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yutasbellybuttonpiercing · 9 months

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slowly, i'm going down

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pairing: song mingi x reader (no pronouns mentioned, reader has female anatomy)

au/genre: college!au, tutor!reader, mingi does not give a shit about studying, smut

word count: 4816 words

warnings: voice kink (AHHHHH), oral and fingering (reader receiving), reader is a little mean, kitchen sex, anime references, cringe, a joke about adhd, dirty talk... um..., oh right Mingi has a big dick (wbk), everyone's a little silly, unprotected sex (boo ‼️👎🏻), premature ejaculation almost, creampie, cum eating... (not reader...), i think that's it. NOT PROOF READ YET!!

synopsis: mingi hates studying, but what he hates way more than that is being perceived as stupid. what mingi loves on the other hand, are pretty people getting flustered about his voice

mingi shows you exactly what he hates and loves.

a/n: i was almost ready when i saw this tiktok and it completely blocked my mind because it's SO FUNNY, but at the same time, it's men being dudes, dudes being bros, and that kind of made it hard for me to continue. i apologize for the 24h delay 😞

taglist: @byuntrash101 @goquokka @ashwoodforest @choisansnotsolegalwife

Mingi is not one to sit there and look at books. Or papers. Or anything that doesn't move and feed his brain with bright colors and his ears with noises, really. He prefers to vibe, and studying is definitely not the vibe. Sadly, studying is a part of his life as a university student. Yes, he chose this path for himself and yes, he was aware that it would involve studying. Still, now that it's really happening and is not just an obstacle to overcome in the far, far future, Mingi kind of wishes he'd chosen something else to do with his life. It's just exhausting, why would he waste the precious time he has left on planet earth on something that doesn't get the serotonin floating? He's pretty sure he has some undiagnosed ADHD simmering up there, but who is he to judge that? He's certainly not studying to become a doctor or whatever.

Anyway, given the fact that Mingi doesn't like to study, he's not had much experience with it in the first place. He's barely gotten his way through school, but uni is a different level. Hence, he needs someone to 1) teach him how to study and 2) make him study, or rather: have a judging eye on him while he is supposed to study, so the fear of being called out on it may light a fire under his ass and force him to bury his nose between the stinky pages of an old library book (on that note: he also needed someone to show him how to check out books from the library).

And that's why you are here, every Thursday afternoon, sitting at the sad excuse of a kitchen counter slash dining table in Mingi's scandalously expensive apartment given its size, growling next to him every time you catch him analyzing the bumps on his wallpapers instead of the letters on the pages.

Mingi generally likes you, even though you are a bit scary, he has to admit, or maybe that's the appeal. You are polite, but you have a way of looking at him that makes him feel like he's getting mansplained by your eyes. Your taunting gaze on him makes him feel small, and he doesn't like that at all. It makes him feel like all these years of drinking milk to make him stand at the 1.84m he is at today were in vain. You always have that one expression on your face, and maybe that's just Mingi's subconsciousness telling him to STUDY HARD FOR GOD'S SAKE, but in the way your eyebrows would scrunch together just the tiniest bit, he reads: God, he is fucking stupid.

He doesn't know which (since he did not pay attention in biology class, nor is he even sure they teach that in biology class) chemical in his brain suffers an allergic reaction every time you look at him like that, but there has to be one. There is nothing that Mingi hates more than being called stupid. Well, except for studying, maybe.

Call him lazy, call him a scalawag, call him witty for being able to get through all of school without reading a single one of the set books if you must, but do not call him stupid.

The only problem is that you haven't, well, called him stupid per se. It's just how Mingi interprets your stares. Also, he desperately needs you because he doubts there will be many other contestants that are okay with getting paid as little as you are (which is all Mingi has left by the end of a month full of Pokémon trading cards). So Mingi just has to sit back and relax and simply take it because, apparently, that's what he gets for not studying his entire life.

A loud ringing wakes Mingi from his peaceful afternoon nap - one that he has really earned this time around, he managed to look through his study notes for a full 20 minutes during his lunch break!

Disoriented, Mingi raises his head to make out his location and what year he is in. It rings again. Slowly, Mingi recognizes the shrill sound as his door bell. He slowly gets up, a quick glance in the mirror tells him that his hair is an absolute mess (which is really a crowning achievement given his buzz cut length) and he has imprint marks from his blanket all over his right cheek, but his sleepy mind doesn't even take it in. Mingi furrows his brows and shakes his head. Who would dare to disturb his peaceful slumber at this ungodly hour (4pm)?

The answer, of course, stands right in front of his door. With your arms crossed and the tip of your shoe drumming a dent into Mingi's "come in if you're a silly baka"-door mat, you raise an unimpressed brow at the sleepy shell of Mingi that blinks one eye after the other.

A few seconds pass until Mingi finally realizes who you are, and his mouth forms an 'o'-shape. Immediately after, he furrows his brows once again, his body slumping forward a bit because: why on God's green earth are you here? Then, it hits him like a truck, the aftermath of the collision blowing the remaining sleep out of his eyes: it's Thursday afternoon!

"Sorry," he says and sheepishly scratches the back of his head, then steps aside to let you enter.

"It's fine, it's only freezing cold outside," you stare at him before stepping in, shudder as you kick your shoes off, slip into Mingi's guest slippers and hurry inside. Mingi's brain does not register the sarcasm drenching your words.

"Let's get to it, shall we?" You ask as Mingi finally manages to follow you into the kitchen. You sit, take out a few sheets of paper from your backpack, then look over questioningly as Mingi has not even moved a millimeter, but instead started yawning like his life depends on it. Your eyes drift down his body. "Or maybe after you've put on some pants?"

Mingi freezes, looks down to confirm that, indeed, he's not wearing pants, but Naruto boxer shorts, then covers his crotch with his hands and buzzes off into his room.

Minutes later, Mingi reenters the kitchen, a pair of sweatpants hanging low on his hips that, yes, he checked twice if he's wearing them the right way around. As mentioned, he is generally unable to properly focus on his studies, but today, it's exceptionally bad. Of course, you'd notice.

"Mingi, are you okay?" There's worry in your eyes – a sight Mingi has not seen. Ever.

"I'm fine, just tired," he mumbles, eyes unfocusing as he stares ahead.

"Yeah, you are? Why?" Mingi's tired mind cannot question why you suddenly seem so interested in his well-being. He also doesn't put any meaning into why you're scooting closer to him, your forearm accidentally touching his.

"I studied during my lunch break," Mingi informs you, a little, proud smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. Something tingles inside his chest as you carefully place your hand on his arm. As he looks over at you, you smile at him, and he notices your gaze flickering down to his lips for a second.

Hold on. Mingi's mind suddenly snaps out of its hazy state and works on overdrive. He might be the type to vibe, the type to just let things play out, but he'd be damned if he didn't notice when someone likes him like that. He suddenly notices the way you started creating skin-on-skin contact with him, the way you want to be closer to him, eyeing him even more than you ever did before. Just... why? Is it because you saw him in his Anime panties?

A few moments pass, and you sit back, then pat your pencil against the book to remind him of the reason why you're actually here. Mingi groans, admittedly a little dramatically and unreasonably erotic, brushing a hand through his hair to flex his biceps right in front of your face. You seem unimpressed.

"Well, fuck me," he chuckles deeply, the rasp in his voice more evident than usual due to his nap. It's then when you tense, he notices from the corner of his eye. Oh. Okay. So it's the voice?

"I'm really glad you're tutoring me, you know?" He purrs, throwing in a little praise to get you extra bothered, and you simply breathe out nervously.

"Heh, no worries," you brush him off. Mingi decides that, for now, he's made you suffer enough and keeps quiet. Instead, he focusses on his studies, although he's already planning his next step to terrorize you with the sultry rasp his vocal cords are gifted with.

"Mingi, focus-"

"No, I get what I have to do, the contents just won't stay in my head." Mingi reasons, his voice unusually, but not by chance, high pitched, eyebrows scrunched as to why the hell he has to do this before doing that only to do whatever next when it wasn't like this for the other exercise he had to do minutes prior. He is not stupid (!), he does understand how this works. It's just that it doesn't make sense, and that is surely not his fault.

"Are you stup-" you start, but shut your mouth before you're even able to call him the dumbest fucker you've ever crossed paths with. Mingi inhales sharply. Oh, oh, you're lucky he is patient, and you're lucky he knows that as soon as he growled a few dirty words into your ear, you'd slam your upper body on the counter without regards of caution, pushing your panties down under your skirt and begging him to take you right there - or at least, that's what he imagines.

Yes, Mingi is super patient, that's just what comes with the entire vibe-personality package, so he does not dump your cute sorry ass on his baka-door mat, but simply closes his pen, lays it on the table and looks at you. A fabulous idea plops into his mind.

"God," he groans as deeply as he can, stretching his arms over his head, "I guess I'm just a little" - he throws in a little moany sigh - "a little distracted today."

"A-are you?" You nod, biting your lip subconsciously. Mingi looks at you without moving his head. "Why?"

"Well, just stuff, you know?" Mingi enjoys how the rumble in his voice makes his throat and - obviously - you feel. "There's just a lot, going on. Like big... big stuff. Stuff that just keeps coming and coming, in and out, just like that. Ugh, I wish I could just let all this frustration out you know, all this pent up stuff." He watches for your reaction.

Unmistakably, your hand holding your own pen in a relaxed manner mere seconds ago now desperately grasps the poor objects until your knuckles turn white, your breathing is uneven and loud as if you'd just ran the entire way from Mingi's place to the next convenience store (seriously, why the fuck is he paying so much for this godforsaken apartment?). And - Mingi's favorite reaction to him ever: you're pressing your thighs together.

Oh, how Mingi loves himself a good reaction like this.

"Big stuff, huh?" Your voice trembles as your nervous eyes search for his. "H-how big?"

"Oh, really big. Just really fucking big," Mingi confirms with a slight smirk. He loves how you just fold easily like that. One second, you're over there feeling superior on your little throne of knowledge that Mingi lacks, and the next, you're making a little mess in your panties just because Mingi so much as spoke. Absolutely incredible. People should start calling him "the rizzler".

"I think-" you clear your throat, "I think I should head home then?"

Mingi smiles to himself as soon as you turn away to pack your stuff into your backpack. His hands automatically reach out to play with his pen, his long, slender fingers toying with the object, inevitably drawing your attention to the movements. "Already?"

"Mhm." You stare a second too long, gulp, then hastily stuff your belongings into the big compartment of the backpack, Mingi listens to the sweet melody of stressed breathing and papers crunching.

As amused as he is, he decides that it is time for the big reveal.

"Keep it in your pants, baby" he looks over, his eyebrow halfway raised, and stops rocking back and forth and fiddling with the pencil as you freeze in your tracks and stop packing. "What?"

Slowly, you turn your head to look at him. "So you know?" You manage to squeak.

Mingi smugly pushes his tongue into his cheek. He loves how you're basically vibrating out of nervousness. "Oh, I know."

You sigh, hands finally letting go of your stuff and motioning defeat. He wonders what's going on in your mind right now. Are you afraid he's going to call you out? That he's going to make fun of you? That he's going to call you a needy slut and send you home? Or are you wondering if he's going to give you what you want? Mingi loves this game.

That's why he decides to make your situation a little more miserable.

"I also know that you think I'm stupid," he explains calmly, trying his best to no longer show any excitement, smugness, or any emotion whatsoever on his sharp facial features to really confuse you. Well, that's what you're getting for (almost) calling The Song Mingi stupid. Just a little payback, is all. He's not going to go so far and make you cry. No, no, Mingi can't handle when people cry, much less so if it's because of him.

Nevertheless, your breath hitches. Oh, you're fully aware that he didn't like you calling him that at all. Oh, how the gears are turning behind your forehead as you're trying to figure out what's going on, and what's going to go on in the next minutes.

"Thought so," Mingi deadpans. Yeah, that's right. Look how smart he is now! Super smart! He's got you all figured out. He knows exactly what to say and how to act to make you feel - and, fuck, does this feel like redemption - stupid.

"I'm sorry-" you start, back facing Mingi's form, but Mingi is not here for it. Mingi has gotten what Mingi wants. Mingi feels as powerful as he imagines a lion to feel, like, every day.

"Dumb fucks good," he simply states, just putting it out there, throwing it into the room for you to do with that statement whatever you like. Mingi's mind is already satisfied, his ego stroked because he's just proven that he isn't dumb. Although... he wouldn't mind a little diddling because, if he's being honest, you're hot as fuck and seeing you react to him in this way- well, he's also just a man!

"What?" You probably think you must've terribly misheard him as you whip your head around to face the confident Mingi smugly leaned back in his chair. Your eyes meet his, and he is sure that you now realize that, no, you definitely did not mishear him. That was exactly what he said.

In the blink of an eye, Mingi feels your presence on his lap, a last final look into his eyes before he feels your lips against his, desperately chewing away the remaining air separating his spit from yours. It's messy, lips colliding, too much teeth and tongue, but it's all raw and desperate. Mingi gets the vibes that you may have had some pent up want for him, but that's honestly the last clear thought he can muster before you grind your hips against his.

A deep groan escapes Mingi's lips, inevitably echoing against your own quiet gasps that just turn louder with every movement of your hips, your hands frantically trying to touch him everywhere at once to the point where he has to grab your arms and pull you back. Your eyes, wide. And confused, but somehow lidded and hazy at the same time struggle to take in Mingi in front of you. Yes, Mingi is aware of the effect of his siren eyes.

For another moment, he simply enjoys seeing how destroyed you look already, but honestly, there is just one thing on his mind.

"I'm gonna eat you out," he informs, waiting for you to nod frantically, whine and scramble off his lap for him to keep his promise. And you do, allowing Mingi to grab your waist with his large hands and lift you onto the counter. Of course, he can't resist getting another taste of your lips, almost losing himself in the soft pillows that frame your pretty mouth, but the hardness creating a tent in his sweatpants reminds him that he should possible attend a little lower.

Hence, he kisses his way over your cheek towards your jaw, then over your neck and down your collarbones. Mingi is not sure what your opinions on love bites are, so he just hopes you can remember him being right here and here and here even without visual proof, he can save that for next time.

Okay, Mingi admittedly was not able to hold himself back completely, his teeth only gently nipping at your skin on his way down. He simply hopes for the best, but your sounds seem to imply that you do not mind him one bit. Instead, you sound as if you wouldn't mind him taking a few bites more.

Impatient as you are, you assist Mingi in pushing your shirt out of the way, the straps of your bra automatically falling down your shoulders to reveal more of you to his hungry eyes.

And as much as Mingi would like to spend hours playing with your chest, he keeps it down to a minimum, kissing the soft flesh while gently pushing the remaining material out of the way for better access. His lips wrap around a nipple, his hands meanwhile busy with massaging the other and carefully holding your waist. God, Mingi loves boobs. But he might love the way your fingers comb through his hair and gently pull on it a bit more even.

Finally, the time has come, and Mingi kneels down on the floor. Pushing your skirt up, hands caressing your thighs, he creates eye contact with your eyes glazed over by lust and want. It doesn't even faze him that he hasn't cleaned these floors in weeks, honestly, he is in so deep he probably wouldn't even realize if the stove was on, lighting his study notes on fire.

He wants to tease you more, make you wait, maybe make you beg even, but he just feels too hungry to keep waiting. His fingers hook into the hem of your panties, pulling them down your legs as quickly as possible before spreading your legs and groaning in anticipation.

Throwing your thighs over his shoulders, he pulls you forward a little further, chuckling as you almost lose balance and smile at him. Okay, maybe Mingi feels a little tingle, and maybe that is not a horny tingle, but that's something to worry about later, if ever. Right now, he has a mission: dive in.

So that's what he does, obviously, planting a careful kiss right on your clit to wait for your reaction. And you do not disappoint, gasping slightly at the first sensation before getting louder and bolder the more Mingi tastes you.

His tongue gently parts your folds, getting a first taste of your juices. You basically cry out as his tongue prods at your hole, carefully easing its way inside to caress your walls.

Automatically, your hands fly to his hair, gently pulling at the roots to find a way to ground yourself, the feeling assumingely overwhelming, Mingi thinks, not to brag, but-

Mingi's eyes roll back at a particularly hard tug at his hair, paired with the way your hips grind closer until you're basically riding his face. Fuck, how are you so hot? Mingi's fingers grab hard at your thighs, loving the way the soft flesh feels in his hands.

To experiment a little more and, first and foremost, to get more rewarding reactions out of you, Mingi lets his mouth wander back up to your clit, gently sucking the nub between his lips, his tongue carefully flicking as not to overwhelm you. At the same time, a fingers sneaks its way over to circle your entrance.

Your throat coughs out a broken moan at this, your eyes switching between looking at Mingi's eyes and his mouth, and closing completely. Mingi loves taking in the pleasure written all over your face. He might not admit it, but he loves this kind of praise much more than verbal praise because your body really can't lie. He can literally taste how good he is at this.

He finally pushes his finger inside, loving how the wetness and muscle contractions are basically pulling him deeper and deeper until past his second knuckle. He feels around a little, trying to find the spots that seem to appeal to you the most, watching carefully how you react to each and every flick of his wrist.

Although, he feels that one finger is not enough to prepare you for the rest of him, so he adds another, massaging them into the spot that seems to be making you see stars with the way you grip his hair even tighter and mutter something he interprets as a warning that you're about to cum.

Keeping his pace, he successfully sends you over the edge, letting you ride out your high on his tongue before removing his lips, only getting his fingers massage the last clenches out of you.

Looking up he realizes you look, respectfully, wrecked, with your chest heaving, your hair a little messy and your eyes hazy and glossy, parted lips asking for his. And who is he to deny them, as he leans in to allow you to taste yourself. You seem to like it.

Pulling back after a while, he looks at you. You look so happy and relaxed like he's never seen before. For some reason, it reminds him of the weight in his pants that he suddenly feels the need to inform you about.

"You make me so hard," Mingi says lowly, carefully taking your hand to prove it to you, "feel." It's more your hand guiding his with how fast you reach down to feel him, eager to touch the outline of him through the sweatpants. And as if you're getting paid to stroke Mingi's ego even more, you gasp at his size.

Mingi can't help but smirk, of course, who wouldn't?

"Big stuff, huh?" You repeat your words from earlier, but this time no longer nervous, but cheeky as you bite your lip playfully. Oh, how Mingi would love to make you choke on his dick right now, just a little, and in a loving matter, but he's honestly waited long enough and he really just needs to be in you right now. And besides, Mingi is more in his giving > receiving era.

Instead, he grins. And he feels like there is something more.

Impatiently, you tug at his pants, successfully moving them a millimeter. Mingi helps you push his pants further down until it pools around his ankles. You giggle.

Damnit, Mingi. Why couldn't you've changed your underwear? Mingi mentally scolds himself, a good amount of his previously earned smugness flying out the window. Instead, he gives you kind of a sheepish look.

"I don't mind," you assure, tugging at his anime boxers next, "it's actually relieving to be reminded that you're still the cute, dorky Mingi and are not possessed by a sex demon."

"Incubus," Mingi points out.

"I don't fucking care. Just get this hideous thing off and have sex with me!"

Mingi does not need to be told twice, although he makes a mental note to scold you later for calling the one and only Naruto printed on a piece of fabric shielding his balls from the outside world hideous.

"God, fuck," you let out, and Mingi chuckles at your reaction to his naked lower half, "come here. Please."

You pull him closer, wrap your legs around him and beg him with your eyes. Mingi wastes not another second, aligning himself with your hole and slowly pushing forwards. Your eyes roll back as he enters you, causing you to hold onto him for dear life as he inches inside, filling you completely.

God, must your walls hug him so perfectly? Must you be so unbelievably wet just for him? Must you make these sounds? Mingi feels like he doesn't want to be inside anyone else ever again.

"I feel like I don't want to inside anything else ever again."

How did that get out there?

You chuckle, and have the nerve to pinch his cheek, as if he wasn't balls deep buried inside you right now. "You're so cute."

Cute?!

Mingi will show you cute. He grabs your jaw, admittedly still gently, and makes you look at him as he pulls almost all the way out until his tip catches at your entrance. "Cute?" And he pushes in all the way all at once. You moan, the feeling too much, too intense for you to still keep your eyes open. Helplessly, you cling to Mingi's body as he repeats the action 4 more times before setting a steady rhythm, angling his hips in a way that should stimulate the spot you liked so much earlier.

With your mouth hanging open and your eyebrows scrunched, you look like the prettiest thing Mingi's ever seen. He wants to see you drool, watch you completely lose your mind over nothing else but his cock. At the same time, he is surprised how good it feels. Well, not surprised that it feels good, but that it feels abnormally good, like he's about to nut in the next minute or so. Hopefully, he's able to coax another high out of you before that.

"What was it that riled you up so much earlier? My voice?" He growls, and you as much as whimper in return. "Yeah, like it that my voice is so deep?" You nod pathetically. "Cute."

"Mingi- 's so good."

"Yeah, am I fucking you good?" Mingi grins and you nod weakly, struggling to keep your eyes open. Mingi really shouldn't be the one talking big because honestly, he feels like if u moan one more time, if ur walls clench around him one more time, he is going to lose it. Something about this entire situation is just super surreal to him, or maybe it's simply you that is the reason for his premature high that is coming for him with fast steps.

"Fuck, baby," he groans, kissing your cheek before whispering, "can I please cum inside?"

"Shit, y-yes," you confirm, nodding quickly as you fight your hardest battle to keep your eyes open, focused and on the man that's currently grinding his tip into your sweet spot. Mingi feels like he loves you.

Mingi also feels like he's loosing his grip on reality, which is why he grabs your hips harder than before, using his strength to really slam his hips into yours with force, drowning his thoughts with the sounds of your moans. There is nothing on his mind except for you, you, you, and the primal need to make you his.

"Please," he groans, not quite sure what he's begging for, but it doesn't really matter in the end, does it? All that matters is that Mingi's ears catch the way you're begging him to cum for you, to fill you up, to please, please finish inside. He is not going to deny you that wish.

His hips stutter, his mind goes numb as he feels his muscles tighten and contract, releasing deep inside you. The feeling spreads in his body, feeling high and happy with such a forceful orgasm like this one.

Everything after is just a blur in his mind, he just remembers realizing that you didn't cum a second time, and he wouldn't be Mingi if he kept it that way. That's why he found himself back on his knees seconds after pulling out, sucking your clit back into his mouth, tasting his own release that's threatening to drip out if it wasn't for his fast fingers pumping in and out of you to push you over the edge.

It doesn't take long until you do, orgasm fueled by the lewd action of Mingi eating his own cum out of you, he assumes. Somehow, you two end up in his bed after, mostly because Mingi is a cuddler, partly because Mingi is not able to let you go yet. Or ever. Who knows.

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obsessivevoidkitten · 1 year

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Building a Hornet’s Nest

Male Wasp Hybrid Harem x Feminized Male Reader (CW: Noncon, musk, pheromones, bukkake, gangbang, double penetration, wasp men, oviposition, feminized male reader, drug-like cum, wasp transformation, DNA manipulation, general yandere behavior) Word Count: 3.7k (Sorry that this took so long. Sorry that this is so weird. I hope some people can find the degeneracy within themselves to enjoy it.)

When your distant uncle had passed away and left you a property you were surprised to say the least. You were more surprised to learn that it was on Arcadia and that your uncle had never lived long enough to go and see it as he had been ill for some time before his passing and he was not particularly old either. Years ago, unknown to most of the family, he had procured a modest plot of land on Arcadia, a distant planet on the fringes of known space. A true modern day frontier. It was known for its mega-flora. With flowers that grew to the size of trees in some cases. It was also known for its giant docile bees. They were just like bees on Earth except much much larger and they were stingless, it was very easy to domesticate them and now people used them on Arcadia to develop many rare and exotic honey types from the strange alien flowers. Your uncle had wanted to be a beekeeper, he was apparently going to invite you on the venture with him seeing as how you were both into farming and working the land and you had helped him with his beekeeping when you were younger, but he never recovered from his illness so you did not find out until his death. With only a bit of hesitance you decided to pursue your uncle’s dream. When you first got to Arcadia you were in awe by how tranquil and picturesque it was, the pictures and videos that you had seen certainly did it no justice. Unlike Earth most of the foliage was various shades of red, orange, and yellow. Giant blooms of every shape and color imaginable were everywhere, with the exception of the clearing that a small settlement had been built in. Despite being here for a few decades it was still very much a quaint little frontier town, pleasant enough people, offering just the bare essential services. Then there was your new plot of land a few miles from town. It was… run down… to say the least. But you made due, you had sold everything of significant value that you had owned back on Earth and were fully committing to this new venture. And, after a few months, your efforts finally paid off. A giant mansion sized barn for your future bees was built and your house was repaired. All that was left to do was wait for your shipment of buzzy friends to arrive. Well they wouldn’t be so busy when they arrived, as they would still be pupa, but within a week or two the pupa would be finished developing into full sized giant docile bees, they would accept the barn as their home and set up shop. The day came when your shipment finally landed and you were so thrilled, they came off the hover truck and you hurried them into their new home, carefully placing them horizontally into cells in the walls and capping them. In truth you had been more than a bit worried, you were running perilously low on funds and had to go with a discount bee supplier that seemed just a slight bit unreliable. But it seemed you had worried for nothing, here were your bee pupa, nice and healthy. Though they did seem to be a slightly different shape than they looked from the advertisements and videos, you were sure that nothing was wrong. You could barely contain your excitement, you had heard that these bees easily imprint on their humans and are very loving, soon they would establish a hive and your goals would be obtained. It would be slow at first, as you only had enough to get three pupa, but you would get there eventually. You couldn’t stop yourself from checking the barn every few hours. 9 or 10 times each and every single day. The wait was torture. But finally, after about 12 days, you heard buzzing coming from the barn when you stepped out of your house in the morning, you practically tripped over yourself running back inside to grab the collars for them and then dashed back outside and across the field of flowers you had started to grow for them. You opened the door to the barn and… it was NOT what you were expecting. The three pupa were no longer in the cells you had packed them so lovingly into, but they sure as hell were not bees either. Instead, standing before you were three wasp-men. You knew what these were, genetically engineered human-wasp hybrids, that typically had smaller genetic contributions from several ant and bee species as well, that were typically used in highly regulated projects or otherwise extremely shady sources of labor on the very unregulated frontier planets. The question was how did you get them? Did someone’s order get mixed with yours? With how much energy and enthusiasm you opened the door with, they were all now intently staring at you, and to say that they were intimidating would have been an understatement. They all looked fairly similar to one another, red and yellow plates of chitinous exoskeletons covered their feet, arms, legs, chests, and backs. The only thing lacking the exoskeletons were their faces, abs, asses, and crotches. Which were very much exposed, showing off scarily long cocks and heavy balls. They had red bug-like eyes, they had fangs but otherwise regular mouths, but they sat between a set of wicked looking mandibles. Antenna twitched on their heads, sticking out from long blood red hair. Each had a set of large wings folded behind them. Their antennas twitched in your direction as they also sniffed the air curiously. Uh-oh. They were from a shady source so who knows how unpredictably they could act towards you, so you wisely decided to make a hasty retreat, but they quickly flew over to you and pulled you back deeper into the building. “Where’s the rush?” one of them inquired in a slightly buzzing but deep voice, “Me and my friends just woke up here and need some answers.” “Uh-uh okay, sure, what do you want to know?” The one speaking put his arm roughly around your waist and pulled you closer to him. “Well, we are looking for the person meant to be our queen, do you know where they are? Your scent is the only one here. Did you put us in the wall compartments?” “There isn’t any queen, but y-yeah I was the one who bought your pupa and put them in there.” He took a moment to feel you over with his antenna, it probably would have tickled had you not been scared shitless. “Sooo… you’re the queen? Or are you under someone??” “There isn't one! And I own this land and made this building for bees…” One of the other two wasp men chimed in at this. “Ha! Bees? Those weak passive ones that have no human in em and are about as smart as a pet dog? You’re lucky you got us instead, we are far superior!” The one holding you now much too tightly replied while flexing his free arm,”He’s right, we are much better. You really lucked out little queen~ We can keep you much safer.” He licked up your neck with a long narrow tongue making you shiver. “I told you, there isn’t a queen!” You were beginning to grow annoyed with the cyclic nature of this conversation. “You bought us? You own this territory? You put us in cells so we could grow?” “W-well yeah but… I’m n-not-” “You’re our queen then~ Don’t be scared we’ll keep you all safe from the big scary world! You’re far too weak and squishy to just be left alone.” “Ha! Yeah, just a pathetic squishy little human,” the third one that had been silent up until now chuckled as he poked you hard in the stomach. The one holding you grinded gently into your ass, his cock fully erect and prodding your cheeks. “This ass is soft too~ Bet it feels great inside, doesn’t it little queen?” “S-stop, please, I’m not a w-woman!” “Awe, our queen is a bit dumb too~ Good thing we came along to take care of you. It doesn’t matter if you don’t think you’re our queen yet, we’ll rape you full of our eggs. You’ll look so lovely full of our spawn~” As he said all of this he began to gently rub his hand against your crotch and the other two hybrid men stepped closer. Between the unwanted touching and the mention of the word rape you decided it may be worth the risk to try and escape anyway, but your struggles didn’t last long. The man holding you shook you a bit violently until you were unsteady and still and then held the top of his wrist to your neck. A long thick black needle protruded from his wrist and was pointed at you threateningly. You turned away, trying to put as much space between your neck and the sinister looking needle as possible. “Maybe you aren’t too dumb, you know what this does don’t you my queen? It’ll hurt terribly before paralyzing you and allowing us to play with you at our leisure and make you fulfill your royal duty~” You let out a pathetic whimper in response. “Oh, don’t worry, I don’t want to use it. How can you squirm around my dick if I did? So just relax and let this happen the easier, more fun way, okay?” He nibbled on your earlobe and you went completely limp in his grasp, signaling that you wouldn’t put up anymore of a fight. “Heh heh, excellent choice, my queen~” The other two wasps chuckled cruelly as well as one pulled your shirt off and the other wasted no time in unburdening you of your pants and boxers. They stared at you hungrily. Your nudity only fueled your fear and you had to stifle your instinct to flail, thrash, punch, and run. But doing so would surely make things much worse for you, better to just let them have their way and get it over with and hope you could sneak out after maybe when they were sleeping or otherwise distracted. You could feel the cock of the hybrid behind you gently rubbing against your hole as he licked and bit at your neck. He bent down behind you and spread your cheeks, making you shudder as an inhumanly long tongue prodded your hole before sliding in deep, stretching you out gently as it probed and making you twitch and grow hard as it found and focused on your prostate. The genetics for their tongues definitely came from long tongued bees. The wasp man behind you got up and resumed pressing his cock into your hole. “Just getting you good and ready queen~” He whispered softly into your ear. His large cock mercifully massaged copious amounts of thick precum into you to prep you for breeding. At least the entry wouldn’t be unstretched or dry, because that’s not something you would have put past them. The other two wasps were busy rubbing their hands all over your body, rubbing your belly, groping your ass cheeks, stroking your face with surprising tenderness, and contrasting that with rough greedy groping of your soft thighs and tugging at your hair. As the one behind you slipped inside your well lubed ass a second wasp enveloped your hard cock entirely within its mouth while the third kissed you passionately, its tongue fervently exploring every inch of your mouth. You couldn’t even yell in pleasure or protest the pain of having your ass invaded by a large inhuman cock as the long thin went down your throat, making you gag a bit. Finally respecting your need to breathe, the wasp removed itself from your face and began biting your sensitive neck, adding to the complete overly stimulating waves of sensation already being caused by having your dick enveloped by a hot mouth and your prostate gently kissed by the rhythmic thrusts of the other two insectoid men. The one attending your cock took his free hand to massage your balls and that led you to possibly the quickest orgasm of your life. In any other situation you would have been totally humiliated, but you were long past having any dignity today. The one behind you did not relent in his fucking of you, but instead picked up the pace a bit as he felt your body shudder, the one sucking you off hungrily swallowed your load before licking his lips and getting up. “My, you were really pent up my queen, and you produce such sweet honey for me!” He pressed his lips to yours, letting the taste of your own cum permeate your mouth. Between the kiss and the constant pounding of your ass you whimpered as you were already hard again, the wasp that had previously had its tongue down your throat now replacing the one that swallowed your cum at your cock, kissing the sensitive organ before licking it and sucking your recently emptied nuts. You whimpered as they continued to manhandle your sensitive body. The one pumping into your tight hole finally slamming in hard and cumming forcefully, depositing something round and hard into you as he did, making you flinch a bit in surprise as you remembered that they reproduced via eggs, it did not really hurt, but you felt a tingling inside where the waspoid cum touched you. The cock inside you lingered a while as it filled you but once it slid out and away from you your ass’ rest was short lived. One of the wasps laid with his back on the ground and with his cock pointing up, the other two bringing you over to him and forcing you to lower yourself onto his eager, drooling, prick. Your well stretched hole slid on him easily and he gripped you tight and forced you up and down on his length. That special spot inside you was rubbed once more, making you shudder in unwilling pleasure, your body completely betraying you. The pace was slow enough for you, and surprisingly he seemed unwilling to seriously injure his “queen”. As you were finally getting used to the motions one of the other wasps, the one that had already filled your ass, came up behind and slid his cock back inside you with his friend’s so that you were now being plowed in tandem by the both of them. As you gasped from the sudden extra intrusion abusing your insides the third wasp took advantage of your open mouth and wasted no time in putting his dick in your open mouth. You could taste his precum, oddly enough it had just a slight soothing effect and you noticed it tasted of honey. Filled to the brim with cock, you started to get a bit more relaxed as time went on, not overly so. You were still very unwilling and any pleasure was purely physical, incidental, and frustrating, but whatever was in the honey like fluid dripping from his cock was definitely making you a bit less stiff and just a tad bit less defiant. While this was happening you thought you could remember hearing something about this, that modified wasp and bee species made substances that could calm down their queens when distressed, both in fluids and via pheromones. And now that you thought about it the musk that hung heavily in the air was strangely comforting, it was like the more of the precum that dripped down your throat the more you were affected by the smell that these men were giving off. Not nearly enough to really lose yourself though, it was far more subtle than that. It was also probably why you did not feel too much pain anymore despite two dicks pistoning your ass, as one cock thrust forward the other pulled back. All the while the one occupying your mouth was happily pumping away, content with enjoying the wet warmth of your mouth as he fed you more pre. Between all the sensations overtaking your body, the cocks sliding in and out of you, the pheromones and relaxing fluid, and the hands roaming over your sides, face, and thighs, you couldn’t help but blow another load, right on the wasp that was below you. “See? It feels good to be our queen, doesn’t it,” he asked with a mocking chuckle knowing full well it was just your body’s response and it didn’t mean you were enjoying your predicament. After several minutes the one making you suck him pulled out and moaned as he came all over your face, covering you in warm slippery fluid. There were no eggs in this ejaculation, he was certainly saving all of those to be deposited deep inside you to go along with his friend’s. Your skin tingled a bit where the cum touched you and you began to feel just a bit dizzy as your inhibitions slowly lowered just a bit and you became even more relaxed. The cum was much more potent than just the precum and the load up your ass was gradually affecting you as well. Musk permeating the air was much thicker than it had been, or maybe you just noticed it more now, but it was making you drool a bit and you couldn’t help but bounce back a bit against the dicks in your suddenly hungry hole. “I feel really weird… can we stop now…” You stifled a cry, something wasn’t right, you were much more sensitive than normal to everything and you were having difficulty thinking clearly. The wasps all smirked as they ignored you, knowing that their fluid was slowly turning you into a weak little queen they could worship and fill with egg after egg. It was slowly changing your very DNA, making you receptive to hybrid pheromones, making you crave them. The one that had previously unloaded in you pulled out and came all over your back. Moments later the one below you working you on his shaft like some kind of living sex toy slammed you down to the base of his cock and filled you deeply with even more eggs and semen, causing you to spasm and moan weakly with a dry orgasm of your own. “Fuck! You’re a great incubator!” While you were panting and trying to recover the wasp previously abusing your mouth unceremoniously pulled you off the cock you were on and gripped you tight from behind, his erection easily sliding in your cum leaking entrance. “Not done yet, being queen is very busy work, you have to take my eggs too~” “P-please no more, I-I feel funny,” you pleaded desperately as your head was swimming with mixed signals. You knew you didn’t want this but you were so light headed you could barely think, and now these wasp men smelled so alluring, and wouldn’t having more eggs in you feel so nice? “I-I n-need to s-stop…” You felt an instinctual need to keep letting them fill you up, but at the same time you were burning up and truly felt feeble and sick. “Shhh, shhh, just relax, okay? You have been such a good mate for us so far~” He licked a long stripe up your neck with his thin tongue and held you tighter as he continued grinding into you. Without warning he started flying a few feet in the air while still breeding you, his insect instincts telling him to give you a proper nuptial flight. In no time the other wasps joined in as well, both of them in front of you, tending to their precious queen. Rubbing you up and down, smearing the fluid that covered you into your skin, giving little kisses and nibbles, and caresses where they saw fit. They were a bit brutish, but they knew the transition occurring in all of your cells was a rough one and they wanted to help their queen embrace his new role as easily as possible, especially since you had been such a perfect weak little mate for them. You would have continued to beg for them to stop, but it felt so nice now. And it would have been so ungrateful. These nice men were taking care of you so sweetly, giving you lots of eggs to tend to, choosing you to take care of them. It made you feel fluttery in the pit of your stomach. You were so lucky. With a shudder the final load of eggs was unloaded into you, the wasp man behind you wrapping his legs around yours as he came. They all gently lowered you to the ground, one of them keeping you in his arms with you leaning against him and burying your head in his neck before passing out from sheer exhaustion. The wasps’ fluids were still hard at work rewriting your DNA, somewhat like a virus. It was definitely taking a toll on you. Your harem of wasp-men took you to your house and had you all washed up and bundled in your bed, keeping a dedicated vigil over you as you had a deep but feverish sleep. They did not like seeing you uncomfortable, unless it was from them teasing you. But they knew it would be worth it, when you woke up in a few days you would be totally dependent on them. Your new insect DNA demanding you to always be by one of them for safety and telling you that you would constantly need to be incubating their eggs. Their pheromones would comfort, alert, or arouse you based on what they needed to communicate and you would produce some as well that allowed them to track you and be aware of your condition. You’d even grow antenna and your skin would take a reddish tone. You would technically be a wasp hybrid yourself, but that would be the extent of your transformation. Just a weak incubator hopelessly dependent on them for the rest of your life.

#yandere teratophilia #yandere terato #yandere harem #male harem #yandere male harem #male reader #yandere x reader #monster boyfriends #wasp boyfriends #monster husbands #yandere husbands #yandere boyfriends #male yandere x male reader #My OCs #My OC Wasps

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alavestineneas · 24 days

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i can feel the soil falling over my head; no people are here, just the void in my chest

pairing: Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen x fem!reader summary: Harkonnen men rarely wed; they just take what they capture—men and women—and turn them into slaves. Some, if particularly sweet, are reserved for fucking. There are no special songs for that; there isn't a specific word in their native tongue for wife, either. warnings: mentions of death, violence, implied/referenced child abuse, religious symbolism, daddy and sister issues, bald men chapter 1 - chapter 2 word count: 6,5K

author's note: hi beautiful people! this chapter may be classified as a prologue (yes, I am aware of its size, sorry, lol), but it is still integral to the story. we love evil people, especially evil bald people, in this house, so have fun and don't forget to wash your hands before reading! also, if you see things that are not canon, just know that me and the books are two parallel lines and we do not cross. feel free to point out grammar mistakes, though - english is not my first. love you!

Kaitain, 10176 AG

The violent streaks of light fight with the heavy cloth of drapes to find their way into the small, stifling chambers. The time was slowly crawling towards noon in the heavy summer heat, and the woman lying on the heavily decorated sheets was battling to get a breath in. Whether because of the annoying star, or the poisoning waiting, the patterns of sweat stained her tired face with esculent ornaments. Her lips, formed into a thin line, gleamed with small spots of dried crimson.

''Where is the messenger?'' The woman's voice was barely above a whisper, her eyes glued to the dancing light filtering through the window. ''The girl is strong; I can't hold her for much longer.''

The black figure on the chair in the corner slightly shifted at words. She was veiled, despite the heat—like a black hole, she seemed to suck the little air left. ''Forbearance,'' her raspy voice cuts through the room. ''The child makes you impatient. Control yourself.''

''I've waited, and waited long enough,'' the woman snapped, her frustration evident in her trembling hands. ''A few more minutes and all that is left of her will be a corpse.''

''Be quiet, Echidna. The child will live. If not, she was never meant to be part of our world in the first place.''

The woman clenched her jaw in a wave of pain and nodded. The girl ought to see the light of this planet today. Deep in her thoughts, she almost missed the rushed steps behind the door.

One of the Emperor's guards burst into the room, his eyes almost frantic. ''Lady Anirul has graced the Imperium with a daughter.''

Echidna smiled in relief, but her expression quickly changed as a beast-like cry pierced the air. The child was coming, with little care for the damage it caused to her aching womb. She tore the tissue down to the individual cells, gnawing her way with fists and elbows, moving the bones aside with brute force. Soon, her own cries were answered by much louder ones, as the head of the girl showed itself, covered in a thick layer of almost black blood. Just for a moment, the woman wished it would not steal another breath from the room, but she sharply composed herself. With a final push, the child left her body forever, leaving it a raw wound.

The small creature shrieked when the black figure approached, and slender, wrinkled arms took it from the warmth of rufous-red liquid. Echidna watched as the figure carried the girl away, resting her hurting body against the soaked pillows. She fulfilled her duty; she granted Bene Gesserit the daughter they wanted. She is bleeding under a beautiful sun; she is holding the ghost of her child in her arms—the real one was never hers anyway. Echidna knows the Emperor will not come. From now on, it is just her and her never-passing pain. Thus, Kaitain, home to the Corrino dynasty, was warmed by the light of a new sun—Princess Irulan, an heiress to the Imperium—and chilled by the shadow of her sister, born a few minutes later.

The calmness of the gardens was disturbed only by the soft strokes of brushes against a thick canvas. YN sighed, her eyes still fixed on the tree nearby, its young branches swaying with the wind. Her body ached from stillness, the tension in her neck from holding her head slightly bowed spreading down to her small back. They posed for a portrait of what seemed like an eternity to a child, and was almost it to an adult who dared to inquire; the painter, while satisfied with the draft, looked at the group of young girls almost in fear—no normal child of that age would be unmoving for three hours. And yet, they were.

YN felt one of her sisters shift even through the thick fabric of her silver dress. Small Chalice turned, her cheeks red from the heat or tiredness, her lips forming a pout—the child was tired, sleepingly rubbing her eyes. YN thought for a moment, debating if the punishment would be worth it, or if her sisters could wait just a little bit more until the man with colours would end the session for today. She noticed how Irulan's face was starting to droop, her eyes fluttering closed and opening just a second later. Their youngest, Wensicia, was already asleep in Irulan's arms; her golden hair spread across her and YN's laps as a beautiful cover, shining under the faint sun.

''I am tired, Master Chen. We should end the painting for today,'' YN finally spoke; her voice was almost a whisper. She did not know whether it was not to awaken her sister or out of fear of the Emperor's anger; it did not matter. The man nodded and left, taking his canvases with him, leaving only a few drafts behind. Then, the sisters were left alone in the garden.

''Thank you,'' Irulan said softly, placing her head on YN's shoulder.

YN only nodded. Her eyes found the paper not so far away, her gaze studying the strokes of the pencil with interest. Wensicia, a beautiful girl of two, was smiling brightly, holding an olive branch in her chubby hands, her small feet peeking under the hem of her white dress. Small Chalice was at the opposite end of her, her curly hair surrounding her head like a halo as she leaned forward, holding a small dove inside her palms. Then, sitting at the bench, surrounded by lush greenery and bushes, they. Irulan and the Other.

YN was placed just a step away from her older sister, her head turned away from the gaze of the viewer. The delicate folds of her silver dress carefully cascaded down, creating an air of mist around them. Her hands were empty; she did not know if the artist hadn't decided with each object to grace her with, or left them hollow intently. She looked like a shadow—a ghost, maybe; her eyes were escaping the viewer as if hiding a secret.

Irulan was different. She was a sun-kissed creature, her head facing straight ahead. Her eyes, as if inviting for a challenge, were made from duty, steel. With a burning star on her regal forehead, crowning the streaks of golden hair, Irulan was water and air, dulcet and ever-bending; her figure held the place and her pose was distinct and commanding.

YN looked at the girl beside her, who was now quiet nearby. Irualn was wise, the wisest of the sisters; her eyes were all-seeing, her heart all-knowing. She was created in the shape of a mother since they could walk, and the small ones bathed in her light, drinking her till the last drop —like flowers following the warm embrace of the sun. The only one who could not enjoy the love was her, the Other. The other sister, the other half. For they have been too close in age, too similar to let each other pretend the burden was not a heavy one to bear.

When Irulan was natural in her all-caring shape, YN had to claw her way to the only role left—the father. An unbent tree, a silent soldier—she was not born to fit as one, but wishing for a different order of things was almost blasphemy. That's how it always was with them—out of two, one was the protector, the other - the protected. "Husband," Irulan humorously called her often. She smiled, and, for a moment, the wave of resentment in YN's soul calmed. She never called her wife in return: Irulan was too whole to be one, too proud to be moulded into. She stood alone, on a higher pedestal than all of them, closest to the Emperor, whom the Other was to call father, and closest to the Truth. No, Irulan was God.

God does not know how to love someone who is not his servant, because there is no one who would refuse to serve him; it is the only way. God guides, despite all one's protests. God gives, and God takes. God demands; Irulan demands—silent obedience without a need to explain or answer. That, she takes from their father. So, the Other takes a blade into her hand without compassion for her dead wishes and learns to wield it in God's name. She is the one little ones turn to when the world is too wicked for their fragile souls when the creatures under their beds lose all of their human form and turn violent. She takes their sins and bears the punishments, for they are not deserving of such cruelty. YN thinks not of her own guilt—what difference would one scourage make to one who counts in centuries? And when the sun shone, and God smiled, the Other almost forgot of the bruises she carried.

The first time he saw her, it was not supposed to happen at all. Feyd-Rautha just closed the door to Maester's chambers with such force that it shook against lean walls; the grumble echoed in the long corridors of Giedi Prime's fortness. The ache in his body was muted, but still present; the torn flesh inside his heart howled and clawed, slicing the ribcage in half. He would've screamed, or perhaps beat his hands bloody against the concrete until the dull pain turned into something as sharp as his knife's blade. Maybe he would've drowned himself in a small water bowl by his nightstand and done anything to escape the shame and humiliation that consumed him from within. But instead, Feyd-Rautha stood still, his jaw clenched tight and his breathing shallow. One day, it will pass. One day, he will see the world choke on its own spit.

That's when he noticed a small, shadow-like figure at the end of the hallway staring at him. A girl, not older than him, was in a dress so foreign to him that it hurt his eyes. The daughter of the Emperor, he guessed. One of many—only then would the golden stitching on her sleeve would make sense.

''What are you doing here?'' he barked, caring little for the common courtesy. Of course, she was a guest almost as prized as her father, but she was in his territory and dared to look at him for long enough without averting her eyes. Long enough to notice the bruising on his pale skin and a swelness surrounding his lips. Long enough to hear him cry.

''I was walking with my mother, but then I turned into the wrong hall,'' she shrugged. ''Will you be kind enough to show me the way out? Or should I find it myself?"

Feyd-Rautha ignored her question. What a weird creature she was—with cascades of hair and eyes that seemed to see too much. ''It is dangerous to walk these halls without guard, Princess.'' It is dangerous to be here, alone with him and the weapon strapped to his hip, but he did not add it.

''There is no use of guards if the one who wishes to kill you is their master.'' The girl took a step forward, pointing to the weapon at his side. "I am not afraid."

Feyd-Rautha laughed. It came out more as howling than human sounds, the abrupt nature of it ringing with high notes, tip-toeing down to hysterical; it sounded creaky, like his throat was not made for such sounds; yet here he was, laughing. ''Come,'' he gestured to her, his hand moving quickly, like ordering a slave around. ''I will show you why you should be.''

So, they walked. Inside the grandiose chambers and small rooms, filled with ancient artefacts or the newest technology Harkonnens came up with; inside the green lavish garden inside the dim castle and the training grounds, Feyd-Rautha showed every place that was built to display the greatness of his house and bestone fear inside both guests and people inhibiting it. He wanted to see the horror in the girl's eyes, to make her eyes water and her frame flee. Instead, he listened to her steady breathing just a step behind him, her curious questioning satisfying another need he did not know his heart possessed: reverence.

He was the youngest member of the ruling line, the smallest stone in the castle of power his uncle had built. His title meant nothing within these walls; he was too small in comparison to the Baron and his authority. Feyd-Rautha was feared, despite only being nine; he was the shadow in the corner that grew longer as the sun set, the whispered name that sent shivers down spines. But here, in the hallway he led the girl into, he turned out to be something else.

''Stunning,'' the girl whispered beside him.

Weapons. The walls, from the floor to the high ceilings, were covered in ritual and fighting blades. The pride of house Harkonnen, the tree of their dynasty, black, silver, golden, and steel knives, swords, and daggers gleamed in the dim light. Feyd-Rautha smiled, revealing a row of sharp teeth. "Welcome to our burial ground."

They stopped near every one, his voice briefly covering the story of each blade and his owner; barons that came before him; fighters and rules that defined their legacy. Some still have blood on them—the highest honour; some look almost virgin. The small signs underneath them tell the names of people who wielded these weapons, their stories forever immortalised in the cold metal. ''Each Harkonnen ruler is crafted a blade of his own, the one he is to honour in battle.''

The girl nodded, her fingers tracing the shape of the last blade carefully. Her palms danced around the sharp edge, taking in the ancient symbols she had no chance of knowing. ''Will you have to kill Baron Vladimir in order to have one, like he did with his father before?''

Feyd-Rautha paused. Of course, he has thought about it before. The idea he repeated like a mantra in his head for all of his short life, the belief that spread burning flames down his spine. The words left his mouth for the first time but felt almost natural against his cracked lips. ''I dream of the day I have the chance to.''

The pair of foreign eyes that stared back at him held a glint of intrigue that quickly changed with a flash of acknowledgement. Feyd-Rautha held the gaze; not a single thing about it was hard. Still, he was the first to turn away; the burning sensation of being seen made him want to tear his flesh apart. ''Let me escort you to your rooms, Princess. The walls grow colder as the evening approaches.''

The weather on the planet leaves too few guards out of their breath, Irulan notes. The striking sun burns through the rounded windows of man-built walls, the frankly depressing landscape of huge boxes constructed with little intent for anything else but utilitarianism. She must not fear, while those lands will also be under her power with time, but the dreadful atmosphere of the lonely planet makes her skin break out in hives.

She believes the people here are more terrifying. White, hairless creatures with eyes as dark as the sun above them speak with just nods and courseys, paying little to no attention to the world around them, save for the concrete floors. ''Tell them to set themselves on fire, and they will,'' Irulan recalls Baron Vladimir telling her father over the banquet. She believed it to be a simple boast at first, but now, after a few days in the strange world, the words make greater sense.

Perhaps, the harsh weather made people here hardened. Perhaps, such cruelty is necessary for survival. What terrorised her more was her sister—the one who now silently reads nearby, her long dress carelessly spread on the floor. Irulan would never allow her dress to wrinkle before the concluding dinner, but she is not Irulan. Despite them being demisisters, they shared fewer similarities than one could guess. Two lambs, as many in court would call them—the white and black ones. They knew one another better than anything else; where one went, the other followed. Where Irulan failed, her sister succeeded. What was allowed for her sister, was fobility towards Irulan. No one was embedded in their small circle; no one could get close enough to understand the bond they shared—together, they were whole.

Yet as they grew older, the bond seemed to thin. The path to the mind of her sister was more often closed to her now, her thoughts veiled by the silence rooted deep into her veins. Irulan knows they are just growing up, trying to find their path in the unknown. But she is scared; what would be of her without her sister? What use would the river have without fish to fill it?

''I shall go,'' her sister says, closing the book. ''The dinner starts soon, and I wanted to return the book before it.''

''Is it the one Na-Baron recommended?'' Irulan voices. Truth be told, she would never touch anything that Baron or his family possessed, even more recommended, but her sister seemed to enjoy the ancient text.

''It is. Rather interesting are the traditions of these people. Did you know their slaves have no tongues?''

Irulan feels sick to her stomach; the thought of having slaves brings the small bits of her recent meal to her very present tongue. ''Can I come with you?'' she asks, instead of answering. Irulan does not want to leave the faint safety of her rooms, but even more, she does not want to be left alone. She feels vulnerable—she is not of power here, despite being the embodiment of it in all of the other corners of the Imperium.

''You know I walk without guards.''

Irulan knows. While she is not able as much as bathe without the presence of someone with fighting knowledge, the rules do not seem to apply to her younger sister; she can move freely, as she wishes. Was it because she carried a thin blade with her and knew how to use it, or because of the lack of care from their father? Irulan was not sure. What she was sure of, was that no woman of twelve should leave her sister alone in the halls of Harkonnens' fort.

''It is just to the reading room and back, is it not?''

''Yes,'' her sister nods. ''I'll take you,'' it means.

So, they walk. Fortunately, the guards usually waiting outside are nowhere to be found, and they manage to slip away unnoticed. Irulan holds the hand of her sister tightly, with each noise from the outside digging her nails deeper into her soft palm. Her sister says nothing; she steps calmly into the labyrinth of corridors, navigating them without much evident trouble. Soon, they find themselves in front of a huge black door, incarnated with words Irulan hold no knowledge of.

Inside, the chamber is massive; it forms a beautiful, round circle with ceilings so high that the air in it is always chilly. Rows of books and manuscripts fill the shelves out of oxidant, contrasting starkly with the white wall. The black circle table of cold stone is filled with replicas and ancient artefacts, each emitting a soft glow.

Who knew the small, desert planet held such treasures inside? Irulan forgets about her sister entirely—the texts call to her, golden lettering shining under the light. Irulan follows the names on the covers: legends, myths, histories, and art overviews. Some even contained gardening and soil research; Baron likely held those for a good laugh.

Irulan travels deeper and deeper until the voice of her sister addressing the only library keeper almost disappears, consumed by tall bookcases. The section she finds herself in is solely dedicated to martial arts; where, if not here, would the hundreds of books on such a topic be stored? Some of them are used; the spines are slightly older; others look brand new.

Irulan is brought to her senses only when she notices a black figure moving in the corner of her vision. She puts the book back and Listens. Just like the Sisters taught her, her inner ear picks up the faint voice of her sister, and the moving of two sandaled feet—the slave handling the books. She feels something else, too. A presence familiar enough to recognise but not enough to name.

''We have to go,'' she says, grabbing her sister by the shoulder and pressing. ''We will be late,'' she explains to the slave. Not that it would question the whims of the princess.

''Why?'' her sister turns to her, confused. ''I was looking at some other books. Weren't you also?''

''Please,'' Irulan whispers. ''We spent enough time here as it is.''

Just as her sister was about to answer, the atmosphere shifted. The air, sitting in its calmness, heavied. The silent before slave turned on its feet, its eyes burning holes in Irulan's body. It lurches towards them, opening its obsidian mouth to show the blackened void inside—indeed, it possesses no tongue.

Irulan freezes. The void seems to suck her in, the sharp mouth growing wider as its owner approaches her body. The fear paralyses her, planting her otherwise quick feet deep into the ground. Now, her training as Bene Gesserit should awaken—she should oppose, or at the very least dodge, the attack. But the black mouth continues to draw her in, clouding her thoughts with terror.

The body beside her shifts; her sister is quick. With one strong thrust, she pushes Irulan aside. '' Hide ,'' the voice within her head commands, and Irulan has no force to object to the technique. She crawls under the heavy stone, frantically looking for something—anything—to protect herself with.

Despite the long skirts, her sister moves like Adam's wine; she bends and turns, and strikes the man far taller than her, but he seems determined on the idea of killing her. Her sister grunts under the heavy hits; one sits in her abdomen, and another lands on her knees. The slave's nails leave a trace on her skin, rough enough to pierce the young dermis.

Eventually, her sister grows tired; the slave pushes her to the ground, pressing his slender body on top and closing its white, almost translucent hands on her throat. Irulan clasps the found sharp cutting instrument to her chest, desperately trying to calm the wave of fear forming there. ''I must not fear. Fear is a mind killer,'' she whispers again and again.

She watches as her sister's hand slips under her clothes and emerges an illicit, slender blade—it shines under the light just as lettering did on the books a minute ago. To Irulan, it feels like a year's hundred. ''No!'' she wants to shout as her sister raises the steel and preys it into the eye of the slave, but the words are unable to leave her throat. Like a waterfall, crimson covers her sister's face, staining her light grey dress in hot circles.

The slave falls on his back, his hands leaving their place on her sister's neck.

''Enough, please! Sister, stop!'' Irulan cries, crawling out of her hiding spot but daring not to get closer.

Her sister doesn't hear; she lurches towards the man in a slick puddle and takes his life quickly, cutting his throat in one swift motion. The blood from his arteria leaves the body in pulsations; they spatter everywhere, some drops going as far as touching the shelves.

The silence settles in the chamber once again; only the sound of weakly flowing blood disturbs the stillness. Her sister does not shed a tear; she meticulously cleans the blade with the slave's white cloth and slips it back into the folds of her gown.

''What have you done?'' Irulan whispers. Her hands tremble; the sight before her crawls into the deepest corners of her mind and tears everything there down. How can one kill so easily? How can one be so cold and calculating, as if it were nothing more than a daily chore? How could that one be her sister, the one she shared a life with?

''I protected.'' Her sister's voice is hoarse, but firm. There is no remorse in her tone, only weariness. ''What have you done?'' She turns to face her. Her hair, carefully braided by servants for dinner, is undone; the wet strands of it grip her face like a vice, framing the unseeing eyes.

Like that, she looks like a woman mad. Irulan backs into the safety of the doors, feeling her fear turn into something much greater. ''Do not come near me,'' she commands. Just as the heavy doors close behind her, she sets off running.

YN waits until the footsteps of her sister are no longer heard, and only then does she come out of the reading room. She pays the body on the ground little attention; no one would bet an eye on the death of a useless creature like that. It did not intend to kill; rather, someone made it do it. Who, in their right mind, would try to harm the heir of the Emperor? How would they know that Irulan would follow her there?

Irulan. The one who watched as the Other almost gave her life for hers, the one who had the nerve to be repulsed by the blood on her hands—the blood she spilt protecting her. What do you do when you are not allowed to be angry at God? Why does God shame one for the will she herself inflicted on one to bestone? YN would ask the sun, but it hid behind the walls of the fort. She would ask, but no one would answer.

So, she does what she is meant to do—finds her way into the large dining hall, where everyone, of course, is starting to gather. The Emperor would be dissatisfied to find her not there on time; she has no time to fix her appearance. In light of the slight possibility of shaming their House with her muddled hairstyle or suffering yet another punishment for being even late, she chooses the first option.

The guards let her in without saying a word. YNr watches as the shield slides open, revealing a full hall. Rows and rows of tables, filled with foods one would imagine never would have made their way to the Giedi Prime, and laughter not so usual for a harsh realm.

''Princess...'' the servant starts, announcing her arrival, but she shushes him with a slight wave of her palm. She does not notice the crimson liquid staining it.

The Other makes her way to her seat calmly, careless of the way people around her stumble and twist their faces in shock. The only eyes that watch her without fear at the Emperor's table are those of Lady Echidna. Her face betrays no emotion at all—hidden by her veiled black cloth, it only slightly moves when the YN passes her seat.

She holds the angry gaze of the Emperor calmly. He will demand an answer, of course if Irulan has not whispered the truth into his aged ears already. Her sister probably would do no such thing; in that, she would admit to disobeying the orders bestowed upon her. YN is puzzled at the attention directed towards her humble figure—the first thing a Bene Gessarite in training learns is not to be repulsed by the anatomy of her body. Why be grossed out by the liquid coursing through her veins—the liquid she carries all her life? Why be scared of death, when it is always at your doorstep? In the sway of her thoughts, the Other also seems not to perceive the pair of icy blue eyes glued to her figure as she finds her seat and takes her place.

"The boy follows you around like a dog." The mother's tone stands not in judgment but rather simply states the truth.

Lady Echidna is not veiled now; her heavy hair is still tightly braided out of her face. Just a small black ribbon highlights her status as one of the Emperor's senior concubines, a position most would bear with honour. To her, it was yet another stain on her earthly body—the body she could not call her to possess. The black sun of Giedi Prime is finally long behind them; nothing but a few light orbs floating around illuminate the chamber, yet her intense gaze seems to pierce right through the girl that sits across her.

"I know, mother. His steps are heavy; his thoughts are even heavier; they follow me much more often."

The woman's fingers stop working on an intricate needlework for a moment, before continuing as it was. "You are to call me Sister, girl," she speaks, her voice low.

YN drags her teeth across her tongue, feeling the anger flow through the veins in her body. She wishes to be far away from this small chamber, to run and never face the woman's eyes again. "The girl has a name, Sister. Or do you fear to voice it?"

Lady Echidna places the cloth on the table beside her gracefully, as if paying no attention to the words spoken. But YN can sense can feel the resentment that burns inside her mother's stomach, spreading its molecules to her throat. "A name holds meaning; for a person to have a name, one must first be of character and substance. You are none."

YN bit the soft flesh inside her mouth; it tasted bitter. It was better if her mother shouted, if she hit her if she did anything to prove YN is still here in her eyes, that she was not just a void the woman spoke her riddles into. Maybe then the pain inside her would have a meaning, would have a reason better than just childish hurt. "Did I not have a beating heart when I left your womb, Sister? Did you not hear it loud and clear? What kind of proof is needed more of me?"

"My daughter died that day, screaming. You took her place. So do not bother me with your foolish talks anymore, for we both know they just waste the air we breathe. Am I heard?"

She was. The tears dried on YN's face before having the chance to spill, and she turned to her studies. Once more, a feeling of ever-lasting cold surrounded her shoulders. The never-leaving vision in her mind appeared once again—her mother's quick steps as she walked away in another corridor of Giedi Prime's fort, her head straight ahead as YN pleaded not to leave her alone, her legs glued to the command spoken. It was a blessing that the boy found her earlier than his uncle.

Time has passed since the first time YN's eyes saw the black sun of the foreign planet so far from hers. The Other trained, restlessly, in the tongues of ancient warriors and the most prominent whisperers, slowly earning the right to bear Knowledge in her crown-empty head. She had much yet to learn, but the prospect did not frighten her; with every passing day, she felt power building in her hands and soul. Patience, the greatest virtue of all. She was alone now, without her half of a sister; alone, in her solitude, the heavy bearings seemed not as heavy—she had no one to enlighten about her battles. Still, God was on her mind; YN felt her presence near, her watchful eyes guiding her. Like the tight, dampened cloth on her bruised knuckles, her sister was stuck to her open wound of a soul.

Irulan has grown. Her complexion changed; she no longer looked like a bright-faced girl who left her sister alone in Harkonnen's library; the plump cheeks were gone, and so was fear. At the Other stared a sole statue of power she bloomed into. Silver collars, light blue waves of fabric—the cut is, as always, straight. The Other eyed her up and down, taking in each detail of the painting-like sight. Irulan did the same—a slight disgust at the Other's simple tunic and pants, creased from the sparring. Irulan did not need to be broken in order to be a Sister in the Bene Gesserit; they wanted her Corrino first, and a servant second. The Other, however, held no such value—a child carried not by the lawful wife, a second, a spare. So, there would be no bone in her body left untouched by the lessons, no string in her soul unharmed by the knowledge. They crushed her cartilage in grey sand and forced her to swallow the bitter truths of their ways. Yet, God remains undisturbed—stoic. Eternal.

''Will you not eat again?'' Irulan musses, putting another piece of dish in her mouth.

The Other would take it as a cruel joke from anyone else, but not from God. She shakes her head instead. ''I am forbidden.''

Irulan hums. It was not the first time YN would be disciplined this way; the cycle of punishment and forgiveness was all too familiar to her. The room is silent; there is no one but the two of them. She could offer to eat, and no one would know she did, but Irulan won't offer. The Other does not expect her to; pity is not something a sister can possess.

''How are your lessons going? A fresh knowledge, perhaps?''

YN nods. If she opens her mouth now, her voice will betray her. She could cry all she wanted in the presence of a sister, but it is not appropriate for a thirteen-year-old to behave this way in front of God. The Other is reminded of that with an absence of bruises on Irulan's skin; her hands were never cut by the sharp blades, and her mouth was never starved. ''Why was I summoned from training?'' She asked, directing her eyes to the figure in front of her.

''I am here as a messenger from the Emperor.''

YN's eyes narrowed. ''And what does our dear Emperor desire to tell me now?'' She wishes not to hear anything he has to say; the Other is perfectly content here, amongst her Sisters. Here, she is of cost.

''Recently, Baron Vladimir turned to our House for guidance. He and na-Baron Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen felt misled by the House Artreidis, and their promise of a bride that did not come. Our father has graciously offered to negotiate the conflict and pay the needed price for the Baron's cooperation.''

''Of course, he did. With all of our might, we are still afraid of the savages that made Arrakis their home. With what advice, may I ask, did the Emperor provide the Baron?''

Irulan's lips turn into a straight line, with the small wrinkle on her forehead appearing. Something that she carried with her through childhood. Something that still reminded of home. ''With the proposal of a woman of our House to na-Baron Feyd-Rautha.''

''A gift? Irulan, I am so sorry.''

Sure, the bridge between them was long forgotten, growing with tall grass and wildflowers, but the weight of their shared history still lingered in the air. Irulan was still her sister, no matter how many times the Other tried to tell herself otherwise. And no woman sane would consider giving her sister to the inhumane brutes that were Harkonnens—the people even Bene Gessarit wished to observe from afar; the people so ruthless mothers told stories about them to their small offspring in an attempt to instil fear and obedience.

Irulan does not answer. She hides her gaze, her eyes following the wooden panels of the quarters.

''What is it, sister? Speak .''

''The offer Emperor found the most fitting would be of your hand, not mine.''

The Other exhales. As if a heavy stone were put on her chest, she fights to bring much-needed oxygen to her bloodstream. She almost feels the erythrocytes scatter from her face into her neck, hidden by the cloth, and gather there in an attempt to regrow their might. Her throat twists and closes, its muscles compressing until not even an ounce of air can get in. All of her organs, from heart to stomach, made their presence known; one by one, they tensed and burned, forcing the otherwise relaxed hands to grip them.

It was supposed to be Irulan. The first one to marry is the oldest sister; the title high enough to satisfy the ambitious Harkonnes would be hers, no less. Yet, here she stands, not even looking at the one taking her place as she sentences her to an ultimate death. No matter how much power the Corrino name held, on Giedi Prime, she would consider herself fortunate enough if she were to meet her end quickly.

''Why, Irulan? Have I not been a loyal servant to you all those years? Have I not followed every order without question? ''

Irulan is unmoved in her position. ''We can not risk the Harkonnen blood getting on the throne, you know it.''

''You mean we can not risk you? We are not eight anymore, dear Irulan; you can speak truthfully now. Do you really think the Emperor will treasure you more if you say nothing now? We are no sons, Irulan; we are sisters, you and I. Please, spare me this fate.''

''Yes,'' the girl lifts her eyes, taking a step closer. ''We are no sons; you knew that one day we would marry for the peace of the Imperium. Why do you shout now?''

''Married, yes, but not murdered for the sake of the fucking old man who could not hold his promise. They are monsters, Irulan, spilling innocent blood for the fun of it. I beg of you, sister, show me the mercy I know you are capable of.''

''You are worried about blood? What could one more splash of blood mean to you? You have been no sister for a long time; I order you, as an heir of the Emperor and as the messenger of his will here, to comply. Do not make it harder than it has to be.''

The Other smiled—she would not grant the pleasure of tears. ''Very well, then. Someone needs to go first. I'll go; I'll be first, at least here. Tell the Emperor that I will comply with any of his wishes, whether it be to throw me to the sharks or to feed me to the sandworms. As a confirmation of my undying loyalty, you may show him this:''

She slaps her. She slaps her not like a warrior, not like the trained assassin she was raised to be; she slaps her like a sister, bitterly, harshly. For the first time in her short life, YN raises a hand on something she deems holy—the God's shocked face brings a sense of satisfaction to the Other's veins, even if the same blood courses through them. She turns on her heels and walks away, leaving the forsaken room behind. Leaving God behind.

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downbadf0rficppl · 3 months

Text

i didn't mean to love you so much

Poe Dameron x F!Reader

Summary: You don't know what you have until it's gone. Or is it?

Word Count: 6.0K

Repost

It took 3 days to arrive on D'Qar.

The Naboo N-1 Starfighter that you stole from the junkyard on Bracca was one wrong move away from falling out of the sky. Even with your constant mid-flight repairs, only prayers to the Maker were keeping her together. The BB unit you found kept you posted with constant, and frankly worrying, updates on how the ship was holding. Let's just say the plane was soon to be out of use.

When you entered the atmosphere in D'Qar, the landing gear erupted into flames, eliciting a series of explicit beeps from the BB unit. If not for the life-or-death in front of you, you would have burst into a fit of giggles.

Instead, you just grit your teeth: "Happy beeps, bud."

You and the BB unit left the carnage that used to be a starfighter flaming in the trees, bickering the whole time, and heading towards the Resistance Base. Towards new beginnings. Towards freedom.

Bracca was a junkyard, where scavengers and smugglers looked for parts to sell to the highest bidder. It was dark and dangerous at the best of times, and work was never-ending. It wasn't the kind of place you would want to grow up, but it was better than Kessel. Anything was better than Kessel.

It took a week to get to the Rebel base. Your head throbbed painfully with each passing day, with hardly any food in your system and little water to quench your thirst, the journey to salvation seemed almost unattainable. You had thanked the Maker for rain when it first came, but after 4 days of non-stop rain, you had cursed the skies for it. It only seemed to fall harder.

By day 5, the BB unit was running out of power, its movements slower than before. It was far too heavy for you to carry and without it, you would never reach the Resistance base. There were no sarcastic quips or complaints for its master anymore. No, the two of you traveled in silence, aside from the odd groan from either one of you. Its tiredness mimicked your own. You could only pray that the base would come into view soon. You weren't sure how much longer you would last.

When the planes came into view, you almost cried with joy. With newfound energy, you and the BB unit near-ran the way to the tarmac runway that signaled life on this dratted planet.

And while the BB unit was welcomed with cheers and open arms, you weren't so lucky.

You were marched to the medical bay by two men almost twice your size, flanked on the left and the right so you couldn't run if you tried. Your heartbeat in your throat. Of course, the resistance had to be careful, but surely this was excessive.

After you received treatment for your assortment of cuts and burns, you were delivered to a small room, adorned with only a bed and curtains to block out the light. Before you could say anything, let alone protest, the doors shut, leaving you alone in a small cell deep in the heart of the Resistance base.

As terrifying as the whole situation was, when you laid your head to rest on the bed in the dingy room, sleep came. It beat thorns and nettles on the forest floor of D'Qar. It beat sitting upright for 3 days, trying to avoid meteors and Tie Fighters. It beat restless nights on Bracca, hoping to gather enough for a meal. Sleep came to you better than it ever had before, and you reveled in it.

You woke up to familiar beeping outside the large metal door.

"BB-3?" Your voice came out as a hoarse whisper. The beeping got louder, almost unbearably loud, "Calm down, bud. I don't know how to open the door."

"Step back." A male voice came from behind the door, startling you. You stumbled backward, falling on the floor as the whooshed open. A tall man stood there, and if he were surprised you were on the floor, he didn't show it.

You scrambled to your feet, brushing the dust off your clothes as BB-3 rolled in, circling around you like a vulture would his prey. The man stood there observing you and the droid got reacquainted, before clearing his throat.

"Vice Admiral Holdo would like to speak with you." His tone was authoritative. You didn't want to be on his bad side. He led you toward an office on the opposite side of the building, your legs shaking as you walked. He shot you a pitying glance as BB-3 followed at your heels, before returning his face to its emotionless expression. You hated it.

It must have been early, as only a few people were up, and those who were seemed to want to rather be asleep. But no one batted an eye your way, despite the grime you still felt clinging to your face, and the ripped clothes you were wearing. You wondered if this was normal to them. People coming home grimy, hurt, and disgusting.

Only one man seemed to notice you on your journey.

"Snap!" A voice called out to you. The man in front of you - presumably Snap - broke into a huge grin. "Long time, no see, buddy!" Snap clapped the other man on the back, tears threatening to spill from his eyes.

You stood there as the other man regaled the story of whatever mission he'd been on to Snap, and for a moment, you thought you were forgotten.

Until he turned. His eyes seemed to scorch your soul with their searching gaze. It was heavy, but you felt safe under it. Almost as if you knew that he would do nothing to hurt you.

"Heard all about how this one came in yesterday." He stretched out his hand, "Captain Poe Dameron. Pleasure to meet you."

You shook his hand and returned the favour, telling you his name. He tested it on his tongue, repeating a few times. Once he seemed satisfied, Poe turned back to Snap.

"How come you got stuck on babysitting duty?" He asked, mirth dancing in his eyes. You resisted the urge to roll your eyes or butt in - you wanted these people to like you. Sarcasm could be saved for later.

"Kid brought back my droid."

"BB-8 told me the story. Something about running from a resistance fighter, blowing up a depot train," you kick BB-3 gently, "and exploding an N-1. It was impossible. Maybe you should get your droid checked for gossiping?" Snap punched him in the arm, "Hey, it was just a suggestion." Poe grinned widely, "Oh, and the shootout. How could I forget the shootout?"

"It wasn't a shootout." You slapped your hand to your mouth. You hadn't meant to say that out loud. So much for saving the sarcasm for later.

Poe turns to look at you. "Oh?" his grin infuriatingly wide. "That's not what the droid said."

"It wasn't a shootout, we were shot at." Your confidence floods back into you. "And the depot train wasn't us. Wrong place, wrong time. Am I right, bud?" You glare down at the BB-unit.

He mumbles something about ruining a good story before whirring off to stop behind Snap. Stupid BB-unit.

"Guess you're more interesting than I gave you credit for kid." Snap stepped towards you, hand coming to rest on your shoulder. "The name's Temmin, Temmin Wexley. But everyone calls me Snap."

"Pleasure to meet you Snap," you echo Poe's words from earlier.

Your meeting with the Vice Admiral went well. She believed your story, well corroborated by both BB-3 and the bounty on your head placed by a well-meaning neighbour. She cleared you to start training with the resistance, though you surprised both her and Snap when you asked to be a mechanic.

Though when you started working on ships, it was clear to see why. It was almost like there was a secret language that ships spoke that only you seemed to understand. You scoffed at that. Beginner's luck you called it. Still, there was no denying that you loved working on the ships and that you were good at it too.

Months went by and you settled into the routines of the Resistance. You were given a room closer to the other mechanics, who, despite the constant tension of competition, seemed to like you well enough. You often sat with them for meals, although passing up on opportunities to spend more time with them. They seemed content with that. You got used to the early morning wake-up calls when the sun streamed through the window and urgent repairs needed to be made. You learned to enjoy the quiet evenings when everyone else had closed up shop and you could finetune repairs for those who needed it. You finally felt like you had a purpose. It was freeing.

Snap kept you up-to-date on the comings and goings of the First Order - never in much detail of course, but enough to satiate your desire to know more. In return you smuggled him extra jogan fruitcake when it was served while he was away. Sometimes, in thanks for saving your life, you made extra updates and repairs to his X-Wing when he came back from long missions - more often than not to save his those extra hours of tedious work.

Black Squadron had come home after a week long mission the night before. You had worked late into the night the day before, and you were now regretting it. Blue squadron had come into contact with a few Tie Fighters on night patrol, and the damage was hair-pullingly extensive. You were in for a long day. It didn't help that you could barely keep your eyes open, hands glued to a cup of Caf that was doing little for the tiredness clouding your brain. You didn't even notice Snap come storming in.

"WHO WORKED ON MY SHIP LAST NIGHT?" He yelled over all the mechanics. Shit.

You had done some basic repairs for him the evening before last and had spent the better part of last night finishing up repairs and repainting his ship. You knew how pilots were with ship paint. Maker, you were screwed.

After a few moments of silence, you decided it was better to own up than let everyone suffer. "I did, Wexley."

He slowly turned towards you, before grabbing you and pulling you into a bone-crushing hug, lifting your feet off the ground. You were shocked. He was happy - no, elated. The rest of the mechanics, equally as confused as you, turned back to their work, ignoring the scene in front of them.

He still had you gripped tightly when Poe walked in. "Easy tiger, you'll kill the greenie. What did she do to deserve your wrath?"

"My wrath?! No, no, no, Poe. This kid is my new favorite person on base."

"I'll try not to take offense to that," Poe grumbled jokingly, "What did she do to deserve such high praise then?"

"Have you seen my ship? She's beautiful, more beautiful than Jess that one time." He started, about to regale a story, you did not need to know. You elbowed him hard in the ribs.

"My sentiment exactly," Poe said to you, giving you a fist bump before walking over to Snap's X-Wing, closely followed by Snap himself. You trailed behind them, still unsure of what was going on. Poe dragged his finger across the paintwork, "He has a point though. I've never seen Snap's X-Wing look this good." Poe turned towards you, his warm brown eyes sparkling with pride. "Good job, Greenie."

You smiled gently, before turning away. It was high praise from Captain Poe Dameron, flyboy of the resistance.

"Maybe I'll snap her up, you know, give her a real ship to work on?" Poe said, his flirting tone making an odd double entendre that made your face light up in flames.

"Not a chance. Kid, you're my new mechanic. Officially."

"What if I don't want to be?" You countered, your sarcastic tone making both Snap and Poe burst into laughter.

You accepted the role though. There was no world in which you didn't. You enjoyed the perks of being Snap's favored Mechanic - you could sleep in more often, you were privy to more information than the average mechanic. He would tell you if he was to leave the base soon, you were often told just how bad a situation was. Snap trusted you. And if Snap did, so did the others.

'The others' being the other pilots on Black Squadron: Jessika Pava, Karé Kun, L'ulo L'ampar. And of course, Poe Dameron. It was almost like you couldn't escape him. His infectious laugh, his boyish grin, his boisterous personality. His ability to make even the most mundane task into a story for the ages.

No wonder he was so popular.

You began to sit with them in the cantina and you frequently ended up leading the repairs on Black Squadron, no one else being as trusted as you. You opened up to them slowly, telling them about growing up on Kessel and being brought to the Scrapper’s guild on Kessel. You told them the truth about your escape - Poe ended up on the floor laughing, saying “the real story’s so much better, BB-3”. They found out about your impeccable aim after a fun night in the cantina that ended in a tense game of holodarts. They became your family - more of a family you had ever had in your life.

And while, you saw Snap, L’ulo and Karé as your brothers, you could not say the same for Poe. Poe was a flirt, everyone knew that. But as you got closer and closer, it was harder to ignore the way you're heart sped up when he looked at you. How you're palms grew clammy when he smiled in your direction. How his praises and compliments made your knees weak. God you were in love with him.

You knew that half the women on the base had either slept with him or wanted to, and yet not one of them got even a second of his time. None of them except you. Poe would walk you to your room in the evening, and to the cantina in the morning, regaling stories of his adventures before he knew you. He’d bring you caf when you were working late, and sit under the stars with you at the end of a long day. He’d tell you stories of Yavin 4 and his mother. He showed you the ring that hung on the end of his necklace.

“I want to give it to the one, you know?”

“Don’t get all sentimental on me, Captain.”

He groaned, “Don’t rank me.” You just smiled.

“So, no lucky lady in your life, Dameron?”

“No lucky man in yours, greenie?”

You scoffed, “If there was ever a chance, they’ve all been scared away by you.”

“Good.”

You laughed it off, but inside your guts twisted at the idea that Poe was happy you were single. Your insides warmed at the idea that he might just feel the same.

The next morning, you walked out of your room to the sight of Poe sneaking out of the room opposite yours. Half-naked. His eyes widened at the sight of you, and your hand quickly hid your eyes from the view. Your heart dropped. He lied to you.

Poe sought you out later on in the day. He came up behind you on the landing deck, with a cool glass of jogan juice in hand. You had stripped out of your mechanics jumsuit, the arms tied loosely around your waist. Your tank top was almost a shade darker with the sweat of exertion and ridiculous heat. And yet you declined it, your face barely concealing your childlike annoyance. You knew it was stupid. You and Poe were barely friends, let alone anything that would justify your anger.

“I’m sorry.” Poe huffed, still standing underneath you in the beating sunshine. You were surprised: Poe Dameron never apologises.

“For what?” You said, your back still facing him. He sighed - he didn’t like it when anyone was annoyed at him. Least of all you.

“For this morning.”

“Why does it matter, Poe? You can sleep with who you want to.” You said, anger colouring your voice.

“It matters,” he yells, “because it upset you. Because, for whatever reason, the idea of me sleeping with other people, made you mad at me.”

His obliviousness tugged at your heartstrings, as if to say ‘he doesn’t feel the same’.“I’m not mad that you’re sleeping with other people.”

“Then why are you ignoring me?”

“Because you lied to me, Poe.” You say, dropping down from the ladder, sweat dripping down your back.

“What are you talking about?”

“You said there was no one special in your life.”

“There isn’t.” You raise a brow, before grabbing the glass of jogan juice from his hand. “Just because we had fun for a night, doesn’t mean I’m getting down on one knee.”

“I think you’ve done it enough times for that to be proven, Poe.”

His cheeky smile returned, “Glad we’re back on first name terms.”

You shook your head at him, “For the record, if I ever catch you sneaking out of a room in my wing again, I’ll skin you myself.”

“If you catch me you say? Well, I like myself a challenge.” You slap him on the head, before climbing back up the ladder.

“Leave me alone, Poe. I don’t need your love troubles plaguing my every hour.”

“There’s no place for things like love in the middle of a war, greenie. First thing you learn in a place like this.”

If he hadn’t been walking away, he would have heard your heart burst into a thousand tiny pieces. Maybe it was for the best if you didn't love him.

Instead of wallowing in undeserving heartache like an idiot, you forced yourself to forget all about the way Poe made your heart feel. He became just another friend, pushed so far into the friendzone that was no conceivable way out. To his credit, you didn’t hear of another escapade of his again. He probably just got good at hiding them.

That always got difficult when he was sent on week-long missions. Your heart would migrate into your throat and even swallowing became difficult. Your mind would swim with worry, all for him to come back completely fine, his ship always seemed to come home the least scathed. A fact for which your heart was grateful.

"Hey, flyboy," you called, as you walked into the cantina. There were less than 10 people in the whole room - probably due to the ungodly hour of the day.

Poe was sat in the corner, the light of his datapad shining on his face. He ran his fingers through his hair. It was unusually disheveled, which could only mean one thing. He was nervous.

You walked up to him. Evidently, he hadn't heard you from across the room, because when you came up to him and rested your hand on his shoulder, he flinched and grabbed your hand. You winced at his tight grip as he turned to face you.

Poe released your hand when he saw it was you. He leaned back into your chest, eyes fluttering shut. "I'm sorry," he whispered, gently.

You grabbed the datapad from his hands, and placed it face down on the table, "It's ok. What's going on?"

"Nothing. Don't worry about it."

You absent-mindedly run your hands through his hair as his head remained leaned against your chest. "It's not nothing. Is it a mission? You're leaving again soon?"

He hummed in agreement.

"You're leaving today, aren't you? That's why you're up early."

"Why do you think Snap got you to wake up early? You're not just a sight for sore eyes, you know."

His words made you blush. Never have you been more glad that he isn't staring right at you - it would give your heart’s deepest darkest desires away.

He left that afternoon. After you completed routine checks for him, he was off on a top-secret adventure. Sometimes, it was easy to hate his rank, because it made it so hard to find out where he was, or what he was doing. But as always, you let him go and, as always, you prayed he'd come home safe. To you. You always pray he comes home safe to you.

Hours turned to days, days turned to weeks. And while it wasn't unheard of for Poe to be gone this long, your heart could barely take him being gone for a day. That's the price of being in love. You'd never thought of yourself as still being in love with Poe until he left on that mission. You'd never thought much of the way your heart still raced when he talked to you. You'd never thought much of the way your heart still ached when he left for missions. You'd never thought much of the way your heart still burst when he smiled at you. But without him there, it's like your heart could not find a reason for beating.

You continued on with your job, trudging through daily repairs and meals, trying to keep your mind away from Poe. You forced a smile when you talked to Snap - missing Poe hit him just as hard as it hit you. You forced a smile when you taught new recruits - you couldn't afford to have them hate you just because the Captain was missing. You forced a smile when you came down for dinner - there was no use in moping around in the middle of a war. But when you were in the comfort of your own room, you let the smile fall and the tears drip down your face. You cried almost every night for the first week that he was gone, trying to reconcile your newly found feelings and your newly lost friend.

It was a surprise to everyone when Poe crash-landed back on D'Qar with burns and cuts littering his body. You were up at an extremely early hour as working on Snap's ship when he landed, and you were immediately filled with concern. A tight knot wound its way around your throat, as you watched the scene unfold. BB-8 was nowhere to be seen. The ship is smoking dangerously, and parts of it are falling off, but most worrying of all, Poe was struggling to get out of the cockpit. You quickly threw yourself onto the X-Wing, hitting the emergency ejection latch with the spanner in your hand. The cockpit lid flew open and Poe climbed out, coughing heavily and clutching his side. Snap came running out of the base, and grabbed Poe's arm. You ran up and grabbed the other, and the two of you dragged him towards the med wing.

Two nurses snapped him up, cleaning his wounds and applying bacta spray where necessary. Snap turned away, mumbling something about an early morning briefing, but you stayed rooted to the spot. You couldn't take your eyes off his broken state, and tears slipped out of your eyes before you could control them. After a beat, you spun around on your heel and sprinted to your room.

When the door clanged shut, you slumped onto the floor and burst into tears. You couldn't bear to see Poe in pain. You hated yourself for not being strong enough to fight through your tears to be with him. And you hated yourself for still being in love with him, when you promised you would be. When your datapad lit up with tasks for the day, you made the rash decision to call in sick. In the time you had been on the base, you had never called in sick. This job was your lifeline, your passion, and nothing, not even illness, would affect that. At least, that's what you had thought. You spent the majority of the week in that same spot, tears subsiding when you became so dehydrated that your body refused to let you cry.

On the fifth day of your hibernation, you finally left your room, having showered and gotten ready. Few people were on the base, apart from the mechanics and medics, and the injured - which included Poe. Given the lack of a real threat in the vicinity, General Leia had given the day off. You didn’t want to relax. You couldn’t relax.

You snuck over to where Poe’s beat up X-Wing was parked, and the sight of it almost made you tear up. The memories hit you like a brick. Poe barely limping towards the med wing. BB-8 being carried to the droid repair room. Fire extinguishers coating the X-Wing with hopes that it may be able to fly again. You got to work.

You were finally satisfied as the sun set over the vast treescape of D'Qar, covered head to toe in oil and grease. After some gentle coaxing by Paige - the only one aware of your all-consuming feelings for Poe - you agreed to grab something small to eat with her.

What you didn't sign up for was to see a broken and battered Poe sitting at the table, laughing at some stupid joke that Snap had probably made. He looked up as you walked in, almost as if he was expecting you. His eyes met yours, and you felt the tight knot in your throat begin to form again - just as it had the morning Poe crash-landed on the base.

Poe tried to lift his arm up to wave but winced at the action, the stitches keeping his wounds bound together stretching at the extreme action. You pressed your lips into a tight smile, willing the Maker to take your tears away. Paige handed you a bottle of water, before leading you toward the table. She left you standing in front of the table, where you awkwardly shifted your feet.

"Gonna sit down?" Snap asked, mirth dancing behind his eyes, "Or are you planning to put on a show? Wouldn't put it past you to have hidden another talent."

You smiled weakly, sitting down next to Jess and unscrewing the cap on the water bottle you had been given. Jess leaned over and whispered gently, "Feeling ok? Paige came up to ask if you were ok when you didn't show up at drills this morning."

"Yeah, felt a bit under the weather after morning rounds."

"Probably the shitty sleep you've been getting worrying about this guy." Karé said, pointing his knife at Poe.

Poe looked at you, his eyes wide, but you tried to brush off Karé's words, sarcastically replying, "Oh please Karé, the only thing you're worried about is whether or not they have that drink that you like from Sorgan, which is disgusting by the way - I don't know how you can drink it."

Everyone laughs as Karé splutters about how delicious spotchka is, the anxiousness wracking your body easing its reins slightly. Under the table, you feel Poe's foot nudge yours gently. You smile lightly at him, careful not to let him have a good look at your red-rimmed eyes and splotchy face. As much as it shouldn't matter, you don't want him to know how much you care.

"You don't have to pretend you don't care for the captain, kid. You should have seen how she leaped to open the hatch Poe, something from a Naboo holodrama. Or one of those superhero films." Snap laughed, as your face burned red.

Poe raised his eyebrow, "Now that's something I would like to see. Maybe I'll get myself stuck in a cockpit again, just to see you in action." He laughs, but you don't laugh with him. You feel your chest tighten, and the knot in your throat return. Your vision clouds with tears, and you quickly got up, excusing yourself on the notion that your headache has returned, and that you should probably get some rest before drills the next day. You stumbled out of the cantina, breaking into a sprint as soon as you were out of sight.

Poe’s eyes followed you as you left, worrying tinting his gaze. The group had fallen almost silent at your abrupt exit, looking at where you’d run, before turning back to Poe. Snap slapped the back of his head.

“Why, in the Maker’s name, would you say that?”

“What?” Poe said, rubbing the back of his head. Jess gave him a pointed look, “What did I say?”

“You joked about getting hurt, Poe! Why would you do that?”

“He didn’t just joke about getting hurt, Wex! He joked about almost dying!”

"Oh please, it's not that big of a deal. Everyone knew it was a joke. Right?" No one looks at him. "Right?!"

Jess waves at Paige, whose eyes were trained at the door. She meekly walks over, leaning down to talk to Jess.

"Is she ok?" Paige asked, her eyes brushing over the group until they landed on Poe, "What did he do?"

Poe's eyes narrowed in confusion. "I'm so confused," he muttered under his breath.

"He made a joke.”

Snap butt in, “About almost dying."

Paige’s eyes widened, "You're not serious."

"Look, I don't know what's up with her today, but something tells me that that was the last thing she needed right now."

Paige turned towards Poe, "If you weren't injured right now, Captain, I would beat you up."

"Hold up. I don't even know what I did." He said, standing up. "I get that the joke was a little misplaced, but it was a joke. I didn't put myself in this situation willingly."

"We get it, Poe. But you haven't been here. She's literally been destroyed - she's barely sleeping, I barely see her come down to eat, she spends all her time working on different ships, drowning herself in work. Today was the first day in the year she's been here that she's called in sick." Paige said, her eyes flitting between Poe and the door. She was in a half-mind to run after you, to console you.

Poe beat her to it. He got up, ignoring the protest from his teammates, and headed towards your room. He knocked lightly on your door, hearing the gentle sobbing from your room.

His heart broke. He knocked again.

“I’m fine Paige, I just need sleep.”

“Nice to know you’d lie to Paige.” Poe said, his voice steady and gentle. You open the door to you room, the door whooshing up to reveal Poe in all his glory, “Would you lie to your Captain?”

“Don’t pull rank with me, Poe.” You joked as he bent to meet your eyes.

He reached out to caress his fingers against your cheek and wipe away the stray tears. You leaned your head into his hands, the callouses on his hands like comfort against your cheek. He touches his forehead to your eyes, his eyes closed as if he couldn’t quite believe you were here. That this was happening.

“I’m sorry.” You whispered. Poe’s eyes met yours, softly searching for something. Answers, probably.

“Why are you sorry, darling?” The pet name gripped your heart, so familiar and yet so foreign. The tears begin to flow freely again. He soothed you, mindlessly carding his fingers through your hair, “Don’t cry, don’t cry.”

You look into his eyes, and can’t help but to sob harder. Why did you have to fall in love with him?

Your head curled into his chest, seeking the comfort only he could give. “Tell me what’s wrong.” He asked, whispering into your hair.

“I didn’t mean to.” You said through tears. Poe looked at you.

“You didn’t mean to what, love?” He asked. You repeated it over and over, your tears soaking through his shirt. He lets you cry until your weak, pulling you further into his arms.

He asks you again.

“I didn’t mean to love you so much.” You confessed through whispers. It was so quiet that you thought that Poe didn’t catch what you said.

His widened eyes told you otherwise.

“You…?”

“I love you.” You whispered.

“You-you love me?”

“I love you so much that whenever I see you my heart quickens until it’s uncomfortable.”

“Love -”

“I love you so much that my hands become so sweaty that I can barely keep a hold of my datapad.” You showed him your hands that were covered in a sheen. He gives you a watery laugh, before wiping your hands on his already soaked shirt.

“I love you so much that when you leave, I can’t bear to survive.”

“Love-” You interrupt him again.

“There’s no life without you, Poe.” Your voice broke as you dissolved into another bout of tears.

“Love, please.” Poe sighed, kissing your forehead, “Please, just-”

“I know. It’s a war. I shouldn’t have, but I did and I can’t help it. Please don’t hate me, please-”

Poe grabbed your face, pulling you into him. He grazed his lips over yours, before pulling away way to fast.

“I could never hate you, love.”

You pull him back towards you, smashing your lips onto his. He pulls you into his lap deepening the kiss further. You run your fingers through his hair, and over where the bandages cover his fresh wounds. Poe winced, and you pulled back.

“You should rest. And heal up.”

He looked at you with such adoration, that for a moment you thought you’d melt away. “I have the rest of forever to heal up. I want this now.”

“You have me for the rest of forever. I think you should heal up now.” He rested his forehead against yours, sighing and closing his eyes. You kissed his nose gently.

“The rest of forever is too far away.” He whispered.

“You made me wait for this long. I think you could wait for a little longer.”

“Only a little bit, love. Only for you.”

He stood up, holding his hand out to you. You grabbed it, and he pulled you to your feet. The sudden motion had you dizzy, head pounding due to the dehydration. He caught you gently, lifting you into his arms, before gently depositing you on the bed. He left light kisses on your forehead, and left with the promise of coming back with water and a little food.

He walked out of the mechanics wing and back towards the cantina, intent on his mission to get a little food and water into you.

The whole of black squadron watched him walk in. Poe nodded to them lightly, not knowing exactly what they had been expecting. Apparently it was enough for them, as they turned back towards each other.

He grabbed a small muffin and a bottle of water, before heading back to your room. He walked into see you asleep on the bed, and he couldn’t help but smile. God, she’s beautiful.

Poe sat down on the bed, rubbing your arm gently. You opened a bleary eye to see Poe crouched next to you, blocking the moonlight streaming in from the window. He pulled off his shirt, and lifted your head up to get you drink some water, before settling down next to you. You rested your head on his chest before falling back to sleep.

Poe moved under you, pulling his necklace from around his neck and placing it around yours. Your hand immediately migrated to the metal ring strung on the end. Poe froze. What if it’s too soon. He relaxed almost immediately, as your fist closes around his rings.

He relaxed, pushing his nose into your hair. You smiled as he whispered something that he probably only said because he thought you were asleep.

“I love you too."

fin.

buy me a coffee

196 notes · View notes

f1letters · 1 year

Text

mastermind | cs55

"what if I told you none of it was accidental?"

summary: it all started when she saw him across the room and she knew right away she wouldn't give up until he was hers

warning: overall fluff, lying reader (with the dumbest but funniest plan too lol), daddy issues, slut-shaming, mentions of alcohol, swearing, suggestive language, the beginning of the story takes place in 2021 when Carlos joined Ferrari (so it's all flashback for much of the story, including the 2021 Monaco GP)

pairing: carlos sainz x reader

word count: 3.8k

note: everything in bold are song references and in italic are thoughts, which includes memories from the past.

spanish words used: corazón = heart; bebé = baby; ay Dios mío = oh my God; mi amor = my love; te quiero mucho = I love you so much

so I guess this week's theme is Scuderia Ferrari! haha, I hope all of you enjoy this one as always! I can't believe we are already on the 6TH STORY of the midnights series! thank you for all the love you have been giving me in the past weeks since I started, it means the world to me

masterlist

Once upon a time, the planets and the fates

And all the stars aligned

You and I ended up in the same room

At the same time

Once upon a time, in the beautiful city of Milan, dozens of people gathered at a gala dinner to celebrate the anniversary of the iconic racing team that was Scuderia Ferrari.

Like everything associated with the luxury Italian car manufacturer, the dinner was going to be a monumental and remarkable celebration. The red team never did anything less than big, so clearly, no costs had been spared to make the party the best it could be.

It had vintage cars on display, red carpets throughout the corridors, and walls covered in gold frames with images of the team's history over the decades. The ostentation was notable, from the table decorations in the characteristic Ferrari colours to the incredible reception and service of all employees of the gala.

Y/N couldn't believe all the beauty her eyes saw. The young woman almost felt dizzy trying to capture all the details that surrounded her.

Being the daughter of a very busy businessman, it wasn't the first time that the girl ended up having to represent him in business commitments due to his inability to attend. However, as someone who only played a small role in the company's finances, she still felt lost and out of place, especially at a dinner party the size of this one.

The weight on her shoulders of representing her father, one of the team's biggest investors and sponsors, was something that still scared her, no matter how many times she did it.

Y / N walked elegantly across the room, with the sound of her high heels clicking on the floor following her until she reached her table. Her name written on a glass plate indicated where she should sit and she did so, adjusting her long black silk dress so that it wouldn't get crumpled on the chair.

As time progressed, her table was filled with old and arrogant businessmen, more interested in talking about money and showing off their luxury. Y/N made small talk occasionally, but she obviously felt like an outsider.

My father would fit perfectly in here, she couldn't help but think. Critical of her as always, even without being in Italy, he managed to complain about her look for the evening, criticizing her choice of dress for not being red or yellow like the symbol of the Prancing Horse.

The young woman ended up giving in partially, painting her lips with a red lipstick that she had forgotten in her suitcase, seeking his approval, just like she had done all her life.

Her eyes roamed along the room in search of entertainment, so bored that watching others would be a far more interesting escape than listening to the men talk.

And that's when she saw him, in the same room, at the same time.

In all his splendour, Carlos Sainz, the promising Spanish driver who had just joined Scuderia Ferrari, immediately captured her attention. He was sitting at the bar, in a black suit that fit his muscular frame perfectly, fiddling with his phone, probably just as pleased to be there as she was.

All the stars aligned to bring them there at that moment, and Y/N was determined to take advantage of the chance of a lifetime given to her.

And the touch of a hand lit the fuse

Of a chain reaction of countermoves

To assess the equation of you

Checkmate, I couldn't lose

She sat there for a few minutes while she listed several potential ways to approach the driver.

Could she be straightforward and sit next to him at the bar and try to strike up a conversation? No, that wasn't a good idea. He wouldn't want some random girl bothering him at his first Ferrari show.

What if she waited for him to look her way and smile at him, or wave at him, something like that? Okay, that was ridiculous. If Carlos didn't look at her all night, Y/N was going to stay there forever staring at him like a stalker, only to go home disappointed.

The young woman needed an excuse to talk to him, something that would allow her to build a master plan that could not fail.

She couldn't lose. She couldn't let this chance pass.

Nothing was going to stop her.

He had to be hers.

And then it hit her, her 'a-ha!' moment. With a completely out-of-the-box idea, the girl got up from her chair, apologised to the people at the table for leaving, and confidently started her mission.

Carlos was sitting at the bar all alone, holding a whiskey in one hand while the other was scrolling through his Instagram feed, until out of nowhere he felt the touch of a small, soft hand on his big, rough one, catching him off guard.

"Sorry about that, but there's this weird guy who keeps bugging me. When I saw you alone, I told him my boyfriend was waiting for me as an excuse for him to leave me alone, I'm sorry." Y/N lied through her teeth and let out a nervous giggle as soon as she saw the Spaniard's shocked face.

Carlos couldn't help but notice the girl's charming figure and the way the dress fit her amazing body in all the right places, still in shock mode not knowing what to say.

Y/N noticed and released a smile. Her plan was kicking off and starting in full force. "I hope you don't have a girlfriend who is going to show up at any moment and pull my hair out for hitting on her man?" She said, laughing more confidently now.

"Don't worry. There is no girlfriend." He smiled at him, allowing their eyes to meet for the first time and squeezing her hand more securely. "So who's the creepy guy?"

"Oh." Oh fuck. Y/N did not expect this question at all. Panicking already about her lie being revealed, the woman impulsively looked over her shoulder and pointed at a random skinny man who had his back to them. "That guy over there, but I think I've already lost him."

Carlos looked in the direction she pointed and a discreet smirk formed on his face. He looked back at the girl and without releasing her hand from his hold, he spoke. "So, what's your name, corazón?"

What if I told you none of it was accidental?

And the first night that you saw me

Nothing was gonna stop me

I laid the groundwork, and then

Just like clockwork

The dominoes cascaded in a line

Though the beginning of the couple's story had been anything but accidental, for the rest of that night, they were all about each other. Attached at the hip, they eventually moved to the driver's table, cocktails in their hands, and just talked for hours on end about everything and anything: from how nervous he was about joining a racing team with a history like Ferrari's, to why she was at that gala, even if she didn't look like one of the normal guests at these celebrations.

The fiery chemistry between them was noticeable to anyone who laid eyes on them, and with him being the hot new addition to the team, countless people were curious about the pair.

The two felt like children again, so much was the joyful enthusiasm that grew inside them. They didn't know if it was something physical or psychological that was happening to them but one thing they both believed: it was something magical.

But love at first sight has these foolish things: for those lucky enough to experience it, it only happens once in a lifetime and it's something that stays with them until the end of time.

After a while, Carlos excused himself to go to the bathroom and Y/N knew it was time to get the second phase of her master plan in order.

When the driver came back, the woman was nowhere to be seen. It was almost as if she were a mirage, a figment of his imagination that simply vanished into thin air.

He looked for her, looking all around the splendorous dining room, but there was no sign of her. What do you mean she left him alone after all the chemistry that was created between the two throughout that night?

It was as he turned back to the table that Carlos noticed the red napkin folded over his plate. Carefully, he picked it up and unfolded it, finding a phone number and the girl's name written in black ink, along with a clumsy heart at the bottom of the note.

If she had planned to have him completely fascinated by her and wanting to see her again more than anything else, she had succeeded.

What if I told you I'm a mastermind?

And now you're mine

It was all by dеsign

'Cause I'm a mastermind

The very next day Carlos gained the courage to text her and make his move since the pawns were now on his side.

From: Unknown

I have a paddock pass with your name on it as my guest waiting for you. Monaco, next Sunday. Hope to see you there, bebé - CS

Her heartbeat immediately sped up as she read that message. However, there was no time to waste.

The show must go on. She had a man to win. Putting her brave face back on, the young woman took a deep breath and decided to send a text playing hard to get, trying to entertain the curiosity he had in getting to know her better.

To: Carlos Sainz

I guess you'll have to wait and see if I show up...

You see, all the wisеst women

Had to do it this way

'Cause we were born to be the pawn

In every lover's game

Sunday morning came in the blink of an eye.

Y/N woke up with the sunlight hitting the window of her hotel room. She got up right away, put on a robe and went to the entrance to the balcony to observe the breathtaking view of Monte Carlo.

The girl could barely contain the butterflies of anticipation that she had in her stomach, anxious to see again the Spaniard who controlled all her thoughts since the gala where they met.

During the days until the race weekend arrived, the couple exchanged messages all the time. Not only did it allow them to get to know each other better, but it also took their relationship to a new level, with the two of them now openly flirting, not afraid to reveal their mutual interest in each other.

Y/N went to her wardrobe and carefully chose her outfit for the day, selecting a simple white jumpsuit and silver open heels.

She knew that her presence would be noticed, thanks to the importance of her last name, something that worried her a lot. Not because of Carlos, but because of what her father would say.

The businessman had heard from some of his associates about his daughter's interaction with the driver during the Italian team's anniversary, which led to a huge argument between them. Y/N's father expressed his disappointment in (what he thought was) his daughter's lack of professionalism, going so far as to accuse her of being a disgrace to the family name for acting like a 'slut'.

Nothing out of the ordinary for him. The young woman could no longer take the things he said to heart, with so many criticisms and low expectations her dad had of her.

She wasn't going to stop living because of him, especially when it put at risk her relationship with a man as spectacular as Carlos.

Going against her father's orders, Y/N got on their private plane and flew towards Monaco without giving him any explanation of where she was going.

After she finished getting ready, the woman looked at her reflection in the mirror and one of Carlos' many texts echoed in her thoughts: your red lipstick drove me completely crazy to kiss you in Milan. And with that came the next step in her master plan. She took the same lipstick and applied it over her lips.

Carlos wouldn't be able to resist.

If you fail to plan, you plan to fail

Strategy sets the scene for the tale

I'm the wind in our free-flowing sails

And the liquor in our cocktails

Y/N got into her rented black Ferrari parked outside the hotel and drove the short distance to the circuit. Did she need to have such an ostentatious car with her? No, she didn't. But why not take advantage of her connections with the team to entice the man who was waiting for her?

Arriving at the parking lot, the engine of her car caught the attention of the people who were there. Photographers began to direct their cameras in her direction, flashes going off, waiting to know who was behind the smoked windows driving.

As soon as she got out of the vehicle, she could hear whispers: who was she, where was her father, was she a guest of Scuderia Ferrari, did she have an affair with one of the drivers.

Putting on her sunglasses to protect herself from the sun as well as the flashes, Y/N lifted her head and started to walk confidently towards the entrance where she knew her pass had been left by Sainz and was waiting for her.

On the other side of the paddock, Carlos became aware of the commotion that was settling in at the entrance, wondering which celebrity had arrived this time. Although he was still hopeful, the driver didn't know yet if his dream girl was going to show up.

Seconds later, his colleague Charles approached him and the two sat on two piles of tires, talking about the race that was going to start in half an hour until Monaco's home hero interrupted the conversation.

"Mate, isn't that your girl?" Leclerc, now in on the subject after Carlos told him everything about that night, asked when he saw a figure in white approach their motorhome, with a sea of photographers following close behind her.

"Ay Dios mío, she came." Carlos spoke aloud, blurting out his thoughts as his brain seemed to shut down with the image of her.

Y/N was now mere steps away from the boy and looked directly into his eyes, giving him a sly smile, almost like a scheming criminal plotting something.

With his eyes still locked on her, as if she were the only person in the world at that moment, Carlos watched as she walked right past him into the motorhome, not saying a word to him.

Just a gentle touch on his hand, like she did at the bar on that memorable night.

"Good luck with her, mate." Charles' laughter echoed in the Spaniard's ears as the Monegasque left, leaving Sainz standing there, speechless, all alone.

Carlos woke up from his trance when he felt the flashes on him. The photographers. They sure took pictures of their little moment there.

Oh, she was trouble.

What if I told you none of it was accidental?

And the first night that you saw me

I knew I wanted your body

I laid the groundwork, and then

Just like clockwork

The dominoes cascaded in a line

The man followed her path and entered Ferrari's home, immediately seeing her alone, leaning against one of the walls and concentrating on her phone.

Quickly, the driver reached near her and grabbed her hand, pulling her with him into his driver's room.

On the other hand, the girl hadn't even realized what was happening to her when her back made contact with a wall inside a small room and she heard the door close in a hurry.

The image in front of her left her feeling equally shy and wanting more. Carlos placed both hands on the wall next to her head, making it impossible for her to break free from his hold.

"You're playing with fire, corazón." Carlos moved dangerously close to her, allowing her to feel his warm breath on her neck. "Coming in here teasing me like that."

"Me? Teasing? Never." Y/N replied, running her hand over the fireproof garment that covered the man's toned chest.

"You're lucky I spent all this time waiting for you to come." He lifted his head, making eye contact with the girl. "You make me lose all control, bebé, I swear. Since the first night I saw you, I've wanted your body."

One of the driver's hands left the wall and he brought it to the young woman's cheek, letting his thumb run gently across her lower lip.

"That red lipstick again." Sainz reduced the distance between them even further, letting his own mouth graze over hers. "You're doing it on purpose."

"What if I am?" She spoke, giving him a look that was a perfect mixture of innocent and provocative.

Carlos glanced at the watch on his wrist for just a second, turning his attention back to her right away. "Then I guess I still have time to show you what happens when I lose control."

Although he ended up in second place in that race, almost reaching the top of the podium, Carlos left Monaco feeling like a winner after that half hour between those four walls.

Nothing would ever make him feel on top of the world like her on top of him.

What if I told you I'm a mastermind?

And now you're mine

It was all my design

'Cause I'm a mastermind

More than a year and a half later, and with the 2022 Formula 1 season now over, Y/N and Carlos were still together and happier than ever.

They overtook everything that came their way, only to get back stronger.

Her father obviously hadn't taken their relationship well from the start, leading the girl to quit the company and cut off contact with him for months on end. only now trying to make amends. Only now, more than a year later, the two were trying to make amends and reconnect, since the businessman contacted her to apologize for everything he had put her through during her life.

The media was also a difficult step to overcome. For a long time, they insisted on invading their privacy due to the business connections between both sides. It was tricky to strike a balance between not being a secret and keeping their relationship to themselves at the same time. But eventually, the two of them managed to get there with the experience that time brought.

Now, the couple was lying in their bed, in the house they had recently bought together in Milan, a city so special to them and that symbolized the beginning of their story.

Being there, in silence, holding each other, with the room lit only by the light coming from the fireplace. That meant the world to them. Those were the kind of moments they cherished the most, especially in such a relationship that required a lot of work with how much he travelled during most of the year.

The young woman was lost in the memories of the past, daydreaming about the beginning of their history, when Carlos intertwined their fingers and placed a kiss on the top of her head.

He was hers.

Just like she designed it like the mastermind she was.

No one wanted to play with me as a little kid

So I've been scheming like a criminal ever since

To make them love me and make it seem effortless

This is the first time I've felt the need to confess

And I swear

I'm only cryptic and Machiavellian

'Cause I care

Perhaps moved by her trip down memory lane, for the first time in their relationship, Y/N felt the sudden need to confess.

Her palms got sweaty as soon as she started to think of all the scenarios that could result from her confession. What if he didn't want her anymore? Would it be worth it to risk an argument over a detail about the day they met?

"Mi amor, what's wrong?" Carlos asked as he felt the heat and sweat between their clasped hands, sitting down on the bed with his body lightly over hers.

"What if I told you none of this was accidental?" She asked nervously, earning back a laugh from her boyfriend's mouth.

"Sorry bebé, but you've lost me now." He confessed.

"The first night that you saw me. I planned the whole thing. There wasn't a creepy guy trying to hit on me. I lied to get you to talk to me." Wasting no time, Y/N let the words out of her mouth before the courage to speak again disappeared.

So I told you none of it was accidental

And the first night that you saw me

Nothing was gonna stop me

I laid the groundwork, and then

Saw a wide smirk on your face

You knew the entire time

Y/N put both hands over her face to hide and avoid seeing the driver's reaction to her admission.

Carlos, on the other hand, could only chuckle as he brought his hands to his partner's wrists in order to expose her face again.

The young woman opened her eyes slowly in fear, only to be faced with a wide smirk on his face as he looked at her as if she had told the greatest joke in the world.

"I'm being serious, babe. I swear it's the truth." She stressed, remaining with her back flat on the mattress and with her boyfriend's body now fully against hers.

"Ay mi corazón, te quiero mucho." Carlos let out a loud laugh and held her face, placing a quick kiss on her lips to calm her down. "I knew the entire time."

"What?" She asked in shock, sitting on the bed and forcing the boy to sit with her.

"You know the random man you said was the perv?" Y/N nodded in response to Sainz's question. "It was my cousin Carlos. He had been with me all night until I went to the bar to get a drink."

Oh. My. God.

Y/N was never going to show up at the next Sainz family gathering.

You knew that I'm a mastermind

And now you're mine

Yeah, all you did was smile

'Cause I'm a mastermind

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(taglist continues in the comments)

thank you to everyone that asked to be tagged! please let me know if you want to be added to the next stories! 💌

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magnetic-regent-magneto · 13 days

Text

X-Men: Red by Al Ewing and Judgement Day inspired Magneto Playlist

"I am Magneto. I have held myself together-- done the work of an absent heart-- for as long as I can. I saved the living island Arakko, and I thought the battle was done. That I could perhaps rest or pass the burden to a friend. Have I not learned by now? I can never rest. The battle will never end." - Magneto, X-Men: Red (2022) #6

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drawingdroid · 6 months

Text

The Unknown Regions I

A Din Djarin x Fem Plus Size Reader Fic

Summary: You, a soft astrophysicist, meet the hardened Mandalorian in less-than-ideal circumstances.

Warnings: Expect conversations about weight, body dysmorphia and internalised fatphobia that may be triggering, so read at your own discretion; injuries and blood; canon typical violence; reader is AFAB and user she/her pronouns; no use of y/n; smut to come in next chapters; porn with plot; plot with porn; Din Djarin needs a hug and a fuck.

Word count: 2,631

A/N: This is something I’ve started, 100% self-indulgent since I have been feeling bad about some recent body weight gain. It was going to be just some pure filth with heavy body worship but the plot started to have its own life. This will be probably about 3 chapters long, so if you think it may be something you’d enjoy, I’m grateful to have you here!

🪐🪐🪐🪐🪐🪐🪐🪐🪐🪐🪐🪐🪐🪐🪐🪐🪐🪐🪐

It had been a long day and you were finally preparing to go to bed. You decided to pamper yourself a bit since you’d been more stressed than usually. So you took a long, hot shower. It was a luxury there in Tatooine, but one of the perks of your workplace were the good job conditions. Nevertheless, last weeks had been hectic and you had to stay at your office longer than normally. You loved your job, but you also appreciated some work-life balance and you weren’t having it at this moment. And your body was taking a toll too.

When the water went cold, you carefully exited the bathtub. Before wrapping yourself in a towel, you examined your body thoroughly and sighed. You had always fallen on the bigger side, and you liked it. Your curves, your softness, they made you feel sexy. But since you started this job, it was clear you hadn-t been taking care of yourself. The long hours at the observatory meant less sleep, less time to exercise and cook homemade, hearty meals. Not only did you feel more tired, but also it was clear that you had gained weight. You observed carefully the new stretch marks, the plush of your breasts and the tummy roll that wasn’t there before. Your new body. It looked kinda cute, but now your clothes didn’t fit anymore and your full bust spilled in every of your outfits. And the other problem was that you compared yourself with the other girls at work. It always escalated until you would start to feel insecure and your confidence weakened.

You sighed again and finally grabbed the towel, wrapping your hair, and then used another one to dry your body. After applying your lotions and skincare, you chose a beautiful nightie and then finally went to bed to resume reading the holobook you had been reading before on your commute to the observatory. It was important to you to have a comfortable nest where you could feel protected from the outer world, so you had invested in the softest duvet to cover you on Tatooine's cold nights. You were perfectly relaxed, even had a scented candle burning to help you decompress, when a blaster shot made you jump from the mattress .

Your first instinct was to drop to the floor and open the drawer on your nightstand where you hid your own gun. Your father had given it to you when he learnt that you would be transferred to the dangerous desertic planet. More shots, men shouting and a lot of metallic sounds. For the Maker’s sake, this compound was meant to be secure, these things didn’t happen to you anymore. It was very hard for you to achieve being in a stage of life where you felt safe. You were feeling afraid, but also angry. These people had broken into your little bubble and ruined your perfect evening.

The shooting continued and with every shot you flinched, but managed to prepare your blaster to defend yourself in case something happened. Maybe you’d have to accept the idea that there wasn’t anything like “safe” on Tatooine’s surface.

You stayed still and quiet for a while until the sounds ceased. Finally you could breathe, your heart still pounding, and dared to move. When you decided that it was quiet enough to stand up, another sound froze your blood. Your front door. There was someone there. You started trembling. You could call security. The residential complex where most of the observatory workers lived had its own since Tatooine’s law enforcement was…well, non-existent. But after a shooting like this, they’d surely have their hands full. Kriff, what if they had been killed? A shiver ran through your spine. There was a stranger at your door. Maybe they were hurt, or worse. You hadn't heard more noises. But the loud clank against the metal surface had been clear enough.

The decision to not be reckless won, and you called security from your holocom. But as you had expected, no one was responding. A low grunt came from the front door. You inhaled sharply.. They were in pain. What if they were some of your coworkers even?

You convinced yourself to bite the bullet and be brave about it. After the rebellion, you decided to not get involved in more conflicts. You had had enough for a lifetime. But there you were again. Laying against the wall in your nightie with your blaster against your chest.

“Hello?” No response. “Someone there?” Anything.

It felt a bit ridiculous to ask politely to a potential attacker. After stewing over for a while, you were determined to check yourself if there was actually someone at your doorstep. Inhaling sharply, you counted to three for yourself and opened the door at the same time you aimed your blaster with determination.

Another clank.

What the kriff.

You slowly lowered your blaster. There, laying on a puddle of his own blood, there was a huge man covered in armor.

“Hey, are you okay?” What a stupid question, of course he’s not. You started to get nervous. There was a lot of blood there. The stranger then said something but his voice was so weak you couldn’t hear him. Never stopping aiming your blaster towards him, you crouched next to his helmet. He repeated his words.

“My…kid…” Maker, there was a child in the shooting? You looked around yourself frantically, but in the dim light only your own lawn was visible.

“Where is he?”

“They…have taken him…” Something in his strained, modulated voice, broke your heart. You’d always had a soft spot about children.

“We’ll find your son. But you are bleeding out and no one is dying today at my doorstep.” You observed his frame and decided that the best was to drag him inside from his underarms. “I’m gonna get you inside, ok?”

He just hummed groggily and you decided to take that as a yes.

You had spoken too soon about dragging him. He was kriffing heavy and you had to use all your willpower to get him in your house. After one of the greatest physical efforts of your life, you finally laid him on your carpet and then sprinted to the bathroom to bring the med kit. Kneeling next to him, you tried to localize his wounds, but with the dark flight suit, it was almost impossible to know if he was bleeding somewhere. Your hands started shaking over the idea that maybe he was actually going to die on your floor. You grabbed your commlink to call the med center, starting to panic.

“I’m calling the med droid, I can’t help you.” You said to the unconscious man, worry drawing a line between your brows.

“No…droids.” You jumped when his gloved hand grabbed your wrist with surprising strength, but the next moment he was dropping it and looking gone for good. Okay, you weren’t the one to contradict the unknown warrior. Trying a different approach, you decided to guess where his injuries were by touch. Some drenched patches between his armor informed you where his major injuries were, so you cut his flight suit there. No time for undressing him.

The wounds looked like knife stabs after you cleaned them. You pressed both the one in his tight and another under his chest plate, to stop the bleeding and then applied bacta spray. But it wasn’t enough. He was growing colder every second and his heart rate was slowing. He was going to die, you realized.

You looked around you desperately trying to think when an idea came to mind. First, you started your stove as fast as lightning and then you chose your largest knife from the drawer. While anxiously looking at him, you put the knife on the flames and then ran to his side again.

“Sorry, this will probably hurt…” And before the knife became cold, you pressed the flat surface of the tool directly against his skin. The smell wasn’t beautiful and neither were his groans of pain, but at least it looked like he wasn’t waking up. You checked the wound and finally it had stopped bleeding. You cleaned the knife and repeated the process in the other stab. After several times, the tissue looked closed enough and only then you started to disinfect the burnt areas with care. They’ll leave nasty scars, but at least when you put your ear next to the helmet, it looked like he was breathing although shallowly.

It was almost dawn when you decided he was out of danger. Exhausted, you finally were able to remove his armor in order to drag him somewhere more comfortable and dress his wounds. It was hard to find the hidden mechanism, but once you got it you were fast. First you removed his heavy chest plate. Probably he’d breathe better without it, Then you put aside the pauldrons and the vambraces, and finally his side and back plates and ended with his legs.

Removing the sticky flight suit and his undershirt was an ordeal, but when the first of the two suns started to appear in the horizon, you had achieved the first part of your mission and his chest wound was fully dressed. While you were bandaging him you hadn’t noticed, but now under the orange light and having finished your task, you could admire the man you had saved. And maker, what a beautiful creature. His torso was strong while lean. You felt bad for the big scar the burn you would leave on his golden skin.

You resumed with his pants and you tried so hard not to look but you were just human and well, wasn’t he gifted there too. Tending to his thigh wounds you had noticed how thick his legs were, but now just down to his undergarments, you noticed the warrior’s actual strength.

You scolded yourself for lusting over the man who almost died in your carpet and was, probably, a criminal. And also a dad. When every wound was tended, you moved to his helmet. Since it had some kind of seal, you hadn’t lost precious time removing it when you couldn’t find the release button the first try. You trashed around the garment until you found said button, hearing a hiss, and put your hands around the helmet to carefully remove it.

The next thing you know is that you’re laying on your back, the warrior on you while he’s pinning your wrists effectively against the bloody carpet, his thick thighs keeping yours in place. You blinked, incredulously. Wasn’t this man on the verge of death? What the kriff?

“What do you think you’re doing?” His raspy, low baritone made you shiver. You should be scared, but your self-preservation instincts had abandoned you. IOn the surface of the T shaped visor, you could see your reflection. Rosy cheeks and doe eyes for the man that was threatening your life.

“Saving your metal ass.” You sassed, lifting your chin proudly. It looked like he wasn’t fully aware of himself since it took him half a minute to process the situation. He then started to release you slowly, but stil tense in mistrust. The skin where he had been grabbing you now felt cold. You looked at each other for what it felt like an eternity.

“M’ sorry.” He finally apologized sitting on his heels, noticing his bandages for the first time. Then he observed you, now on your elbows, your nightie ruined with his blood and purple eye bags under your beautiful eyes. “Did you do this?”

“The stabbing, no. The healing, yes.” You responded while looking for a comfier position on the floor, still on guard but curiosos about him.

“Thank you.” He said after a long silence. You finally released your breath.

“It's sloppy work, I’m afraid it will scar over ugly. Sorry.”

“It doesn’t matter. Thank you.” He repeated. He now looked disoriented , like a lost child. A 180 cm child. Oh wait.

“You…your child, you said someone took him.” He inhaled sharply and his tan shoulders tensed, your words hitting him like a thousand bricks. Then he tried to stand up but almost fell. You stood up fast enough to hold him before he could hurt himself. “Wait, you lost a lot of blood there.”

“I need to find him.” His voice was strained, like he was about to cry. You put his arm around your shoulders and he let you. It was like all the fight energy from before evaporated the moment you named the kid. The warrior’s skin felt warmer now, thanks to the Maker. You only hoped it didn’t become too warm due to infection. He was still heavy without his armor, and although he was making an effort, helping him lay on the sofa wasn’t easy.

“Look, you lost a ton of blood and have poor cauterized wounds from a random girl. You can’t find anyone in this condition.” You tried to not sound too harsh but the truth was there. “Don’t you have anyone you can call?”

He sat looking so defeated it broke your heart, but he finally nodded.

“That’s great, contact them then while I prepare some breakfast. You should hydrate and eat something.” He fixed his visor on you while you went to your room to change into something that wasn’t bloody and sheer to start with. When you returned, he was apparently speaking with a man. You gave him privacy while preparing some scrambled eggs, broth and fresh fruit, considering if you should call in sick to your job.

“They left you for dead, you have that advantage. They won’t expect you when you strike back .” Said the man in the holo. He was middle-aged and looked elegant. He then he spoke again in a kinder voice. “But you should focus on resting and healing now, Mando. Let us take care of it.”

“Thank you Karga, really.”

“Anything for the little one.” And then he hung up. The warrior put his head between his thighs, looking like the most miserable creature in the world. Your chest ached at the sight.

“Here, have some broth, you should hydrate. And probably have a transfusion too.” You half joked, sitting with the tray next to him. Mando, as you heard the bearded man call him, looked at you as if you were a ghost. You handled the tray to him carefully but he didn’t move at all. The longest and most uncomfortable silence went on until you decided to stand up and went to prepare for work.

“If you need to use the refresher, we have warm water here, not just that sonic excuse of a shower.” You started while sipping from your mug trying to look nonchalant. “I need to head to the observatory now, but you can stay as long as you need. That was such a beating you took.” You looked at the bruises that were forming across the golden skin you were desperately trying not to observe all the time. Both of the suns were up now, and they illuminated his frame beautifully. And the mess of dried blood in your floor and carpet, too.

You sighed. “Ok, I need to leave now, if you need anything…” You scribbled your commlink frequency in a holopad. It was strange how this looked as parting with a one night stand you won’t be seeing again. You had a certainty he wouldn't be there when you returned either.

“Thank you.” He finally acknowledged the tray and then nodded in your direction. Confused, injured and desolate, you felt guilty for leaving him there. But today was important since the planet you had been studying was the closest to Tatooine…You couldn’t miss the opportunity even though it felt so wrong.

“Take care, Mando.” You said before disappearing through the main door in a hurry.

Next chapter

#din djarin x f!reader #din djarin x y/n #din djarin fanfiction #din djarin x you #din djarin smut #din djarin x female reader #din djarin x reader #din djarin x plus size!reader #the mandalorian smut #the mandalorian fanfiction #the mandalorian x reader #the mandalorian x you #the mandalorian x y/n #droidwrites

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softestqueeen · 6 months

Note

ghost🙏😍

it's yours, princess

pairing: Simon “Ghost” Riley x reader x König (Call of Duty)

summary: On a mission with König and Ghost you have to stay at a safe house. The only problem – there is only one bed.

warnings: : 18+ MDNI!! smut, knife play, threesome (kinda), slight voyeurism, p in v sex, face fucking, porn without plot, cunnilingus, breeding, praise kink, degradation kink (yes, I am aware of the irony), pet names (princess), finger fucking, slight hand kink, masturbating, dirty talk

wordcount: 4256 words

a/n: This is a request from a friend. I've really enjoyed writing something longer and something with kinks I've never really explored! Enjoy <3

Finally, after being on your longest mission so far, you were relieved to be finally at your safe house. The mission is not yet over, but as long as you got some sleep, it didn’t matter to you. Everything that mattered to you right now, was the image of finally getting into a very soft bed, that was currently going through your mind.

“There it is! But it does look kinda small, don’t you think?”, the British man next to you remarked.

And here’s the reason why this mission was so incredibly exhausting. Instead of your regular partners you are on a mission with Simon “Ghost” Riley and König. The men you despised most on this planet.

Because of his paranoia König was still looming around somewhere in the woods, checking for possible threats. But you didn’t mind, every second spent less with one of them, was one second that you could relax a bit more.

The two of them were thick as thieves, but you never liked them. They always thought they were better than everybody else and picked on you because of your size and mostly because of the fact that you were female – the only female on the team to be precise.

They thought that this minor detail defined you and everything you did. That you were weaker than them and just on the team out of pity. Also, they never called you by your name but always called you ‘princess’, because they thought you were getting a special treatment, even though you didn’t. And sometimes – especially in your first days – hearing stuff like that could get under your skin. So, you decided that you would give them the same treatment they gave you.

You didn’t answer Ghosts question, but instead just kept on walking to what would be your private heaven for the next twelve hours.

In hindsight, Ghost did in fact have a point. That house looked very small for three bedrooms. In fact, it looked like it could barely fit one very small room, a kitchenette, and a shower if you’re lucky. But the idea of a bed sounded too good at the moment, so you didn’t pay this minor detail any more thought.

You wish you did.

The moment you entered the house, your worst fears were confirmed.

You stepped into the living space which had a couch, a counter with a microwave on top, a refrigerator next to it, a table with only two (!) chairs and two doors. You froze in the entry, but after someone made a very unhappy noise behind you, you snapped out of it and stepped further into the room, which combined kitchen, dining room, living room and hell.

But you told yourself, there was still hope that behind one of these still closed doors was an oasis waiting for you.

You turned the doorknob on the first one and entered a bathroom that had as much charm as the kitchen. A rusty sink, a shower, and a toilet. The shower didn’t even have a curtain and you could sit on the toilet, shower, and wash your hands at the same time. You felt like you were about to cry. You could already feel the tears prickling behind your eyes at the realisation that not only you had to live in this shithole, but you had to share it with you your two colleagues who are essentially two mountains of meat.

You got out of the “bathroom” again before closing the door behind you with a sigh. Ghost wandered the small room. Even though you couldn’t see his face through his mask, you could feel the frustration radiating from him.

You choose to ignore him and entered the other room.

Oh-oh.

The room was small, really small. Two people would count as a crowd in there. The worst – there was only one bed. It was king sized at least, but it still meant one of you had to sleep on the shabby couch that probably wouldn’t even fit your smaller frame.

The worst was that you already knew who would have to take the piss and sleep on the couch. There was no way one of the men would give up their place for you. You could feel a tear escaping your eye and running down your cheek before you angrily wiped it away and quickly collected yourself.

You could hear a dissatisfied grunt from the kitchen/living room/dining room which made you leave the most depressing bedroom you’ve ever seen.

You could see that Ghost had rummaged through the one cabinet and only found one of those cheap TV-dinners that you could just pop into the microwave. You just realised that the “kitchen” didn’t even have a sink and that you would have to use the one in the bathroom.

Could this day even get any worse?

Ghost was still standing there with the TV-dinner in his gloved hand, looking at you. He could see your face fall and if you could see his face, you could see that he did the exact same thing.

You were shocked when Ghost put the frozen meal on the desk in front of you and nudged it into your direction. “It’s yours, princess”, he stated while looking into your eyes. Was it even possible for Ghost to be nice?

You were literally stunned into silence before you realised that a thank you would be appropriate now. “Th- Thank you! We could also share it though. Not even I would get full of this, so it’s better if everyone eats at least a little bit.”

For a moment the two of you were silent, just looking into each others’ eyes. Maybe you didn’t hate each other, maybe you just got off on the wrong foot.

Suddenly Ghost went around the desk between you and stood in front of you. You looked into each others’ eyes and before you could think about it, you said “There’s only one bed.”

Very vell done, that will definitely loosen up the tension between you. Not.

“Well, what now?” Ghost was so close you could feel his breath on your face, even through the balaclava he wore under his mask.

“Someone has to sleep on the couch, if you can even call it that.” You didn’t even know anymore what you were talking about. His scent enveloped you and made your knees get weak.

He lifted his gloved hands and you almost flinched at the action. He rolled up his balaclava, so his lips were free before he roughly pulled you in by the hips and kissed you.

You froze before you realised what’s happening. Ghost was kissing you. On the lips. You came back to your senses and started kissing him back. You put your hands on his chest and could feel his muscles even through his tactical gear.

You moaned into his mouth, which gave him the perfect opportunity to slip his tongue into your mouth. You wrapped your hands around his neck and pressed yourself against him. Your broke away for a second to breathe and think about what the actual fuck you were doing right now.

Your literal enemy kissed you and you just let it happen. And even though your mind was still sceptical, your body had clear intentions.

So, deciding that this felt actually way better than you would’ve expected, you dived right back in and pressed your lips against his again.

You had to stand on your tiptoes and strain your neck to be on eye level with Ghost, so he lifted you by the hips like you were a bag of feathers and you immediately wrapped your legs around his waist while he supported your weight by grabbing your ass.

At feeling his hands on your ass, you let another moan slip into his mouth. This new position also made you feel his growing errection against your still clothed pussy.

You could feel yourself getting wetter at the feeling of his body against yours and the incredible feeling of his kisses didn’t help either.

Ghost decided that he wanted to take things further and carried you into the bedroom, leaving the door open behind him. You had a slight idea where this was going, but you decided that there was something more important at the moment.

He laid you down on the bed, covering your smaller frame with his bigger one, without breaking the kiss once. He was driving you insane. You let your hands wander over his body again, feeling only his strong muscles. You went further down his body and palmed his errection through his trousers. At his size you let out a sigh and started humping against his groin.

But before you got the chance to touch him further, he took both your wrists in one of his hands and pressed them over your head. You let out a gasp before Ghost tsked you. “I’m calling the shits here, princess.”

You didn’t think getting any more turned on was possible but here you where, drenching your panties because of a man you despised just ten minutes ago.

He kissed you again before caressing your body again. He palmed your breasts before squeezing them, making you moan again.

He started to open your tactical suit but couldn’t get too far with just one hand. He straddled your hips, being careful not to put too much of his weight onto you and let go of your wrists.

He gave you a stern look, signalling that even though he let go of your hands, you’re still not allowed to touch him.

You obeyed his silent demand and watched him take out his knife. You stared at the knife and then at his face. Was this all just a trick to put you in a position where he could easily hurt you?

“Do you trust me princess?”, he wanted to know while twisting the knife, making it reflect the light.

One word could literally shatter this moment and both of you were aware of it. He didn’t just ask you because of the knife, but because of all the things he’s going to do to you. The thought of that warmed your hearth but also made you a bit giddy from excitement.

But even through your uncertainty you didn’t have to think long about your answer.

“Yes.” It didn’t take more for him. He took the knife and cut your suit open, slightly grazing the skin with the tip of the knife, making a chill run down your spine.

You leaned forward so your top fell from your body. He didn’t let your sports bra stop him either, and quickly cut through it.

He leaned back and just looked at your now exposed breasts for a moment. Your nipples were hard, and a thin layer of sweat covered your skin. You couldn’t make out his face since it was still covered by his mask. The only thing that made him seem human at the moment was the rising and falling of his chest, which was slightly out of rhythm.

“Fuck are you beautiful princess. Even better than I imagined.”, he murmured under his breath more to himself, but still loud enough or you to hear it.

You couldn’t believe your ears. Did he really just admit that he imagined you naked before? A blush crept onto your face at his words but also at that thought. Seeing the blush on your face, Ghost noticed his mistake. He didn’t want to say that aloud, but his mouth apparently had a different plan. Realising that, a blush also crept on the British mans face, though he would never admit it and you couldn’t see it because of his mask.

He quickly overcame his shock and remembered that he was on top of you. He let the blade of his knife glide over your skin again, leaving goosebumps in its wake.

He slowly circled your breasts with the blade, slowly going closer and closer to your nipples. He leaned down and pecked your lips before circling the tight nub with his knife. The sensation of the cool blade against your hard nipple, made your eyes roll to the back of your head and a moan leave your lips.

He repeated the same motions with your other breast, slowly teasing your breast before circling your nipple again. You were slowly getting frustrated with the amount of foreplay but didn’t dare the comfortable silence that had laid over you in the last few minutes.

After he was done toying with your breasts, he got off you, now standing next to the bed. He lifted you up with ease and put you onto your feet next to him. Before you could ask him what he was doing, he opened your trousers and pulled them down. He also removed your panties in the same manner, muttering a silent ‘fuck’ as he saw how drenched they were.

He simply manhandled you back into the bed, so you were laying down again. You had to admit that it turned you on to see how strong he is and how easy it is for him to manhandle you. In the end the two of you had a size difference from over a foot, so it wasn’t a surprise to you how simple it was for him to carry you around.

Ghost got on top of you again, laying his still completely clothed body onto your bare one. He kissed you again but pulled away way too soon for your liking. You didn’t complain though because he started to kiss down your body. He didn’t leave an inch untouched. He started to kiss your neck, pulling a string of moans from you. He then kissed your collarbone and then put his attention towards your breasts.

He gave them the same treatment he gave them with the knife, first kissing the soft flesh of your breasts before taking on of your hard nipples into his mouth. He sucked on the, licked them and bit down on them. The latter making you arch your back, leaning into his touch. He did the same to your other breast before kissing down your stomach.

He kissed your hips, but instead of putting his mouth to your pussy where you needed him most, he started trailing down kisses your legs instead. You let out an impatient groan at which Ghost only chuckled.

“Patience, princess, patience.”, he said against the soft skin of your thigh. He kissed down one of your legs and then up the other. He kissed and bit down on the inside of your thigh, getting closer and closer to your glistening pussy.

Finally, he licked a stripe along the lips of your cunt, before circling your clit with the tip of his tongue. You let out a string of curses at feeling his tongue finally against your pussy.

“You’re so fucking wet for me princess. I’ve never tasted anyone so divine in all my life.” His words made you blush, and you let out a breathless moan as he dived in again.

He didn’t stress himself, enjoying the feeling of being between your thighs. He pulled your legs onto his shoulders so he could have better access to your pussy. He pulled of a second to pull off his gloves. He revealed strong, veiny hands with long fingers. A flood of wetness rushed through your cunt at the thought of him fucking you with his fingers.

He entered your tight hole with one of his thick fingers, making you moan and buck against him, slowly starting to fuck his hand and face. He didn’t seem to mind as he just kept on eating you out. Slowly he entered another finger, hitting your g-spot perfectly. When he entered a third finger, you started to feel him stretching you out. But you were glad for the preparation before he fucked you with his cock.

When you felt a fourth finger entering you, you couldn’t control yourself anymore. You came with a shout around his fingers while he kept fucking and licking you through your orgasm. He slowly came to a halt and pulled out of you, earning a whine.

“No need to worry, princess. You won’t be empty for long.” Another wave of excitement hit you, as you thought about finally feeling his thick cock inside of you. From what you felt before, he must be at least 9 inches long, which would make him the biggest you ever had.

König was finally done with checking for traps and such when he decided to join the two of you in the safe house. He knew that the three of you didn’t get along too well so he hoped the two of you hadn’t lost it when you found out that the safe house had only one bedroom.

He approached the house from the wrong side, so he had to go around it to be able to enter through the door.

As he came closer though, he heard noises coming from inside of the house. Was that a moan? Was someone hurt? He quickened his step, seeing a figure through the bedroom window. Had he not seen an enemy?

But what he saw did not only shock him, but it also aroused him. There was his best friend between your thighs, while you fisted the sheets and fucked his face. He was speechless.

He could feel his dick coming to life, twitching in his boxers. He fisted his cock through his trousers while watching you cum. He never would have thought that seeing his best friend with a woman would turn him on, but here he was. He decided that he would enter the house, even though he didn’t want to disturb you.

“C’mon princess, take out my cock.” Ghost didn’t have to tell you twice. He was straddling your hips again, so you had to lean up a bit. First, you opened his belt but didn’t bother pulling it out completely, letting the buckle hang to the side. You opened the button of his trousers and pulled his zipper down. You put your hand into his boxers to pull out his hard cock.

You knew he would be big, but nothing could have prepared you for the real thing. Veins were running along his cock, leading to a fat leaking tip. His cock stood upright and almost touched his belly button.

At the sight of it, you could have started drooling. You reached out and pumped him a few times. Your hand almost couldn’t go around his thick shaft, and you imagined how he would feel inside of you.

When you moved to take him into your mouth, he stopped you.

“Another time princess. If I’m not going to be inside of you in the next two minutes, I’m going insane.”, he told you before demanding, “And now on get on all fours for me, princess.”

He got off you and helped you get on all fours. He gave his cock a few jerks before he got behind you. With one hand on your hip and the other one guiding his cock to your entrance, he entered you with his fat tip.

If you already felt full of just his tip, how were you going to feel with his entire length? He entered you slowly, inch by inch. He also put his other hand on your hip and thrust into you, filling you up with his thick length.

When he was finally settled completely into you, you let out an almost pornographic moan. You swore you could feel him inside of your stomach. You’ve never felt this full in your life. He didn’t fuck you though, but he leaned down and whispered directly into your ear.

“Can you hear that princess? Can you hear König? Do you want him to see what a good little slut you were for your lieutenant? How well you are taking my cock?” You whimpered at his filthy words. You could only nod as you heard the door to the house opening.

“Simon? Princess? Where are you?”, Königh shouted, even though he knew exactly where the two of you were. He entered through the door and at the sight of Ghost’s cock inside of you, he almost came into his pants.

But Ghost only grinned, he could feel you clenching around his cock, the thought of being watched while fucking did not just arouse him, but you too.

“Hey, König. Found any traps?” Ghost said as if he wasn’t inside of you and split you open. König could only shake his head, being stunned into silence.

“If you want to, you can watch, König.” Ghost proposed and you had to suppress a moan. He only nodded and left the room. Why did he- oh. He got one of the chairs and put it next to the bed. He sat down, spread his legs, and started to open his trousers. “Please, don’t let me stop you. Go on.”

That’s all it took.

Ghost pulled out completely before he slammed into you again. You fell forward, your chest being pressed against the bed. Ghost did not like that at all, so he took one hand off your hip and wrapped it around your throat to pull you up. He was holding you up with one hand while you just let loose, getting lost in the feeling of him inside you.

Meanwhile, König pulled out his cock and started jerking off to you two fucking. His cock was of similar size, if not a bit smaller.

At the image of taking both of their cocks at once, your pussy clenched around Ghost again, making him groan.

“You’re doing so good for us, princess. You look so pretty, all cock drunk.” Ghosts’ words brought you impossibly close to the edge. But you tried to control yourself, wanting to cum together with him. But König’s groans were not making it any better.

The picture of him jerking off to you two fucking was sinful but also incredibly turning on.

Ghost started to pick up in speed, mercilessly hammering into you. It was almost too much now, his balls grazed your clit with every thrust, making you see stars.

He took his hand away from your neck and you slumped against the bed again. You thrust against him, arching your back so he could fuck you deeper. At the new angle you felt like you were about to pass out. He kept on fucking you like he hated you and you love it. You had never felt this good in all of your life if you’re being honest.

Ghost leaned forward, covering your body with his, his thrusts not faltering. He leaned down to your ear. “Cum for me princess and I’ll fill you up with my cum. Be a good girl for me and König.”

And that was all it took. You let out a cry and came. You saw black for a second and the feeling of Ghosts cum inside of you, made a second wave of pleasure roll over you. Ghost grunted and cursed while he filled you up with ropes of his thick white cum.

Only when he had emptied his balls he started to slow down and pull out of you. After catching his breath, he leaned down to you and flipped you, so you were now laid out on your back. Ghosts cock was already softening as he put it back into his trousers.

“You want to cum in her too buddy or do you want to blow onto her?” Ghost asked König who was still jerking his cock.

You were still catching your breath when you noticed a shift in the room. Ghost was now sitting in the chair and König was standing on edge of the bed. He pulled you by the ankles to him and threw your legs over his shoulders.

As he entered you, you could feel him stretching you out. Not as much as Ghost but he was still bigger than most of the men you’ve slept with. He started thrusting into you at a relentless paste.

He leaned down and almost bent you in half as he kissed you, his mask long gone. You moaned into his mouth as he kept on fucking you. You could feel his thrusts getting sloppy and you knew he was close. If you were being honest, it didn’t need much more for you either.

The feeling of König fucking Ghosts cum into you, his cock hitting your sweet spot, his lips against yours – you were so close.

With one final grunt, König came to a halt and filled you with his cum. The sensation of his cum filling you, mixing with Ghost’s and trickling out of you, sent you over the edge. You screamed into his mouth as you clenched around him.

When both of you caught your breath, König let go of your legs and pulled out of you. He tucked himself away, while Ghost entered the room with a wet cloth. He cleaned you up and pecked your lips.

They helped you into your underwear and into a pair of their spare shirts, before laying down next to you. You were now sandwiched between the two soldiers. “Well, if this is how all of our missions go, we should work together more often.”, you said. The laugh of the men was the last thing you heard before falling into a restful slumber.

I hope you enjoyed these 4k words of smut, that I will 100% go to hell for. (It was worth it tho) Please leave some notes if you liked my fic (likes, reblogs comments)

Please also consider supporting me on my ao3 @ softestqueeen

taglist: @silvermagnolias @milywatermelon

#fluff #ghost #könig #simon riley #simon ghost riley #simon riley x reader #simon riley x you #simon ghost x reader #könig x reader #könig cod #cod x reader #konig x you #könig call of duty #Call of Duty #ao3

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teaboot · 10 days

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What are your favorite pieces of media?

hhhhng Uhhhh

growing up, probably The Pendragon Chronicles- from what I recall it's a series of books about a kid who has to correct cataclysmic events on a bunch of separate worlds caused by a being who intends to end life on all of them.

One world is Modern Earth, where he's the only one able to use the portal to travel to other worlds, one is 1920's Past Earth, one is Future Earth in a sort of cyberpunk setting, one is a desert planet in the midst of war, one is a jungle world in which the dominant species is a race of bipedal cats, one is a water world where all food is farmed on a series of island-sized boats.. and I think that's all of them, unless I'm forgetting?

And on each world there's one guardian, and they meet up and fight and shit, and they can't blow their cover on any world, and each world has a large, distinct world-ending event brewing- The water one may lose their source of food, for example, and in future-earth people are wasting away in a virtual reality game they become addicted to.

It's one of the rare long series of teen books that I feel had a pretty satisfying ending despite the huge buildup, and I'd really recommend it to anyone interested.

I also really like X-Men, and Trigun, and while I haven't seen the new Percy Jackson series it was UNCONTESTED my number one favourite- I still have it on my shelf, absolute A+.

Aaaaand.... I enjoy the Batman Fandom more than most of the comics themselves but I'm in there, too. Was a homestuck cosplayer back in the day, as well. Loved Gravity Falls, loved Steven Universe.

Six Underground ins my favourite "sick at home" comfort movie. Also the only two John Wick movies in existence, shame they never made more sequels. Lord of the Rings. The Princess Diaries. Stardust. Ella Enchanted.

Oh, and the Inkheart books were FABULOUS. Really, they read like nothing else, just such a fantastic and unique flavour in fantasy!

Uhhhhh. Hellboy, too. Hell's Paradise. Bleach. Darker Than Black I vaguely remember enjoying, but I have the DISTINCT MEMORY of despising season two, so fuck that shit, whatever it was.

And I remember... oh, maybe twelve years ago, now? Really liking the spy series Nikita, and the urban fantasy Lost Girl, though I don't think I finished either.

Oh, and Elementary is a must-watch!

Poirot, too, and Perry Mason, and Midsommer Murders.

Also Blown Away, glassmaking reality series, and Forged In Fire, a bladesmith reality series.

Kitchen Nightmares, Hotel Hell, Hell's Kitchen, all good.

Puppet History. Watcher. Game Changer.

And webcomics Dead End and Check Please.

................I may need to spend more time on this

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insuke69 · 4 months

Text

“More of you to love, my darling.”

✰ Drabble of Hobie x tall!chubby!reader

You aren't small, by any means.

Its one thing being a tall skinny person, and it's be another thing being short and 'fat',

But you got stuck with the worst of both worlds, Chubby and tall. Not skinny enough to be able to wear anything comfortably low waisted but not curvy enough to be able to express these insecurities without being accused of seeking attention or being told how people would kill to look like you.

you were lucky to meet a man like Hobie--who is taller than you, loving, fun, overall perfect.

Maybe even too perfect..

He always tells you how much he loves you. he always says "You're beau'iful in my arms, darlin'."

Beautiful. That doesn't sound right, that is the oposite of what you've heard all your life. hollow complements of men oversexualizing your curves and beautiful smaller, thinner friends asking to borrow one of your jackets because it'd be 'cutely oversized' on them.

And it isn't that you're ugly either, you sometimes feel like the baddest bitch on the planet--before seeing the person in the mirror that makes you hate those rolls on your back. that pudgy stomach. the plump large hips that adorn the top of your squishy legs.

"What're you doing?" Hobie asked with a playful smirk as he looked over at you, you were trying on clothes you had bought online--biggest size and everything.

"These stupid jeans are meant to be baggy and shit but they fit me normally and don't even- zip!" you say back to him with slight exaspuration while trying to work the zipper of a pair of jeans that you really wanted to fit since they matched your style perfectly.

those jeans were too tight below your belly button and their supposedly baggy length fit you normally because of your height.

"Shh, sh. calm down, it's alrigh', we can return them and order the next size u-" He tried to tell you reassuringly as he walked over to you and put his hands on your waist.

"Thats not the point, these are already the biggest damn size." You groan as you suck in your stomach as much as you physically can to try and force the zipper closed or get the button through its designated hole.

"Woah, woah," He said as he put his hands over yours to stop you from forcing the fabric againts your skin and straining the material over your plump flesh. "We can go to the mall or something and get you jeans like these there, once we return these, get the money back and talk about whatever is actually bothering you." His tone is cool and calm while his hands start lowering the jeans from your hips to get them off of you.

He always knew that you would prefer to at least be shorter or at least thinner, while to him you're already beyond perfect. He hates going to the mall because of the branded clothing there that only further corrupts capitalism after every cent and here he is.

Offering that to you to make you happy <3

_______________________________

BE PATIENT WITH ME YALL IM BARELY A QUARTER DONE WITH P2 OF WHATS IN A NAME THIS DRABBLE IS TO KEEP YALL FED

#across the spiderverse #hobie brown #fanfic #hobie brown fanfiction #hobie brown imagine #hobie brown x reader #spiderman #spiderpunk x reader #spider punk #spider punk x reader #spider punk x you #chubby reader

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kneelingshadowsalome · 1 year

Text

Scorpio Curse (König x F!OC)

Part 2/3 of Valkyrie

(Part 1 here)

Summary: König gets an order to make a female SpecGru sniper talk, but König doesn't want to hurt women.

Category: Smut 🔞, angst, fluff

Tags & warnings: Explicit mature content +18 audiences only, strangers to lovers (slight enemies to lovers), dubious consent, threats of rape, virgin!König, size kink, size difference, p in v, multiple orgasms, cunnilingus, squirting, hugs and cuddles, super fluffy ending. König will be named in later chapters.

Part 2: Mostly König who is in desperate need of a hug (don't worry, he will get it soon enough :*)

A/N: KorTac and SpecGru are rivaling military contractors, Conor is König's superior (and a huge villain), and I just wanted to write angsty smut featuring our favourite Austrian boi.

"You should've come to me, König."

He was still here.

No one had told him to leave his stuff and sign the papers and get the fuck out.

He had been called to see the team leader, though.

Immediately.

"It's true that we don't do that shit. Especially with the SpecGru, not after everything that already went through."

He told his side of the story, and apparently, the command agreed that Conor had made a mistake.

"Your superior officer slipped, but that doesn't mean you have the right to do whatever the fuck you deem more appropriate."

The leader's cheeks were red, and his voice traveled from peaceful, tired account to a booming loud yell.

"To tell you the truth, König, you're good at what you do. But pull this kind of shit again, and the KorTac will ensure you lose your rifle for good. They'll make sure you'll get spat in the face in every fucking PMC on this fucking planet, you hear me?"

He was surprised he didn't catch spit flying right now.

"Sir."

"Now go fix that goddamn fence."

"Yes, sir. Right away, sir."

König, former weapons sergeant of the Jagdkommando and current operator of the special forces known as KorTac, felt like a fresh recruit when he turned heel and marched from the office. He thought about asking whether the surveillance tape would be destroyed or if it was already but sensed that this was not the best moment to ask questions. The leader's tired voice followed him as he walked away with cold sweat tingling down his back.

"Jesus. Where did you even get those bolt cutters.."

He worked half a day to get it right. Repairing the fence was easy, but fixing it so that it wasn't a weak spot in the area's defense was not. He had kneeled down in this exact same spot less than 24 hours ago, with a tense, silent cargo thrown on his back in a fireman's carry.

He had yanked the door to the surveillance room open to let the men know they could get a coffee break while he watched the prisoner — only to find that there was no one there. He had been played twice the fool, and she had paid the price. He wasn't man enough to tell her it had been all in vain when he went to get her.

He certainly wasn't going to tell her that he would still do it all again.

She stayed mute the whole journey to the fence, remained quiet even when he placed her gently on the ground and showed her the hole he had made on the chain link fence for her to crawl through.

"There you go, little Walküre."

She stared at his work for a while, sniffed, then looked up at him.

"You think you can fit through that?" He asked, although he had made sure the hole was big enough for even him to go through.

"Yeah…" she uttered her first words since forever before reaching for her road to freedom. Realizing she was still tied, she pivoted back.

"My hands.." she started, but he was already kneeling on the ground with his combat knife pulled out. With utter care, he cut her loose. She caught him after it was done, and he glanced at those tiny fingers that barely reached to close around his wrists.

"Thank you."

He raised his stare, and her eyes bored into his as she ensured her words had sunk in. Then she turned, dived for the hole… but turned back again.

"König."

He had enough time to discover that the naked pain in her eyes was of the exact same kind as the agony spreading in his heart before she leaped to him, threw her arms around him — and suddenly, he was home.

"Don't get yourself killed." Her voice was a muffled sob that hit his skin through the mask as she pressed her face against his neck and squeezed him with a surprising amount of strength. Dumbfounded, he raised his arms but wasn't sure if she would welcome the touch. He didn't want her to think he would seize her just when she had been offered a way out.

"Promise that you won't get killed."

He knew that he would probably get maimed for this. At the very least, he would lose his contract. But he hadn't even thought about it when he made that hole and carried her here.

She released him and pulled back. Her eyes were pure attention, a time-halting awareness that seized him without warning. It didn't matter that he was loaded with gear, that he had a helmet and a mask on. She could see him. All of him. And she smiled.

Then she reached for his mask.

He did nothing to stop her as she grabbed the hood and started to lift it. His vision went black with the ascending cloth for the longest second…

And then he could see again — see her wide eyes roam his face. The silence was pierced by a few raindrops, the first of an impending heavy rain. They landed on his helmet and on his arm guards, specked on her cheeks as they fell from the heavy clouds above them.

"Wow," she breathed, with parted lips and eyes that sparkled.

She grabbed his helmet through the cloth and pushed both the hood and the piece of metal away. The bundle landed somewhere next to him with a soft clunk a second before her lips pressed against his.

Rain fell, and with it, the paint from around his eyes — all the black he had surrounded himself with ran down his cheeks and neck, all the way under the collar of his shirt and over his heart that thumped like a maniac. They were in a warm August shower together, and she pulled him by his neck, threatened to swallow him, and he could do nothing but melt and surrender and answer with the same gentle hunger.

Her fingers swept across his chin; they caressed his temples, brushed his scalp, and tugged at his hair, not hindered by the fact that there wasn't much to grab hold of in the classic military undercut. They slid down his neck, grabbed his tactical vest, and pulled him deeper into the kiss. She sucked his lip, kissed the raindrops away, and he was hard as a rock even in the pants that were soaked and cool.

When she relented, all too soon, he would've given everything to freeze time and stay there. Under that hail, kneeled in that mud — with her, forever.

"I can't go through that fence unless you promise me," she panted in his mouth, and every single fiber in his body told him not to promise anything. He wanted to grab her instead, take her back, tuck her somewhere safe, and keep her as his own.

"Ok," he whispered.

A gush of hot air landed on his face as she gave a short laugh.

"Ok what?" She smiled against his mouth, her teeth colliding with his lips.

"I… promise."

"'Atta boy," he felt the words before he heard them, and she kissed him once more, and he could've drowned in that kiss. In those words.

"I'll never forget this," she said, lips wet with all that rain, eyes blinking through the drops that slithered down her face and got caught in her lashes.

I'll never forget you.

"No problem."

"No problem…? God. Could you get any more charming?"

She thought he was charming…

"Just one more thing, hero."

She bit her lip, looked down on the soaked grass, then up at him, and smiled.

“What’s with the hood? I really don’t get it. You look super nice.” She winked an eye at him. And then she turned and crawled through that hole and vanished into the darkness.

He was left alone in the descending rain, and there he had remained ever since.

He was convinced he still had her scent on him. He never washed that shirt he had been wearing the day he lifted her in his lap. He tried to catch her from it, and for a few days, he thought he actually did. But then that scent became only a memory.

Nevertheless, it followed him everywhere. No one knew that he was encompassed by it. That he was shrouded with her as he walked the base or rose on the plane.

Days passed by, and he still felt her lips on his own. Her taste in his mouth. Felt her legs around him, her soft walls surrounding him.

He replayed the frenzied vision over and over again in his head to remind himself that he had truly been inside her. That he had made her produce all those sounds. Made her clench around him and smell like honeydew and summers by the lake. He realized that he had started to truly live only after he had opened the door to that bleak room full of her. And then his life froze like a movie that was pressed on an eternal pause as he saw the soles of her boots push against the muddy ground to get her through that fence and away from him.

Three weeks passed — three weeks without her.

He did his job, went on missions, and executed orders to the letter.

But mostly, he was in his thoughts.

Mostly, he thought of her.

He thought of her when he had a rifle in his hand during ops. He thought of her during briefings, when he did deadlifts, racked a barbell after bench press, or sparred with training knives.

He thought of her in showers, in the mess hall, and most of all, in bed at night when he stroked himself to a release that eased his sleep.

He had never been so virile, not even as a teen. His libido was off the roof as the only thing he could think about was how he could get to jerk himself off in the shower stall or in his bunk after the day was done. Thoughts of her were his reward, the only thing that seemed to sustain him.

She was the most radiant thing in his life: everything else had faded away, turned to gray and black. Monotone, lifeless, empty. The pain faded for a while every time he came into his fist. Then it hit him with an even more crippling force as he realized that she wasn't real; she wasn't here.

Still, he fantasized what it would be like to hold her after, how they would drift off to sleep together. He envisioned her skin, her scent, her hair. The top of her head against his chin, her little hands around his neck, her laugh, all of it.

Sometimes when he had a hard day, he fantasized how her body would press softly against his back, and she would slide an arm around him, and it would disappear beneath his shirt. Her palm would come and rest right where his heart was, and she would just hold him.

On the worst days, he cried. He thought of the bullies and what they would say and how they would laugh if they saw him now, curled up in the soiled sheets with a cock in his hand, falling asleep on a tear-soaked pillow.

After a few months, he started to dissolve.

He got reckless on the field — jumped out of the helo before it had even landed properly, was all sloppy with his cover, wasted bullets, and revealed his position for the sake of getting up close and personal, for having the satisfaction of killing his opponents with a knife or with his bare hands.

People complained. Hutch complained, Fender complained — even Zero complained.

Some said it was just good old König, that he didn't care. Medics said he had a guardian angel with him when he never got hit, got barely even scratched when at the same time, some of the best operators were severely injured.

And some saw right through it.

"He fell in love with that sniper bitch. That's what's wrong with 'im," Conor had said.

He had nearly attacked the man for what he said — what he had called her. His angel.

But he knew that's what Conor wanted: to taunt him into making a mistake that would result in his dismissal from the force. Would probably destroy his chances to continue a career anywhere in the military. And then he would quickly find himself in civilian life, where he had never quite fit into.

"Promise me you won't get killed."

He had promised her to stay alive, and he couldn't disappoint her. So it became a prayer. Every night he made an offering to her, so she would keep him safe. No bullet could touch him. He knew that somehow she could feel his longing, the love he had for her. She would protect her like the war maiden that she was. And even if he caught that bullet, he knew it would only take him to heaven. She had already carried him there.

Six months without her, and people started to fear him.

His teammates looked at him with dread as he geared up for missions with the secret knowledge that he was practically immortal. The team leader said he resembled a machine, and he took it as a compliment. Even Lieutenant kept his mouth shut and looked at him with something akin to respect.

But he got even more time off when he wanted the exact opposite. He was pretty sure that there was a note in his file now. Right after the screaming red words released a prisoner without the requisite order from a superior officer. A comment that said he was behaving wrong, that he was unstable or something. They offered him cognitive therapy, sleeping pills, meditation groups, ice baths, even acupuncture. He turned it all down, knowing that it was no use.

And so they sent him home more and more often.

It was even worse there. He never wanted the leaves, but KorTac was firm in their protocol. Contract soldiers needed time off duty to prevent "substantial impairment concerning the operator's ability to work." Even if he wanted to, he couldn't stay in the barracks and get every mission he could get his hands on.

He sat in his apartment, slept late, went for a swim, went to the gym, and came back to sit and sleep. He thought of her when he walked the streets with a hole in his chest, a hole as deep as the Mariana Trench. He saw her in all the women of the same height and weight as her. At some point, he realized he had never paid so much attention to women as he did now.

"Go get a pint and a girl, König. Just get it out of your head."

Zero meant well, but he could've punched him too for saying that.

He didn't want a girl; he wanted her.

Pint sounded good, though. He had visited the nearest pub only a few times before, but the place had only reminded him that he was not home and that pubs were different from bierstubes. But right now, he didn't want to go back to that cold, dark flat to stare at the ceiling and wait till sleep would come.

He pushed the door open and stomped his feet on the mat even though it didn't rain outside. He walked further into the dimly lit hall and saw that early evening wasn't the busiest time in this place: more than half of the tables were empty.

And then he looked for the counter and saw her.

His Kriegsmädchen was there.

His Walküre was here.

She was here and looked just the way he remembered her — no, even more luminous. Glowing.

Perhaps he had finally lost it. But he kept looking, blinking, and saw her fingertips curl around a glass, saw the hair she had tied into a high ponytail, the smile that spread across her face just before she laughed.

The angelic sound went straight between his legs and stabbed a hole in his gut, and he was bleeding — months and months of pain, right there in the hallway of a quiet pub.

She was alive and safe, laughing, and so lovely that his hands started to tremble just as they had when his bullies approached him back in school. It was odd because she was everything but. He took a step, heart thumping and palms sweating, like he was approaching an enemy he knew he had to finish with his bare hands.

He walked to the counter in the eye of a storm, and she evaded his gaze and tried to act like she didn't even notice that some man was striding toward her.

Did men approach her often?

Of course they did. And she tried to look like an immovable stone, a prey that wouldn't draw attention.

"Walküre?"

And only then did she turn her gaze, eyes filled with both fear and hope.

Her mouth opened, and she drew a sharp breath, shoulders tense. He had to fight tooth and nail to not grab her and press her against that counter or kiss her, devour her while he carried her off out that door...

"... Valkyrie?" Her friend repeated sarcastically, with a birth of a laugh on her lips, staring at him like he was a circus attraction. He didn't spare even a glance her way.

Couldn't, because he was mesmerized by the most soothing gaze in the world.

"Hi," she breathed, voice almost breaking.

His eyes went straight to her lips as she said it, the sound far too similar in his mind to the breaths that had escaped her in that dull, grey room.

She cleared her throat and swallowed.

"Kate, this is… Siegfried. A friend from my old job."

He knew he should move, look to the side, and say hello. Act normal. But he couldn't move, couldn't even blink.

She pursed her lips and looked down at her drink, at her friend, and then back up at him.

"Nice to meet you," her friend spoke, and he finally managed to turn his eyes toward her and nod slowly.

“You must be the battering ram.” She took a sip of her drink with a flash of eyebrows.

He heard a sharp inhale from beside him and only wanted to ignore everything and everyone else in the room except for the one who gasped like that.

“You know, the one they send to charge through doors?”

“Done that too.”

The friend called Kate's eyes widened from the stare he knew made most people uncomfortable.

"What are you doing here?"

His angel spoke, and he turned. She was looking even more beautiful with flushed cheeks. It was strange to see her like this: sitting gracefully on that bar stool, wearing jeans and a bit of mascara. She wasn't covered in dirt and sleepless nights and fear, and he realized that he never wanted to see her like that again. He wanted her safe and sound, and happy; even if she had come on this earth to fight, just like he, even if she was deadly with a rifle. Even if she was a more able-bodied sniper than he ever could be.

"To get a lager."

"No, I mean," she laughed, sending warmth between his legs, "Why are you here, here?"

After a blink or two, he realized she meant the town.

"I'm on leave. I live here."

"Oh." She bit her lip. "Kate, um. Would you… Would you mind if we catch up a bit?"

He saw from the corner of his eye that the woman looked him up and down, and then a smile started to creep up her face.

"You know what June, I think I'm gonna head home. You two catch up for as long as you need and I'll see ya later, ok?"

Her name was June.

Like midsummer fests and seagulls and Radler.

Honey and raindrops…

"I'll go grab a table," he declared, thinking how odd that sounded, thinking whether his English was somehow off. As if he was going to physically grab a table and raise it in the air...

Kate chuckled behind his back as he turned and headed for a darker, more private corner.

"Jesus Christ, June… I knew you did some special commando shit, but that guy is -"

"Will you keep your voice down?"

"I mean… If you catch up all night, I doubt you'll be able to walk tomorrow."

"Kate…! "

The rest of the exchange of words faded as he reached the table and adjusted the chairs to be able to sit down.

Then he noticed that he was still wearing his jacket and got up to take it off. He saw her coming with her drink in hand, and she flashed a smile at him as he threw the leather bomber across the chair next to him.

"Nice jacket."

He looked down at the dark brown leather, worn and looking mostly what people called vintage or something.

"You gonna go get that beer, sweetie?"

Sweetie.

"Ja," he nodded, turned, and marched back to the counter.

He ordered a beer, then asked what the lady over there was having.

"I think she, ah… ordered a mojito." The bartender extended his neck to the side to glance at their table. "Yeah, that's a mojito."

"One of those as well."

The man gave him a look that distinctly said You really think you're gonna get some of that? He didn't know what it was in his aura that told people he was a loser. Or a menace. And he didn't know which of those looks made the pain worse. But all of it faded instantly as she greeted him with a shy smile when he returned to the table with the drinks.

"Oh, you shouldn't have… I haven't even finished this one." She raised those lovely eyes at him, smiling, smiling… "Thank you, König."

Her fingertips brushed his as he gave it to her, the glass sweating with tiny cold drops of condensed water. She had pale pink, almost nude nail polish that made her nails look shiny and pure, her hands even more delicate. She watched as he scoured through the chairs to take a seat, pick a coaster and place his own glass on the table.

"A big one."

She then turned those playful faerie eyes on him, and he was suddenly grateful that he had picked the loose, black cargo pants to wear today… and that he was sitting.

"This is considered a small beer where I come from."

"I'm sure it is," she chuckled. The tight, white t-shirt she wore reminded him of the first time he had seen her, even though it was not one of those heavy cotton, military shirts. He grabbed the beer to do something, anything, and raised it to his lips, almost pouring the liquid all over him when he took a sip. She watched him gulp and smiled even wider. He was half hard at that point and had to spread his legs to accommodate and conceal what was happening in his pants and under the table.

"What about you, Walküre? What are you doing here?"

"I'm helping a friend -uh, Kate. She had an awful breakup."

He nodded and kept picking up his beer, drinking a small sip and trying to hit the center of the coaster as he set the glass back down.

"You're not with SpecGru anymore?"

"I signed off one week after… After. You know."

"I'm sorry to hear that," he said, even though he wasn't sorry at all. At least, not for the fact that she was out of harm's way.

"Nah, don't be. It was for the best. I'm able to sleep at night and everything."

She had trouble sleeping? Maybe that's why she looked even more radiant than before. She had slept well.

"I was worried about you."

"Really?" she tilted her head to the side, and her eyes started to shine even brighter.

"... that you might not find your way home."

"I'm a big girl. Trained with the Green Berets and everything.. But it warms my heart to hear that. I worried about you, too."

"You did?"

"Yeah. Sure, I mean… I was afraid you'd get into some trouble because of me."

Someone laughed at the next table, but the unexpected sound reached him through a comfortable haze; like he was sitting underwater. The battlefield wasn't nearly as distressing an environment as this peaceful pub - or any other place he rarely visited. But this time, with her, it was not too bad. His senses were blown wide, but he wasn't afraid.

"Also ja… They did yell at me."

"That's horrible. I could never yell at you."

He felt himself nearly choke on the beer, tried to breathe through his nose, and forced the liquid down with an audible gulp.

"You kept your promise," she said in a low voice, her smile fading slightly. Her eyes locked with his, and he basked in the warmth.

"Natürlich."

I prayed for you every single night, Kriegsmädchen.

She gave him a small, sad smile and looked down, swirling her ice-filled glass.

"You know I…" she started, took a breath, then another. "I've missed you, König."

He squeezed the tall glass before realizing that it might actually break at some point.

"I've missed you too, Walküre."

He looked at his beer, still halfway full, and then at the completely untouched drink he had brought her.

"You want to go to my place?"

Part 3:

#könig fanfiction #könig mw2 #könig call of duty #call of duty #könig imagine #my fics #könig x oc #könig #könig x female oc

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