believe your professor was groping you.

“Mmm, you’re so sweet,” he groaned, “That’s it,” he rubbed his crotch against you, “Let me feel that ass.”

“Professor,” you breathed as one his hands caressed your thigh, “You shouldn’t--”

“Wish you dressed like this in class.” He slithered, “Nice little short skirt. You can sit in the front row and give me a little peek.”

“Stop,” you hissed as your vision swam and panic rose in your chest, the gin making you unsteady and uncertain, “Please.”

“Please,” he echoed, “I love to hear you beg me, sweetie.”

“I-I-I--” you stuttered stupidly and finally tore away from him. “I have to pee.”

Your ankle bent in your heel and you hurried past him. You nearly fell as you batted away his hand and fled to the restroom. You stopped by the doorway at the edge of the floor and looked back. Ransom watched you with head tilted and a smirk on his lips, unbothered by the drunk horde around him. You turned and quickly shielded yourself with the door.

You took a breath and ambled forward to stare at yourself in the mirror. Were you that drunk or was your professor really trying to get in your pants?

🥂

When you returned to the girls, Ransom was gone. You didn’t look around for him much, afraid you might find him. You finally tore Cece away from her partner as Lexi began to lean heavily. You took her under the arm and realised that every one of you were a mess. It would be a parade of fools trying to get home.

You got your jackets from the check and went out into the bitter cold. You shivered as you left Lexi to hang off Rima and you swayed as you hailed a cab. A yellow taxi pulled up and you opened the door as you ushered the rest of the girls in. A hand rested beside yours atop the door.

“Looks like there’s no room for you,” Ransom said and you flinched as you looked at him.

“I can get in the front,” you argued weakly.

“Ride with me.” He raised his hand to call another cab, “You don’t wanna overcrowd the car.”

“No, I can--”

“It’s cold!” Cece pulled the door from your grasp and it slammed, nearly knocking you over. “Driver, Western Building on campus.”

“Wait--” The driver pulled away without pause and you stumbled off the curb.

Ransom caught you and pulled you back up. He wrapped his arm around you as another taxi appeared.

“You’re pretty fucked up, sweetie, I can’t have you riding alone,” he opened the door and bent to usher you inside. You struggled but not much, hauling yourself across the seat as he followed closely. He gave an address you didn’t recognize as he shut the door.

“What-- where--” You touched your forehead as you leaned back against the seat. “Professor--”

“I like how you call me that,” he reached over and rested his hand on your leg, “Don’t worry, sweetie, better you come with me than some creep.”

You grabbed his hand and tried to push it away but it didn’t budge. He squeezed your thigh and got closer. His other arm went around your shoulder and drew you against him.

“It’s okay, sweetie, you’re tired. Just close your eyes.” He hummed. “I’ll get you back safe.”

You shook your head but your eyelids drooped against your will. The dancing, the gin, the weeks of sleep deprivation piled atop you and dragged you into a blurred stupor. You felt detached from the world as it passed outside the car windows and suddenly a door opened and closed. Your body was moving but not of your own volition.

Your vision cleared for a moment and you looked up at a large house with immense windows. You blinked and you were inside. You sat for a moment as Ransom moved around and you were lifted up. You were cradled in his arms as he carried up a flight of stairs and through the unfamiliar hallway. You bounced atop a mattress with a jolt.

“Wha--” you quivered and tried to sit up. Your head spun as your lashes fluttered.

You sat dumbly, barely able to hold yourself up on shaky arms as Ransom undressed. You babbled as he revealed his muscled chest and thick arms. He was entirely unlike the first, and only boy, you’d been with. He was a man.

“I’m drunk…” you slurred, “I can’t… you’re my--my--”

“That’s right,” he reached into his jeans pocket, his fly open, “I’m your professor,” he pulled out his phone and neared. He nudged you so that you fell onto your back and pushed your legs apart. You looked up at him as he snapped photos of you. You raised your hand to try to hide yourself. “If anyone were to find out you tried to seduce me, and for a better grade, you’ll be expelled. A star scholar like you, untouchable for any university in the country. Pity.”

“You can’t.” You murmured as you closed your legs and tried to sit up but found it almost impossible. “You…”

“I will and if you try to blow the whistle, I’ll do it first and I’ll be a whole lot more convincing than the girl everyone saw piss drunk tonight.” He sneered, “Now open those legs for me, sweetie.”

You didn’t move. You hugged yourself with your arms as you were caught in a heavy tide. You were terrified, worse; helpless. You listened to the rustle of his clothing and the mattress dipped by your feet.

His hands began at your ankles and glided up to your knees. He pushed your legs apart as you held them together. You were forced to relent as he pinched you viciously and your muscles quaked. He moved between your legs and rubbed your thighs as your skirt rode up. He pressed two fingers along the crotch of your panties.

“What’s the point of these in a dress like that, huh?” He began to tease you through the fabric, “What’s the matter, sweetie? You scared?” He slowly pulled aside your panties and touched your folds, “Am I your first?”

You shook your head and squeezed your eyes shut. You whimpered as he flicked your clit.

“Maybe not your first but definitely the best,” he purred, “Ah, ah, you’re already wet. Kept you waiting all night, didn’t I?”

“Please, I don’t want to--”

“Shhh,” his fingers slipped down to your entrance and he traced it carefully, “You’re drunk. You don’t know what you want,” he poked his finger inside of you, “But your body does.” He added another and glided in and out of your easily. “Fuck, you’re tight.”

“P-p-pl--” Your voice fizzled as he curled his fingers and pressed the hell of his hand to your clit.

Your eyes rolled back and your eyelids shut. You were lost in a daze of pleasure and confusion. You were trapped but that coil winding inside you didn’t want to escape. The knot of nerves tangling tighter and tighter overpowered your fear and had you bracing the mattress. Your legs bent without a thought and your back arched. Ransom hummed as he guided your body closer to the edge.

Your nails curled into the duvet and your toes clenched. You tried to breathe, the taste of gin still on your tongue, and cried out instead. You shook as you came but it didn’t feel like your body. You felt as if you were floating above as you were used by this man. Your legs went limp and slid straight as you panted wildly and the world was specks of light as you opened your eyes.

“Teacher’s pet, aren’t you?” He taunted. “You always have the answers.”

You focused on Ransom as the room remained a fog behind him. A halo seemed to limn his figure as he drew his hand from your cunt and licked his fingers. He delighted in the taste and planted his hands on the bed and bent over you.

“That smug little smile when you’re right. You’re always right.” He hissed. “I had girls like you in my classes. Always thought they needed a good fuck.”

You touched his chest and pushed pathetically. He chuckled as his nose brushed yours.

“You know, when you bend over to get a pen from your bag, I can see straight down your shirt,” he winked, “It makes me wanna bend you over myself. You know how hard it is to teach when you’ve got me all riled up?”

“I didn’t-- Never…” you murmured, your head lolling as you found it hard to follow his words, hard to keep from drifting away entirely.

“I was going to wait until the break… Tonight was unexpected but not unwanted,” he uttered as he reached between your bodies. He dragged his tip along your folds. “You should know what you do to me.”

He stopped at your entrance and slowly pushed inside. Your mouth formed an O and he groaned with each inch. His arm came back up and hooked under your shoulder as he sank to his limit. You moaned at how full you were. Your walls hugged him and you grasped his shoulder as you tried to pull away from him.

He grabbed your jaw and held your head straight as he glared down at you and jerked his hips.

“That’s all you, sweetie,” he muttered, “Does it hurt you like it hurts me?”

He began to thrust and your legs bent around him as you tried to ease the pain. Since your regrettable high school sweetheart, you hadn’t done anything more than some foreplay and that had been shameful, if not forgettable. You closed your eyes, your head swirled and your body bounced against the bed as the darkness embraced you.

When you opened your eyes next, your head hung to the side as Ransom held himself over you, arms straight as he rutted. His gaze clung to the joining of your bodies and the slick noise of it. His hair dangled down from his head as he watched himself fuck you, slamming harder and faster each time as if driven by the sight.

You winced and let out a moan. It hurt, delightfully so, but in the back of your alcohol-laced mind, you knew it was wrong.

He lowered himself slowly, bending to take your nipple in his mouth and suckle as he continued to rock against you. His thrusts grew sharper as his groans sent a rumble through your chest. Your thighs tingled and your core thrummed as you were overcome by your drunken ecstasy.

Your voice filled the room as you came again and you didn’t realise it was yours. Ransom drew back and sat up as he lifted your pelvis, crashing into you as hard as he could as he bared his teeth. His eyes were smoky as he grunted and his motion turned frantic.

“I’m gonna- ahhh,” he took several long thrusts as he flooded you with his orgasm.

He kept going until the sensation made him spasm and he hung his head. He reached down to spread your cunt and admired it as he slowly slid out. As his cum leaked from you, he scooped it up with his fingers and pushed it back in, spreading the rest along your folds.

“Shit,” he said as he grazed your thighs with his nails, your eyes closed and consciousness fading with his voice, “Such a good girl…”

🥂

You felt as if you were buried in sand when you woke up. The world was too bright and yet too dull. The night before was blank, a void, and your surroundings were a greater mystery. The framed manuscripts, the antique side table with a twisted vase atop it, the pristine white walls. You groaned as every move made your head throb.

You rolled onto your back and gurgled. Your stomach stirred and you struggled to keep it from erupting. You turned your head slowly as your hand felt along the arm beside you. Ransom Drysdale, your Lit professor, watched you as you stared back confused. His bare torso made your cheeks burn and the dress bunched up around your waist added to your embarrassment. How had this happened?

“What-- Professor--”

“If I spank you, would you scream that for me? ‘Professor’?” He mocked.

“I don’t--” You sat up and it sent a strike of pain down the back of your skill, “What happened? How--”

“Do you want to see the pictures?” He sat up and his hand tickled along your back. “I think you might be able to guess without them.”

You blinked at him and drew away from his touch. You turned your legs over the side of the bed and took a breath before you stood. You pulled your dress up over your arms and tugged the skirt back down as you searched for your panties.

“What’s wrong, sweetie?” He asked.

“I have to get… back to campus,” you gripped your head. “Where’s my purse?”

“Relax,” he cooed, “I’ll drive you back…” You heard him stand and turned as he approached you, naked. “But I think that we should get cleaned up first.”

“I--We--”

“A nice hot shower,” he licked his lips and leaned in, “Or do you like walking around with me all down your leg?”

You reeled and your stomach churned. You covered your mouth and shoved him away. You ran for the small door on the other side of the room and thankfully, found a toilet within. You wretched into the bowl until your body ached. You sensed his shadow behind you.

“You just make sure you wash your mouth out, sweetie,” he stepped past you and cranked the shower on, “I didn’t get a chance to play with that yet.”

#ransom drysdale x reader #ransom drysdale #knives out #dark!ransom drysdale #dark ransom drysdale #fic #dark!fic #one shot #dark fic

999 notes · View notes

problematicfavesareproblematic · 3 years

Text

I Wish I Could Leave This Alone (I Know How Much You Want Me To)

Babe Heffron x Reader (plus guest) One Shot

Summary: Babe’s birthday gift to you has an unexpected party crasher

Warnings: smut, angst, infidelity (?), reader overthinking while getting dicked down, I wrote this and immediately posted it so it will be edited at some point

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Babe’s kiss was soft, but his touch was not.

You couldn’t help the groan that escaped from the back of your throat as one of his hands gripped tightly at your hip, and when he smiled against your lips you couldn’t help but feel like you’d had done something to amuse him.

“What?” you pant, leaning back at the waist to break the kiss and frowning at his smirk.

He chuckled warmly as he walked you backward towards your bed, the hand at your hip finding its way under your shirt and up against your sternum.

“Where’d you go, Gorgeous?” he asked playfully, and you immediately felt guilty.

He was right, you’d gone somewhere else for a while. That wasn’t fair to him, and you knew that. And while he was quick to call you out on it, he never seemed to truly take offense to it. You weren't sure what that said about him. Or you, for that matter.

You shake your head and bring your hands to the hem of his t-shirt, lightly tracing your nails across the sensitive skin of his lower stomach. “Started getting a bit ahead of myself, that’s all.”

Pressing a kiss to the hinge of his jaw, you use your position to slide your hand down the front of his trousers and cup him through his boxers.

“You forgot to breathe,” he mumbles, his voice slow and distracted. “Can’t have you blacking out and embarrassing yourself like that—Woah.”

A smile of your own breaking across your face, you nose at him until he brings his mouth to yours again, making a show of inhaling sharply as the backs of your knees hit the bed.

“Good note,” you say breathily as you pull his shirt up his back, giggling idiotically as he intentionally gives you a hard time of it. Your shirt doesn’t last long either, and with a practiced ease, you have each other stripped and bare in the blueish darkness of your barrack.

He isn’t gentle when his hands grip your bare skin, his movements excited and rough as he settles against the headboard and pulls you up to straddle his lap.

“I remembered, by the way.”

Taking his face in your hands, you hold him away to study him, confusion marring your constantly furrowed brow. “Remembered…?”

His eyes are aglow in the dark, so amber and warm that they reminded you of the spiced ciders your family would make during the holidays back home. A wicked smile crosses his face, and he chuckles quietly.

“I told you what knowing my middle name would cost you when you asked me last month, and the information I wanted in return. And I told you I wouldn’t forget…”

The cogs clicked in your head, and you made a sound of upset when you figured out what he was talking about.

Detail for detail, that’s the deal, Sweetcheeks.

“Happy Birthday, Sargent Y/N.” He waggled his eyebrows, and you booed him quietly.

“What are the odds a blowjob will make you forget about it?” you ask with a wince, gasping when he playfully rolled his hips up to meet yours. Feeling how hard he was made your blood begin to run hotter.

“Hmm,” he hummed, leaning forward to suck a kiss on the delicate skin beneath your collarbone. “Somewhere between none and slim.”

With an annoyed hum, you lean your head forward to rest atop his head and let him mouth at you, your hand coming up to pull at his hair only when you knew he was intentionally trying to leave a mark.

“And do you remember what I said I wanted to give you for your birthday?”

Feeling the blood rush to your cheeks, you realized that you could only sit in hot embarrassment as he laughed at you again.

“Such a prim and proper lady, scandalized by the idea of riding my face—”

“Edward!” you hissed, hands that once held his face now pushing it away. “Don’t say it like that, come on—”

The auburn-haired man laughed, catching your wrists and pulling you into his chest. you grunted with frustration, your face now pressed against the hollow of his throat.

“It’s not like my mouth hasn’t been down there before, you know.”

Sighing, you let yourself sag into him slightly, trying not to lose yourself in his lighthearted tone.

“Yeah, but not like that, when I’m just…you know.”

“Oh I see, you like it better when I do all the work and you get to take the princess position, huh?”

“Jesus Christ, Babe” you sit up again with a huff, attempting to pull your wrists back from his unyielding grip. “I try to be serious for one fucking second….”

Rolling his eyes, he surges up and kisses you sweetly, and for a minute you feel yourself begin to slip out of your body again.

But he brings you back. He always brings you back to him and here and now.

“C’mon, Sweet Thing…” he croons shamelessly against your lips, rough hands releasing your wrists and sliding teasingly up and down your thighs. The touch has you trembling in his lap, and he’s kissing you before you can be too embarrassed. “If you hate it, I’ll stop and you can fucking edge me until I blackout, I swear to god. You gotta let me see you like this, Y/N. Please, Gorgeous…?”

Good GOD he was shameless, literally begging you to allow him the chance to make you feel good, to show you how good he can make you feel- how much he wanted to be the one to do it to you first.

Anticipation was knotted in your throat as you smashed your lips to his, a flutter of heady resolve resting in your belly. As if he could taste what you were thinking, he wrapped his arms around you and hummed against your mouth.

“God, you’re so perfect...” he pulled you into him, rolling his hips in a way that seemed to remind you of the urgency you both had felt before.

When he pulls back this time he’s grinning at you like a complete idiot, happier than any man should be at the prospect of cunnilingus, in your opinion.

But Edward Heffron was nothing if not enthusiastic in his pursuits.

“Hands on the windowsill,” he said breathlessly, his cheeks turning pink and making you want to kiss him again. When you didn’t follow his request quickly enough he guided your hands there himself and folded your fingers around the frame of the open window.

You quirked an eyebrow at him. “Do I want to know how long you’ve been thinking about this, or will I be insulted?”

He smacks your thigh lightly, drawing a surprised yelp from your lungs that melts into a hum of amusement as he kneads the reddening flesh.

“How about we err on the side of caution and say….. just within the past few months?”

“And you held me in the highest regard before that- right, Private?”

He says nothing for a moment, and when he does agree to your proposed question he mumbles it into the valley between your breasts.

“Hmph. You’re a terrible liar. This had better be worth it.”

Seemingly satisfied with your ability to keep your hands where he set them, Babe encourages you to rise up to your knees so you’re no longer flush in his lap. Immediately, his eyes flick down to your sex, and you cannot help the way your thighs start to shake

He says something under his breath that you can’t quite catch before he looks back at your face and his expression softens for a second.

“Remember what I said earlier? I mean it, you know I mean it—”

You’re nodding before he can finish the sentiment, letting a soft smile play at the corners of your kiss-swollen lips. “You’ll be the first to know if I want to stop. Promise.”

With one more biting kiss to the middle of your chest he brings his assault downwards with hands, lips, and teeth- his touch just the right amount of hard and teasing to send your head swimming long before you finally feel his breath on the overly-sensitive skin of your inner thighs.

“Oh fuck,” he sounds far away, but maybe that’s just because you’re feeling too big for your own body at the moment. “Could die happy here…”

God, he’s such a whore.

The first touch of his tongue has you pitching yourself forward, eyes squeezed shut as you let your face poke out the window enough to feel the breeze on your clammy face.

Shit, he was good at that- it felt so good. If you didn't have your own goddamn skeletons in your proverbial closet you may have even been jealous to think of all the other women who had been privy to this most spectacular consideration. Babe was kissing you down there just as sweetly as he had ever kissed your lips, and it made you briefly wonder if anyone else from your past could have made you feel as high as he was making you feel right now.

Bowing your head to look down at him, your breath catching at the sight of him looking up at you from between your thighs, his arms folded around your hips to control the small jumps you couldn’t seem to get a handle on.

“Fuck, Babe!” you bite out, the idea of him looking up your body and watching you squirm threatening to overwhelm you. “Can’t fucking do that, ‘s gross angle for me…”

“Oh?” he said, the sound and feeling of his voice running up your body in the most sinful way. “I beg to differ...”

Knowing that watching him watch you would ultimately be too much, you shake your head to clear your thoughts and lift your head to look back out the window into the night air.

Only to come face to face with Ronald Speirs.

A sound of surprise, shock, embarrassment, and panic got caught in your throat alongside your cresting moan and resulted in the most depraved cry that seemed to surprise all three of you.

Your blood boiled as it froze in your veins as you made eye contact with Speirs, mortification and utter shock leaving your mouth hanging open in a silent shriek of horror.

You had no idea how long the other man had been standing there, but if the look in his eyes was any indication it had been long enough to know exactly what was happening on the other side of the wall, just below the window frame. A cigarette hung forgotten between his lips as he openly stared at you, Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallowed silently.

When Babe’s hand came up to squeeze your breast enticingly, you nearly jumped out the window.

Oh my God This can’t be happening right now I have to stop him Oh fucking hell….

Your head whipped down and he looked up at you with heavy-lidded eyes, mouth red and damp as he panted wickedly up at you. “You okay, Gorgeous?”

A crushing realization fell onto you in that very moment: there was no way you could tell him what was happening- who was there watching your shared private moment outside. Because that would mean that you’d have to explain that Ron always did this, that every night he would smoke near wherever you were sleeping that night and keep watch like a possessive and protective shadow.

And the only way you could explain that was by telling Babe about what you and Ron had once had- no, almost had. He rejected you, you reminded yourself harshly. He made his stance on you abundantly clear when he’d had you transferred into Easy Company. The fact that Speirs still behaved as if he was somehow responsible for you was not your problem.

Besides, you had Babe. You wanted Babe. Even if the ache in your heart tried to tell you differently.

You made your peace with Ron Speirs’ rejection a long time ago.

Not trusting your voice, you nod vehemently and hope what is happening outside isn’t clearly written on your face.

A smug grin stretches across his face. “Good, ‘cause you taste better than I imagined…..”

You curse as he pulls you back down to his mouth, your head flashing back up to see that Ron has gotten rid of his cigarette and shucked off his heavy coat and gun. His dark eyes look downright predatory, and if you had any sense in your sex-dumb head you would stop this debauchery and transfer somewhere far away from the both of them.

You open your mouth to do something, anything to save yourself some dignity in this fucking exhibitionist nightmare, but Speirs’s finger flies up to his lips, the command clear even through the darkness.

You knew this would happen eventually something in his gaze seemed to accuse. Did you really believe you could forget who you’re wishing was beneath you?

But as you watch him tilt his head, something else is conveyed: he’s asking for permission.

He didn’t intend to leave. He wanted to watch.

But he would, if you wanted him to.

It was cruel of him, and something in the way he worked his jaw told you that he knew it too, but like you he was too far gone to stop it.

You both know better, each of you having your own reasons for not wanting to inevitably hurt the other and cross that line. Your own sick, backwards ways of self-protection and showing affection for the other seemed to be twisting and becoming more complex as time went on.

The more involved you became with Babe….Ron suddenly wanted to be your friend again just after you had first slept with Babe.

You immediately understood that you and Ron were nearing your final days of dancing around each other, that you would have to be the one to stop it. Because Edward Heffron was too good and too kind to be fucked with like this. Eventually, you would have to stop being so selfish.

In a final show of weakness, you nod silently to Ron, your breath coming in quick bursts as your lover has patiently worked you up and up to the crest of your crescendo, none the wiser to the wicked thoughts and realizations spinning around in your head.

I really am a monster.

But you couldn’t focus on that right now, not as Ron stalked right up to the window with such confidence that you thought you had gravely misread the situation and he was going to announce himself to Babe.

You had just begun to make a hush of protest when his cold hands gripped yours and he knelt down so he was nose to nose with you, his hot glare turning it into another embarrassing sound of pleasure.

“Shit!” You whimpered, your body trembling more violently as the coil in your belly began to constrict. Ron’s thumbs rubbed the back of your knuckles in a soothing motion as he made a sound of pity low in his throat, the clucking of his tongue quiet enough that it disappeared in the sounds of the forest surrounding them.

When you get a better look at his face you can see his look of empathy is almost mocking, and you briefly wonder if you would ever have sex with someone who didn’t like to antagonize you the whole time.

As you try to pull your hands out from under his, he shakes his head sternly before wrestling them into his grip, the action pulling you slightly further out the window and making you gasp.

Babe chuckles and grips your ass to control the speed in which your hips rocked, a nibble on your clit nearly making you scream.

You’re a terrible person. You’re the worst kind of woman. you hate yourself for this.

Ron’s brows furrow and his face goes soft, eyes a warm burn rather than a vengeful inferno. You don’t realize you have begun crying until he brushes the tears from your cheeks with quick fingers.

You press your forehead against his as your body bows in warning, your orgasm approaching with unforgiving intensity.

Ron doesn’t kiss you and you don’t kiss him. You never had and after this long, you don't think you ever will. You hate how much you wished you could though.

Especially with another man’s tongue working you into a frenzy at the same fucking time.

“Please, I want you...” you said pathetically, and Ron had the grace to look down in shame. Guilty fingers intertwined with yours and with a sad grimace he kissed the backs of your hands.

“I know you do, I’m so sorry,” he breathes across your knuckles, tongue darting out to wet the chilling skin where he kissed, kissing your hand as he had wished to kiss your mouth each and every day since he had met you.

But you couldn’t, he couldn’t. And he wouldn’t let you ever try.

You came with a silent cry, only the whispered reminder from both of the men you loved to breathe saved you from falling apart in the most critical moment.

Because you are cruel you take one hand from Ron, the one he wasn’t kissing, and pull it back.

Babe’s overgrown hair is soft and damp as you reach down to rake your fingers through it, quickly finding his hand on your hip and clinging to his fingers with painful desperation as you quake above him.

Pulling you impossibly close to his mouth, Babe holds you as you tremble through the last of your pleasure, suckling once, twice more before noisily pulling away from you.

The sound was so lewd even Ron had to close his eyes and grit his teeth in order to stay quiet.

your hair clung to your face, and after sliding his fingers from yours Ron brushes the sweaty strands around your hairline.

As you begin to catch your breath, you remember who you are, who all you’re with, and all that’s brought each of you to this point. You remember that Ron Speirs has to go, will always have to go.

He didn’t want you to be his, wasn’t interested in sharing his barracks or you asking him about his past or remembering your birthday. You didn’t matter, none of this did.

All that mattered to him was the fight. The big picture. “We’re all already dead. Why bother acting like this is anything other than a distraction?”

“Y/N,” Babe’s gentle kisses land on your hips and you realize that the time for your decision is coming sooner than she had anticipated. “Hey, what’s wrong?”

You take a few more shuddering breaths with Ron, and from the way he tightened his jaw you knew he knew that you were going to have to let one of them go. And, because he’s just as selfish as you are, he doesn’t want you to choose Babe.

He’d rather keep you like a lark he can turn to for reassurance and comfort. Like a bird in a cage.

With a final sniffle, you look down, away from Ron, and give all of your attention to the beautiful, sex-mussed man who was looking up at you so sweetly and with such a clear desire for approval that you almost started crying all over again.

Ron lets you slip your fingers from his and takes a silent step back as you return your attention to your lover. You let him disappear into the night.

“Nothing at all, Babe,” you reassure him with a sigh, moving shakily down his body so you can kiss him as deeply as you can, sealing your body to his as you hold his face between your hands. “I just forgot where I was for a second there.”

Nipping at your bottom lip, he waits until you pull back before smiling stupidly at you.

“That good, huh?”

Shaking your head, you scoff and flick his chest. As he starts to chuckle, you roll yourself off of him enough to scratch your nails lightly across his stomach.

“I’ll give you a full review after round two, how about that?” You smirk as his eyebrows shoot up, sitting up and swinging your leg over his hips to straddle him. “But right now, how about I reward the idiot I love for remembering my birthday?”

If he’s surprised by your sudden proclamation of affection, he makes no show of it. And somehow that makes the moment all the sweeter.

~ ~

(HELLO SO SORRY FOR THE LATE FIC I LOVE YALL COVID IS A BITCH! I’M CURRENTLY WORKING ON THREE FICS SO HOPEFULLY THEY WILL FOLLOW SHORTLY! OKAY BYE BYE MY GORGEOUS GEODUCKS!)

taglist: @mrseasycompany @itswormtrain @mrsalwayswrite @happyveday @sunsetmando @ricksmorty @now-im-a-belieber @tvserie-s-world

#band of brothers imagines #band of brothers x reader #babe heffron x reader #ron speirs x reader #babe heffron imagines #ron speirs imagines #problematicfavesareproblematic

141 notes · View notes