This is my second one cause my first one was stuffed up for some reason, I have reblogged the first like 60 from my old account and a few of them might not have tags cause it was going to take forever if I did. If you believe that one desperately needs a tag please tell me and I will tag it.
Alot of these are dark fics so please use your discretion. Most if not all are fem!reader.
My main blog is here where I write soft dark and Yandere stuff.
Warnings: 18+, Smut, Raw Dogging, Unprotected Sex, Creampie, Breeding Kink, Implied Unwanted Pregnancy, Power Imbalance, Big Dick! Ghost, Soft Dom! Ghost, Cult Leader! Ghost, Submissive (and Breedable)! Reader, Implied Abortion Attempt, Fem Reader, Profanity.
He’s filthy in the way he treats you, like a common whore, spreading you out over his desk – once-varnished mahogany, now bleached with weeks’ worth of spend, of tears, rubbed raw in places, the phantoms of many a night relentless under your leader – and bearing your body like it’s his god-given duty.
In essence, it is. Albeit, a god he created – fabricated – to lead lambs into a wolf’s den. And with the primal, savage way he forces himself into you, his tip pulsing and throbbing with the many hours he’s subjected you to, you can very well believe he is the very image of a predator.
“Won’t stop ‘til you’re full – ‘til it’s– fuck– ‘til it’s taken,” Simon pants, his shadow cloaking you, the sweat from his broad chest dripping down onto your sodden back. Your cheek is pressed into the desk, and in the corner of your vision, between the narrowed eyes you fight to keep open amidst the electric annihilation sparking between your legs, just below your stomach, you see him with bared teeth and dark eyes that glint with some unholy purpose. A purpose that only makes the feeling writhing inside you stronger, heavier.
With a deft hand – his other planted by your head, a cage – he finds your clit and presses it between two fingers as if it were the stub of a cigarette. He squeezes. Hard.
Your lips quiver around him and a strangled moan escapes you, euphoria becoming you, possessing you as something had him.
You keen on his hand, desperate for contact, for friction, despite him already filling you utterly and without mercy. Your arousal drips into his hand, pools in his palm. It takes all his will not to drink it then and there.
“I know, Doll–” ‘Doll’ – the name he’d given you, the name that reminds you you’re his to use as he pleases. His fingers squeeze your clit between them, a flesh vice. You’re gasping. He doesn’t stop, subjecting you to a pleasure so carnal you know only he can grant you it.
His free hand finds your shoulder, slips down your soaked back – a collage of brutal love-making, of animal rutting, of feral and incessant breeding – leaving goosebumps in its wake. He finds your rump, squeezes it, his hand flipping further between your legs until he finds your epicentre.
You’re so sensitive, and so swollen. He’s done this enough times to know that you’re red there, too.
He finds the spot where you’re connected, the modest sliver of his shaft that hasn’t been consumed by your wanting hole – where your combined arousal slithers out of you, dripping down his tightening ballsack – and plays at the edges of your lips, those that create a milky ring at the base of his cock, those that twitch with the almost overwhelming orchestra of sensations he is subjecting you to, playing you as his instrument.
Your hips twitch, pushing back against him, inadvertently impaling yourself on the inch or two he’d spared you from.
He’s swollen – painfully so. Plugging you, preventing you from getting away. Something you realise all-too late as you try to pull away, to ease the searing ache in your lips, in your womb.
You’re crying, he’s grunting, throat raw with hours of praise, of nothing short of feral growling – curses to something other than his god.
You whine as he withdraws his hand from between your legs, instead coming to cup your breasts and pull you flush against his chest. Squeezing around him again, the bulge of his cock inside you becomes ever more apparent when his hand slips up to your throat and he shunts you forward with his hips.
You’re weak – a ragdoll against him – and you’re pushed back down against the wood. He presses your stomach to the desk, your head now handing over the edge.
“D’you feel it, love?” he rasps. “Gonna give you a baby – put it right there.”
You do feel him, like an eel, slithering into any space he can, any space he hasn’t already occupied. You feel your heartbeat pulsing between your legs, and you feel his in the head of his dick, rabid. You want to sob, want the pleasure coursing through your every fibre to overwhelm you, to send you hurtling into a high nobody else can give you.
But you know this will have consequences.
You know there’s no morning after pill strong enough to overcome Simon’s seed, none strong enough to stand a chance against the sheer amount of his spend. You know this because you’re already pregnant.
You’d originally tried using a multitude of contraband substances – pills, medication, anything you could get your hands on – to stop the inevitable. To prolong it just long enough for you to find a way out of the hole you’d dug yourself into.
When Simon had found them – no doubt with the help of one of his disciples, one eager to please and who would settle for the simple pleasure of being the dirt beneath his boot – he made absolutely certain to undo all your hard work.
For days afterwards, when he gave his sermons, you had to stand, hands clasped in prayer, with his cum rolling down your thighs beneath your compound-issue garments.
And despite how you know you don’t want this destiny he’s imparted upon you, you still urge your hips against his. Especially as you feel him twitching, your hole leaking and almost squealing with his semen and the memory of the many times he’s already pumped you full this same night. He’s ready to bust at any moment, ready to find and create any excuse to empty his load into you, his favourite disciple.
You finish first in a fit of euphoric fury, an outpouring of devotion, a static explosion that leaves you utterly spent and entirely limp, unable to move as Simon continues to pummell you, using you, not stopping until you hear him give nothing less than a guttural roar, throwing his head back as he empties every ounce of his spend into you.
Any chances of escaping, any hopes of the world beyond the company you’d embroiled yourself in – they’re all gone now. Knocked clean out your head and from your reach, your mind nothing but a post-haze. You feel full almost to the point of bursting, but your body settles for a ballooned discomfort in your middle. One which you know will only grow bigger and heavier over the coming months. And no doubt beyond that when Simon deems you capable – worthy – of bearing him more offspring.
Simon is panting behind you, hands planted either side of you, head hanging between heaving shoulders. As if he’s impregnated you with his very soul.
His hand slips across the desk down to your front, where he manages to levy his fingers between your exhausted form and the hard wood beneath. And, as if by divine intuition, he gives a hum. Presses a languid kiss to your exposed neck, uttering a “Well done, love.”
He’s going to be a father.
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Masterlist
Masterlist [Continued]
Masterpost
Modern Warfare AI Masterlist
Summary - Stuck in the Riverland's on a marriage tour, you pretend to be Lady Strong when Benjicot Blackwood doesn't recognize you as the Princess of the Seven Kingdoms
Warnings - none except not edited!!
Word Count - 3.1k
!MINORS DNI!
// masterlist // send me your thoughts // comments & reblogs appreciated! //
As if the prospect of a marriage tour was not horrid enough, your first stop was proving to be positively dreadful.
You had imagined the lands surrounding the Trident to be beautiful. A lush, verdant landscape—filled with fragrant herbs and bright, blooming flowers, painting the Riverlands in rich, colorful hues. You pictured babbling streams and plush grass, stunning castles and, perhaps, some equally as stunning men.
What you hadn’t imagined, however, was the weather.
Even from within the confines of Riverrun—the ancestral castle of House Tully—you still feel the effects of the merciless heat beating down upon the sandstone walls.
Your handmaids had tried to dress you accordingly, stuffing you into your thinnest—and, consequently, your least regal—gown, in hopes that it might prevent sunstroke. Yet still, even as three of Lord Tully’s own servants try fanning you while you sulk in the dining hall, you feel as though every inch of your body is drenched in sticky sweat.
“This is miserable,” you groan to Ser Lorent, the Kingsguard who had been assigned to your tour. Flanking your right, you spare the knight a pitiful, sidelong glance. “I believe I would sooner die a spinster than be forced to live in this sweltering purgatory!”
The servants, haphazardly positioned around the table, remain utterly stone-faced, not letting on if they found your comment about their homelands to be humorous or offensive.
Ser Lorent merely laughs. “The Riverlands are known for their humid summers, princess.” With a wink, he adds, “If you ever bothered with your studies, you would know this.”
“I study!”
“With the blade, perhaps,” Ser Lorent muses, his teal eyes twinkling with lighthearted mockery. “But certainly not with books, princess.
Rolling your eyes, you slump further into your chair, your body practically melting into the upholstery. “Leave the geography lessons to Jace,” you tell him, waving an idle hand. “After all, he is the heir to the Iron Throne. I am only the prized broodmare—” focusing on your plate, and the half-eaten lunch upon it, you try swallowing the bitter tang now filling your mouth—“a royal womb to be sold off to the highest bidder.”
And, at times, you aren’t even sure if that is considered an honest truth… You’ve certainly never felt royal.
Like your brothers, you were born extraordinarily plain-featured. With no silver hair or lilac eyes, you appear more like a common-born peasant than someone of prized Valyrian stock—and it didn’t help that, unlike your brothers, you had no dragon, either.
Ser Lorent watches as you absently push a piece of seared cod around your plate, sighing. “That isn’t true, my princess.” His words are tinged with sympathy. “You are being sold to no one. Your mother wishes for you to have a marriage born of love—not duty.”
“Ah, yes,” stabbing the fish with the prongs of your fork, you bring it to your lips, “which is why I’m being forced to spend my summer meeting with the haughty sons of fat country lords—for love.”
His tongue clicks with disapproval. “Your mother has given you a choice in selecting your own husband, princess; which is a luxury not granted to many women.”
Frowning, you pop the piece of fish into your mouth, turning his words over in your head.
Gods.
You hate it when he’s right.
“Fine,” you relent, still chewing. Turning sideways in your chair, you raise your fork to him in a mock threat, “But my earlier statement stands! If I must take a husband, then it certainly won’t be anyone from here—lest I become no more than a puddle of sweat.”
Ser Lorent cracks a smile at you. “Should you turn to a puddle, princess, then I vow to mop you from the floor.”
“How valiant of you, Ser Lorent,” you laugh. “I’m unsure of how I might ever repay you for such loyalty.”
“I’m not sure you have to worry about that, princess—I don’t believe that puddles are much concerned with matters of debt.”
Turning back to the table, another soft laugh spills from your lips. “I suppose you’re right, Ser.”
All too soon, however, your amusement begins to fade. A warm breeze blows in through the many open windows lining Riverrun’s dining hall, the stifling air only accentuating the stickiness of your skin.
Sucking in a deep, heavy breath, you ask, “How long do we have?”
Ser Lorent doesn’t ask for clarification, knowing almost at once what you were asking him. “We’re expected back in the Great Hall in a little under an hour, princess.”
You blow the breath out, groaning slightly.
An hour—that was all the time you had left before you would be forced back upon the dais, expected to once again smile and be cordial as men and boys from all across the Riverlands made their case for your hand.
How many of them could possibly be left? This morning alone you had met with dozens upon dozens of them, their voices all blurring into a monotonous hum as they spoke of the history of their Houses—if one considers nonsensical legends from the ancient Age of Heroes as true history, that is.
Noticing the dreadful pall cast over you, Ser Lorent clamps a comforting hand on your shoulder. “How about a walk before we go back? It might help to clear your head,” he suggests. Then, with a wry grin, “Perhaps you might wish to think back on the men from this morning—see if any of them might make you change your tune about life in the Riverlands.”
You pin him with a playful scowl. “There’s not a man alive that could change that tune,” you vow. “But you’re right—a walk might be nice.”
Rising from your seat, the servants around you lower their fans, silently dismissing themselves.
“Will you be accepting my company on this walk?” Ser Lorent teases—though you know what he’s really asking is: will you be accepting my protection.
“After this morning, I believe I’ve had enough company for a lifetime.”
The knight’s brow draws tight, an apprehensive frown beginning to pull at the corners of his lips. You roll your eyes.
“Oh, don’t worry so much, Ser Lorent. It gives you wrinkles,” you tease. Adjusting the slit running along one side of your dress, you reveal the dagger holstered on your thigh. “I assure you that if any of these Riverlanders dare lay a hand on me, they’ll lose some fingers.”
Ser Lorent snorts, head shaking. “It’s not you I worry about, princess,” he jokingly admits. “Just stay close by, understand? Your mother will have my head if anything happens to you.”
“Yes, yes—understood,” you dramatically gripe, already walking past him to the exit.
“Oh, and princess?” He calls out just as the guards pull the doors open for you to leave. You glance over your shoulder at him, brows lifted. “At least try not to injure anyone.”
With one last roll of your eyes, bright with mischief, you shout on your way out, “No promises, Ser Lorent!”
Wandering through the outer yards of Riverrun, the blistering sun beating down upon your skin, you find yourself overwhelmed by a sudden ache in your chest.
You miss home. Desperately.
You miss Dragonstone’s near-constant cover of clouds, forever shielding you from the heat. You miss the cool breeze rolling in off the Blackwater, the air peppering your cheeks with salty kisses.
But, even as you dream of a reprieve from the muggy Riverlands, you can’t help but miss your family—your brothers—most of all.
Perhaps it is that feeling that led you here, to the training yard, guided by the familiar lull of splintering wood and steel slicing through the air, the sound offering a much-needed remedy to the homesickness twisting in your gut.
Smaller than the one at Dragonstone, Riverrun’s yard was no more than a cramped stretch of dusty-dirt, lined with old training dummies and archery targets. Mostly encircled by the towering sun-bleached stones of the castles, only a small part of the yard remained open to the sprawling gardens beyond, sectioned off by ornate iron fencing.
Striding over the open gate, your attention falls upon the lone boy standing in the yard's center.
As the sunlight beats down overhead, long shadows dance around his feet as he glides through a set of movements—each step calculated, every strike deliberate.
You step closer, keeping your steps light as you approach. With his back turned to you, you watch as sweat drips down his neck, glistening. It soaks into his tunic, the thin black material clinging to his lean, muscled back.
He’s talented—you think, lips pursed as you study his form.
Talent was something you were familiar with—intimately. You were raised around warriors—trained by the Rogue Prince himself—and yet never before have you found yourself so utterly bewitched by a fighter.
He didn’t move like other boys.
He wasted no time on the flowery style displayed by so many summer children—the ones who thought of battle as a performance rather than a matter of life or death.
Instead, he moved with the lethal prowess of an apex predator—his blade cutting through the air with a controlled ferocity that, while lacking the flourish of other warriors, was undeniably impressive.
Dirt flies as he throws himself into another set of movements—a series of strikes and parries, executing with unbelievable precision. With every twist and pivot, muscles tense and shift beneath his tunic, his body as powerful a weapon as his sword.
He lunges forward—and wood cracks! as he slashes his blade along the belly of one of the dummies, a move that would have disemboweled a living opponent.
Cutting through the sudden stillness, you bring your hands up to your chest, filling the yard with a slow clap. Back still turned to you, the boy's spine goes ramrod straight at the unexpected sound.
“Impressive,” you muse, taking another step towards him. Mere feet remain between the two of you, now. “You move well—better than most, I’d say.”
The boy spins around to face you, his once elegant movements now blundering as he nearly trips over his own feet. Biting your tongue, you try to hold in a laugh.
Big, storm-cloud eyes meet your gaze, pinning you in place as he blinks, visibly thrown-off by your presence. “Sorry-” he stammers, out of breath. “I didn’t think anyone else would be coming out here-”
You lift a hand, cutting him off with a smile. “Oh, no—don’t apologize on my account! I enjoyed the show,” you tell him. “Seems that you have a real talent for swordplay.”
His cheeks flush, his lightly sun-kissed skin turning a stark crimson. “Thanks.” His laugh is a nervous, awkward thing—endearing, too. He sticks a hand out towards you, the other still limply holding his sword. “Benjicot. Blackwood,” he introduces himself, fumbling over his words, “but you can call me Ben or Benji—or anything, really.”
You take his hand, biting your lip to mask your amusement. “Pleasure to meet you, Benji.”
A beat of silence passes before confusion finally tugs at his features, his hand falling back to his side. “Uhm—” another sweet, awkward laugh— “and you are…?”
Realization dawns on you, leaving your brows to shoot up to your hairline.
Seven Hells!—he doesn’t know who you are, does he?!
Your jaw goes slack, a sudden speechlessness grabbing hold of your tongue.
You suppose you shouldn’t be surprised—after all, you weren’t what many expected of a Targaryen princess. Plain-featured and dressed in thin, common clothes, you imagine you likely appear no different than the servants surrounding you at lunch, fanning you to keep the heat from going to your head.
Even so, it was rare that you met someone who didn’t know who you were. And, selfishly, after a morning filled with insincere compliments from haughty Lord’s, you like the idea of remaining nameless—titleless—for the first time in your life.
“Wow—sorry—that was thoughtless of me, wasn’t it?” Tapping a finger to your temple, you laugh. “I’m Mylissa,” you lie, stealing the name of one of your handmaidens. “Mylissa Strong.”
“Strong?” He echoes, brow furrowing. “Strange—you don’t sound like you’re from the Riverlands. Your accent is—”
“Southern?”
Benji nods.
“Well, I’ve spent the better part of my life in the Crownlands, so I suppose I’ve picked up their accent,” you explain. “I’m here with the princess, actually—as her lady-in-waiting.”
The mention of the princess—you—turns his skin a pasty white.
Keeping a tight leash on your curiosity, you try not to sound too intrigued when you ask, “And what about you? Raventree Hall is a decent ride from here, is it not?” On horseback, the ancestral seat of House Blackwood was two days away from Riverrun, if not three. “Are you here to meet with the princess?”
Benji shifts his weight, leaning from one foot to the other. “Supposed to,” he begins, his words tumbling out, “but I don’t know—I’m not so sure that I’ll go through with it.”
Your expression falters, disappointment washing over you like a cold wave, combatting the intolerable warmth of the sun.
“Why not?”
He shrugs—a timid, shy gesture that feels so unlike the predator you had snuck up on. “There are over a hundred men in there,” he waves an arm to the castle, to the Great Hall within, “all waiting for an opportunity to impress the princess—meanwhile, I can hardly get out a single sentence without choking on my own spit.”
Your laughter bubbles up involuntarily, a few giggles spilling past your lips. The Blackwood boy shoots you a playful glare from beneath long, dark lashes.
“Well,” you begin, absentmindedly toeing the dirt between you, “perhaps the princess might find it endearing, don’t you think?”
I do find it endearing, you think.
Benji scoffs. “Doubtful. I mean, think about it!—she’s a princess!”
Your eyes widen, glimmering with mock-offense. “And what is that supposed to mean?”
Once again, that crimson tinge returns to his skin, crawling up his neck, this time.
“I meant no offense,” he defends himself, mistaking your expression for one of a Lady meaning to back her princess. “But what could I possibly offer a princess?”
You tilt your head, pretending to think on his words. “Well, the Blackwoods do have a history of being valiant warriors, do they not? And you seem to be quite skilled yourself,” you say, daring to let your stare drift down to his arms, the short sleeves of his tunic revealing well-muscled, sweat-slick biceps.
He snorts. “I’m willing to guess that the princess would likely care naught for my skill with a sword.”
“Then you would guess wrong,” you retort, a faint, teasing smile on your lips. “Many say that the princess herself is quite skilled with a blade—I imagine she would quite like a boy that’s capable of challenging her.”
Benji’s eyes darken a shade, an unreadable expression crossing his features. “And what about you, Mylissa?”
The false name catches you off-guard, but you do your best to hide it.
“What of me?”
A bit nervous, he asks, “Would you like a boy that can challenge you?”
Your heart stutters in your chest—skipping several beats as his stare lowers, dipping past your waist and falling upon your thigh. On the dagger sheathed there, no doubt.
Heat begins to crawl up your neck, hotter even than the sun's blistering rays. “Oh—” You stutter, words lost upon you.
It’s true that you were used to the attention of men. After all, your morning has been filled with it, and soon enough the rest of your day will be, too.
But this was different.
Benji wasn’t giving you attention because you’re a princess, a mere royal womb to strengthen his House’s bloodline. Rather, he was doing it simply because he wanted to—a feeling that was utterly foreign to you.
Wiping a clammy hand on his sweaty tunic, Benji misreads your silence, taking a half-step back. “Apologies, my Lady—that was far too forward and-”
You don’t let him finish his rambling. Taking a step forward, you close the gap he sought to create between you. “I’ll make you a deal.”
“A deal?”
You nod. “As you know, the princess will be in the Great Hall for the rest of the evening, holding court with the other Lord’s who’ve come for her hand. I'd like for you to meet with her.”
Benji cocks his head, confusion crinkling the corners of his eyes. “I truly mean no disrespect to your princess, my Lady, but I was asking if you might be interested in–”
“I know what you’re asking, Benji.” You lift one shoulder in a casual shrug. “And after you meet with the princess, if you still wish to inquire about my hand,” you say, placing a palm to your chest, “then I will happily hear you out.”
In the distance, a bell sounds out—signaling the time, you realize.
“If you’ll excuse me,” you start, already taking a few small half-steps backwards. “I’m expected inside.”
Letting his sword drop to the ground, Benji lunges forward to catch your wrist. “So you agree to meet with me after court, then?”
“If you’re still interested,” you muse, a tinge of anxiety laced through your tone, “then yes.”
The corners of his lips twitch into a bashful smile. “I give you my word that–”
You planned to interrupt him. To tell him not to make oaths he wasn’t certain he could keep, knowing that he may very well change his mind about you once he realizes who you are—that you’re not technically a Strong. But, before you can, another voice intervenes.
“Princess!” Ser Lorent calls out, exasperated, as he walks through the gate. “We must hurry, princess,” he continues, pausing only to give a wary glance at Benji’s hands wrapped around your wrist. “We’re late.”
Your pulse begins to pound, a surge of adrenaline coursing through your veins at being exposed as a liar by Ser Lorent.
Benji’s face goes blank—then his eyes go wide, big as saucers as you snag your wrist from his grip.
“Princess?” He utters, voice laden with disbelief. “Princess?!”
You can hardly bring yourself to do anything other than grin stupidly at him, nearly stumbling over yourself as you back-up to where Ser Lorent is waiting impatiently.
“It was lovely meeting you, Benji!”
You hope he can hear just how genuine your words are.
“I’ll see you in the Great Hall,” you call out over your shoulder, sparing him one last glance as Ser Lorent guides you to the gate, watching as he blinks in astonishment, still processing the revelation.
Walking back towards the inner-castle, Ser Lorent glances down at you with a knowing look. “You seem giddy.” There’s a teasing glint to his words that makes you roll your eyes, cheeks flushing. “So,” he continues, his brisk pace never faltering, “does this mean that your statement from lunch no longer stands? That, perhaps, this sweltering purgatory may yet grow on you?”
You bite your cheek, a permanent grin still etched onto your face.
“Let’s just say that I’ve decided it’s best to keep my options open, Ser Lorent.”
a/n - you may ask yourself: lainie, why would you refer to him as mostly BEN in the last fic and BENJI in this one??
and the answer? I have not ONE clue. my brain is rotting and benji is cute.
anyways, hope you guys enjoy this one! feel like I got to explore more of his personality here. additionally, I need HBO to know that if this boy ends up not being benjicot blackwood then I'm gonna fucking riot
benjicot blackwood tag list - @a-song-for-ages @ghostinvenus
Pyramid Head! Ghost finds you wandering around Silent Hill, desperately searching for an exit.
You’re the first proper, living thing he’s come across in a long time, so he decides to take you for himself.
Pyramid Head! Ghost plucks you from where you stand and throws you over his shoulder like a rag doll.
You don’t fight him, unsure of his intentions with you. He didn’t attack you on sight like all the other monsters did, but when you hear the way he growls at you, feel the way he grips you with his thick fingers pressing between your legs, you’re certain they aren’t pure.
Pyramid Head! Ghost keeps you in a building he knows to be clear of monsters, but that doesn’t mean you’re safe. On the contrary, when you realise what he intends to do with you, you wish you were still outside fighting for your life.
Pyramid Head! Ghost has a nigh-insatiable sex drive – something you discover when he comes to you, lumbering with the weight of his erect cock and engorged ballsack, and takes you in his hand like the doll you are.
Pyramid Head! Ghost uses you as his own cum rag, abusing your body by furiously rubbing you along the length of his shaft until you’re slick and coated in pre, shortly followed by thick ropes of semen that stain your clothes and leave you wet in places you’d rather not think about.
He likes to think of it as marking his territory. Of letting all the other monsters know that you’re his.
Pyramid Head! Ghost has, of course, attempted to use you as a fuck doll, too, though he’s only ever managed to force little more than his bulbous, leaking tip inside you, both you and your body crying out for him to stop when you feel him filling you, telling him you can’t take any more. And he’d have ignored your pleas were it not for the fact he can actually see himself bulging within you, your body choking around him as you sob and beg for him to pull out.
Despite how barbaric he is, Pyramid Head! Ghost doesn’t intend on breaking you. Not just yet, anyway.
You’re no use to him dead, so he leaves you intact for now, instead lodging what little of himself your body can take and stroking his length until he cums, hard and deep, inside you.
His load is hot – uncomfortably so – and so unimaginably heavy that it leaves you limping and leaking for days afterwards.
Pyramid Head! Ghost never lets you wear pants or underwear when he’s done with you. He enjoys the sight of his seed leaking out of you and the bump in your stomach too much.
Pyramid Head! Ghost especially enjoys making you lay before him and spreading your legs so he can see you dripping, a puddle forming between your legs. He’ll push down on your bump, too, feeling his cock twitch when you yelp, his cum squirting out of you and leaving a spray of white translucence across the floor.
You weren’t his first outlet in Silent Hill, but you are his favourite. Hence, he never lets you take a break, using you almost daily to satiate the throbbing between his legs, the primal urge to breed.
More often than not, after making thorough use of you, Ghost has caught you holding your swollen stomach, your skin tender and stretched, as you moan in discomfort.
Pyramid Head! Ghost wonders, briefly, what it would be like to give you one permanently. To embed within you his offspring – something aside from you that he can call his own in this barren wasteland.
The idea becomes something of a fantasy for Pyramid Head! Ghost, and, when you’re secured inside your makeshift home with no hope of escape, he goes out and finds baby clothes, bringing them back to you as if to show them off. To make his intentions with you clear.
The only way you’re avoiding this fate is if you’re incapable of bearing children. Otherwise, Pyramid Head! Ghost absolutely rawdogs you until the viscous ropes of semen he’s pumped into you takes, leaving you weeping and sweaty and his from the inside.
He picks you up and literally holds you upside down afterwards, leaving no way for you to escape your destiny with him whilst doing everything in his power to ensure your pregnancy.
You can feel his semen gushing out of you even then, trickling from between your legs up your abdomen, your chest. Milk tears when they reach your face.
Pyramid Head! Ghost does nothing less than coo over you once you begin to show, not letting you walk anywhere, bringing you maternity clothes, destroying any and all monsters that dare to come near you.
He holds you against his chest, too, letting you use him as your bed on cold nights, and cradles you in his arms. Stares with what could be adoration down at your swelling tummy.
He can’t deny how his chest tightens when he hears you sobbing, though, the sheer weight and size of his child inside you causing you nothing but pain as Pyramid Head! Ghost uses you as his incubator. He hadn’t accounted for the fact that perhaps your fragile human body would struggle bearing the offspring of something as massive as himself.
Pyramid Head! Ghost does what he can to alleviate the pain, oftentimes with him letting you ride his shaft until you’re satisfied or groping the area between your legs until you cum, your orgasm a momentary distraction from your eternity with him.
Pyramid Head! Ghost will never let you go. Especially once you’re with his child. And he can’t imagine just stopping at one, either.
Pyramid Head! Ghost won’t stop until this town is rebuilt in the image of your family – everything he could never have when he was alive.
Reblog for more content like this! It helps creators like myself tremendously and it is greatly appreciated :-)
Masterlist
Masterlist [Continued]
Masterpost
Modern Warfare AI Masterlist
— summary: jacob seed takes your virginity in a field of bliss
— tags: porn w/o plot tbh
— tw: sex, loss of virginity, drugging, fingering, cussing, dubcon (reader asks about protection, but jacob makes the decision for them both to bareback it)
— word count: 4,544
— a/n: well, this ended up being way longer than i initially expected it to be lol. i hope i kept him in-character!
(this scene was initially going to be used in a much larger fic where the the reader (originally an oc) meets john first during one of joseph's sermons that she went to out of curiosity & generally feeling lost/alone in life. she eventually is taken in by john/eden's gate, bc john has been having dreams about her, & believes she's his soulmate. but bc he knows jacob needs someone good in his life as well, he has her go stay with him at his cabin in the whitetails as he "works" on his silo sometimes, so that she's kept safe while he's away from the ranch. in reality, he's hoping they'll connect & also fall in love. & they do and they're all a happy throuple. but this scene initially ended with jacob trying to pull his cock out of his boxers & she freezes, telling him she wants john to be her first & he gets super hurt & upset about it.) anyway!
You swear, that the more you walk, the more you can hear a faint humming sound coming from up ahead. Once the two of you break through the trees, you see where it'd been coming from. Before you is a massive field of flowers, moths flitting along them, and behind the field is a row of greenhouses, to the right of them a huge marble-and-stone building.
You look to Jacob. "Where are we?"
He nods his head toward the large building. "That's the factory where we make all our bliss. And while there's plenty of others throughout the region, this is the largest field of it that we have."
You balk. So you're both standing before a giant field of hallucinogens.
"W-Why did you bring me here?"
He looks down to you, his hands in his pockets. "You were the one who was curious."
Your brows furrow. "I expressed that curiosity in the truck—meaning you were already headed this way."
"No, originally I was going to take you to Sabre-Tooth Springs. We're just making a detour right now."
He steps away from you then, walking closer to the field.
You panic. "Jacob," you nearly yell his name.
He turns back to you, one brow raised. "You wanted to know what it was like."
"I didn't think I'd be finding out tonight..."
He doesn't respond.
You take a small step closer to him. "What if...what if I have a bad trip?"
He determines it a small victory that you're not going to fight him on this experience, but, rather, are willing to let it happen.
He steps back over to you, his broad form towering over your own. He nearly smirks at how small you are compared to him. So vulnerable...
"I'll be right here the entire time. I'm not going to let anything happen to you."
You glance to the alluring field of flowers, illuminated only by the moon above and the lights from the greenhouses in the back, then back to the large man before you.
"Do you really think my first time doing it...it being in a field of it, is a good idea?"
He shrugs. "No one's ever had a better one."
You nearly roll your eyes as he turns away from you. You quickly reach out, gripping his right hand in your left and his head jerks in your direction at the sudden contact.
You look up to him with wide eyes. "Can...can I hold your hand?"
Your own is shaking, he notes.
He nods.
You take a deep breath, then another as you step closer and closer, until, finally, you're at the beginning of a path, which leads down the middle of the garden.
You grip his hand tighter as the two of you begin down it, your head quickly beginning to spin as you breathe in the strong-smelling flowers which surround you. Your other hand comes up to wrap around his arm, sparkles filling your vision. "I feel so dizzy. Light-headed." You look around you, your vision swimming, heart now pounding. "Everything looks funny. I don't like this."
He drags you along, further in, cutting across the path until you're completely surrounded by the angel's trumpet flowers. "Just relax. Everything you're feeling is completely normal."
You shake your head, trying to center yourself, but it causes the entire world to spin instead, so you press your forehead against Jacob's upper-arm, desperately wanting it to stop.
"Here, just sit down and ride it out."
Ride it out? There was no riding it out, so long as you were sitting in a damn field of it.
Nevertheless, you do as you're told, taking a seat beside him, swaying side-to-side as you watch the world around you ebb and flow, as if you were underwater.
"Hey, look at me," Jacob says as he gently places his index finger under your chin, turning your face in his direction, causing your vision to fill with small silver sparkles again.
"Yeah, your pupils are blown."
Your heart jumps and you swallow nervously as you reach up to your face. "Is that bad?" You ask with a whimper.
He smirks. "No, just means it's working."
You wonder what he means by that, but find yourself completely unable to concentrate long enough to try and figure it out.
"Lie back."
You do, closing your eyes, willing yourself to calm down. Wait—hadn't he said it helped do just that? No. That happened when you found the correct dosage, which this most certainly was not.
They smelled so lovely, though...
Finally, when you open your eyes, you notice that Jacob is now leaning against his left arm, looking down at you. "How do you feel?"
You blink up at him. "Warm."
"So take a layer off."
You giggle, then cover your mouth, wondering where the hell that had come from. You lower your arms back down to your sides. "Are you trying to get me to take my clothes off?"
His brow raises. "You're wearing a hoodie."
You flush. "Oh. Right."
You unzip it and Jacob's eyes darken when he notices you're not wearing a bra beneath your thin t-shirt, but you don't see his reaction as you sit up long enough to slip the article of clothing off, lying it beside you before you lie back down again.
"Better?" He asks.
You look up at him again, suddenly feeling warm all over. Was that a normal reaction?
"No, still warm."
His jaw flexes, then, "So take something else off."
Normally, you know you would be beyond upset at such a suggestion, would make a scene over it. Would never do it, but you simply...don't care in this moment. You feel a way you never have before. Calm, euphoric. Happy.
So you sit up again and grip your t-shirt at the hem, lifting it up over your head and Jacob watches, his face betraying nothing as he takes in your now-naked breasts.
You lie down yet again and giggle, covering your shapely breasts with your hands. "I'm naked."
"Not technically." He replies, his tone completely serious.
"How are you not...do you not feel as good as I do right now?" When you speak, your voice sounds little like your own now. It's playful, lilted, breathy... Alluring.
His jaw twitches. “Let's just say I've developed a bit of an immunity to it.”
You wonder how that's even possible. How much of it someone would have to do to even achieve that. But because it's him—Mister Always-in-Control—you're not surprised by this fact.
You reach down to the waistband of your sweatpants and begin to wiggle out of them, not even caring as your underwear goes with them.
You look up to Jacob then, and his gaze is trained solely on your face now.
“Now I am.” You say, your entire body warm, a flush spreading lower than just your face, but to your neck and breasts as well.
He simply replies with a “Mhm.”
You laugh at him, then mimic his serious disposition by pursing your lips and furrowing your brow. “So serious.”
You close your eyes again and breathe deeply, heat now pooling between your thighs.
Jacob, while your eyes are shut, uses the moment to take you all in. Your breasts, your soft stomach, your round hips and supple thighs, and your sex between your legs.
When he looks back to your comely face, your wide eyes are open and watching him.
Before he can think or do anything, you're on top of him—straddling him—your legs bent at the knee on either side of his waist as you come down to rest directly over his throbbing erection, which strains painfully beneath his jeans.
He leans back on both his elbows as you rest each of your arms on either of his shoulders, your breasts nearly in his face.
"The hell are you doing?"
You shrug, feeling unusually bold. Obviously. Or you wouldn't naked, on top of Jacob Seed, in a field of psychedelic flowers right now. "Not sure yet." You giggle again, running your fingers through his hair.
"You're a naughty little thing, aren't you?"
You feel your core heat at that. "Not usually."
His lips twitch. "I'm aware. Had I known all it would take to bring your walls down would be some bliss, I would've brought you down here days ago."
You scoot a bit closer, your chest nearly against his and he groans at the sensation as his cock twitches underneath you.
"Why?"
He's broken from thoughts of fucking you senseless for teasing him like this. "Why what?"
"You've barely spoken to me for the past week, not that you're ever home, so why do you care about my walls?"
His cock hardens at you talking about walls, him wondering what the ones between your legs would feel like clenching around him. He doubts you could take all of him anyway.
"Does that upset you, me not paying attention to you, sweetheart?" He asks in a mocking tone.
Normally, you'd fill with embarrassment or shame. But right now? You simply shrug.
"Is that why you're naked and on top of me? Because you don't need my attention?" He asks, thinking he finally has the upper hand. How wrong he is...
You grind down against his erection and sigh. "Mm, actually I want this."
He raises a brow. "To dry hump me?"
He could give you a lot more than that, you need only ask. But he wasn't about to admit as much.
You hesitate for a moment, then nod.
He glances down to where your sex is already making a wet spot on his jeans, directly over his cock. He then looks back up to you, eyes hooded. "Go on, then."
It's all the encouragement you need before you reposition herself overtop of his left leg instead. He lowers it until it's flat on the ground, and then you do exactly what he said. You rub yourself against the leg of his pants, your head thrown back in ecstasy, your eyes closed, lips slightly parted.
For awhile, Jacob simply watches you, arms behind his head, content to let you do this all night if that's what you want.
Then, Jacob sits up for a moment, reaching behind you to slip the band around your ponytail free and your hair falls in soft waves down your back. Her briefly considers how it would feel wrapped around his fist.
You don't stop your ministrations for a moment, continuing to whimper and sigh and moan as you take what you want, perhaps need.
Finally, you opens your eyes and Jacob sits up a bit. You wrap your arms back around his neck again and crush your lips to his.
You open your mouth, moaning into his own over and over. God, you'd never felt so good, so free, so alive before. You understood why people took bliss now. Who wouldn't want to feel like this forever? You could get lost in it. Wanted to.
He flicks his tongue against yours , then brings his rough, calloused palms to rub up and down her bare back and you shiver, gasping against his lips at the heightened sensation.
Then, he grips your hips as you continue to ride him, wishing he could get some fucking relief himself. He wasn't usually this generous, in that, if he was with a woman, they were both getting theirs. Not just one of them.
You begin to ride his leg faster then, your breath coming in soft, short pants. He suddenly flips you onto your back "Oh no you don't."
Your eyes shoot open, as well as your mouth, but before you can speak a word of protest, Jacob is lying on his side, leaning against his left arm as he spreads both of your legs with his right, then reaches between them with that same hand, running his index and middle fingers between her soaking folds before plunging them inside of you.
You gasp at the unexpected gesture, then throw your head back against the ground.
Jacob brings his other arm to press down on the lower portion of your stomach as his fingers frantically fuck you, barely allowing you to catch your breath.
You bring your right arm up to grip his jacket, unable to so much as speak, only able to make the most embarrassing noises—which included those coming from between your thighs...
Jacob suddenly curves his fingers upward and you moan his name in response, causing him to smirk in satisfaction before easing yet another finger inside of you.
It doesn't take but a few minutes more before you finish, his palm covered in you as your back arches and you spread your legs wider. Sparks explode against your eyelids, your entire being set ablaze, your cunt contracting wildly against him.
He doesn't even bother stopping, until your hand comes down to grip his wrist. "Please," you whisper, trying to catch your breath, trying to calm your pounding heart.
His movements cease and he removes his fingers from inside you and you watch as he immediately places them in his mouth, your eyes going wide as he sucks your juices from them.
Only once he's cleaned them does he settle his arm over one of her lowered thighs. "Do you have any idea how fucking good you taste?"
You open and close your mouth like some stupid, gaping fish, before closing it and opting to simply shake your head.
He runs two of his fingers between your hot, dripping folds and your body jerks in response before he brings them up to your lips. "Open."
You obey and he eases his fingers into your mouth and you suck on them before he removes them a few seconds later. You don't find there to be anything extraordinary about how you taste, but perhaps he had a different palate than you.
You then decide that you sound ridiculous, and have no idea what you're even on about.
"So, did you get what you needed? Or do you need to go again?"
You're surprised he's offering you a second orgasm. But pleased he is nonetheless. The first had been...unlike anything you'd ever felt before. Had been mind-bending. Your entire body had been at his mercy.
You look at him shyly. "Maybe."
He brushes one of his calloused thumbs over your nipple. "Oh yeah?" He says with mild interest before gazing at you.
You spread your legs again, nodding. "Mhm."
He sighs. "What am I going to do with you?"
You bite your lip. "Whatever you want."
He shakes his head, chuckling. "Don't tell me that or I'll fuck you within an inch of your life."
You still, somewhat wishing he would.
Then, you climb back on top of him again. He leans back like before. "What are you up to now, darlin'?"
You unbuckle his belt and his hand shoots out to grip your wrist in an iron clasp.
You look up to him, your heart pounding wildly with excitement.
"You sure about this?" He has no condoms on him and he wasn't about to even consider the pullout method. When he came, it would be deep—with his cock buried as far inside of you as he can get it—every drop of his cum filling you. And if your coupling resulted in something...more...he'd deal with that then.
All he could think was everything he wanted to do to you right now. Consequences be fucking damned.
You look at him, a smile playing on your lips. "Trust me."
Him trusting you wasn't the problem right now. Sure, bliss no longer had the effect on him that it once did, but there was still an impact on his body when he got near it. And being here with you like this in a field of it? He was liable to lose control once he was finally inside of you.
Once you have his belt fully undone, you then unbutton and unzip his pants and you kneel next to him and he lifts his hips as you slide them down to his ankles.
Before he can toe off his boots, wanting to fuck you completely bare, you've climbed back into his lap and are reaching for his erection over his boxers. You stroke him a few times before rubbing the tip of him against your cunt.
He looks at you in confusion. "What're you doing?"
You continue rubbing him against you and his cock twitches—once, twice—and he wants nothing more in all the fucking world than to finally sheathe himself inside of you.
"Are you trying to be a cock tease?" He asks, irritation lacing his voice.
You give him a mischievous grin and shrug before rolling your head to the side, your hair coming to slip over the front of your shoulder.
Jacob sits up, his chest pressed against yours and you wrap your arms around his neck then. He relaxes some. You'd just been trying to ready yourself, that was all. He reaches under you and starts trying to pull his boxers lower, trying to free his erection, but you still and pull away, looking down.
"I..."
He stops. "What?"
If you were about to ask 'what about a condom', so help him God almighty above...
"I've never..." You trail off.
Realization dawns on him. You were a fucking virgin. Even if you sure as hell were not acting like one right now.
"You're still a virgin, sweetheart?"
You nod, suddenly embarrassed.
He squeezes both of your hips firmly in his rough hands. "You want to fix that tonight?"
You just stare at him, running your fingers nervously through his hair.
He moves his hands lower, gripping your ass. "Hm? Would you like that?"
Your cunt was throbbing between your legs and you were so wet that you were dripping. All you could think about was all the things he might do to you if you said yes.
Why had you been waiting again? With your head so light and fuzzy, you couldn't remember anymore.
Finally, you nod.
He gently sets you to the side and you watch as he unlaces his boots, then tugs off his jeans the rest of the way. He then pulls his shirt off over his head and you feel a pang in your chest at the scars littering his abdomen. What had happened to him?
Your feeling sorry for him is cut short, however, when he pulls his boxers off, freeing his erection.
Oh God. It'd never fit. Never ever.
He gently grips your hips in his hands again and you sit back on his thighs and gingerly take his erection in your hands, holding it up against your stomach. It came up above your navel.
Jacob could nearly laugh from the terrified look on your face.
"Something the matter, honey?"
"It's too big," you look up to him, eyes wide and full of innocence. "It's not going to fit."
It twitches in your grip and you nearly unhand him when it does so.
"Oh, I'll make it fit, baby. One way or another."
You look into his eyes again.
"So, you want to be on top, or should I?" He asks, his tone patient as you decided.
"I...I don't know."
He sits up, wrapping his arms around you, your hands still around his dripping erection. "You want me to decide then?" He grabs your ass again, squeezing. "Want me to do all the work and you just enjoy yourself?"
You nod, hesitantly.
He leans forward, trailing his lips, then his tongue along your neck and you let out an unexpected moan, making his hard cock twitch again. Once his lips are near the shell of your ear, he speaks. His voice is low, gravely, full of lust. "Lie back and spread your legs."
He quickly grabs his jacket, fanning it out and you lie back on it, doing as you were told, spreading your legs wide for him.
He kneels before you, resting back on his haunches as his hands first grip your breasts, massaging them, then he uses one of his hands to grip your hip, the other palm-face down, running between your breasts, down your stomach, finally coming to rest overtop of your sex.
"This what you want, darlin'?"
You watch as his cock bobs between his legs. You nod, silently.
He slowly eases two fingers inside of you and you grip the jacket beneath you.
"Oh, yeah, that's what you want. Nice and wet and ready for me, huh, baby?"
You bite your lip, whimpering as he teases you like you had teased him.
Your eyes pop open when he removes his fingers, now rubbing the tip of his cock against your entrance instead, slapping it gently against your pussy a few times.
"What about-"
"What about what, sweetheart?" He asks, brow raised in mock-interest at what you have to say.
"Protection."
"We don't need it," he states, pushing inside of you before you can protest.
The pain isn't as bad as you had imagined it would be. Perhaps some mild discomfort at first, but he gives you a moment to adjust to the size of him—you'd been stupid in thinking those first few inches would be it, though.
As he eases himself the rest of the way in, the feeling is unlike anything you'd ever felt before.
You'd fingered yourself before, even used the handle of a hairbrush a few times, watching with fascination as it bobbed inside of you as you clenched around it, but this...you'd never felt so completely filled.
Jacob lets out a low swear and you look up to him in worry, until he speaks. "You're so fucking tight, Jesus."
He looks down at you, where your bodies are now joined, his length completely hidden inside of you. You'd done far better at taking every inch of him than he'd previously anticipated. "That feel good, sweetheart? You like that?"
"I feel so...so full."
He smirks. "I bet."
He begins to rock his hips against yours, slowly, using every ounce of self-control not to just fuck you raw like he wants so desperately to do.
He lowers himself on top of you, one of his hands holding himself up, trying not to crush you. He uses his other to slide down your thigh, lifting it onto his back. He sinks impossibly deeper and curses.
He looks down at you as you wrap your other leg around his backside. "Do you know how good you feel like this?"
You shake your head, eyes now glazed over, face and breasts splotchy with a sex-flush.
"First one to be inside of this pretty little cunt, hm?"
If you weren't already pink and red all over, you'd flush from the words leaving his lips. "Y-yes."
He eases out and back into you a few more times, your cunt squelching from how wet you are. "Such a needy little pussy, isn't it? Bet it doesn't take much to get it soaked, does it?"
You shake your head, licking your lips. "It's kind of annoying, actually."
He chuckles. "Only for you. You have any idea how much use I'd get out of it if it belonged to me?"
You grow quiet, mortified at the way he was talking about your body, even if it turned you on all the more.
He crushes his lips against yours, using his tongue to tease you for a moment before pulling away, sitting up again, cock still firmly inside of you. He reaches down, brushing the pad of his thumb along your lower lip, before easing it into your mouth. "You look like you could use something to suck on, darlin'."
And so you do. You suck on his thumb, hollowing your cheeks, wrapping both of your hands around his, and he groans at the sight, imaging how his cock would feel in there. God, you were fucking perfect.
He rams his cock into you a few times and you just moan and sigh in pleasure.
He pulls out a few inches, admiring his glistening length, completely covered in you, and then he shoves it back in. You clench around him and take note of how he hisses at the sensation.
You do it a few more times, completely on purpose now and he curses, and not quietly. "Fuck, Y/N."
Eventually, he grips your hips again, rolling over so that you're on top and he begins to tug your hips forward, then back, trying to encourage you to ride him again. You start to do so, the feeling of him settled inside of you, feeling him moving with you...it's such an odd sensation, but it feels so good.
He lies back, reaching up, taking both of your breasts in his hands, fondling them as you rock your hips against his. He begins to tug against your nipples, gently pinching them and smirks when he feels you clench at the feeling.
"You like that, baby, that feel good?"
You nod fervently. "You're doing such a good job riding my cock, sweetheart. That's it." He grips your hips again, having you bounce on it. He throws it head back. "Fuck, just like that. God—fuck."
You settle both of your hands, palms face-down, on each of his pectorals, settling onto his cock again and then you begin to roughly buck your hips against him, riding him as hard as your body can manage.
So much for letting him do all the work...
He says your name over and over again, eyes closed, a curse escaping his lips every-other word.
He's gripping your hips and sides so hard you're sure he'll leave bruises, but you don't dare tell him to stop. Finally, he sits up, crushing you against him, his face buried in your breasts, taking one, then the other into his mouth, gently biting down and sucking on them as you continue to ride and ride, his breathing become more erratic, his hips bucking up into you, the tip of his cock plunging against your cervix.
"Fuck, baby, just like that. Good girl. Ride my fucking cock. Just like that, honey."
Finally, you climax, your walls clenching around him over and over again, the first time you'd come from anything other than clitoral stimulation.
Jacob quickly follows you over the edge, his cum shooting inside of you, hot and plentiful as he moans into your hair.
Once the two of you settle, coming down from your orgasms, he slowly eases you onto your back once more, removing his cock from you inch-by-inch, his cum spilling out of you, onto the ground.
"There's so much of it," you say, surprised, looking up to him, noticing his member was coated in it, sticky cum dripping from the tip still.
He smirks, looking between your spread legs where your cunt was now just a messy red hole—covered in him—needing to be filled again. "And there's plenty more, trust me."
Comments: After learning that the Mandalorians that remain won't follow Din unless he can prove that he has the best of their people's interest at heart, he is persuaded by the voices in his head to do the unthinkable. Trick you into marriage and carrying his child.
🚨🚨 DEAD DOVE: DO NOT EAT - This story contains elements of manipulation/lies and forced pregnancy/kidnapping. If these things upset you, do not engage🚨🚨
Co-written with @storiesofthefandomlovers
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|| MasterList || The Mandalorian MasterList ||
GIF Credit: @pedropcl
Click Keep Reading only if you have read the Rating and Warnings and understand the warnings may not be complete to avoid listing spoilers. As AO3 says 'creator chooses not to use warnings'. You also agree that you're the right age to be consuming anything here.
Din stares at Bo Katan as she tells him that in order to get the rest of the Mandalorians to follow him, he will need a riduur and children. It’s shocking but he isn’t surprised. Mandalorians are followers and to be a leader, he has to be an example. He knows that family is deep rooted in his culture and he needs to show that he can lead Mandalore into the future. “They will not follow you, even with the saber.” He doesn’t want to be a leader but what choice does he have? He cannot die and allow another to have the saber. With a sigh, he exits the castle and finds you waiting for him with Grogu.
“How did it go?” You ask, curious and so damn beautiful. Din hates how gorgeous you are and so out of his reach despite sitting behind him in the star fighter.
Din doesn’t answer right away, something that drives you crazy and you huff, turning towards the kid and rolling your eyes and making a face so he coos happily. “At least we got to make a pit stop.” You grumble. “My ass is going numb and I miss the vac tube in the Razor Crest.” There hadn’t been a lot of privacy in the ship but it was better than the no privacy or space in the starfighter. “Where to now?” You ask, watching as he checks the panels on the ship.
Din doesn’t answer again and you huff, crossing your arms. You’re used to him giving you the silent treatment but even this is too much. He lifts up from the landing pad, punching in a destination, and the ship whirls as it ascends into the atmosphere before launching into space. “Guess it’s a surprise, huh kid?” You look at Grogu who coos in response and you lean back, accepting that you’ll find out when you get there.
Din’s mind is whirling, torn with what he has to do and what is right. There’s been a voice inside of his head lately, since he won the saber, that urges him to give in to what he wants, regardless of what is right. He tries to ignore it but right now, the voice is making a good case for why he should do what he’s considering. “It’s for the benefit of every Mandalorian in the galaxy.” it says and how can he argue with that?
“Naboo.” Mando answers you after he has set the ship’s coordinates and you gasp. Naboo. A planet that he might have to be on for a few days. One that you could rent a room and sleep in a real bed. “Did Bo tell you about a sect on Naboo?” You ask curiously, wanting to meet more of Din’s people. You always think of him as Din since learning his name but call him Mando out loud. Not understanding the rules of Mandalorians, although you find yourself drawn to him. He’s silent, not exactly forthcoming with information about his religion but you figure that’s because you aren’t Mandalorian. When you are asleep sometimes, you hear him talk to Grogu, explaining things about the ship, or his religion and it makes you think of what this man would be like as a father of children. Surprisingly patient, it’s been the fantasy of a few self pleasuring sessions in the showers at rest stops along the galaxy when he wants to clean up.
“No.” Mando replies curtly, “we will need somewhere to stop. Rest for a few days. We need to find a safe space before we continue our journey.” He answers and leans back in his seat, looking down to see Grogu climbing into his lap. “Get some sleep, we will be a while.” Din orders, closing his eyes behind his helmet to silence the constant noise in his head from the voice telling him to do what he needs to do.
Naboo is gorgeous and you look through the tiny port excitedly as the fighter breaks atmo. Resting for a few days - that sounds like a vacation. Not that you’ve ever known Din to stop and take one, but you are eager to see what he views as rest. “Ohhh it’s so beautiful.” You gasp, seeing the stunning waterfalls and lush greenery that makes up the majority of the planet. “This is heaven. Are we staying in a remote spot or in the spaceport?” You ask.
“Spaceport. Figured it would be nice to be able to have a day or two in a proper bed and a ‘fresher.” He says as he navigates to the space port and comms in for a parking spot. They guide him in and he lowers the ship to the port. “Come on kid, let’s get something to eat.” He says, knowing Grogu must be hungry, he always is.
No camping. A real bed. You scramble out of the back of the fighter and hurry to keep up with him and the child. “Maker, the things I would do to sleep in a bed.” You groan happily. “I’m going to spend at least an hour in the ‘fresher.” You have to guess that he wants some time out of his armor. “I might not get dressed again.” You giggle at the thought of not wearing shoes for the next few days.
Din’s cock twitches at the thought and he grunts, opening the hatch before he gets out of the fighter. He carries Grogu and pays for the parking to the attendant. “Come on, mesh’la. Let’s go.” He orders and you follow him into the spaceport and through to the accommodations.
You follow behind him, aware of the awe and eyes following Din. You noticed it, even if he did not. The wary looks or curiosity as people turn their heads to follow the confident gait of the gleaming Mandalorian as he walks through the port. The building he stops at looks luxurious and you bite your lip as he steps through the doors to walk up to the desk where a purple Twi’lek is working.
“Hello, how can I help you?” She asks and Din hands Grogu over to you so he can pull out his pouch of credits.
“I’d like two rooms. Connecting rooms.” He says and she nods, eyeing the imposing Mandalorian. She tells him the cost and he hands over the money, taking the key cards. “Come on kid, I’m sure you’re tired.” He takes Grogu again and guides you down the hallways to the rooms he had booked. His heart pounds in his chest with anticipation but he’s ready to do what he needs to do.
“Oh Maker.” You moan softly. “I cannot wait to lay down in a bed.” You huff, “I think I’ll order food and eat it in bed.” You smile dreamily at the idea of just lounging and not being cramped in that little jump seat. It had been made for a droid, not a human. “Are you going to remove your armor for a while, Mando?”
He nods, “yes mesh’la. I- I need to relax.” He admits and opens the door for you, walking in to open the connecting door. Grogu is set down and he coos, immediately trying to find something to get into. “Mesh’la, do you want to use the fresher first?”
“I’m going to take my time,” you caution but Din just tilts his head like that doesn’t matter. “Okay, I’ll go first. You can eat and get the kid down so you can have some helmetless time.” You always wondered what he looks like. “Will you order me some food too?”
Din nods, "of course, cyar'ika." He reaches for the datapad to order food for all of you, knowing he will need to eat in private before he showers and he watches you walk off to the 'fresher. He sighs softly and Grogu coos, reaching for the silver ball Din keeps on him to occupy the kid. "I know. Food is coming." He promises, handing him the ball.’
In the ‘fresher, you groan at the luxury. Real water, not a sonic shower. “I’m going to take a bath!” You call out, stripping out of your clothes. “Order me some spotchka too!”
Din bites his lip, that dark voice in his head telling him that this is his chance. He calls back that he's ordered the spotchka and he waits for you to come out of the 'fresher. When the food arrives, you're still in there and he feeds Grogu, the little guy soon falling asleep so Din carries him into the room next door and shuts the door, ensuring that the kid doesn't hear what is going to happen next. "Food is here." Din calls out, stripped down to his flight suit.
When you finally emerge, your skin is steaming and pruny from how long you soaked. Wrapped in a towel, your clothes are in the small washer and you know that Din wants to clean up. “Thank you.” You smile at home gratefully and motion towards the ‘fresher. “Hot water is unlimited.”
His eyes trail over the drops of water still clinging to your skin and he swallows harshly. “That’s good. Mesh’la. I- I need you to repeat what I say. I can’t tell you why just yet but I need you to trust me, do you trust me?” He asks and you nod, “of course.”
He reaches for your hands, gloves caressing your damp skin and he inhales deeply. "Mhi solus tome, mhi solus dar'tome, mhi me'dinui an, mhi ba'juri verde" He says and you repeat each word after he says it, unknowingly marrying the Mandalorian in front of you.
“Good girl.” He murmurs, rubbing your hand with his thumb and he lets go. “I’m going to clean up. Your food is getting cold, you should eat and drink.” He gestures to the spotchka, his stomach twisting with guilt but the voice reminds him that this is necessary. He steps into the fresher, stripping down and removing his helmet. He wants to be clean for you so he takes his time shaving, washing himself off and soon he has just a towel wrapped around his waist as he takes a deep breath and steps back into the room.
While Din had been in the ‘fresher, you had eaten, enjoying the food that wasn’t rations packs and drank most of your spotchka. Pleasantly tipsy as you wonder what language Din had you repeat. Was it Mando’a? Was he trying to impart some wisdom or perhaps make you a part of his clan? The idea makes you giggle and you open your mouth to ask him about it when the door opens. Squealing when you see brown hair, you slap your hand over your eyes. “Your helmet! I didn’t see your face! I swear!” You know Din had removed his helmet to save Grogu but you don’t know why he’s taken it off again when he’s trying to redeem himself.
He sighs, knowing you won’t understand until he tells you everything later, but he walks over to you, taking your hands in his to lower them from your face. “It’s okay, riduur. You can see my face. It’s allowed.” He promises, squeezing your hands to assure you that you can open your eyes.
“It’s allowed?” You peek one eye open and peer up at him cautiously, as if you are afraid you might get scolded. Then opening the other in surprise because Din Djarin is fucking attractive. Your mouth drops open and you huff. “That’s fucking unfair. You’re even hotter without the helmet.” You have no filter when you’ve been drinking, one reason why you haven’t drank about the mandalorian before. “Wait-“ your eyes widen. “Am I mandalorian now? Is that why it’s okay to see your face? Is that what those words meant?”
“Something like that.” Din chuckles and caresses your cheek, inhaling sharply at the feel of your skin under his bare hand. “Mesh’la. It means…it means beautiful in Mando’a. I think you’re beautiful.” He murmurs, brown eyes meeting yours when they widen in surprise.
“You do?” You blink owlishly at him and then repeat it back to him. “Mesh-la.” You hum and grin. “Mesh’la. You are very mesh’la too.” You promise him.
Din smiles, blushing softly at the compliment since you’re the first person he’s willing revealed his face to other than Grogu. “I- I want you. I want to touch you.” He says and slides his hand down to caress your neck.
“You mean……” you bite your lip. “Sex?” You have dreamed about Din, imagining his voice and his hands. You can’t even imagine how he would actually fuck, but your eyes slide down his torso and you honestly think you start drooling. “Yes! Fuck yes, but- I’m not - I don’t have an implant.”
“It’s okay.” He promises and bites his lip, staring at you for a moment to take in the way you are appraising him like he’s a five course meal. “I - I have an implant.” The voice in his head urges him to move forward and he licks his lips, “can I kiss you?” He asks, preparing for his first kiss.
Maker, this is really happening. You bobble your head up and down, giggling slightly when you feel dizzy. “Oh, maybe I shouldn’t have drank so much.” You pout, “but yes, I want you to kiss me mesh’la. I’ve imagined you touching me so many times when I’ve been in the ‘fresher touching myself.”
He wants to stop but the voice in his head urges him on, telling him it’s what he has to do. Din likes that you’ve thought of him. He likes that you want him. He leans in to kiss you, awkwardly knocking his nose against yours. He sighs and shifts to press his lips to yours, heart pounding in his chest as he cups your cheeks and shifts closer, his cock twitching under the towel at the intimacy he’s denied himself for so many years.
He’s a bad kisser. It makes you giggle again and you reach up, hesitating for a second before you touch his face. Only to pull back when he groans. “I’m sorry! I shouldn’t have touched you, should I? I don’t know the rules.” You fret, not wanting to misstep.
Din grabs your hand and brings it back to his face. “You can touch me, riduur.” He promises and presses his lips back to yours, reaching for you to drag you out of the chair so he can press his body against yours. “Tell me what you want.” He orders, kissing along your jaw and he can’t seem to get enough of you. That voice in his head is cheering in victory and he feels almost high, high off of touch and intimacy. What he’s been lacking for so many years.
“I want-“ you pant at the feeling of his lips on you and it makes your head swim. “I want you to do whatever you want to me.” You know that this is something that Din has never done before. Not fucking, you know he has needs, he’s gone to a brothel before. The intimacy though, that is new to him. You want him to do everything he’s ever imagined to you,
Din pulls back to look at you, his riduur, and he swallows harshly at the way you so willingly give yourself to him. It’s intoxicating. He doesn’t say a word but he reaches out to grip the hem of your shirt, slowly pulling it over your head and he’s relieved to find you without a breast band. “Fuck.” He murmurs, eyes fixed on your tits, and he reaches out to cup them, loving the feel in his hands under he’s surging forward to wrap his lips around your nipple like he’s seen in porn holovids.
You gasp, never taking Din for a breast man, closing your eyes and moaning as he sucks on your nipple. “For- for always having your mouth covered, it’s pretty fucking good.” You praise, reaching out and sinking your fingers into his hair without second guessing yourself. “Mand- can- can I call you Din?” You ask shyly, wondering if he would prefer being called by Mando. Maybe he has a power kink.
He pulls back to lick your skin, loving the taste of the standard issue body wash combined with what’s purely you. “You can call me Din.” He assures you, his hands caressing your back and he switches over to your other breast. “Fuck, mesh’la.” His hand slips down to work on your pants, wanting you bare before him.
“Din.” You whimper, reaching out with your other hand and stroking his back. Wondering how it feels for him. You’ve never seen him without even a single globe and now every inch of skin is bare, beyond what is behind his towel. “Oh fuck, I get to see mandalorian cock.”
Din chuckles against your flesh, pushing your pants down and he shoves your panties down too, pulling back so he can see your naked body when you kick them aside. “Maker…you’re gorgeous, riduur.” He groans and reaches for the towel around his waist, knowing it’s about to fall anyway with how hard he is getting just looking at you.
“Maker.” Your eyes widen and you understand now why his flight suit is just black and slightly baggy. He had to hide the monster he keeps in his pants. “Fuck, Din. You’re going to be in my throat.” Your hands have a mind of their own, reaching out and starting to touch him, pressing softly against scars and ridges of muscle. He’s not completely ripped like you had expected but why would he be when he’s covered head to toe? He’s strong though, you know that metal on his body everyday has made him incredibly strong.
Din shudders at the way you caress his skin, his hands finding your waist to pull you against him. “I need you.” He murmurs, the voice in his head growing stronger, and he slides his hands down to squeeze your ass. “Mesh’la.” He murmurs, kissing along your neck, sucking on the skin below your ear.
“There is a bed right here.” You feel dizzy from his attention now; wanting more. Din starts to guide you towards the bed and you whimper when you feel his teeth scrape along your pulse. “I hope you fuck me hard.”
He chuckles against your skin, “if that is what you wish, riduur.” Your knees hit the bed and he pushes you down, straddling you as he follows you down to the mattress. “I’ll fuck you however you want.” He promises and slides his hand along your thigh, his knee pushing them apart so he can slide his fingers through your folds.
“Fuck!” You moan, rocking your hips up to meet his hand. “I want you to fuck me how you want. Just I want you to want it rough.” You chuckle, grinning up at him. “You- it’s so strange, seeing you without your helmet. Your voice is so clear.”
Din snorts, “I can’t hide my expressions. Beskar has done it for me.” He confesses, rubbing your clit, and he loves feeling your hot flesh directly against his skin. You’re already so wet and he groans when your hand finds his hard cock. “Cyar'ika.” He warns with a low groan, his cock twitching in your hand and he knows you will struggle to take his length so he pushes two thick digits inside of your pussy, his thumb pressed against your clit.
“Oh fuck.” Your mouth drops open and you let out a low moan as his fingers fill you up. Closing your eyes for a moment before you have to see him, want to see him. Watching his eyes darken as he stares at where his fingers are buried in your cunt. Your hand squeezes his cock and you pull it away to spit in your palm and wrap your fingers around him again to jerk him while he fingers you.
“Dank Ferik.” Din curses, groaning when you squeeze his cock and start to pump it in your soft hand. He curls his fingers inside of you, making you cry out, and he leans down to take your nipple into his mouth, knowing that this is his new fixation.
Part of you wonders if this is because of what Din and Bo Katan talked about. If so, you need to know what that woman said because this is everything you never knew you wanted. “Oh maker, you like being able to use your mouth, don’t you?” You gasp out. “Fuck, if we do this again, you can- oh fuck, you can use it other places too.”
Din groans, releasing your nipple with a pop. “Fuck yes. I want to taste you.” He murmurs, wanting you to cum on his fingers right now. He will taste you later, after he’s cum inside of you. “Later. I promise.” He sighs and switches to your other breast, taking your nipple in his mouth to suck and bite down on.
The idea that this might be more than once and his teeth applying the most exquisite pressure against your nipple is too much. Crying out, your walls clamp down around his fingers and you pour an embarrassing amount of cum over his digits. It’s been so long since someone else has touched you and the fact that it’s Mando adds to the pleasure
“Maker.” He groans when you soak his fingers and he works you through it, the wet noise is music to his ears as he tries to work you open for his cock. When you whine, he withdraws his fingers and wraps them around his length, “I need you, riduur.” He murmurs, shifting to kneel between your thighs, working his cock while his eyes devour your heaving chest.
Nodding, you look up at him, wanting to ask what ‘riduur’ means, but you don’t want him to take another moment before he’s inside you. “Please, Din.” You beg quietly, stroking his arm and rubbing your thumb over a scar on his forearm.
He nods, shifting closer so he can rub the head of his cock against your clit, and he groans at how wet you are. He meets your eyes as he pushes inside of you, shifting onto his elbows as he pushes deeper until he’s pushing against your cervix. “You okay?” He asks, wanting to make sure you’re comfortable.
You can’t make a sound except for the groan as all the air is forced from your body and ever cell lights up in pleasure. Your blunt nails dig into his skin and you swear that you’re going to pass out before you can finally suck air into your lungs with a gasp that sounds as if you are drowning. “F-fuck!” You squeal when you can finally vocalize how you are feeling. “Oh fuck, shit-“ you pant. “You’re so- so fucking big.”
He can’t deny that he’s proud about how much you like his cock. That he’s stretching you out. “Mesh’la. Fuck. You - you’re so - it’s so good.” He chokes, feeling your bare cunt grip him and you’re so wet. He is clenching his jaw to control himself. It’s been a long time since he was in a pussy this good and to have you beneath him, his skin against yours, it’s almost too much.
He stays still until you start to squirm, needing him to move. “Please.” You beg, eager to see what he can do when he moves that big cock inside you. “Fuck me, oh fuck me so hard I see stars.” The baby is in the other room and it’s been so long since you’ve been fucked properly.
Din growls in response to your plea and he nods, taking a moment before he decides to fuck you hard. He pulls out until only the tip remains before he thrusts deep inside of you, piercing deep inside of you with no mercy, he starts to fuck you with earnest.
All you can do is scream. Pain and pleasure melding together in perfect unity to have your entire body bow up. Taking every powerful swing of his hips with a piercing ache that brings tears to your eyes and makes you dig your nails into his flesh. Not caring how much you are going to ache in the morning, you want more.
He hisses at the way your nails dig into his arms and he grabs your thighs, pushing them back towards your stomach so he can sink deeper inside of you. “Fuck mesh’la. You’re - you - fuck. So good.” He pants, that dark voice in his head roaring with victory and egging him on.
“Yes, yes, fuck Mando.” Your eyes roll back in your head and you’re breathless. Panting and moaning every time he hits deep. “Please, please baby, I’m so close.” You reach up and caress his face, loving his wrecked expression.
He groans, feeling you get slicker, tighter, and he pushes deep inside of you, lowering his hips so his pelvis grinds against your clit. “Cum for me, mesh’la. Cum for me.” He commands, kissing along your jaw until his lips press against yours.
It’s like he flips a switch for you. Brilliant lights burst behind your eyes as the coarse hair above his cock grinds into your clit and rubs you just right, making you cry out again. “Din, Din, Din!” You scream his name when he pushes deep again and tension in your belly snaps, making you shake underneath him,
He growls in delight when you cum, clamping down on his cock, and you soak him with your juices. “Fuck. Fuck. Fuckkkk.” He growls, the voice in his head urging him to do what he has to do. Making him groan as he buries his cock deep and starts to cum with a moan of your name, his cock twitching as he pulses inside of you.
You whine at the sensation of his warm seed filling you. Thankful that he has an implant. Your own had malfunctioned awhile back and you had it removed by a med droid on Navarro but lacked a replacement, so you had just done without. It wasn’t like you were having a lot of sex. No sex before tonight. “Oh maker, you cum a lot.” You moan, feeling it start to push out of you even as he’s still pumping it into your cunt.
Hearing you say that combined with him filling you up has him burying his face in your neck, breathing you in and the voice in his head cheers with victory. Pleased at his actions. “Mesh’la.” He murmurs, slowing his pace until he stills inside of you, cum pushed deep and he rolls over so you are on his chest.
“Wow.” You giggle, still cock drunk as you sprawl out on top of him. “That was…amazing.” You can’t help but lean in and kiss his neck. His cock is softening but hasn’t fallen out of you yet and you’re content to layer in his arms. “What now? Do I have to wear a helmet? Is that how this works?”
Din chuckles, “no. No helmet. Nothing changes. Just that you can see me without my helmet, without my armor.” He doesn’t tell you why, the voice telling him to not say anything just yet and while the guilt gnaws at him, he can’t lose you. The voice has done him well so far. He has to continue listening to it.
****
“Fuck. Oh fuck!” You cry when Din pushes into you from behind, the new angle makes him feel impossibly bigger. He can’t stop fucking you. He’s lost track of how many times he’s cum inside of you over the past few days when the kid is asleep.
“More Din.” You beg, leaning down and pressing your cheek against the mussed sheets. You are exhausted but craving more from him, aware that once you leave these rooms that he won’t touch you like this for some time. Unsure why he is so amorous, but you aren’t questioning it. “Maker riduur,” Din told you that ‘riduur’ is something like ‘lover’ in Mando’a so you have taken to calling him that as well. He really gets off on it, going harder when you call him that. “Fill me up, please.”
He groans when you beg him to fill you up, that voice once again roaring with victory and he hisses when you clamp down on him, squeezing him like a vice. “Cum first.” He orders, sliding his hand down to wrap it around your neck, dragging you back against his chest so he can find your clit with his other hand. “Cum for me.” He demands, groaning when you whine his name.
You have lost count of how many orgasms you’ve had over the past few days. Too many. All of them leave you stumbling around like a newborn foal and he’s proving just how good he is with his hands as he works your clit. “Din!” Your hoarse cry fills the room again as you come apart on his cock.
He groans, pushing you towards your climax and he’s desperate to see you cum again. He hisses when you clamp down on his cock and he thrusts up into you, gripping your hip once you’ve whined that you are overstimulated and he grunts as he buries his cock deep and spills his seed to paint your walls for the umpteenth time.
Closing your eyes, you hum softly, panting as he presses himself against your back. Since the first night, he’s shared more of himself, grown comfortable around you, even eating with you between rounds. Maybe it’s just because he needs to keep his strength up, but it makes you feel good. It’s inevitable, falling in love with him. You know it. Now, you turn your head and kiss his lips. “Now I want to sleep for the rest of the night.” You tease, reminding him how he’s not exactly rested during this stay.
Din sighs, shifting to lay down, staying inside of your body. He groans and kisses along your neck, enjoying staying inside of you. He murmurs your name, curling around you. “Sleep, mesh’la. Tomorrow we leave.” He reminds you softly, knowing the kid will be waking up soon.
“Hmmm, ‘night.” You murmur sleepily, worn out by Din’s constant need for you. For a man who oftentimes seemed to only care about his quests, he is surprisingly indulgent with you. Quickly you fall asleep, knowing that you will need it.
After leaving Naboo the next day, Din continues his quest to Mandalore, deciding to stop off on Tatooine to see Peli after you’ve been to a few planets to seek more Mandalorians. With no Mandos in sight, Din decides to visit Peli and see what Tatooine has to offer for his ship. That’s when you get nauseous. Immediately seeking the ‘fresher when he lands in the port at Peli’s place and Din smirks under his helmet, knowing exactly why you haven’t been able to stand smelling the kid’s snacks. “Maker Mando! What have you been feeding that girl?” Peli asks him, picking up Grogu.
Din tilts his head causally. “Bantha jerky.” He jokes, knowing that you hate the meat and you groan and clutch your stomach. The mere thought of it makes you almost sick and you hate the queasiness over something so mundane. “Maybe I’m getting sick.” You think. “I need to see a med droid. I can get another implant placed too.”
Din swallows harshly under his helmet and he nods, “perhaps that’s best. I’ll get the kid sorted and then we can go find the med center.” Peli finds Grogu some food and you gag, moving away from it, and Din gets the kid into bed to take a nap. “Come on, riduur. Let’s go find the med droid.” He wants it confirmed, what he suspects is going on.
You go along with him, happy that while he’s not as physical with you since leaving the planet you had vacationed on two months ago, he still calls you riduur. He also presses a little closer while you are in villages or cities on the planets you visit, seemingly a shadow.
When you arrive in the med center, all eyes are on the Mandalorian and he wants to take your hand in his gloved one but he can’t show connections. That creates a visual weakness to anyone who would dare attack him. When you’re in the private room, the med droid comes in and scans you. “It’s probably a bug.” You sigh, watching the droid work and Din sits there in silence, not wanting to say a word.
It doesn’t take long for the scan to finish and the droid's lights flash along with a few beeps. “Diagnosis - pregnancy.” The robotic voice proclaims, making your heart drop and your eyes widen dramatically. “The fetus is eight weeks developed - prenatal vitamins will be dispensed. The recommendation is for rest and water. The nurse droid will be in shortly.” The droid spins around on its wheels and leaves you reeling from the news.
“I- oh maker.” You breath out, unable to look at Mando for fear of bursting into tears. “I- I didn’t- your implant - it must have - dank ferik. I- I’m so sorry, Mando.” You exclaim shakily. “I- I’ll have the nurse droid- we don’t have to- I can just-” You know he doesn’t want a child and how would you fit another in the damn starfighter? It’s cramped enough as it is, you can’t sit in that mech droid seat with a rapidly swelling stomach.
Din is glad he’s wearing his helmet so you can’t see the victorious grin on his face. “Mesh’la. I have to tell you something.” He reaches for your hands, bring your gaze to his, your eyes watery with unshed tears. “Those words you spoke…before we - it wasn’t - it was Mandalorian marriage vows. Riduur means spouse or partner. We are married.” He reveals, glad you can’t see his face. He does feel guilty but he’s done what he needs to do.
Blinking in shock, you shake your head, sure that you had misheard him. “W-what?” You are horrified, in disbelief. “No- you’re joking and it’s not funny.” You hiss, pulling your hand out from his. “Don’t lie to me to try to distract me. This is- oh Maker, what am I going to do? I have to- I have to terminate it. You don’t need another kid.”
Din shakes his head, squeezing your hands a little tighter when he retakes them in his, the voice in his head growing angry. “You cannot terminate it. I won’t allow it. I- l lied to you.” He admits, knowing you might hate him after this. “I don’t have an implant. I wanted to get you pregnant, mesh’la. As the leader, I must set an example to my people, to unite them. I must have a riduur and younglings. I wanted you to be the woman who provided those things to me.”
“I-” You try to pull your hands free again, but he won’t let you, holding on while you struggle against him. “You- you lied? You asshole!” You shout, tears starting to fall as you realize he’s not lying. He married you without you knowing and impregnated you. Mando doesn’t joke about things like this and there is a slightly proud edge to his voice. “How could you do this? Why- why me? Did you- oh fuck-” Your stomach rolls and you immediately start to throw up, jumping back so you can bend down between you.
“I did what I had to do for my people. As their leader, it’s my duty. You will not terminate the child. We will continue to be married. You shall be by my side as I take my rightful place on the throne. We leave for Mandalore today.” His tone is final, leaving no room for argument.
Your retching has barely stopped when he gives you his edict and you don’t know what is worse, the fact that he lied to you or the fact that you are realizing that he must have just touched you for this quest of his. He didn’t care for you at all. He doesn’t resist when you pull your hands away this time and wipe your mouth. “Fuck you.” You hiss. “I’m not going anywhere with you, Mando.”
Din shakes his head, “I’m sorry, mesh’la. You don’t have a choice. By Mandalorian law, you’re bound to me. I am responsible for you and our child. You will be leaving with me.” He dictates, “you will be by my side.”
“Don’t ‘mesh’la’ me.” You snort. “You know you tricked me. I didn’t know I was marrying you. No one would call that valid.” You know that if he wants you to leave with him, no one would stop him from taking you. He’s a Mandalorian. “This isn’t right. You- you can’t do this to me.” Your tears start again. “I- I don’t want to have your baby. Not like- you tricked me. You told me you had an implant.”
“Does it matter now? You’re pregnant. With my child. You cannot leave me. You will have the child. We will remain together. I- I’m sorry about how I had to do this but it was required. Bo Katan told me that I’d need to lead by example and I- mesh’la. Please, I’m sorry.” He murmurs, knowing that getting forceful won’t get him what he wants.
“Don’t touch me.” You jerk away when he reaches for you. “Never touch me again.” You sniffle and the nurse droid comes back into the room. Mando reaches for his gun, obviously ready to shoot the droid if you mentioned wanting to terminate the pregnancy. Reality setting in as the droid hands you a bottle of pills and a chip for your data pad to read about what to expect. You can’t do anything but cry as you are left alone with Mando once more, your hand sliding down to your stomach and the life he has planted there.
Din watches you, seeing how distraught you are at the news that he tricked you but he can't bring himself to feel bad. He had to do this, the voice in the back of his head telling him he was right. "Riduur, we must go. We need to continue our journey to Mandalore before you can no longer travel."
“I am not your ‘riduur’.” You hiss, angry that he had told you it meant lover and you feel sick when you think of every time you had called him that while he was inside you, begging him to fill you up. You had played into his plans perfectly and you feel so dumb. You clutch the bottle and shake your head. “I am not going with you. I want nothing to do with you, or Mandalore, or Mandalorians.”
Din sighs, reaching for his cuff to grab something he rarely has to use. “I’m sorry, riduur. This is for your own good.” He says and grabs the vial, breaking it and shoving it under your nose. He knows it’s safe but he desperately needs you to stay with him. When your eyes roll into the back of your head, he catches you and carries you to his ship, securing you before he grabs Grogu and makes his way to Mandalore.
****
Groaning, your eyes slowly open, your head pounding and for a moment, you don’t remember what’s going on. Blinking as your vision starts to clear and you see that you’re in some kind of ruin. “Wha-“ Even with the pounding in your head, you jerk upright remembering the med clinic. Din - marrying you - impregnating you without your agreement. “Din!” You scream before you spot him standing against a crumbling wall.
He pushes off of the wall, "riduur. You're awake." He has kept you drugged during the entire journey, rushing to get to Mandalore before you would wake up. The voice in his mind telling him this is the best place for you. "You will remain here until you have our child."
“What- no!” You shake your head, wincing in pain and you feel the weight of something around your wrist while you lift your hand. “You-“ the weight is a manacle, chained to the wall of the room you are in. “You- you’re going to chain me up?” You screech, immediately starting to tug on the chain. “Din, no, no, you can’t do this! Why? Why are you doing this?” You demand, starting to sob again.
“I’m sorry, cyar’ika. I have to.” He can’t explain it, it just feels right. “I’ll bring you some food in a bit. Stay here, relax.” He says like you have any choice but to remain in that spot. He doesn’t allow you to argue as he turns on his heel to the door, opening it with a creak. “I’ll be back.” He promises, knowing that this is what has to be done to save Mandalore.
“Din! No! Come back! Please! Please!” You scream, sobs escaping you as you sink back to the cold floor after the door closes. Din takes the dark saber off of his belt, feeling its power, and the voice in his head tells him he’s doing the right thing. This is to save Mandalorians everywhere…no matter the cost.
With a post-apocalyptic twist. I was gonna do the usual medieval style thing for the warlord, but I got inspired by Mad Max: Thunder Dome (An amazing movie), to do post apocalyptic sorta thing. Any way hope you enjoy!
TW: Gn!reader, Verbal and somewhat physical SA, grubby and sleezy male characters. Reader is from a well looked after community, therefore when the Warlord and his raiders come to town, chaos erupts. Violence, murder, battle and raiding, reader given fem pet names but no gender described. In my mind this is canonically set in Australia, because I am Australian and also mad max is set in Australia and also post-apocalyptic fiction just makes sense when set in Australia. Also reader has nickname blue
They came in the night. No warning, no threat along the horizon. Just pure violence coming to reek havoc in the moonless night. You were awoken to the sounds of screaming, cries burning at your ears. Jumping to your feet you rushed to your window, over looking the community of survivors and refuges. Death was everywhere. The town was alight with flames, the warning siren howling over the sound of shrieks and bellows of fear. You stood in shock and incomprehension for a moment, the shacks, houses and huts were being ransacked by men dressed in camouflaged uniforms. Men and women who tried to defend their homes were being cut down where they stood, or dragged away by their hair. Children were left to fend for themselves, some crying amongst the flames, watching their parents being slaughtered. Loud banging broke you from the spell you were under, someone was trying to break down your door.
"Open up!" A man yelled, continuing to try to kick the scrap metal that made your door. It wouldn't take long, it was barely put together. A split second decision was made in your mind. You couldn't stay where you were, you couldn't even stop to make a plan, or grab anything of use. You had to run, and quickly. Still in your sleepwear, you raced through your house, opening your back down with a grunt, just as your front door was slammed open. You rushed into the back alley, stunned by the destruction laid waste upon your town. You turned your back on your friends, family, community and rushed into the darkness of the buildings, leaving your town to burn.
This town was never truly meant to be a town. Before the Collapse it had been a nothing more than a water treatment plant. In the days and weeks after the collapse, people began flocking to its promise of water. Somehow ever after the loss of electricity, the plant still held thousands of litres of water, making it a refuge for all those who survived the end of the world.
You had been one of the very first to arrive, you had been fortunate to arrive with your parents and a few members of your extended family. You and your family practically built this town, saved this community. There was a reason why people knew who you were, why they moved out of the way as you walked past. It was your family this town was named after, your blood that raised it from ash.
And yet here you were, hiding in the shadows. Running for your life. Granted, there wasn't much you could do. The town lived in peace for so long that only the town militia were tasked with defence. Over the years, bullets, and gunpowder, became in short supply, leaving the hunks of metal once called guns useless. Most were melted down to make melee weapons, are fashioned into more primitive form of muskets. In many ways your town turned back into the past to strive for a better future. Most things were run on steam or water powered. Limited supply of gunpowder was made using items traded with other surviving communities. People turned back to the ways of their fore parents, hunting and farming. Life was good. Until it wasn't.
You came to a sudden halt, quickly hiding behind wooden boxes against the wall. The masked, camouflaged men ran past, yelling orders to one another. You grimaced as you saw a selective few were armed with guns. Pre-collapse guns. Either they were just for show, or someone very smart and determined figured out how to make them work in a time such as these. Most, however, had musket-like weapons and machetes and knives. At least you knew if it came down to it, there was a chance that you just had to be quicker than your assailant rather than having to dodge a bullet to survive.
After they run past, you quickened towards the wooden wall that encircled your town. In some places it was reinforced with steel and rock, but it would take decades to finally make a proper defensive structure. As the child of the founding family, you knew exactly what you were looking for. Once, when the wall was still being erected, and nothing but a metal fence separated you and the raiders of the new world, you had found a hole in the fence. Big enough that you and your childhood friend had been able to sneak out of town into the great unknown. Even when they began to reinforce it with wood and steel, you made sure the hole was still uncoverable.
You landed on your knees in front of where you remembered the hole to be. Footsteps were hurrying towards you. Raiders, friends or terrified civilians, you did not know. You focused purely on pushing the scrap of metal from covering the hole, leaning down, you pushed with all your might the large rock you had shimmed into place last time you had snuck out. It had been years since you had down so, it was just before Red had left, there was no need to sneak out anymore if he wasn't there to follow. You crawled through the hole, end in sight. The hole feeling much smaller than it did as a child. You knew your family would make it out. They would have to, right? So would friends and comrades. They were smart. Like you. They knew when to abandon ship.
If there had been a warning then of course you would have stayed, till the very end. Your task for the community was Peacemaker, a diplomate of this new crazed world. You were quite good at it too. Negotiation and diplomacy your strongest skills. If they had given warning, maybe you could reason with them, maybe no one had to have died. But raiders that come in the dark of night, killing all they willed , were not the sort of combatant you stayed around to reason with. Your task was to live, to survive, then to come back and rebuild. Always rebuild, as your parents had done all those years ago.
The metal of the broken fence dug into your hips, bringing forth a hiss of pain from your lips. You pushed through the pain, cursing as the metal dug deeper and deeper. With one last gasp, you heaved your hips through the fence, feeling the metal rip at the fabric of your clothes. Just as you were about to get up, run straight for the safety of the wilderness, a harsh grip landed on your ankle. Before even a thought could pass through your mind. You were dragged back, with force, through the hole. You screamed and kicked. Hands digging into the ground, fingers and nails desperately trying to find a hold in the soft dirt. You were flipped over. A man leering down at you.
"Ain't you a pretty thing, aye?" he sneered, his mouth opening in a wicked smile, showcasing missing and yellowed teeth. You scrunched your face in disgust, both at the sight in front of you and his hand gripping tighter onto your ankle. You were about to use your free leg to give him a swift kick, but the sight of a large hunting knife in his hand made you pause. He followed your gaze to it.
"Aw don't worry love, I'm not gonna use this thing on you, long as ya don't make a fuss." His smile grew, showcasing more blacked and cracked teeth. His face was a red blotchy colour, sweat dripped from his forehead, his weak chin wobbled as he spoke. In the fire light you could see the red veins of his eyes.
You tested his grip on you, trying to catch him unaware. Instead it backfired, resulting in him sitting on top of you, letting your ankle go.
"You be good for me sweets and I'll try to be as gentle as I can yeah?" he chuckled, your blood running cold. This man wanted something from you and there was no reason in the world that would stop him. You cannot reason with an evil man. You began to shriek, preferring him to killing you now than to suffer the injustice of his touch.
"Nobodies coming to save ya darl', Best ya get used to being on your back for me, it's gonna be real familiar by the time I get tired of you. Make me cum enough and I might just keep you" he leaned down against you, tongue licking up along your cheek. You began to trash harder, screaming. Begging. Praying. For anything, for anyone to came save you. He laughed at your misery, lifting him self back up to undo his belt.
"You ready for me to make you my whor-" a gargle where words should follow. You watched in shock as a knife was plunged in the back of his skull. Blood splattered down on you, your mouth open wide in fear and relief. You scrambled back as the evil man fell forward. You backed up against the wall, you could feel the wind blowing through the hole, your escape route still open. You started to make a mad dash for the opening, not thinking or even able to process what had happened, only focusing on what might have happened, what that man was intent on doing.
In a sick sense of Deja vu, you were once ripped from the opening. You were a bundle of feet and hands punching and kicking in all directions, your voice was hoarse from screaming bloody murder. A strong set of arms pulled you against them, and you fought like hell to be free.
"It's alright blue, its alright" came a familiar and calming voice. Only one person called you that in favour of your real name. You opened your eyes, there he was. Alive, breathing and surrounded by masked, camouflaged men.
"Red?" you whispered, not daring to shatter this illusion that he was still alive, that he had found his way back to you. You must be going mad. That evil man must have killed you, or you died in the smoke and flames burning your town. You blinked, pinched yourself. Even reached a hand to touch his face.
"It's me blue" he smiled, a perfect, lovely smile. Just as you remembered.
The men behind him shifted, causing you to panic, you grabbed red's hand and tried to run. You weren't gonna lose him again.
Instead of running into the fray once more, you were pulled back to red's arms.
"Red! We have to go! They'll kill us, please!" You begged, eyes looking into his warm brown ones. He places his hands on your arms, essentially trapping you were you stood.
"Red?" you questioned, why wasn't he worried, why weren't the men descending on you both with knifes raised. What was going on?
The fires had begun to die down, the screaming and crying was replaced with whispers of fear and a few sobs cried into the night. The warning siren slowed down to a halt.
"Red?" you whispered, not a question but a plea.
'Please still be the boy I knew before'
He looked down into your eyes, a sigh making its way pasted his lips.
He turns to his men.
"Bring all the prisoners to the town centre, no one is to harm the survivors unless I deem so. That includes coercing or forcing yourselves onto anyone. Understand?" he orders. His men giving a quick nod and salute before turning into the dying lights of the fire.
"No" you exclaim.
No, no, no, no, no
You shake your head, tears threatening to fall.
"You are one of them?" you gasp. The boy you knew as a child, the boy you had come to love, the boy who disappeared into the night, on a night eerily similar to this, returned as a raider, a killer, a monster.
A gives you a slight smirk, hands gripping you tighter.
"I'm not just one of them blue, I command them, I rule them" he boasts. A wicked gleam in his eyes.
"Traitor" you hiss. "You fucking monster! You absolute fucking bastard!"
Your anger overwhelmed whatever love you still had for him. Curled fists began attacking him, aiming for the face, when that wasn't enough to quell your fury, you tried scratching out his eyes. A pain seared across your face, you became unbalanced and fell on the very man who had threatened you a mere minute ago. Red had slapped you, caused you pain. One might argue you deserved it, lashing out like that. Most would say that's fucking irrelevant since he caused the destruction and violent occupation of your town.
"C'mon blue, you really gonna act out? I was being so nice too. Saved you from this fucker didn't I? Could've just let him have you" he pouted, head tilting to watch you try standing back up, giving the man's body a small kick while doing so. You balked at the sight of the evil man, his eyes still unnerving, even more so that he is dead, the movement of Red's kick, gave you the sick impression he was still alive.
A dangerous idea spread into your mind. The hunting knife lay unclaimed next to you. Red was unarmed as far as you could tell. You clasped the knife in a hurry, but before being able to take a slash or even stand up, Red's boot came crushing down onto your wrist. You squealed in pain, releasing the knife in a instant. His free boot kicked the knife away.
"Is that anyway to welcome home an old mate?" he tsked, "I know its been a few years, but come on blue, really? This? Trying to take me out with a knife?"
"What the fuck Red" you gasped, boot still crushing your wrist. "What the hell is going on, raiding? Seriously? this town was your home! How could you turn on us like that. How-how could you turn on me?" Pain, both physical and emotional rushed through your voice, once more tears began to spring, from the pain or the torment of knowing that your best friend was responsible for the death of dozens in your community.
"C'mon Blue! It ain't personal. Just the business of surviving. You think it brings me joy to burn this place to the ground? I mean to be honest it kinda does, but you know that story. But we don't have time to talk about that, right now you and I have a speech to get to." he grins, dark and cold. No way this is the curly haired kid you knew as a child. Red back then could barely kick a toad than massacre innocent civilians.
You let out a sigh of relief as he removes his boot. Only to let out a yelp in surprise as you are thrown over his shoulder.
"Let me go!" you cry, wiggling and worming in his hold.
"Not yet love! Got places to see and people to humiliate" his deranged laugh filled the silent streets you called home.
Before you only were able to see the destruction from a window still, or when you were at the edges of the fight. But now, now you saw everything. You watched in sorrow as you passed the bakery, still blazing alone, as the houses and shakes next to it had been pulled down. The school had been ransacked, pages and books lining the street in silent array. Childs' drawings danced lifelessly across the ground in the breeze.
Without even seeing where he was taking you, you knew where you were going. The town centre. A magnificent fig tree, alone in its splendour made for quite the impressive centre piece of the town. Speeches, weddings, announcements, birthdays and funerals were all held under its comforting branches. It calmed you to still see it still standing. Leaves fell with a hush down from its branches, as if it was crying watching the town that loved it go up in smoke.
You could hear your townspeople's whispers of fear and confusion as the watched you be carried into line of sight. You could see most of the towns population was still alive. The small group of men who were spared were pushed to one side, guarded heavily, despite being made up of elders, young boys, and a few injured men. The cluster of women and children were larger. You could see your friends and family in both groups. All accounted for, thank goodness. You were placed onto the ground and given to two guards, both quickly clasping onto your arms like their lives depended on it. You were off to the side, as Red sauntered his way to front and centre. He always loved being the centre of attention.
"Good people! How's it going?" he exclaimed, arms open wide and a smile gracing his lips. You could see confusion, vague recognition and just plain hatred line people's faces. More importantly you saw your parents both looking at you in absolute despair. You gave them a short smile and a nod, taking a deep breath when they followed suit.
Red began to speak again.
"Some of you may remember me, other's may not. I was one of you once, another member of this pathetic, weak society. You have no strength, despite your numbers. No courage or skill in warfare. Just a load of farmers, tradesmen and women. If this was any other town I would slaughter you all" he grins as if he is discussing a lovely day spent at the beach. Whispers become murmurs. Murmurs become barely contained talks of a massacre, of your towns soon extinction. You began to take shallower, faster breaths.
"Alright, calm down everyone. Maybe we need to work on our listening skills, aye? Now, let's put on our listening caps everyone. I said if you were any other town. Lucky for you bastards I actually like you guys! I had a good run here. Made some lovely mates" a pointed look thrown in your direction. "And was pretty well looked after, well until, you know. So in honour of the good times I had here. I have a compromise for you all." He clasps his hands together, and teeters back and froth from his toes to his heels.
"My men and I have already killed a whole bunch of ya, so how bout we move on from that, aye? You guys are gonna have to boost your numbers after my little stunt, and who better than the very people who massacred your friends and family!" looks of bitter disgust flow across the crowd.
"Yikes, bit of a tough crowd yeah. Alright look, the fellas and I used to have a pretty good place. But the waters run dry and also we're getting up in years, and so we're looking for a place to settle down. To have people to settle down with. So yeah we killed a whole bunch of your men, but hey! We're here to replace that gap. Maybe even help you guys with the whole defence side of things. I mean were those soldier fellas of yours even trained? They were easier to kill than a dead roo!" he barks out a laugh, his men following suit.
'What the fuck is wrong with him' you thought. Clearly years in the bush led to insanity.
"Oh! Before I forget" he stares in your direction, slowly making his way over. You squirm under his gaze uncomfortably. "If you little shits try any sort of rebellion or some shit like that. I'll slit their pretty little throat."
In a moment he brings a knife close to your throat. You reach your chin up, desperate to remove the icy sensation away from you. You look at where his eyes are directed, straight towards your mother, then slowly transferred to your father. Without their approval, any hope of rebellion or uprising is dashed. You are the perfect hostage.
"Great! Glad we could have this chat. So go have a good ole' sleep. Got a whole day of cleaning up to do tomorrow!" he beams, pulling the knife away just as quickly as he produced it. He turns his back on the towns people, grabbing your arm from one of the guards. You are dragged past the fig tree towards the council hall, located within the old water treatment plant. It is then you see how truly outnumbered you were. Nearly over a hundred men, all masked and camouflaged, line the water treatment plant, even with the men who were killed, there was no way your town could have fought them off.
You pulled back from Red, trying to get him to release his grasp.
"What is it blue? Thought you'd be happier to see your childhood mate"
"Fuck you, you dog" you spit, anger clear as day.
Red halts, and turns to you.
"Don't make me hurt you again."
It wasn't what he said, more so than how he said it. He's eyes lost their humanity, his features fell into sudden darkness, the hairs on the back of your neck stood up. You were looking into the eyes of an evil man.
You gave a quick nod, hoping he would lose interest.
"Good!" he cheers, and goes back into dragging you up the steps to the plant.
"Ya know I've never had a war trophy before" he mumbles
"Pardon?" confusion across your face turning into disgust
"You, your a war trophy." he deadpans as if its the simplest thing in the world to understand.
"I'm not a trophy" you grumble
"Cause you are, pretty enough, and you really think I'm ever gonna let you outta my sight again Blue? I've been dreaming about this day for years."
You carefully gazed up at him, his grasp on you had begun to soften.
He notices your confusion, or want for an explanation at the very least.
"You really think I would attack this place for water? Or for my men's retirement plan? Nah, blue. I burnt this town down for you, and I'd do it ten times over if you just asked."
It is then you are reminded of the skinny, lanky boy you made friends with as a child. Your mother used to laugh and call him your dog, when your father said it, he said it with annoyance. It was true, Red followed you around like a pup, always doing what you wanted and when. You didn't like remembering the day he left, mainly cause he was practically run out of town. It just took a slip of your tongue, it was an accident after all. You were a child, and didn't realise that sometimes words were dangerous. You didn't realise how much Red took your words to heart, or how much he cared to.
' Red, sometimes I just wish...'
'What blue? Tell me, I'll make it true'
'Well I just wish he was dead!'
You knew Red was being perfectly honest when he said he would burn this town down if you asked. He had already tried before.
I don't know about the ending or if reader is really a war trophy but the words came and i just put them down.
Remember this wonderful secret ending in farcry5 where you can just kill Joseph on the begging, then take your favorite herald and run away with them to live your happily ever after? Me neither
warnings: angst. bit of fluff. mentions of reader x arvin and lee x wife. little flashback to pregnant reader. uhhh, there’s a baby. if i’m missing something important please feel free to let me know.
also lmk if i should tag this as dark!lee please bc i can’t decide if it needs it or not.
words: 3.2k
notes: my first written fic for my writing event. i spun the wheel and got greed and then spun another wheel and got lee and a few hours later here we are lol. please let me know what you think! comments and feedback are so, so appreciated. thank you in advance to everyone who reads and reblogs. 🖤
“Please, Lee. Please,” you whispered, voice breaking on the desperate plea as the stray tear you’d been fighting to keep at bay finally slipped down your cheek.
You were quick to wipe it away, shaking your head and looking away from the gaze of the man before you. The smirk that graced his face was the whole reason you had refused to let yourself cry, despite wanting to break down the moment he’d knocked on your door.
You’d just set Teddy in his crib, watching him a moment as the newborn slept peacefully, his tiny breaths and little movements making your heart clench.
You never knew you could love someone so much until you had him. Despite the pain and all the hardships that you’d faced from the day you met his daddy, as you watched Theodore, you were sure you wouldn’t change any of it if it meant never having had him.
You were pulled from your thoughts when you heard a car pull up the drive. You didn’t check the window, sure you knew who it was already as you went to greet him.
Before you were even halfway down the steps, an unnecessarily loud pounding sounded from the front door.
You were startled for a second, brows furrowing as you rushed down the last few steps to open it before whoever it was could pound again and wake the baby.
You were sure now, though, it definitely wasn’t Arvin. He’d never be so careless to knock that loudly, even if he’d left his key and was locked out.
When you pulled the door open in a bit of a huff, your breath froze in your chest.
As you met the hard blue eyes of the man you’d been avoiding for the past 11 months, you weren’t sure what to do. So, you stayed as you were, blocking his view of the house as you pulled the door more closely to your body and watched him. You wouldn’t speak first. You weren’t sure you could.
“Been a while, darlin’.” He greeted, though his words were cold and stiff, as if he was trying to hold in the anger you could see raging in his eyes.
You swallowed hard. “How can I help you, Sheriff?” you asked, ignoring his comment.
He scoffed as he looked down on you. “That’s how you wanna do this, sugar? Fine,” he said before shoving his way into the house.
You were in shock as he pushed past you, your first instinct to yell at him was held back by the knowledge that your baby was asleep just up the stairs.
“What the hell are you doing? You can’t just barge in here because you’re police,” you nearly seethed as you follow him while he walked further in, going toward the kitchen while he looked around the place.
He spun on you at your words and stopped you in your spot. “Honey, I can do whatever the hell I want. Because I’m the sheriff,” he snarled in your face before he backed up just the slightest. He adjusted his belt as he stood to his full height and licked his teeth, trying to compose himself.
“I’m afraid I’ve got some bad news for you, sweetheart,” he started, your heart dropping instantly. “That boyfriend a’yours seems to have gotten himself into some trouble downtown.”
Your mouth went dry as you stared at him dumbly. “No,” you shook your head. “Arvin wouldn’t do anything to get into any kind of trouble. What are you- what are you talking about?” you tried to stay calm, but the stutter was surely telling enough.
“Down at the shop,” he began, taking his time, seemingly enjoying the sight of your anxiousness written all over your face, “he had some words with Levi. Guess the kid made a comment about his girl. Imagine my surprise to find out that girl was you,” he detoured.
“What happened,” you asked pointedly, all while trying to keep your composure and your voice down.
“Well, Mr. Russell didn’t take too kindly to the things Levi said. Lost his temper. I’ll spare you the details, sweetheart. Long story short, Levi’s up at the hospital. Your little boyfriend is up at the jailhouse, waitin’ for his hearin tomorrow mornin’.”
You felt sick. This wasn’t Arvin’s first time in jail but you remember what he told you last time, the judge said one more strike and he’d be taken to county. Arvin wasn’t a bad man. He was one of the best men you’d ever known. But he did have a bit of a short fuse when it came to defending the people he loved. You’d known that since you were in school together. It was one of the things you’d always admired about him..
The one thing you were confused about right now though, was why in the hell Lee was here telling you this.
“Is he okay?” you asked quietly. The narrowing of Lee’s eyes as he looked at you, and the tick of his jaw at your question had your stomach twisting.
“Aw, ain’t that sweet. Look at you, all worried about him.”
“Lee,” you said.
“He’ll be fine,” he gruffed as he went into your fridge and took one of Arvin’s beers. You were in too much of a stupor to do or say anything about it, though.
As you watched him take a swig, your eyes finally fell on his bloodied knuckles.
You took a step back, as if he’d slapped you, somehow knowing exactly how he'd done that.
“What did you do?” you said, accusingly as you reached out and held onto the wall beside you.
“Told ya' I was surprised to hear the girl he was so concerned with, whose honor he needed to protect so badly, was you. I thought you were long gone, sweetheart. But when your name came up, I knew I’d been wrong. Knew you were somewhere out here. Took a bit to finally get him to tell me where you were, but,” he flexed his hand, “they all break in the end.”
You were seeing red at his words. He'd hurt Arvin, and for what? You couldn't let him do this, couldn't let him get to you so easily.
"You need to leave, Lee. Now. If I wanted you to know where I was, you would've. I told you I wasn't gonna wait around for you. You made your choice. So go," you said firmly as you could manage through your tight throat.
You stayed still as he set the bottle down on the counter, stalking over to you. You only blinked when he was right in front of you as you took a shaky breath in and out.
"My choice was you," he said as he pinned you against the wall, his arms trapping you. But you weren't scared. Just solemn. The hurt that never went away radiating in your soul.
"...No, it wasn't," you refuted, voice quiet as you shook your head, looking him in the eye. "It was the job. It was her. You just wanted me to be your good little whore on the side," you continued, disgusted with him and yourself, thinking about the times you let him touch you. The times you gave yourself to him. You should have known from the beginning. Maybe a part of you always did. The only way you'd get your happily ever after was if Lee chose to give it to you.
Lee Bodecker was a selfish, greedy man. He wanted it all, he didn't want to choose. But he had. Whether he acknowledged it or not, he made his choice. As much as it hurt, you had to accept that it wasn't you.
"You know that ain't fuckin' true," he snarled, holding your chin tightly in his hand as you looked up at him. His voice softened as he looked back at you. "I meant all I said to you, darlin'. I love you," he said as he pressed his forehead to yours. "If you'da just been patient," he breathed hotly, "we'd be together right now. I'da got rid of her, just like I told you I would."
The pain slipping into his voice was like daggers in your heart. You wanted so badly to believe him, but you were always told how gullible you were. Especially with Lee, you'd buy into anything he said if he said it prettily enough.
You had known you had to leave town, get away, or else you'd just run right back to him, or he'd find you and convince you to stay. You told everyone you were leaving, making sure word got around, and it did. He was too preoccupied in his campaign to bother doing anything about it, or maybe he just didn't believe you'd actually go. You weren't sure which it was.
You had enlisted the help of Arvin to assist you in packing, he had always been a good friend to you and wanted to do whatever he could. The last day you were packing away, though, you got another bout of morning sickness in front of him.
It was like Arvin knew before you did that you were pregnant. But he never left. He was there for you. Held you when you cried, assured you everything would be okay as you spilled your heart out to him, telling him everything. Instead of moving out of town like you had planned, you moved in with Arvin.
Time seemed to pass you by so quickly from then on. One day Arvin was holding your hair back for you as you emptied your stomach into his toilet, and the next he was holding your hand as you pushed through tears of pain and heartbreak while you delivered your baby in the next town over.
When the nurse had taken Teddy, you were an inconsolable mess of guilt and heartache. Arvin was right there with you, had been from the very start, but he wasn't Lee.
You were crying because Lee should have been there, should have been the one holding your hand and wiping your tears, you should have told him that you were having his baby. The guilt was crushing. Not only for having kept your pregnancy from him, but because the man who stayed beside you the entire time deserved so much better than a broken girl who was still in love with the man who broke her heart. It wasn't fair to any of you.
And then the nurse came back over, holding a blue swaddled bundle in her arms. You timidly took your baby as she handed him over to you and the second you laid your eyes on him, all thoughts just went away. The only thing you could focus on was this precious little life you held in your arms. And though your tears kept flowing, they were of overwhelming joy as you looked down at your sweet Teddy.
Teddy.
You heard him cry and your eyes went wide as Lee kept his hold on you.
Another cry as you swallowed thickly, sure your face was full of desperation as you surveyed Lee.
His brows furrowed as he looked in the direction of the living room, dropping his hand as he moved closer to the noise.
You scurried past him, stopping him from starting up at the stairs.
"Lee," was all you could manage to say.
He looked at you incredulously. "That a baby cryin' up there?" he asked rigidly.
You couldn't breathe. You didn't know what to do. Your guilt was written clear as day on your face as you pouted at him, watering puppy dog eyes pleading with him, for what you weren't sure.
"I'll say this once, then I'm not gonna be nice about it, darlin'. Either answer me or get outta my way."
Still no words could form on your tongue. When he stepped to get up the stairs, you let him pass you before turning around and quickly following him.
Lee followed the sound of the newborn cries up to the nursery. When he got to the door, you watched as he took a steadying breath before he pushed in, like he was readying himself for the sight he knew he'd be met with.
He walked slowly to the crib where Theodore was laying, crying for attention.
Lee's mouth was agape as he looked down at the baby.
Two pairs of brilliantly blue eyes staring back at one another.
You knew Lee knew instantly, there was no denying it. Teddy was his mini me. He looked exactly like his father.
You watched as Lee carefully reached down and took Teddy in his big arms, holding him safely and smiling down at him as Teddy calmed in his hold.
Your nose was tingling and it took everything in you not to burst into tears at the sight.
"What's his name?" Lee asked in a hushed tone.
"Theodore," you answered just as softly.
Theo's baby garbling had Lee laughing as he cooed down at his son. You swore you could see the gleam in Lee's eyes as he watched him.
After a sniff and a clearing of his throat, Lee's gaze shot back to you. Accusatory and angry, his hurt underlining all of it.
"You had my baby, and were just gonna keep 'im from me?"
"No, no I- I was gonna. Gonna tell you. I wanted to, I just didn't know.." you trailed off, wringing your hands.
"Didn't know what?"
"How," you answered. "Didn't know how to. Didn't know how you'd react. Wasn't entirely sure you'd want to know."
"You think I wouldn't want to know that I have a kid?" he asked harshly. You took a step to him, holding your hand out instinctively to remind him that he had the baby in his arms.
"You're married, Lee. You're holding public office. I know you well enough to know that you don't want anything to mess with that. I don't think having a child with someone other than your wife would be looked on too favorably."
"I told you I'd get rid of her," he said again, lowly. "I will."
"Lee, please," you said, exasperated. "I'm sorry. I am. I should have told you, you had a right to know, but I can't do this with you. That's why I left. I do love you," you said brokenly, "I've never stopped. But I can't live my life just waiting for you to call when you want me. And I won't let you do that to Theo, either. He deserves a father who's around, who puts him as a priority,"
"Oh, and you think he'll have that with Arvin?" he challenged. "I wouldn't be too sure, sweetheart. Those charges really have a way of addin' up. Who knows how long of a sentence he'll be gettin' tomorrow."
You couldn't help but stress at his words. You knew some of what Lee had done before, and you know what he'd be willing to do now, to get his way. If he wanted Arvin put away, there wouldn't be anything you could do to stop it from happening.
You may not have been in love with Arvin, but you did love him. He was your best friend; you don't know what you'd be doing or even where you'd be right now if it weren't for his help and care. He didn't deserve to be punished for your mistakes; you couldn't let that happen.
"Why would you do that?" you asked, hurt lacing your voice. "What do you want from me, Lee?"
"You ain't dumb, honey. You know what I want," he said easily as he rocked Theo lightly while he gripped onto his daddy's finger, his big blue eyes falling closed as he drifted back to his peaceful sleep. Lee's blazing blue orbs met yours once more. "I want you. I want this, all a this with you, and him,” he said, sparing another glance to his baby boy.
“Please, Lee. Please,” you whispered, voice breaking on the desperate plea. "You can’t - He needs something stable. Real."
Lee assessed you for a moment before shaking his head with a slight scoff and a smirk. "This is real, darlin'. I'll give you both what you deserve. I just need a little time, that's all," he said as he set Theo back down in the basinet before turning back to you. "Can't make you my wife while I'm still married, but I'll get that taken care of quick. Then you and the baby can get settled in at home, we can finally be together. Just like we always talked about," he continued, taking your hands in his and pulling you in. "Havin' a family," he brought his hand up to tilt your face up to his, brushing his lips against yours. And you let him.
"And it'll be good for reelection next year, too. People like a family man."
You cringed and pulled away at that. At least you tried to, Lee's hold not let you get far at all.
"Don't be like that, darlin'. Come on, you know it'll be good for all of us. We can be happy," he said as his knuckles brushed your cheek.
The touch reminded you, "What about Arvin?"
"What about 'im?" he asked uninterested.
"You'll let him go," you state, grabbing his hand.
"I will," he agrees, "soon as you two are all moved in with me, I'll make sure he's released. Can't have you trying to run off on me again. I won't let you go so easy this time."
You swallowed back the cry that wanted to be let free as you looked at him. You hated that Arvin would have to suffer while you wait on Lee to keep his word. But what else can you do.
"How long?" you ask brokenly, eyes drifting over to the crib. "I can't do this alone."
"Won't be long, sweetheart. She's already been on her way out. A week, two tops. And you won't be alone. If you think for a minute I'd ever not be around for my child, you're outta your mind. If I’d a known sooner, I,” he cut himself off with a shake of his head. “I'll come over every night, check on ya both. You need somethin', you tell me. I'll show you I can take care'a you two better than that boy ever could."
Sweet words. Always so sweet coming from his lips. Your heart aches, for a million different reasons, as you let Lee come closer, pressing his lips to yours before his arms find their way around your frame.
And just like that, after nearly a year of not giving in to the temptation to see him, he has you once more, so easily. He gets what he wants. Just like he always does. Like he always will. You wonder briefly if it will ever be enough. You're not sure you want to know the answer.
"You've got no idea how much I've missed you, darlin'," he whispers against your lips. "Thought about you every damn day."
You feel the tears as they slip down your cheeks, a wave of relief falling over you under his touch, but the guilt still remains... It's just not enough to make you stop him. Not enough to want him to stop.
And the hope for your promised happily ever after renews in your heart. Because maybe you’ll finally get it, just how you pictured, with Lee by your side, starting your own little family.. It’s all you’ve ever wanted.
tumblr what is wrong with you first the walrus vs fairy thing and now this? are you saying it's less fucked up to find out you're not a biological organism than find out you're a human created from one parent-twin who is genetically identical to you?
Clone: horror at the lie of your body (for what purpose? how many are there? are they like you?)
vs.
Robot: horror at the lie of your mind and your humanity itself (have you ever actually had a thought of your own, or is everything you are/you think/you understand just created by another person’s brain? whose mind/brain are you?? whose thoughts are in your head?? What does it mean to “think” when you’re only a manmade echo of humanity constructed from Boolean logic loops? Do you even have a soul?)
clone: you are the theft of another being, inextricably tied by the blood running through your veins they may not have even given to you. you aren't you, you're them, you were made to be them, you're not different, there shpuld not be a you, you are them,
robot: ok well im a robot so show me my blueprints so i can install a sword in my arm to beat up ppl that i dont like. what the fuck ever. can i run doom
Plot: Reader is a young goddess, still yet to come into her full power. The patron goddess of innocence and compassion, she resides deep within the forest, caring for any lost souls who come her way. Destruction finds its way to her lands, as the Emperor's men flood the forest, tasked with cutting down anyone who refuses to denounce their heathen ways. One warrior finds the reader's temple, and tasks himself with 'saving' the reader from herself.
TW: Loosely based on posiden and medusa, which if you know is a trigger warning all on its on, SA, Implied non/con, talks of religion and religious genocide. Neither the warrior's or reader's religions (so to speak) are actual practised or once practiced religions. They are completely made up. Sexual talk. This fic is from the warrior's point of view so very much misogynistic, ignorant, and him being a dick. Also breeding is mentioned (a few times, opps) I see the warrior as Pedro Pascal as Pero Trovar
Notes: This was meant to be priestess reader but I liked this idea better. Enjoy!
He would hardly call the temple before him a temple. It was nothing more than some stones and arches pilled together, hidden under the canopy of a great oak. It was not as old as the other temples he and his comrades had pulled down. The other's, older and more grand than the one in front of him, were infested by savage heathens. They had been dozens of them milling around the great stone pillars. Some leaving tokens of good faith, other's seeming to be in constant service to their wild gods.
This land he found himself in was not under the watchful gaze of the Eye. Nor were they subjects of the Emperor. Instead they worshipped petty gods and goddesses, born from mortal parent's, given gifts of power from Mother Wild. The gifts given depended on their actions as growing gods. Raised as mortals until their 20th nameday, when Mother Wild gives them her final gift, immortality. At least, immortality to a point.
They age as mortals do, but the hands of time pass ever slowly by. As they watch their family and friends grow grey and old, only days have the wild gods aged. It is said that they can one day grow old, grey and tired, succumbing to death as all living things do. But none had ever yet to reach such an age. Gods were able to be killed but it took strength and numbers to do so, and the sword of Caleen, the first wild god ever born. Caleen's own blood had been mixed with the metal, creating a sword capable of penetrating through the gifts given to them. The sword, gifted to him by the Emperor, lay dormant in its sheath by the warrior's side. It was the only method known to truly kill a wild god.
Until then, the only way to defeat a god without the sword was to force them to act in a way that went against their patronage. Salios, once god of law and order, had his gifts ripped from him by Mother Wild, when he unjustly killed an innocent man. Without his gifts, age and sickness came for him thousands, if not hundreds of thousands, of years before he should have perished as a god. Yet such an act had not occurred for hundreds of years, least of all forced by human hand. So these wild gods reigned over their forgotten wood, almighty in power and reverence.
It was heresy.
These 'almighty' beings were nothing but demons, given unholy power by the forces of darkness. Born human, yet corrupted by power. It was unnatural, it was all that went against the teachings of the Eye. Humans were sinful creatures, and the more power one had, the more corrupted they became.
The warrior grimaced as he walked up to the temple. A stupid move if he was being honest. He was here alone after being separated from his battalion. But he needed a place to shelter the coming storm, the air thick with the scent of rain. He would rather face a barbarian than freeze in the wilderness. The temple seemed to be empty, no worshippers leaving offers or priests caring after the god. It was quiet and lonesome. Yet strangely welcoming. He could feel warmth emerging from inside the temple, the scent of delicate florals dancing through the air.
He hesitated at the threshold of the temple, it was clean and well looked after. The walls were lined with soft candlelight, and murals of prancing deer and maidens dancing through the woods. A statue of a woman stood silent in the middle, bathed in dark sunlight by a round hole in the roof. The statue was covered in crowns of flowers. Some placed on her bowed head, others hooked onto her arms as they reach outwards, palms facing towards the sky. Gifts of pearls, lilies and feathers of pure white were placed delicately at the foot of the statue.
He did not care to learn these savage gods names. There were hundreds of them, some more powerful than others. Some given patronage over small, worthless things. He had laughed for hours when he discovered that there was a patron god of footprints. Whoever this temple was erected for, was loved yes, but not revered.
The warrior walks deeper into the temple, becoming enveloped in a sense of peace and compassion at the care given to this little goddess. He grunts in frustration, these stupid gods and their stupid 'gifts'. When he and his brothers in arms desecrated the patron god of fear's temple, the battle was nearly lost as they nearly fell to the wild gods powers. Fear racing through their ranks. Just being in the presence of a god was enough for their powers to linger in the air, effecting a mortal humans thoughts and feelings.
This little goddess must still be here.
Rain began to fall from the heavens, it came down with a fury. Yet, the rain that fell through the hole came down in fat, gentle drops upon the statue of the goddess. Water drippled down her stone face, the warrior had to admit this little goddess was quite the beauty. If her statue was anything to go by. He walks deeper into the sanctuary, closer towards the statue. He stops just in front of her image, breathing in deeper at what he can only imagine is her scent, sweet yet comforting, there was an earthiness to it too. He reaches out to caress the stone cheek of his little goddess. What a pretty thing she was.
He kneels to take in the sight of the gifts offered to her. There were the pearls, feathers and lilies he had seen before. But now he could see spools of white wool, wrapped in ribbon, and carvings of hearts, flowers and dozens of names circling the statue.
Lightly touching the most prominent of the carved names, he allowed himself a grin. He had found the wild goddess of innocence and compassion.
He had found you.
You were the youngest of the gods, only decades since you were gifted your immortality. Yet, you had quickly become beloved by your worshippers. The patron goddess of innocence and compassion, you resided deep within the forgotten woods, caring for the animals of the forest and any travellers who crossed your path. It is said that only those in needing of help or guidance, and children looking for a home could find you. The delicate smell of flowers leading the way to your temple. The names carved upon the stone at your feet were those you had cared for over the years. Travellers lost and afraid. Children without parents or care. Women hiding from vengeful men. And men scarred by life itself. All found their way to you, to your compassionate and pure hands.
You were the last of the major gods that the warrior and his men were yet to find. Your brothers and sisters before you had fallen. Some had run like cowards leaving their temples, and their followers, to burn into the night. Others, slaughtered by his hand. Time may only harm the wild gods so much, but Caleen's sword is a deadlier foe than time itself. It filled him with joy remembering plunging Caleen's own sword into the first wild god's heart. He was the first of the wild gods and as such he was the first to fall.
The warrior stood to his full height quickly as soft footsteps made their way through the temple. They came to a stop, the owner hidden by darkness still.
Outside the storm raged on.
"That you little goddess?" the warrior jested, hand coming to rest lazily on his sword's pummel. He stepped around the statue, giving a slight kick at a doll that was laid carefully at its feet.
The sound of hesitant shuffling could be heard. His little goddess was nervous.
"May I see your face, dear one? I have come a long, long way to find you. I wish not to leave this place without seeing your face, it would break this poor soldiers heart" he pouted in fake hurt, creeping towards you as a wolf moves closer to its prey.
"Who are you?" you ask, voice calm and strong. Yet, he could sense fear in your words.
"Just a poor soldier, a lost traveller if you will. Seeking the care and compassion of your grace" he answers, bowing slightly. He toys with his pummel, he had a feeling he would not need to draw it this day.
"Are you hurt?" you plead, taking a closer step towards him, your sense of empathy and compassion shinning through.
The warrior saw his chance, and he was going to take it.
"Not physically your grace, but I have not yet broken my fast or had a drop of water in days." he furrows his brow, grimacing and holding his stomach with his free hand.
"Oh! Your poor thing!" you exclaim, rushing forward to meet him. Once in the light, the warrior damned the creator of the sculpture for failing to capture your beauty. The statue was nothing in comparison to you. Your hair was thick and healthy, framing your face perfectly. Your skin soft and supple. Lips dewy and oh so kissable.
Your were the most beautiful woman he had seen in his entire life.
And here you were, all his for the taking. You were dressed as a goddess deemed fit, perfectly tailored and fetchingly so. But all he could think about was ripping it from you in a daze of lust. You rushed up to him and guided him deeper into your temple. He only realised that the temple was much larger than it seemed when he was outside. These wild gods and their tricks. You cooed to him the entire time. Stating there would be a warm bath and fresh fruit and clear spring water for him in his room. You hadn't even noticed his weapon, or if you had, you truly were the patron god of innocence.
He allowed you to fuss over him. Allowed you to lead him deeper into your temple, until you reached an open court yard, filled with plants of all colours and sizes, soft grass below his feet. At one end a statue of Mother Wild stood, vines and flowers blooming across her figure. In the centre of it was a beautiful flowering tree, more gifts had been left here to.
He stopped you from leading him further on, his eyes set on this tree. There was magic in its very fibre, unnatural power. He could feel it.
"Everything ok soldier?" you try, hand coming to rest on his back. He flinches at the contact, it was so soft and kind. No one had touched him with such care before.
"What is this tree?" he turns to you.
"Oh! Its a magnolia tree" you grin
"No, I know that, why is it here, and why.." he stops himself, he was going to ask you why he felt power radiating from it. "why are there gifts at its base."
You give him a soft smile, gently grabbing his hand you lead you to its base. You softly bring yourself and him to the ground. White flowers fell softly to the ground. You reached a hand out to touch the bark, closing your eyes, before reopening them to look at the warrior.
"Here, give me your hand"
Without thought he places his hand in yours.
What wicked spell have you put him under.
And why does he not care to know.
With your gentle touch on his, the warrior felt heat rise deep inside him. You placed his hand on the bark, yours overlapping his.
"Do you feel it?" you whisper, voice soft and kind.
Of course he could feel it. Pure innocence, unbridled compassion and love.
He hated it.
"This tree is an extension of myself. The day I was born, when my parent's realised who and what I was, they planted this tree. They understood that they and all those who I love would grow old, die and leave me alone. This was their way of giving me a companion. The day I received my gifts and my patronage was the day I laid my parents to rest under this tree's shadow."
He watches in silence as tears well up in your eyes.
"I hadn't even turned four and ten springs yet, when...when they attacked. They were raiders from the south. Brutes, really. My parent's told me to flee, but there were younger children, pregnant women and injured men who couldn't flee, or didn't know where to flee to. So while the warriors in my village tried the best they could to defend us. I went back and forth between this tree and the village, carrying, dragging and leading all those I could to the safety of the great oak that shadows my temple. When I went back the last time, there was nothing left. Our warriors were slain and my parents...."
You break off, tears trickling down. He feels the sudden urge to wipe them from your cheek. He lets himself have the honour of doing so, and your let yourself have the pleasure of him touching you.
"Anyway, there wasn't much else I could do, so I brought them here, buried them, and cared for the survivors the best I could. It was then I was given my gifts, for my compassion for my people and my innocence in the face of death, I was given my patronage. We rebuilt our village, and life was good. But the years after I was given my final gift, were... difficult to say the least. Watching my friends grow old, have families of their own. Then watching their children age and grow grey. I... it was difficult."
You give him a pointed stare, now turning your back onto the tree and rested upon it. He removes his hand from the bark, mirroring your actions.
"Can I tell you a secret?" you plea, eyes big and soft.
"Of course my little goddess, I will take it to my grave." he sternly replies, practically giving you his oath as a holy warrior of the Eye. You thought he was joking, jesting with you after such an emotional You gave him a giggle and playfully smacked his chest.
"No need for that, but thank you." you trail off, thoughts of long ago in mind. He nudges you softly, eager to learn your secret.
You look back up and him and sigh, turning off into space.
"Sometimes, when I have no one to look after, and its been months, sometimes years, even, since someone has walked through my temple's door. I wish I wasn't born a goddess. I wish I could grow old, fall in love, marry, have children of my own." you look down, playing with your hands.
The warrior was troubled, yet excitement grew. You could be saved. You wished to be without the corruption of the dark forces that ran through your very being.
"But you could start a family. I have heard tales of demigods"
"Yes, but I can't" you stress turning to him. "I am the goddess of innocence, not just compassion. To bare a child would mean I am no longer innocent, therefore my powers would be stripped from me. I would be mortal again."
You huff in frustration. Even if you were able to have a child, it would still grow old, and you would be left to bury another one of your kin below your beloved tree.
The warrior was delighted. Overjoyed, perfectly happy with this news. Some gods had gifts that were hard to strip from them. How do you make the god of footprints go against footprints? Cut off their feet? Unless....
No he's getting distracted. Here he was being given his own gift, from his god. The Eye was testing him, for sure. Allow a wild goddess to continue her wicked magic, or save the mortal within. You already told him you wished to be free of your curse, the burden placed on you the moment you were born. All he had to do was take your maidenhead. Put his seed in your womb and watch it grow. And what a fine mother you would be. You had spent decades being a mother to hundreds, so what more a burden would a few of your own be. In fact he was sure your would revile in it.
You were practically begging him to fill you with his seed, with those big, soft eyes and those curves that screamed at him to take you. He was without a wife, he would have to break you in for sure. You were a wild one of course. But with a few whelps to look after and one surely in your belly, how much could you defy him?
His cock began to stir. His eyes laden with lust. You look up at him once more, brow furrowing at his darkened eyes.
"Is everything okay soldier?" you sweetly ask, actually concerned for his wellbeing.
"Let me give you the life you want, little heathen" he begs, pushing you down onto the soft grass below the tree.
"What? No! Get off!" you plead, pushing against him. He tightens his grip on your wrists.
"Give me the honour of cleansing you of your dark powers, instead allow me to gift you the honour of carrying my seed." He growls, coming down to give you a lust filled kiss.
You bite his tongue with a vengeance, the taste of blood trickles onto your tongue.
"Mother!" you scream, turning onto your belly. Reaching for the silent statue of Mother Wild. She sat impartial, watching silent and cold. You begin to sob, as the warrior pulls your hips and ass into his crotch.
"Shh, shh little goddess, it will all be over soon. You shall be my sweet wife and you shall grow fat with my child." he comforts, his words tasting like iron on your lips.
"No!" you cry, elbowing him in the nose. You get up to run, straight towards Mother Wild, you drop in front of her and beg for her help.
"Help me Mother Wild. Please!"
You were only gifted the power of healing and other small gifts that now seem useless. What could were they against a man like this? The warrior gets up with blood streaming down his chin.
"My! The little heathen has some bite, huh" he sneers, pulling his sword from its sheath. You turn to look at him in fear, surely that was not what you think it is.
"Recognise this? I drove it through your first wild gods heart, and many more of your brother and sisters since then. I wish not to harm you little goddess, but if you do not renounce your claim to your wicked birth right, then I will be forced to kill you." He almost grins at the sight of you kneeling and afraid.
'That's it heathen, fear me, fear the holy Eye.'
You turn to Mother Wild once more, pleading and begging for protection.
Nothing happens.
You sob as you are ripped from your place by the statue and dragged back to the ground under your tree. You are back pushed onto the soft grass, for a moment you forget what is happening, and you are young again, watching the sky through your the leaves of your tree. Caleen's sword is plunged into the soft dirt by your head, you are quickly reminded what madness you found yourself in. You stare up at the warrior in front of you.
What an evil, wicked man.
You choke back a sob in fear of what is to happen next.
"My dear one, do not cry for the life you are renouncing, cry with joy for the life we are to create." He shushes you gently, a rough hand caressing your tear stained cheek.
"What poetry is this, that you should lose your gift of innocence the very place it was given"
"Little One" - Peacekeeper!Coriolanus Snow x District 12!Reader
Summary: Private Coriolanus Snow makes you an offer that you can't refuse.
Word Count: 3,000
Rating: 18+, MDNI
TW: DUBCON, afab reader, she/her pronouns, profanity, innuendo, bondage, innocence/corruption kink, hair pulling, fingering, oral m receiving, boot humping, p in v sex, cream pie, overstim, spanking
Disclaimer: I do not own any of the Hunger Games/Ballad of Songbirds and Snakes characters nor do I claim to own them. I do not own any of the images used nor do I claim to own them.
Comments, likes, and reblogs are never required but are immensely appreciated 🩷
It’s not necessarily healthy, the way Coryo has been watching you ever since coming to District 12. Observing you, your little daily routine, it’s all become a habit now. He goes to patrol the Seam when you leave your home to go work at the Mellarks’ bakery. And he comes back around the time you close up the shop and make your deliveries to the vendors in the Hob. You’re so sweet and kind to everyone you meet, greeting them with a smile and a kind word. And that courtesy extends to the man in question, of course. He’s almost sad about returning to the Capitol for the sole reason that he won’t see your pretty face anymore.
You pass by him, giving him a small shy smile, your basket in your hand as you greet him, “Private Snow.”
There are certain people who when they smile, it never reaches their eyes. You aren’t one of them. When you smile, Coryo notes, you smile with your entire being. You’re beautiful, not just because of your pretty face but because of your kind heart. He’s seen you, giving pieces of the bread you’re meant to eat on your lunch to the local children, to some of the older merchants at the Hob. You’re the type of person who gives and thinks nothing of themself. Every time he sees you, the urge to protect you, to shield you from harm nearly overwhelms him. But he’s remained quiet about it.
Until now.
“How are you doing this evening?” You ask him politely, that sweet smile still on your face.
“I’m doing well,” Coryo replies, his voice raspy and low.
You nod before glancing up at the darkening sky, “I ought to finish my deliveries before Mr. Mellark has my hide. Have a good night, Private Snow.”
Before he knows what he’s doing, Coryo grabs you by the wrist. You look at him, eyes wide in surprise, your lips parted in a silent question. What in the world is he doing?
“I’m sorry,” Coryo mumbles, letting go of your wrist, “I just… I didn’t want you to leave yet.”
You bite your lip, as if unsure of what to say, before you reply in a gentle voice, as if you’re trying to soothe him, “I gotta get back home to my sister, Private Snow. She’s only twelve and I take care of her.”
His gaze softens at the reminder of your sister, his hand still lingering near yours. Coryo’s met her before, little Delly. She’s the sweetest thing, much like yourself, though with a bit of a temper on her. He has to applaud you for managing to keep her in line. He glances at your hand for a moment before meeting your eyes once more, his voice wavering ever so slightly.
“Let me walk you home.”
“Okay,” you murmur softly, taking his arm, smiling gently as you continue your deliveries.
Coryo watches you, a small smile on his face. He’s so drawn to you. To be without you seems almost unimaginable to him when you walk arm in arm like this. All he wants is to touch you, to hold you, to kiss those sweet lips. He’s sure you probably taste of the sweetbread he often sees you snacking on. And he thinks if he kissed you, that you might let him, with the way you’re smiling up at him all adorable like you are.
“So I hear you’re heading back to the Capitol soon?”
He nods, trying to stop himself from blushing as your shoulder brushes against his, the evening air sending a chill up his back, “Yes. In two weeks.”
“I reckon you’ll be awful happy to get away from this place,” you give him a good-natured smile.
But Coryo can sense the pain behind it. He can tell that you’re envious of him for being able to leave. That you want to get far away from this place too. He doesn’t answer your question as the two of you near the tiny home where you live in the Seam, your sister likely already home and making herself busy with setting the table. Coryo watches the way the wind rustles your hair, the way the setting sun reflects in your eyes.
“So how long have you been taking care of Delly?” He asks.
“Since Daddy passed five years ago. Momma passed not long after.”
You’re so honest. He doesn’t want to pry, but he can’t help thinking what a good, strong woman you are. Working and taking care of your little sister all on your own, not even twenty years old and managing a house. He hates how hard your life is. You shouldn’t be working from dawn to dusk, baking bread and delivering it to the seediest parts of the district to earn your keep. You deserve to be protected from all of this. You deserve better.
“It’s fine, though, I’m starting work in the mines next week and I’ll be able to earn some real money. I don’t want Delly taking tesserae or nothing like that.”
Coryo stiffens at the idea of you working in the mines. A sweet girl like you? How will you ever be able to handle it? He hates the idea. As much as he wants to return to the Capitol, he can’t bear the idea of leaving you to work the mines.
“You’d have to leave Delly by herself, wouldn’t you? Are the mines such a good idea?”
“She’ll be alright,” you say, almost trying to convince yourself, “I’ll be able to fix her breakfast before I leave and dinner when I get home. It’s better than the alternative. I could never live with myself if her name was entered into the Reaping more than once when there was something I could’ve done.”
He sighs, remaining silent for a moment, unable to understand your lack of worry, your optimistic outlook on life when you’ve been dealt such a horrible hand. Is it admirable? Or is it foolish? Can you really not tell that you deserve better? An easier life?
“You’re really okay with working in the mines?”
“Ain’t no shame in hard work, Private Snow,” you smile at him.
“Do you ever wish you lived in the Capitol?”
His question makes you pause before you nod slowly, “Well, sure. That would mean Delly would never be reaped. But it ain’t a possibility for folks like us.”
You bid him goodnight, turning away and walking to your door. And it takes every fiber of self restraint within Coryo not to grab you by the wrists, pull you back and kiss you. He just watches you, eyes glued to your form. He wants to tell you that you deserve the world. That he wants to care for you and your sister. But words fail him and he’s left, standing alone in the cold outside your humble home in the Seam.
Two weeks.
Private Coriolanus Snow has two weeks to come up with a plan that prevents him from losing you forever.
A week later, you sit in an interrogation room in the Justice building, your hands tied behind your back. You stare up at Coriolanus with frightened eyes, tears threatening to spill from them. He’s sure you look beautiful when you cry. His chest feels tight and his cock stiffens at the sight of you sitting in front of him. So pretty and so vulnerable.
It was easy, convincing Commander Hoff that you were guilty of petty theft and having you hauled in. He watches as you frantically try to explain to him that you aren’t guilty, gazing up at him through your lashes as you plead your case, that you’re not a thief. You look so scared, your lower lip trembling as he circles around you like a vulture. It’s ironic that you look to him to be your savior when he’s the one who landed you here in the first place.
“Please, Private Snow,” you whisper, “I can’t be arrested… My sister…”
He stops in front of you, caressing your cheek with his palm, making your eyes widen in shock at his touch. He grips your chin firmly, though not painfully, tilting your face up to meet his gaze. Your lips part, lashes fluttering, unaware of the thoughts that run through his mind as he leans in close to you.
“This isn’t an arrest, sweet girl. Just an interrogation.”
“I promise I don’t know anything-”
“Little one,” Coryo coos, cupping your face in his hands.
His thumbs trace the soft skin of your cheeks. Coryo’s grip on your face tightens and he pulls you up to your feet, pinning you between himself and the table behind you. One of his hands trails down to your neck, his calloused fingertips brushing against your throat. He feels the tremulous inhale you take, waiting for you to speak.
“Yes, sir?” You ask, your voice more timid than he’s ever heard it before.
“I know you love your sister,” he murmurs, eyes flitting down to your plush lips for a moment before moving back to meet your gaze, “But what if I told you it doesn’t need to be like this? That you could live in the Capitol. You wouldn’t have to work. Life would be easy. You’d be safe at my side, living a life of luxury and privilege if you only say the word.”
You shake your head, “I can’t just leave her. Delly’s my little sister. My responsibility.”
“I know,” he whispers, his breath warm against your cheek, “But doesn’t she deserve a life in the Capitol too? All the pretty dresses and cakes and parties. Doesn’t sweet little Delly deserve that?”
“I… You… I’d be able to bring her? But we’re District,” you falter as he leans in close, “How would they allow that?”
“Well, the answer is simple,” Coryo smirks, tucking a strand of your hair behind your ear, his touch lingering against your skin as he murmurs, “You’ll have to marry me.”
“What?” You knit your brows together in confusion, “I don’t understand…”
He chuckles, grasping your chin again, “I am offering you to be my wife. We’ll live in the Capitol and I will take care of you and Delly. We’ll live together as a family. You, me, her, and eventually our own kids.”
“But we hardly know each other!”
“I know enough,” his voice is soft as he strokes your cheek, “I know you’re kind. How you take care of your little sister. That you make amazing bread. That you love sweetbread and chocolate. That you work too hard. That you’ll be an amazing wife and mother. That you deserve all the comfort life in the Capitol with me as your husband will give you.”
You remain silent for a long moment before meeting his gaze, your voice firm, “Thank you for your offer, but I have to refuse.”
Coryo barks out a laugh at your words, the sound icy and unfamiliar to your ears. His voice is still soft when he speaks again, but there’s an edge to his tone that makes the hairs on the back of your neck stand on end.
“I don’t think you understand your situation here, little one. I don’t think you understand how much I care about you. I want nothing but the best for you. After all, if I can’t grant you amnesty as my wife, I think Commander Hoff has half a mind to arrest you the moment you walk out that door.”
Your jaw drops at his words, “But you know I didn’t steal anything! Why are you doing this to me?”
“Because,” he hums, his thumb grazing over your lower lip as it trembles, “You’re so pure. You need me to protect you. And if I have to lie or cheat in order to keep you with me, I’ll do it. I’ll do it because I know what’s best for you, little one. So let me take care of you and Delly. You know I’m your best chance.”
You inhale sharply before questioning, “And if I marry you, Delly will be a Capitol citizen? She’ll be exempt from the Reaping?”
“Yes, my love,” he purrs, the term of endearment making your stomach turn - though you’re not sure if it’s from fear or something else, “She’ll be exempt from the Reaping. You’ll never have to worry about her asking for tesserae or being hurt in the Games. She’ll attend the Academy and maybe even the University. She’ll have everything.”
Your eyes close, your voice barely audible as you reply, “Okay. I’ll marry you.”
“That’s a good girl.”
You gasp as Coryo captures your lips with his own, his mouth hungry and hot against yours as he presses his firm, lithe body against your own. His hands move to grasp at the flesh of your ass, squeezing so hard that it has him moaning at the feeling. Coryo bites down on your lower lip, and when you gasp at the feeling, he snakes his tongue inside your mouth, moving it against your own, massaging it. His hands slide under the fabric of your dress, rubbing you over the cotton fabric of your panties, making you whimper softly at the feeling. You’ve touched yourself before, of course, but this feels so very different.
“I’m still cuffed,” you whisper.
“I know. Get on your knees for me, little one.”
You stare up at him wide-eyed, realizing what it is he wants you to do. You hate yourself for it, but the thought of taking him into your mouth, of pleasuring him… It doesn’t disgust you. You watch as he undoes the button of his uniform pants, freeing his cock from its confines. He’s so big that you wonder to yourself how he plans to fit inside you, though you’re soon distracted from your thoughts when he presses the tip of his cock to your lips, smearing his pre-cum over you before arching a brow, waiting for you to open your mouth.
When you do, gazing up at him all the while, he pushes his length inside your mouth and begins to buck his hips. Your jaw feels sore from the get-go as his cockhead repeatedly hits the back of your throat, his length hot and heavy against your tongue. You can’t help yourself at the way wetness pools between your thighs at the feeling of having him in your mouth, at the feeling of him fucking your mouth. Your saliva coats his cock as he continues moving his hips, biting down on his lower lip as he rasps what a good fucking girl you are, how well your pretty little mouth is taking his cock, how he can’t wait to fuck your other holes.
You find yourself bucking your hips, bouncing yourself up and down on the toe of his boot. And it doesn’t take long for Coryo to notice, a breathless laugh escaping his lips as he moves his boot, rubbing it against your clothed, wet pussy, the feeling driving you nearly insane with want. You grind yourself down against him, your swollen pearl rubbing against his boot, bringing you closer and closer to the edge, still mouthing at his cock eagerly until you come with a moan of his name. Coryo pulls out of your mouth, not wanting to waste his spend on your tongue this time.
No, this first time? He’s going to cum inside you.
He keeps your hands bound, his own moving under the fabric of your dress to tug your panties off. You gasp at the feeling of him burying his fingers knuckle deep inside you, as he claims that he needs to stretch you out to get you ready for his cock. You whimper his name at the wet noises that pervade the room as he fucks you with his fingers, rubbing up against that spongy spot deep inside of you. However, before you can reach your release, he pulls away, grinning at the sad little look on your face.
“Bend over the desk, little one.”
You do as he asks, whining softly when he lands a heavy-handed slap on your ass before slipping his cock between your wet folds. It’s a tight fit and it stings at first, but he remains still for a long moment, allowing you to adjust before he begins to fuck you in earnest. His hands hold your hips in place as he pounds into you relentlessly, his balls slapping against your ass as he fucks you. Coryo moves one hand to grip your hair, reveling in the lewd moan you let out at the slight tug. Such an innocent, pretty little thing you were, and he’s made a whore out of you, squealing underneath him like a bitch in heat, squeezing around his cock like a fucking vice.
You soak his cock mere moments later, all but sobbing his name, but he fucks you through it, moving his hand from your hips to deftly circle your clit with his fingers, making you mewl his name as he continues fucking you. His fat cockhead brushes against your sweet spot with every thrust, your overstimulated body trembling beneath him as he chases his own high, his balls tightening, sweat dripping down his face as he rails into you.
Coryo finally reaches his peak, thick white ropes of cum painting your pretty little cunt as he growls your name, giving your ass one last slap, feeling your pussy spasm around his cock as you reach your own peak.
He undoes your cuffs after the two of you catch your breath, pressing a soft kiss to your wrists, then your forehead before whispering, “Only pack things that you need. I’ll buy you everything you could ever want in the Capitol, little one. And get some rest tonight, because we have a wedding to attend tomorrow.”
“Whose?” You ask, still a bit dazed as you stand up.
a/n: aaand first time writing for coryo. i have failed you, ancestors, i have failed you. making a taglist for this war criminal so lmk if you wish to be added 🩷
Summary: Your best friend comes back from District 12 changed. And you wonder if the boy you knew is still there, buried deep inside.
Word Count: 1,325
Rating: 18+, MDNI
TW: HEAVY DUBCON, afab reader, she/her pronouns, profanity, innuendo, heavy overstim, oral f receiving, fingering, p in v sex, creampie, choking, hair pulling
Disclaimer: I do not own any of the Hunger Games/Ballad of Songbirds and Snakes characters nor do I claim to own them. I do not own any of the images used nor do I claim to own them.
Comments, likes, and reblogs are never required but are immensely appreciated 🩷
Just a year ago, you would’ve been able to say with total confidence that you know Coriolanus Snow better than anyone in the world. Both of you came from prominent families, so it made sense that you would gravitate toward each other. While many thought of you as airheaded and vapid, Coryo always seemed to see beyond that. To see the real you. The two of you often said that it was you against the world.
But, when he returns from his time as a peacekeeper in District 12, things have changed between the two of you. He has changed. You don’t know what to make of it at first. He’s back with you now, but his eyes always seem so far away. And anytime you try to ask him what’s wrong, he just gives you a small smile, assuring you that everything is fine and you don’t need to worry about him.
There’s an edge to him that there never was before. Your Coryo was soft and gentle and loving. Your best friend. This Coryo is so different. Anytime you mention hanging out with one of your other friends from the Academy, his jaw goes rigid, his eyes narrow as he stares at you and questions why the two of you can’t just spend time together like always. His arm around your shoulder, which used to feel like the affectionate gesture of a best friend, now feels like a weight on you, a reminder that you shouldn’t be looking anywhere except at him, talking to anyone except to him.
You’re lazing about in the room of the penthouse he now resides in, laying on your stomach on his bed, ankles crossed as you absent-mindedly flip through a magazine with the latest Capitol fashions, though your focus isn’t on what Tigris’ newest designs are. You peer over the edge of the magazine at your best friend, watching as he scribbles away in his notebook.
“You’re staring again.”
His voice shakes you from your reverie and you hum in acknowledgement, returning to your magazine before calling back, “Not looking.”
Coryo chuckles, setting down his notebook and turning his chair to face you. You can feel his gaze moving along your body, taking in the bare skin of your legs in the tiny shorts you wear. It feels almost like a shark sizing up its prey before going in for the kill. You continue flipping through your magazine, hoping that he stops looking sooner than later.
“We used to talk more,” he muses, his voice soft as he continues staring at you before questioning playfully, “What, is that magazine more interesting than me now?”
When you don’t answer, too busy pretending to read your magazine, he moves to sit down beside you on the bed, snatching it out of your hands and tossing it to the floor. You let out a huff of annoyance, turning to face him, pouting.
“I was reading that, Coryo!”
He laughs quietly, moving to run his fingers through your hair, those icy blue eyes meeting yours, feeling as if they could bore right through you with their intensity, “You look cute when you pout like that.”
“Shut up,” you mumble, crossing your arms as you sit up on the bed, “I’m gonna go home-”
Coryo hums, grabbing your arm before you can move, his hands, now calloused from his time as a peacekeeper, running along your smooth, soft skin, “I don’t think you really want to go home. Just give me an apology kiss and we can hang out a little longer.”
You wrinkle your nose in distaste before retorting, “Best friends don’t kiss, Coryo. Don’t be weird.”
That’s likely true for most best friends, but it never was for you and Coryo. Before he left, you would always kiss him, hug him, shower him with physical affection. It wasn’t until Arachne pointed out, a few weeks before the fateful Games, that best friends don’t kiss. Coryo frowns, grabbing you by the chin and forcing you to look at him.
“You’ve always kissed me,” he remarks, his voice stern as he stares you down, “Don’t start acting like you don’t like it either. I know you do.”
You squirm in his grip, your heart thudding against your ribcage, “Coryo, stop…”
He ignores your protest, cupping your face in his hands. Though his grip is somewhat gentle, his voice is harsh.
“Kiss me. Now.”
You shake your head, “No.”
Your best friend frowns, his fingers digging into your jaw now, eyes narrowing, “Don’t tell me no, princess. I know you want to kiss me. So just do it.”
You shake your head, looking up at him with wide eyes. Coryo’s thumb moves along your plump lower lip, pressing down on it before releasing. He licks his own lips, leaning in closer, his breath tickling your face. Before you can say anything, he presses his lips against your own, kissing you himself, moving to pin you down onto his bed. You let out a yelp of surprise, completely taken aback by his actions, pushing at his chest, though your attempts are fruitless. You try to keep your lips pressed together, not letting him deepen the kiss, but he has no intention of letting you succeed. Coryo bites down on your lower lip, making you let out a whine as your lips part, his tongue pushing inside your mouth, exploring every bit of you. He’s been so patient for so long, it’s finally his time to take you as his. To mark you.
His hands move down to your sides, squeezing every bit of exposed flesh he can, moving down to your thighs as he continues kissing you, “You’re going to be mine. No more best friends.”
You feel his lips on your neck, your voice coming out breathier than you intended as you murmur, “Coryo, please, I…”
Coryo bites down on your neck, reveling in the soft little moan you let out as his lips move along your collarbone. You won’t deny him. You’ve never denied him anything. He knows you won’t deny him this.
“No more running from this. From me,” he murmurs against your skin, “I’m going to mark you. Make you mine and mine alone. You’re never even going to think about another man again. Only me.” His fingers move to your hair, tugging harshly, the slight ache making you let out another moan, “Stop denying what you know you need, princess.” The soft whimper you let out as he bites down on your neck urges him on - he’s wanted you for so long now, having you be his is finally within his grasp, “You can’t run from me anymore. Say you want me to make you mine. Say you want to belong to me.”
You shake your head, your weak protests falling on deaf ears as he pulls off the flimsy excuse for a tee shirt you have on, lips twisting into a smirk when he sees that you’re wearing nothing beneath it. He moves his hands to cup your tits, kneading them in his palms, groaning at how soft you feel against him. And when you continue to protest, a low growl emanates from his chest, his voice firm as he glares at you.
“Say it.”
He’s not going to stop. Not until you give him an answer he wants to hear. And the thing is, the longer he kisses you, the longer he touches you, your will to resist him dwindles further and further. You gasp as you feel his hands moving to the waistband of your shorts, his thumb brushing against you over the fabric of your panties. You sink your teeth into your lower lip at the feeling, barely able to hold yourself back from bucking your hips up against him, chasing his touch as he teases you. He’s not going to do anything until you tell him you’re his.
Coryo leans in, brushing his nose against yours, repeating himself, “Say it, princess. Say you’re mine.”
“I,” you breathe, eyes fluttering shut as his thumb presses down against your clit, “Yes, Coryo, I’m yours…”
“That’s my good girl,” he rasps, lips capturing yours again in a searing kiss, one where you lose all concept of time and space - there’s only Coryo. “Don’t you ever deny me again. You understand me, princess? You’re all fucking mine.”
He tugs off your shorts and panties, tossing them aside, admiring your naked body laying beneath him. You feel more vulnerable than you ever have in your entire life, the way he stares you down like a ravenous wolf. He tugs at the collar of his shirt, undoing the top few buttons, the material of it rough against your skin as he lowers himself onto you. His grip on your hips is almost bruising as he pulls you closer to him, making you cry out his name in surprise. Your eyes widen when he moves to sit back slightly, ridding himself of his shirt before pushing your knees apart. You tremble slightly, trying to press them back together, only for Coryo to let out a low snarl, tossing your legs over his shoulders and burying his face between your thighs.
For a second, you wonder if you’re even still alive, if this is all just a fever dream. The way his tongue moves against you is downright sinful, and worse still? Those blue eyes remain locked on yours. And the moment you try to close your own or look away, you’re reprimanded with a heavy-handed slap against your ass. And so you watch as he mouths at your pussy, his tongue lapping at your folds eagerly, reveling in every mewl of his name, every whimper. And when you reach your peak, he doesn’t seem to have any intention of stopping, continuing his onslaught, stiffening his tongue as he moves it in and out of you, almost as if he’s teasing you with what’s to come next.
Your second climax hits you harder than your first, eyes rolling back as he moves to focus his attention on your clit, wrapping his lips around the sensitive button while he pushes two long fingers inside of you, crooking them in a come hither motion that has you squirming away from him. But Coryo just pulls you right back, suckling at your pearl, bringing you closer and closer to the edge.
“Coryo, ‘s too much,” you cry out pathetically, your entire body feeling as if it’s on fire.
He gives you a smug smile as he pulls his lips away from you, though his fingers continue their work, rubbing against that rough patch deep inside of you, making you let out a squeal of his name, “Say it. Say you want me to stop.”
“I don’t,” you reply weakly, eyes fluttering shut, “I don’t want you to stop.”
And when you come, soaking his fingers, he pulls them away from you, loving the way your body wracks with shivers. You’re being so good for him, so responsive. He pushes his fingers between your lips, a silent demand for you to lick them clean, which you immediately obey. His gaze is focused on you as your eyes close, your tongue swirling around his fingers. His pretty princess. Never one to deny him anything.
“Such a good girl.”
You shy away under his praise, a soft smile lighting up your features. And he knows in that moment that you want this just as bad as he does. He unbuttons his trousers, pushing them down his legs slowly along with his boxers, making your eyes go wide at the sight of his cock, achingly hard, pre cum weeping from the tip. You squirm when he runs the tip of it along your overstimulated cunt, watching as you whimper when he slaps it against your clit. The control he has over you, over your body… It’s intoxicating. He doesn’t know how he lived without this before.
You cling to him as he sheathes his cock inside you, your entire body trembling as you feel him fill you to the hilt. Coryo gives you a moment to adjust before pulling back out and pushing back into you again, making you cry out his name. His thrusts start out as even and measured, but the feeling of your warm, tight pussy around him sends him into a frenzy as he begins to slot his hips against yours without mercy.
“Who do you belong to?” He demands, hand wrapping around your throat, squeezing just enough to restrict your airflow.
“You,” you manage to rasp, your hips bucking up against his to meet his movements.
“Say my fucking name, princess. Who do you belong to?”
“You, Coryo,” you mewl, throwing your head back, tears spilling from your eyes, “Feels so good…”
Coryo pins your hips down into the mattress, rutting against you wildly, feeling you soak his cock, crying out his name. And when you say those two words, “too much”? All he does is speed up, a devious smirk on his face as he flips you onto your stomach, fucking into you at a new angle, one that has him getting closer and closer to his own end. You make no move to get away from him, his hands moving to your breasts, squeezing them as he fucks you like some sort of depraved animal, no thought except ripping another climax from you and spilling himself inside of you.
And when he does, that’s when he finally collapses against you onto the bed, pulling you into his arms. You stare at the ceiling, panting heavily, trying to catch your breath. When you do, you turn to face him, only to find him already staring at you, a soft smile on his face.
For a moment, however fleeting, he’s there. The old Coryo. He brushes your hair off your face, pressing a kiss to your forehead, then each of your cheeks, before brushing his lips against your own.
“You’re mine now, princess,” he whispers, “All fucking mine.”
And for whatever odd reason, you’re quite alright with that idea.
Help I have a thot so rotten I need professional help.
Rhett is working and you rile him up - so.far so usual. At one point he snaps and ties you to a breeding stand and then proceed to mount you. All the while snarling how your going to be breed like an animal in heat when you act like one. No amount of pleading and begging will help you
￫ a/n: lemme fucking tell you something anon. i got this. read it. and was in shock for the next ten minutes. i love this so so so much it’s unhealthy 😵💫 welp! we’re going down!
￫ c/w: rhett using derogatory language towards the reader, comparing you to an animal in heat, rhett being mean and degrading to you, cnc, p in v, daddy kink, manhandling you, what’s in the ask is what you’re gonna get.
you’re both working in the barn through the afternoon, moving hay and other supplies, cleaning out the horses and keeping the rest of the livestock in check. the humid summer heat has past it’s highest point since midday, but you’re both still struggling through the heat. it’s unbearably hot inside your stuffy barn and understandably, you’re both agitated.
every so often when you pass by rhett, you squeeze at his bulging biceps or at his crotch that’s already supporting a semi from your heated touches. he lets out a low grumble the fifth time you pass him by and you mock pout at him.
“what is it, daddy?” you elongate the last part of your wording with a flirtatious touch and bat your eyelashes teasingly at him.
rhett’s jaw is set firm as he scowls at you. his eyebrows are knitted tightly together in frustration as he bites back at you. “quit it. you’re actin’ like a fuckin’ whore right now and it ain’t helping.”
“but, daddy—” you whine out again, but rhett is there to cut you off instantly.
“enough. fuckin’ help me finish this and maybe, i’ll be nice to y’ later.”
his tone is firm and unwavering, and you should know better than to push him, but you excuse the heat for your lack of better judgement.
“fuckin’ fine. i’m goin’ inside and finishing myself off, somethin’ you can’t do.”
that snaps the final cord of patience that rhett has inside of him for you. he’s quick to grab at your forearm with a bruising grip as you leave the barn. you yelp out and struggle against him as he manhandles you, pushing you closer to a corner of the barn. it overwhelms you how strong he can be. your thrashing is no use.
your eyes are wide when you see him dragging you closer to a breeding stand, yet you feel the inside of your stomach somersault at the prospect of what rhett is suggesting. you still go along with it however, pleading with desperation as he ties you to the breeding stand.
“r-rhett? what are you fuckin’ doin’?!” you land with a final thud as rhett pushes your neck down to rest on the head stand that would be used for animals. you’re bent over and on all fours, with your feet teetering and scraping along the hay covered floor. your dress is flipped over your ass and you feel rhett’s hot and calloused fingers hook inside your underwear and tear them completely from your frame.
“if you’re gon’ act like an animal in heat,” rhett’s voice behind you is an ugly snarl, his teeth biting at one another. “i’m goin’ to be breedin’ you like an animal in heat.”
you hear his belt buckle clang against itself before a harsh smack is delivered to your exposed ass and the backs of your thighs. in reaction, you let out a cry that ends with an embarrassing moan. you hate yourself for being so incredibly aroused by this, but you don’t hate yourself for playing into his fucked up little fantasy.
his hands grip tightly at the flesh of your hips as he mounts you like an animal himself. you let out another pleading moan as you feel his tip push through your folds.
“rhett! please, please—” you’re begging and pleading with him, but you don’t know what for.
another curt smack is issued to your ass as he stuffs himself full inside of you. “animals in heat don’t get a say in this, quit your whinin’ or i’ll stuff your mouth with a horse bit.”
