#He's only okay with getting his hands dirty metaphorically not literally

[teyrnacousland]

We do not give Illario enough credit for being able to look Zara Renata in the eyes as she climbs out of her gross blood pool, covered in blood, and act like the thought of touching her doesn't make him physically ill.

[jayparked]

𝒽𝒶𝓃𝒹𝓈𝓎 | 𝒽𝑒𝑒𝓈𝑒𝓊𝓃𝑔 | 𝓂

snippet: Then, looking into your eyes, he speaks firmly, “Before we begin, let’s establish some ground rules.”

pairing: lee heeseung x female reader

genre: smut, pwp

au: roommates, f2l

rating: explicit/18+, minors dni

word count: 4.3k

warnings: there’s a deep conversation about feelings, love confessions (YUCK)

sexual warnings: masturbation (female receiving), mutual pining, begging, rule making, dirty talk, non penetrative sex, oral (female receiving), body worship, light foot worship, the entire thing is based off getting reader off, heeseung doesn’t get off  :( , heeseung is kinda bossy, praise kink, heeseung calls reader babygirl, overstimulation, .001% of aftercare, moaning, hair pulling, marking, punishment kink?, dom/sub dynamics, orgasm…guilt?...sorry

The frustration builds quicker than you wanted, the groans coming from your mouth slipping out louder each time you feel your body give up on itself. You’re too god damn horny, but your body is too tired to properly masturbate.

This is probably the fifth time now that you've attempted to get yourself off only to abandon ship seconds after. Your muscles ache and sleep calls to you. Despite this, every time you try to just sleep it off, the aching, painful throb from your clit keeps you awake.

It takes everything in you to keep yourself from throwing a tantrum like a toddler.

The clock now reads just after three in the morning; you let out one last frustrated breath. It comes out louder than you intended, the grunt rising in pitch before you can even stop yourself.

Moments later, your shirtless, sleep-drunk roommate opens your door, rubbing his eyes with one fist as he holds himself up with the other hand gripping the doorway.

“Are you okay or whatever? I keep hearing groaning and other weird sounds,” Heeseung sighs, slight annoyance laced in his tone.

Your eyes are wide with embarrassment as Heeseung’s sleepy eyes jolt awake as he finally sees you.

You’re laying on top of your comforter completely naked with one hand still draped across your womanhood.

Heeseung shifts his body against the door frame, the moonlight now highlighting down his face. The shadows of your air-guided drapes chase that light, new depths illuminating across his nose and cheekbones. You’re not sure why your brain is trying so hard to think of metaphors and similes, anything to compare Heeseung to, but none of them do him justice. It would be too easy to blame it on the lack of sleep. Then again, you’ve never truly let yourself look at him in this way before and it’s killing you that you can’t read the expression on his face.

In this moment, you realize you have neither fight nor flight instincts as you lay frozen in your bed, nothing willing you to cover yourself or hide from your roommates gaze.

Heeseung’s tongue pokes out of his mouth, moving slowly against his bottom lip as his eyes flick frantically from your body to the wall across the room. Raising a hand to cover his mouth, he clears his throat and brushes his thumb against his bottom lip to wipe away the remnants from his tongue.

Clearing his throat once more, his shoulder relaxes against the doorframe, his body now leaning in a very casual nonchalant way, his eyes continue to debate where to look. “Wha-whatcha doing there?” He immediately turns his body away from you after speaking, facing the wall as he aggressively rubs at the nape of his neck, his other hand back up to his mouth.

“Oh...you know...just trying to sleep.”

There’s a brief silence- minus the light flapping of your window curtains. That, and the mental beating you’re giving yourself for trying to joke about the situation at hand. There is no hiding it. You’ve been caught red-handed.

Literally.

“Y/n…” Heeseung warns, the moonlight shifting in a way that now illuminates the tense muscles of his back. 

Your heart pounds loudly within your chest. You’ve seen Heeseung shirtless thousands of times. So why is this the first time you’re realizing just how sculpted his body actually is? 

Shutting your eyes tightly, your brain moves at hyper-speed trying to figure out what to do or say next. A million scenarios flood in and all you want is to pick the option that lets you keep your roommate and not have to live with exploding embarrassment for the rest of your life.

You’re about to open your mouth and just say the first thing that comes out, no matter how brainless it may be. Perhaps brutal honesty will help you out in the end. But Heeseung beats you to the punch.

“Do you...do you need help?” His back is still turned to you so you can’t read his expression, but you can’t help but notice the way his back muscles tense.

It takes you a moment to register what he’s said. You’re finally able to move your hand away from your cunt and you slowly sit up and lay your back against your headboard, grabbing one of your pillows and hugging it tightly to your chest.

“I guess talking about it might help even though you and I have never really talked about this kind of thing before. Have you ever just been so horny and tired at the same time but you’re unable to do either of those things? I’ve been struggling for hours now trying to sleep but I can’t sleep because...you know, and then when I try to do that I’m just too tired to actually do it right and-”

“No, I mean-” Heeseung cuts himself off with a sigh, quickly followed by a slow intake of air, puffing his cheeks out as he releases it and turns towards you. He pauses, still averting his eyes before he steps towards your bed. Determination and bravery are written all over his face, despite the fact that he’s still trying to respectively not look at you.

Sitting at the foot of your bed with his body facing the door, Heeseung takes a moment before turning his head towards you, his dark eyes looking directly into yours.

“I can help you.”

A few more moments of silent eye contact passes before you finally understand what he’s trying to suggest.

“Oh...OH!” You can’t help but gasp with widened eyes as it finally clicks in your head exactly what he’s offering to you.

“Wouldn’t that,” you gulp, your face feeling painfully warm, “wouldn’t that make things weird? Between us?”

Heeseung’s jaw is tight, his muscles jutting forward as he breaks eye contact and looks back towards your bedroom door. “It doesn’t have to be weird,” he says softly, “...if you don’t want them to be. I mean, I can honestly say I haven’t ever...you know, not thought of you in this way before.” He lets out another long puff of air, knowing he’s being confusing with his words, hand grasping at the back of his neck as he tries to massage the tension away.

You feel embarrassed and flattered and excited all at once. Your roommate of three years, best friend of over ten years, has admitted to thinking of you in a sexual way.

Heeseung lets you think for a moment. But it only allows you more time to realize that you can’t feign innocence here either. There was that major crush you had on him in high school or the time you walked in on him in the shower. There’s definitely been a handful of times where he’s crept into your thoughts while you were with someone else or even times when you were alone.

There are a million things that could go wrong if you accept his offer.

Or, a million things that could go right.

“Okay,” you say bravely, moving the pillow away from your body, “please, help me.”

Turning his head slowly, Heeseung finally looks at you, really looks at you, his eyes roaming every inch of your body slowly. He inhales, his jaw clenching once more as his gaze falls upon your uncovered chest.

Then, looking into your eyes, he speaks firmly and slowly, “Before we begin, let’s establish some ground rules.”

Gulping slowly, you nod your head, trying not to think about the lack of friction going on below.

"Rule number one," Heeseung starts with a smirk, "you don’t get to touch me." 

"What?-"

"Nuh, uh." He interrupts you, holding up his pointer finger as he shakes his head, his fluffy brown hair swooshing over his eyes. Without looking, he picks up your bare feet and pulls you towards him, placing your legs over his lap as you now lay flat on the bed. His hands start to roam over your calves and down to your toes. His fingers are just barely lingering over you to the point of sending chills throughout your entire body. The touch of his skin on yours alone is sending the signals in your body into overdrive. That mixed with the tiredness you're feeling, it's making it nearly impossible to think straight or stay focused on the words he’s saying.

"I've been thinking about a night like this for a long, long time. Respectfully, of course," he adds quickly, looking back at you and giving you a soft smile. "I never wanted to do anything to ruin what we have. But damn, I really can't deny it. I've thought about making you cum over and over and over again so many times it was like a movie constantly replaying  in my mind." Heeseung continues to stroke your feet and legs sensually as he speaks. It takes everything in your power not to pounce on him.

Instead, you bite your bottom lip and close your eyes, resting your arms on your stomach, letting the deep grumble of Heeseung's voice soothe your body along with all the places he's trailing his fingers on.

“Anyways,” he says with a quirk of his eyebrow, “back to our rules.”

His domineering tone sends chills throughout your body again and you try your best to ignore the white noise ringing in your ears. 

“Rule number two: you can’t cum unless I tell you you can.”

The urge to question him again is strong, but his stare makes you shut your mouth tightly.

He knows the question is hanging off the tip of your tongue, you know that he knows. Instead of throwing you a bone, he sits there smirking at you, sitting on his high horse while also looking like he knows the punchline to the joke you’ve been waiting to get.

Finally, he beckons you closer, his pointer finger slowly enticing you in. You sit up slowly, your legs still in his lap. As soon as you’re close enough to see the dark flecks in his eyes, he leans in himself until his lips are hovering just over your ear.

“And I can be a very patient man, baby girl. We can be here all night until you finally get it right and do what I say.”

Admittedly, your first instinct is to laugh, the sheer shock of his words not fully settling in. But then, after a moment, you can tell just how much his words affected your body; your legs feel shakier, the core of your womanhood pulsates quicker, and you start to feel the dripping of your arousal moving down your thighs.

It only makes sense that your childhood friend, the love of your life, would also turn out to be the kinkiest person you’ve ever met.

It only makes sense.

“Okay...yes sir.”

The smugness on Heeseung’s face only increases.

“Good girl.”

“Are there any other rules...?” It still feels odd talking to your best friend about this. But it’s all worth it when you notice the growing tent in Heeseung’s sweatpants

Heeseung gets off the bed and moves closer to you, his hands behind his back. He appears so nonchalant and unbothered, almost like he’s ignoring the fact that he’s sporting the hardest erection he’s ever had in his life. 

It makes you nervous in the best of ways.

Removing one hand from behind his back, he places it on one of your knees, caressing your flesh gently before pushing it to the side, spreading your legs open wide to expose your dripping cunt. He nods his head with approval, biting his bottom lip hard as his eyes sweep slowly up and down over your entire naked body.

It feels like the room’s temperature went up another ten degrees.

Heeseung dips his hand lower, hovering over your cunt. Each time it looks like he’s about to touch you, your vagina pulses with anticipation, only for Heeseung to deceivingly pull away at the last second.

“Please, Heeseung…please touch me, I just want to cum, I can’t take this anymore. I’ll do anything!”

With a slight chuckle, Heeseung humors you, leaning his body down closer to yours and dips one of his fingers down, lightly petting the tops of your folds.

The small touch makes you shiver, your hips bucking up towards his hand. The amount of juices he accumulates on his fingers in a short amount of time exposes exactly how needy you feel. 

“Only because you asked so nicely.” And with that said, Heeseung's fingers glide past your folds with a heavenly amount of pressure, soaking in your sweet juices. Your head falls back against your bed and you wish you could sink in deeper; into the bed, the room, into him. He's murmuring something in your ears, but your mind is too focused on what's happening to your body, there's not enough mental capacity in there to comprehend words at the moment. The urge to reach out to him and feel his skin against the palm of your hand spurs deep in your chest, but not strong enough to act upon. Instead, you let your eyes flutter shut, sighing blissfully as he continues to massage and soothe your bud.

Heeseung continues a slow, sensual pace, one that you could arguably fall asleep to. It feels like every stress cell in your body slowly floats away with every stroke of his fingers.

"Just like that? Hmm?" You hear him say.

"Hmm?" You manage out, your voice sounding weak and far away.

"I just didn't think you would react to me that quickly. Or intensely."

You open your eyes and look at him. Heeseung is propped up on one elbow, his hand cradling his jawline. His other hand continues to make brushstroke movements in between your folds. He looks at your vagina with wonder, and like he has something more to say.

But you're too tired and enjoying him too much to ask.

Moments later, Heeseung is picking up speed, beckoning your undoing.

You don't feel ready to give up the warmth you feel with his touch, not ready to reach the top and climb back down.

You can’t take it anymore. The pressure building is too intense and you need something sturdy and stable to hold onto.

Screw his rules.

Grasping onto Heeseung's shoulder, your fingernails dig into him as you bite down on your bottom lip, fighting desperately at the orgasm crashing down on you.

"There you go, baby. That's it. Come undone on my fingers." Heeseung's sweet demeanor is long gone as he watches you with sinful eyes.

A small moan leaves your lips as you let go; your legs shake vigorously underneath Heeseung's grasp and you feel the painful twist of a muscle spasm deep in your hamstrings.

Short gasps are all you can manage in response, your mind feeling more awake than before.

And in that brief pause between ministrations, your mind increases its speed tenfold, your thoughts now clearer than ever.

This is your best friend you're laying in front of. The same guy you used to collect bugs with when you were younger, the same guy you were embarrassed in front of when he found out you started wearing a training bra.

And you just came in front of him.

"I'm so sorry, Heeseung!" you cry out, sitting up quickly and burying your face in your hands as you fight back hot tears from falling down your cheeks. "We can forget this ever happened."

Heeseung is quiet behind you as you imagine yourself shrinking into a spec of nothing.

Then, tenderly, his hand is on top of yours, coaxing it away from your face. And you let him do it.

Heeseung holds your hands in his, rubbing his thumb across your knuckles before whispering, "Did I do something wrong?"

Immediately you want to scream no, but your words catch in your throat as you look at him. Heeseung’s bottom lip is jutting out slightly and he's avoiding your eyes as he continues to try and comfort you. And then you remember that this isn’t some random stranger. You know him. You know him more than anyone, hell, sometimes you know him more than you know yourself. And right now, this Heeseung in front of you is just as embarrassed and emotional as you are.

"No," you say bravely reaching out to press your palm to his cheek, turning his face towards yours, "I don't regret it at all. I'm sorry, I just-" you sigh and lean back, struggling to find the right words to say while fighting against your own embarrassment, "-I just never thought we would get to this point. And to hear you say all those things you were saying? I just don't understand. Why didn't you ever tell me? Why me to begin with?" That's when you realize where all of this insecurity of yours is coming from. Heeseung has been with gorgeous people in the past, gorgeous, successful people. And the thought of him liking you? It must feel like a step down for him.

But the way his face softens as he sighs, bringing your hand back up to his face, has you second guessing your initial judgment of him.

"It's always been you, Y/n. Ever since we first met. How could I ever for a second not want to be with you? You're my best friend, the person I go to for comfort. And because of that, I was always afraid to tell you about my feelings. Because just being in your life as your friend and your roommate, that was more than enough for me. And this doesn't have to go anywhere if you don't want it to be. But…truthfully, I want it to go somewhere. Hell, Y/n, I want to be with you. But if you don't want to be with me like that? I'll be okay."

His words swirl around your body, not quite processing into complacent thoughts. There are about a million different emotions coursing through your veins, and each one is battling to come to surface. 

It feels selfish, the position he’s put you in. Because now, it’s all on you. Your choice will determine how your relationship with Heeseung changes forever. And, let’s be real, no matter what happens after this moment, things will never be the same. The weight of that realization is pushing you down into the mattress you sit on. You’ve avoided thinking about your best friend in this way for so long it’s hard to tell if what you’re feeling has always been there or just here temporarily, clouded by the high of a mind-blowing orgasm.

On the other hand, there’s excitement, joy, happiness, relief all bundled into one giant heart floating around you. Your best friend, the person you’ve been attached to for over a century now, is confessing his feelings for you.

It’s time to be honest with yourself.

You’ve been in love with him this whole time.

Heeseung waits patiently while you figure out exactly what to say, playing with your fingers and tracing unknown shapes across your hand in the meantime.

You’re too tired for words, too tired for thoughts, too tired for almost everything it seems. 

Well, everything, except…

You lean forward slowly, placing your weight on your hands as you close the space between you and Heeseung and place a tender kiss on his lips.

Heeseung sighs and closes his eyes, putting your hand over his heart and completely melts into your touch.

How could you not do the same?

All of the tiredness, all of the frustrations from before Heeseung entered your bedroom, it was all worth it to get to this moment. And you’d go through it every night for the rest of your life if it meant you got to kiss him just like this.

The kiss deepens quickly, your mouths moving with an intensity you’ve never experienced before. Without thinking, you let your body take full control, not second-guessing any natural movement. So you let your hand find its way to the nape of Heeseung’s hair, delicately pulling at the ends until his neck is forced back and a moan ripples through his throat. It was so unexpected and out of character, but you like having this control.

It doesn’t last long, though. Heeseung quickly comes to his senses and knocks you onto your back, pushing you with one hand on your chest. He chuckles low and menacingly, his eyes staring deep into yours.

“What did I say about touching?” His voice is so low you swear you can feel it rumbling in your chest.

Heeseung doesn’t allow you enough time to answer. Before you can even open your mouth, his tongue is attached to your lips.

But not the lips on your face.

Your eyes immediately roll back as his tongue writes beautiful nothingness against your cunt and you desperately want to reach out and grip his hair again. Thinking there’s a possibility he wouldn’t notice, you reach and tangle your fingers in his locks. Almost immediately, your hand is batted away with a low warning growl from Heeseung as he continues to work his tongue against your sensitive bud. You groan in protest, but obey, somehow able to restrain yourself and settle for gripping the sheets instead.

The tongue movements start slow, but it seems you’re not the only impatient one here, despite what he may have said earlier. Heeseung picks up speed as he laps up your juices, his hand snaking up to insert a few digits inside you. His other hand is gripping one of your hips, his entire forearm pressing against your pelvic bone, holding you into place. His grip on you only seems to make your body want to shake more.

“You that close already, baby?” Heeseung lifts his head up for a moment, your juices glistening on his mouth, cheekbones and the tip of his nose. It seems like a sight you would only have in your dreams. It’s hard to believe this is happening in real life.

“Answer me,” he commands, eyes narrowing, but there’s a tinge of softness behind his words.

“I can’t help it.” You pant out, “Been building up all these years now. I could have come just by you touching my shoulder.”

Heeseung chuckles at this, slowly pumping his fingers in and out of you.

“You can cum whenever you want, baby. I’m not going to stop you,” he says casually.

Almost...too casually.

But you don’t think twice, you’re too tired to think twice. Quiet moans slip past your lips and Heeseung takes that as his cue. His fingers move faster, scissoring inside your body as his nose brushes against your clit.

It’s almost too easy to come undone.

White hot heat spreads throughout your body as everything around you starts to shake. Heeseung is watching you with careful eyes as you orgasm the fastest you’ve ever orgasmed in your life.

Your breathing only gets heavier as you come back from your high. But then, a blissful pain makes your thigh muscles jolt, a new wave of uncontainable cries escape you.

“I said I wouldn’t stop you if you wanted to cum,” Heeseung devilishly proclaims, his fingers moving faster than ever inside you, “but that didn’t mean I was gonna stop.”

Your eyes shut tight as you pull at the sheets gripped tightly in your hands, too afraid to speak because of the moans you’re currently swallowing back. Small whimpers make it out as you desperately try to focus on anything other than the torture you’re going through.

“Aw, don’t be like that, baby,” Heeseung coos, focusing almost all of his attention on your clit now. “Let it all out. I want to hear that pretty voice of yours. Tell me how good I make you feel.”

There are no logical thoughts left in your brain. All you know is that you’re desperately exhausted and it’s taking too much of your energy to fight against the natural cries your body wants to release as this overstimulation continues.

So, you let go.

“Fuck!” you finally cry out, your chest rising and falling quicker than ever as the moans release deep from within you, “That feels so good! I’m gonna come again- I’m gonna- I’m gonna-”

A small scream is all you can manage as the pressure in your core finally releases. You thought your previous orgasm was intense? Nothing will ever be able to top this one.

“Damn that was fucking sexy.” Heeseung stands and wipes his face with the back of his hand.

Your legs are still trembling and it feels like every muscle in your body is frozen in place. Warm liquid coats your inner thighs and drips down onto your sheets.

“Did I just…?” You ask with shock. Heeseung chuckles and nods his head, walking towards your door. He pauses with one hand on the doorframe, looking back at you with a proud smile.

“Hell yeah you did. Have you ever squirted before?”

“No, never,” you whisper, but Heeseung is already out of the room. Your eyes flutter shut, sleep threatening to finally take over.

Heeseung returns with a towel, throwing it so it lands right beside you.

“Goodnight, babygirl,” he whispers, leaning in to kiss your forehead.

“Wait!” You call out just as he reaches the doorway. “What about you?” You point at his very obvious erection.

Heeseung waves you off casually, “We’ll have plenty more nights of fun in the future. But for now, sleep. Don’t worry about me.” He winks. “I can take care of myself just fine. Get some rest. Goodnight, Y/n.”

Before Heeseung even closes the door, your eyes are shut, sleep finally welcoming you into its arms.

a/n: thank you for reading! i hope you enjoyed :] if you did please reblog and leave a comment!

© all rights reserved. do not copy, modify, translate, or repost. jayparked 07/30/24

[bbystark]

chimichanga tuesday

deadpool x stark!reader

summary: reader finds herself slightly jealous over Vanessa and Wade's previous relationship. based on this request

a/n: mdni. requests are open! i did not proofread whoops but enjoy! requests are open btw ;)

When Wade first brought up the idea of bringing you to his Chimichanga Tuesdays at Blind Al’s, you were over the moon. This was a big step for you guys and the relationship you had yet to put a title on. He had excitedly started listing the names of everyone that would be there, Colossus, Negasonic “whateverthefuck”, Blind Al, Vanessa- a wave of nausea went through you when he said her name. You weren’t the jealous type, you really weren’t, but the dude put himself through death-defying torture to live for this woman. It was hard not to feel threatened. Besides, who the fuck stays friends with an ex? It blew your mind. 

You knew about their entire history, Wade had told you a few months into hooking up. He didn’t seem to have any secrecy surrounding it, even going as far as to delve into their very active sex life (you had to tell him to shut up when he got to “a pegging christmas”). However, your own fear of his answers kept you from asking the most important one: did he still love her? Would he leave you if she decided she wanted him back? You felt so stupid. You were a Stark for God's sake, your ego should be untouchable. But alas, you actually strongly liked Wade. You were starting to head into that place where just thinking about him brought a stupid love-sick smile to your face. 

So yeah. You were a little jealous of Vannessa, and tonight was Chimichanga Tuesday. You were fucked. Both metaphorically and literally, being on your third Dirty Shirley within the hour. You were waiting for Wade to pick you up from your apartment, growing more and more nervous as time went on. You’re pulled from your thoughts when you hear the front door rattle, Wade bursting in with a stapler in hand. “Hey hot stuff! Sorry about the blood. Was running late to see your tight little ass and had to staple the toupee on the bus. Bumpy ride.” He makes his way over to you, tossing the stapler to the side and pulling you into a hug. “Hi Wade.” You melt into him. “When are you going to let me buy you lace glue for that thing?” You poke at a staple and he winces, grabbing your wrist gently. 

“Hey, the staples are very economically friendly. Not everyone has a disgustingly handsome father to inherit billions from.” He smiles at you, glancing around your apartment and seeing the large bottle of vodka sitting in the middle of your kitchen island. “Woah thirsty girl! You getting the party started already?” 

You suddenly feel ashamed, like a teen who got caught with a beer. “I’ve only had one.” He gives you a look. “Okay three!” He turns to the side and rolls his eyes to his imaginary audience. “We’re lucky she didn’t bring out the tequila. She gets real mean.” You shove him a little bit. “That was one time! It’s not that hard to say excuse me.” “Oh, I’m not mad sugarcakes. Watching you threaten to disembowel someone twice your size really got little Deadpool going. I am slightly concerned though. Broody and depressed alcoholics run in your family. What’s going on in that brain?” 

You open and close your mouth a few times, trying to find a response. You consider lying, but suddenly you feel a little light and stupid thanks to your last drink and the words tumble out of your mouth before you can stop them. 

“Do you still love Vannessa?” 

Wade freezes, a little shocked by the question. He’s silent for longer than he’s ever been and you’re scared you’ve gone too far. You’re about to apologize and take your words back  when he puts his finger over your lips and says “Give me two seconds for a dramatic flashback and careful introspection that will eventually lead to important character development.” You give him a strange look and he sighs. “Trust me, it’s very important to our plot.” 

Wade thinks really hard. He still loves Vannessa in his own fucked up way but he wasn’t in love with her anymore. He knew she still loved him too, but in the same way an owner can’t hate a pet that constantly bites them. Except Wade was a pet who got cancer and abandoned her, not to mention put her life on the line on multiple occasions (although to his credit, he did save her and the entire timeline). But to put it simply, somehow the two most fucked up people had the healthiest breakup ever. 

Even given the chance, Wade knows he wouldn’t go back to Vannessa because it could never be the same. Wade used to painfully long for his past before seeing a motivational poster that said “keep chugging along” with a creepy looking animated train. Then it really clicked for him. Vannessa wasn’t his happy ending, even though she had given him many in the past. If he had chosen to stay with her instead of being a lab rat for Francis St. Fuck, she would have been. But is dying of cancer and leaving the woman you love alone for the rest of her life a happy ending? He realized that if he kept looking to the past, he would forget that he had created his own weird little family, even if it wasn’t what he originally planned. He would also forget that he has a smoking hot girl in front of him that he’s quickly growing more attached to. 

Wade has been quiet and staring directly at a wall for a long time, and it’s starting to really freak you out. “Wade..?” You try gently. He snaps out of it, shaking his head and laughing a little. “Jeez these flashbacks just keep getting longer and longer, like hello that’s what sequels are for.” You stay silent, looking at him expectantly. “Oh right!” He moves closer to you, taking your hands in his.

“Yes. Yes I do still love Vannessa.” your heart drops, and you quickly pull your hands from his. 

“What the fuck Wade?” 

“No! Wait let me finish, I do still love her, but not like I did. She used to be my everything, the only reason I lived and then later, the reason I tried killing myself but that’s beside the point- what I’m trying to say is that she’s my past. And I get us still being friends is like, totally not the norm but I promise there’s nothing there anymore. I just, care about her I guess. But I don’t want to keep letting my past get in the way of things that are happening now.” He looks you in the eye for the last part, and you almost tear up at the sight of The Wade Wilson being serious for once, and to you of all people. You take a few seconds before replying. 

“I know she’s a huge part of your very unconventional life, and I don’t want to get all psycho and say that I don’t want you to see her because really, I truly don’t mind. Just kind of had a jealous monster take over for a second. I’m sorry.” You give him a shy smile. 

“Hey, I’m just surprised you still haven’t realized you’re fucking an avacado’s abortion. That’s a win in my book.” You both laugh and you take his face in your hands gently, smiling. You don’t really have much to say, you still feel silly, even more so that he’s essentially calmed all your insecurities. So you just stare at him, the drinks in your system letting your fingers dance across his face, just taking all of him in. Wade can’t handle it. 

“I think I like you.” He blurts out. He cringes, he can’t believe he just confessed like a middle schooler. “Bad Deadpool.” he whispers to himself. 

You laugh and then bring his face to yours for a clumsy kiss. “I think I like you too. Avocado abortion face and all.” You kiss him again, slower this time, trying to avoid the staples poking out of his scalp when you place your hand on his neck. He pulls away slowly, eyes still closed. “Good Deadpool.”

[sunshineonashelf]

"oh but it was satisfying! izzy went on a healing journey and got to die happy!"

again i'm very sorry for being feral about an old man named izzy hands. but i am NOT SATISFIED

(1) the whole point of izzy's healing journey is that he learns to be okay with being himself and being queer and being a part of a community that genuinely loves him. and learning who he is outside of who he has to be in a toxic relationship. he doesn't have to bear ed's burdens anymore and he SLOWLY learns that's okay and that he doesn't have to stay that same person.

only to die when he FINALLY internalizes all of it!! the whole point of his healing was that he learned to change and be loved for who he is!! and then he died after only getting to experience it for maybe 20 minutes!! i don't care that him sailing off into the sunset with the rest of them wouldn't have been closure, because it would have been a much better ending to his story.

(2) it is NOT SATISFYING that his LAST WORDS were basically to further ED'S story arc. he literally dies reassuring ed that his found family loves him when the whole point of the story was that the found family loves IZZY. it was a very sweet moment and yes ed deserved to hear it and yes i did cry over him calling them ed's family but damn. he STILL HAD TO CARRY ED'S BURDENS. his death scene was not about him at all.

it's very sweet that ed and stede stayed with him but the whole point of izzy's journey was that he doesn't have to be a piece in ed's story and now he has to be just a piece in ed's story forever??

(and yes i'm a slut for edizzy so i did appreciate what they were doing. yes it was very special. yes i sobbed. but JESUS was it upsetting now that i'm actually thinking about it.)

(3) he could have lived and it would NOT have undermined anything else. he could have been dying and telling ed the same things and it would have been just as meaningful if he had lived. imagine an ending scene where he's almost dying, says all that stuff, then is brought to a bed to recover. it cuts to the exact same wedding scene and stede/ed scene with the house and the crew being happy. then it cuts back to izzy waking up and smiling or something and that's the last shot.

stede and ed would still have their happy ending and it would have been JUST AS meaningful if izzy had lived and gone off on the revenge. if not MORE so because then there's the aspect of izzy finally being happy with himself and being okay with stede and ed's relationship and being okay with distancing himself from them!! when he says dying is what he wants it's literally that same sentiment, just cheap and rushed and UNSATISFYING.

(4) the entire beautiful fucking unicorn metaphor they spent the whole first part of the season developing is totally tossed out the window!! izzy becomes the literal figurehead and protector and guiding light of the revenge in a metaphor that could not have been more obvious. and he is HAPPY ABOUT IT. he GENUINELY SMILES and CRIES about it. it is what he WANTS TO DO and it made NO SENSE that he said he was ready to go. what was the point of all of that if they were just going to kill him and not let him actually do that duty in the way he wanted. he only got to be the figurehead when it meant protecting everyone from ed.

(5) this is maybe a silly argument but it literally would not have been unrealistic if he survived. like a week prior he got shot then got his leg cut off then shot himself in the head, then walked upstairs in the middle of a hurricane hours later. and was fine. by the show's logic he could have been fine from ONE bullet wound to the side. what the hell happened to "indestructible little fucker"!

tl;dr izzy was very special to me for reasons that would constitute another 700 word post and he was done so FUCKING dirty by that literal TEN MINUTE scene that went against everything we've been doing the entire season (AND SHOW AS A WHOLE) so far

[raestarz]

A Different Type of Studying

A/N: Sorry this took so long, your girl was burnt out after playing RE4, gonna feed y’all two (or more) parts of this. And hopefully chapter 7 of rookie hour and a sneak peek of 8

Word Count: 1.7k

The night before midterms.

You knew exactly what happened during midterms, all the dumb girls who didn’t pay attention during class would come crawling to Leon asking for help. Since he was such an all around guy every girl came to him, literally and metaphorically. You sighed as you knew you wouldn’t have your studying interrupted by your best friend no matter how much you applauded him for his knack for pulling in women almost as quickly as their panties dropped for him. You exited out of your bedroom going over to Leon’s room where the two of you shared a wall.

“Leon?” You asked and knocked on his door.

Leon opened up the door with a grin leaning against the doorframe propping himself up leaning his hand against his forehead, and in the corner of your eye on his desk you could spot the basket of condoms.

“Are you here to ask for tutoring help before the midterms too?” He asked with a teasing smirk, you rolled your eyes at him.

“No, I’m just here to remind you of our contract,” you corrected him with a smug smile and he groaned tilting his head back he turned sitting on his desk chair.

“So what torture is it this time?” Leon asked with a sarcastic tone of voice.

“No this time is different, this time I’m interested in someone this time around,” you admitted sheepishly shifting your feet, looking at him and see Leon slowly put the pieces together.

“Oh ho ho, you dirty girl! You want me to help you get laid?” He asked with a laugh, you rolled your eyes at him looking away.

“Look! I’m only asking because you know yourself and the guy I’m interested in,” you explain putting your hands on your hips.

Leon gasps dramatically and has a devilish grin on his face, “Is it who I think it is?” He asks raising a brow.

“Don’t say a word to him.”

“Oh, I won’t, I just can’t wait to help you, you know [Name] I knew you were bound for slutty greatness.” Leon sighed with a grin putting his hand to his chest like a proud mother which in turn you rolled your eyes at.

“Please for the love of God, stop before I blow my brains out.” You retort with another eye roll, shifting your feet walking over to his bed and sitting on it.

Leon grew serious and smiled at you softly, “So first things first, you’re already beautiful so you should never have to change yourself for a guy. Okay, [Name]?” You nodded in return, he continued, “There is a party tonight, so wear your sluttiest clothes.” He grinned.

“Okay…Any help like you know help me get laid?” You asked slowly as if he was brain dead. Leon rolled his eyes in return, “I’m getting to that part, tonight is a test run and tomorrow I teach you physicality. Let’s just promise not to…do that cliche movie shit in your books,” He teased and then held his hand out for you to shake which you did.

“Good, now that we have that settled, get your ass up and get ready to shake it at that party. Bring back the party girl [Name] from high school!” Leon cheered and you nodded, feeling honestly excited and overwhelmed for this party it was nearly nighttime already. You got up from his bed and did a little jog to your room, going to get ready for the party.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Leon knocked on your door impatiently, just as you were about to get up from your vanity, “I’m coming, I’m coming, damn.” You mutter as you fixed your heels and walked over to the door opening it, giving Leon a little pose.

Leon’s eyes widened before he gave you a small smile, in the back of his mind, he knew the guy that you liked, Aaron didn’t deserve not a single chance with you. And his silly middle school felt like it was rushing back to him, Leon had to remember he was done liking you romantically shaking his head slightly as you snap him back to reality.

“So…?” You draw out giving him a 360 turn, “Do you not like it? Is it too much?” You ask nervously, not caring for Leon’s approval but caring for it as he was your best friend.

“Oh yeah, it’s great, Aaron will love it.” Leon emphasized with his brows raised, you smiled at him.

He looked good too, smelled even better especially.

Wait, why’re you thinking that?

“Well you don’t look too bad yourself,” You said with a smile, taking in his short sleeved maroon shirt and black cargo pants with matching black Nikes.

You patted his cheek teasingly, “Don’t look like your mom dressed you for once,” you laugh as you put on some setting spray and your perfume.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

As you two arrive at the party a chorus of “Hello’s” sound out as people notice you and Leon. Mostly Leon since he’s more well known considering his friend group known as the ‘saviors‘. It’s okay though you were friends with them too, you waved at Chris, Jill and Claire before going over to the well proclaimed dance floor.

Looking over the crowd for Aaron, Leon already left your side to go talk to his friends. You smiled as you finally reached Aaron, “Hey, Aaron.”

Aaron quickly turned around as soon as he heard your voice, smiling at you, “Hey [Name], didn’t know you liked to party.” You shrug nervously, suddenly feeling self conscious of your dress as he eyed you. “Yeah, Leon dragged me out.” You laughed and suddenly wished your best friend was with you again.

Aaron nodded with a smile, “Well do you wanna dance?” He suggested and you nodded eagerly, he reached out his hand and suddenly you were dancing with him, you felt confident in that moment like you were getting somewhere with your crush.

He kept his hands on your hips as you two danced to the music and you two flowed perfectly till Leon came over, “Hey Aaron, can I borrow my best friend for a dance?” You immediately whipped your head toward Leon and raised a brow as if to question what the hell he was doing.

Aaron looks between you two and shrugs before going over to his group of friends, as he walks away you glare at Leon and he smiles at you. “Why would you do that?” You ask.

“Men are simple creatures, make him jealous and he’ll want you more.” Leon smiles as he grabs your hips and you can feel your body beat up, “Let’s drink a bit, yeah?” You sputter out looking away from Leon and he nods, grabbing your hand to take you over to get some drinks.

You drink about three shots with Leon, to give yourself some liquid courage, you can’t even tell why you feel so nervous about dancing with Leon. But you swallow down that feeling you turn your head and look at Leon, his eyes meet yours and he gives you a playful smile.

“Ready to go dancing?” He asks, propping his head up on his hand as he leans against the counter, you nod, taking one more shot. You grab his hand leading him over to the dance floor, the both of you giggling. The perfect song plays on the dance floor and you and Leon are in perfect sync practically predicting the other's dance moves.

He rested his hands on your hips turning you around your back against his chest as you two slowly danced along to the music, Leon’s hands traveling down feeling you up before finally resting on your waist, and honestly you didn’t mind it.

It was just helping you make Aaron jealous and hopefully like you more, right?

Right.

The song finally ended and the liquid courage with it, you suddenly wanted to go home and as Leon let go of you, you wanted his hands back on you again. God damn, he looked good. Leon took you back over to where you two previously were drinking.

“Ready to go?” He asked, raising a brow, you nodded with a smile.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

As the two of you got back to your shared apartment you immediately took your heels off sighing softly.

“God I forgot how it felt to go out and go to parties again…” You sighed rolling your shoulders, Leon hummed in acknowledgment. Taking your heels out of your hand gently and putting them on the shoe rack along with his shoes.

“Yeah, did you have a good time?” Leon asked with a smile as the two of you sat on your guys’ couch. “Yeah definitely, it was a great time all around,” you grinned and rested your legs across Leon’s which he immediately started to massage your feet making his way up your legs, his eyes met yours every so often to make sure you were okay.

You leaned back onto a pillow on the couch stretching slightly, “I just had the funniest idea,” you started. “Oh? What’s that?” Leon asked, pausing slightly as he was massaging your calves.

You laughed slightly, “What if you took my virginity? To help my pre-sex jitters before doing it with Aaron…” You explained sitting up looking at Leon. “What do you say?” You asked as you watched Leon’s face seeing as he thought all of this over.

“I would say you’re drunk and need to sleep,” He laughed jokingly pushing your head back onto the couch. “I’m being serious!” You huffed pouting slightly but on the inside you knew you were definitely drunk and definitely a lightweight because you had some drinks before you left the party.

“Uh-huh, sure you are. Go to sleep [Name]. Talk to me about it tomorrow.” Leon suggested and when he turned his head you were suddenly asleep, he shook his head with a small laugh grabbing the folded comforter off the couch laying it over your asleep body turning you to your side. Grabbing the trash can from the bathroom, water, tylenol, gatorade and saltine crackers. Placing them all in their proper spots before kissing your forehead and going to his own room for bed.

[bambirex]

Me And Mr. Wolf

Pairing: Geraskier

Characters: Jaskier/Dandelion, Geralt of Rivia

Rating: explicit

Category: m/m

Additional tags: plot what plot/porn without plot, porn with a little bit of plot, sexual tension, resolved sexual tension, roleplay, light dom/sub, doggy style, horny Jaskier/Dandelion, horny Geralt of Rivia, dirty talk, spanking, biting, possessive behavior, rough sex, breeding kink, wolf instincts, (not literally but you'll see), anal fingering, jaskier basically writes smut fanfiction and then gets to experience it, coming untouched

Word count: 3,861

Chapters: 1/1

Summary: Geralt looked at him differently, with an emotion in his amber eyes that Jaskier couldn’t quite decipher, but it looked like hunger. And Jaskier tried to signal to him that it was okay to act upon his desires (if they existed at all, of course), but all his attempts were futile. The tension, the lingering glances and touches remained, and Jaskier felt like tearing his own hair out every day.

(...)

All his frustrations oozed onto the piece of paper before him. That was the only way to truly let it all out, by making up an unabashedly horny song using his typical metaphors. It wasn’t as if anyone would ever hear it; this wasn’t the kind of song Jaskier would have ever played in front of a crowd. That was just for him, only he would know who the big bad wolf and the needy bunny of the lyrics were.

Well, Geralt would probably know, too, what with him living his life with the “white wolf” title plastered to him, and the fact he once fondly said that if Jaskier would be an animal, he would definitely be an over-energetic rabbit.

Lucky that Geralt would never find that song.

Author's notes: What the hell is this, I hear you ask. I don't know either. I had a nasty idea and I jumped onto it. Please, check the tags before reading!!!! Comments are super appreciated, but hate commenters will get their kneecaps stolen! (I'll also be very sad and I'll let you know and make you feel embarrassed, so just don't, please)

I don't know how dicks work so you just have to accept whatever I wrote here lol

Read on Ao3

It was a silly song, really.

Sillier than most of Jaskier’s little jaunty songs about horny daughters of fishmongers, or that ridiculous sea shanty about a drunken selkie man.

Jaskier was usually a fine poet; he appreciated the beauty in the world around him and he made sure to translate those into his songs via decorative metaphors. He poured his joy, his heartbreak and his anger into his creations, touching the hearts of many who listened to them and who needed an outlet for their own feelings.

But, he had other emotions besides the most obvious ones that a songwriter usually penned down, very pent-up and frustrating ones that made him grab the bottle of ink one day and write a ridiculous story, which then grew into a very confusing lyrics of a song.

Jaskier and Geralt has been dancing around each other for months, and it was slowly driving Jaskier crazy. Now, he didn’t even know if the witcher liked men, but his behavior was certainly very strange. His touches lingered on longer as he rested his big hand on the small of Jaskier’s back when he escorted him out of a crowded tavern, or when he gently patted him down to check for injuries after Jaskier once again foolishly got caught up in the middle of a hunt. When he walked past Jaskier, his body always brushed into his, even when there was plenty of place.

Sure, these all could have just been the signs of Geralt finally growing more comfortable around the bard and letting himself open up to the possibility of a friendship, but Jaskier enjoyed making up conspiracy theories, especially if it involved his own feelings for his companion. He’s been aching for Geralt since the day he’s laid his eyes on him in the tavern at Posada, and it has only gotten worse the more time they’ve spent together. Jaskier’s heart- and other parts of his body – wanted and needed Geralt so badly, of course he couldn’t help but hope when Geralt’s behavior towards him changed.

There was only one catch, namely, that even though it seemed like Geralt had become more physically affectionate, he still refused to verbalize his needs, or act on them in a more explicit way. Which left Jaskier endlessly second-guessing what this all meant, drinking up these small moments and always craving more. He couldn’t help but notice this strange tension between them whenever they were close to each other. Something heavy has been hanging in the air around them for a while now, fizzling like cracks of lightning, waiting to blow out into a storm. Geralt looked at him differently, with an emotion in his amber eyes that Jaskier couldn’t quite decipher, but it looked like hunger. And Jaskier tried to signal to him that it was okay to act upon his desires (if they existed at all, of course), but all his attempts were futile. The tension, the lingering glances and touches remained, and Jaskier felt like tearing his own hair out every day.

Not even furiously jerking off each night thinking of Geralt’s hands on his body helped. Jaskier’s body was pulled tight like the strings on his lute, ready to snap.

All his frustrations oozed onto the piece of paper before him. That was the only way to truly let it all out, by making up an unabashedly horny song using his typical metaphors. It wasn’t as if anyone would ever hear it; this wasn’t the kind of song Jaskier would have ever played in front of a crowd. That was just for him, only he would know who the big bad wolf and the needy bunny of the lyrics were.

Well, Geralt would probably know, too, what with him living his life with the “white wolf” title plastered to him, and the fact he once fondly said that if Jaskier would be an animal, he would definitely be an over-energetic rabbit.

Lucky that Geralt would never find that song.

Once he was done, Jaskier shoved the paper deep into his bag. He barely even skimmed the lyrics to check if it was coherent at all. His cheeks felt warm, and there was a growing tightness in his pants by the time he was finished. Fuck it all, he thought. He may never be fucked by Geralt, but he could always write down his lustful fantasies using flower language.

--

“I brought an apple for Roach, but I can’t find it for the life of me!” Jaskier groaned as he patted down his clothes, checking every pocket for the ripe fruit. “She’s gonna hate me now.”

“She doesn’t know you were gonna bring her anything,” Geralt replied calmly from the tree trunk he was sitting on, cleaning his sword. “She can’t read minds.”

“Still, it’s so embarrassing,” Jaskier huffed, “I’m trying to impress a lady here, and I’m failing!”

“Isn’t that just the usual story of your life?”

“That was a low blow,” Jaskier murmured under his nose. He rummaged through his bag, but there was still no sight of the apple. “Ah, shit. I think it might be in my other bag.”

Geralt sighed, then reached down for the embroidered bag by his feet. “This one?”

“My hero,” Jaskier cooed, fluttering his eyelashes at him. “I know I can always count on you, my dear.”

Was that a blush on Geralt’s cheeks, or was this a cruel game Jaskier’s eyes played on him?

“You would lose your own head if it wasn’t attached to your neck,” Geralt grumbled as he opened Jaskier’s bag, reaching inside to shorten the process a little bit. He knew that if he’d let Jaskier continue his frantic search, the apple would never see the light of day.

By that time, Jaskier had completely forgotten about the song he wrote a couple days prior, about him and Geralt fucking, disguised as animals. He didn’t even recognize the piece of paper in Geralt’s hand.

It took several moments of heavy silence and seeing Geralt’s eyes widening as he read whatever was written on the paper for Jaskier to realize that it was his horny-frustration song Geralt was reading.

He practically flew over to Geralt to try and snatch it out of his hands, but Geralt was faster, rising from the trunk and holding the paper out of Jaskier’s reach. Jaskier desperately jumped up for it, panic swirling in his chest.

“You wrote a new song,” Geralt stated. His voice was calm as usual, but there was also something else to it. Jaskier didn’t know what it was, but it made chills run down his spine.

“It’s shitty, just a silly little thing,” Jaskier said, forcing out a laugh. He could feel his face flaming, and he was pretty sure Geralt could see it. “I was gonna throw it away. Did you find the apple?”

“The lyrics is interesting,” Geralt said, his eyes drifting back to the paper. He licked his lips, slowly. Jaskier watched his tongue, his own mouth running dry.

“Why would the bunny want to be fucked by a wolf, and not another bunny? Why does he want the wolf so bad?”

“Since when are you so interested in my, I quote, ‘empty nonsense sang by my fillingless pie of a voice’? It’s just a song, Geralt,” Jaskier scoffed. He made another attempt at reaching for the paper, but he was stopped by Geralt’s hand around his wrist. He had a strong grip, not enough to hurt him, but enough to make him halt. Jaskier swallowed thickly, trying to ignore the way his whole body heated up by Geralt’s touch.

Geralt’s eyes darkened as he looked at him. He stepped closer. Jaskier wasn’t all that shorter than him, but right now, it felt like Geralt was towering over him. It made Jaskier feel small and weak, in a way that was equal amounts intimidating and thrilling.

“The bunny seems very frustrated,” Geralt continued. Jaskier felt his breath on his face. He had to bite down on his lower lip to stifle a whimper.

“Poor thing is constantly humping the ground. Why doesn’t he just tell the wolf he wants to be fucked?”

Something about the way he asked that question, and how his pupils dilated, made Jaskier realize they weren’t really talking about the song anymore. Geralt may have been oblivious, but not this much. He clearly understood the metaphors, and now he was giving Jaskier the chance to explain himself. He needed to take this risk: he would either majorly embarrass himself by misinterpreting this whole situation, or he could finally get what he wanted and put an end to this weird tension between them.

“He keeps telling him,” Jaskier said, his voice wavering slightly. “Maybe not outright saying it, but he keeps giving signs. The wolf is just dense.”

Geralt chuckled. “Is that so?”

“He keeps looking at the bunny hungrily, but doesn’t do anything about it,” Jaskier bit his lip, daring to move a little closer himself, until their noses nearly brushed. Geralt didn’t move away. “It’s driving the bunny crazy.”

“Maybe he just wants to eat the bunny. A wolf is a predator, after all.”

“He would have already done that, then. He’d had plenty of opportunities, but he’d never hurt the bunny. He keeps letting the bunny follow him everywhere he goes, and sometimes it almost seems like he likes him. Am I wrong about that?”

Geralt hummed. There was a small smile playing on his lips, barely there, but it still gave Jaskier hope.

“I think you may be right,” Geralt replied. He gently run his thumb across the vein in Jaskier’s wrist, making him shiver. “But maybe the wolf isn’t dense, he’s just never met such an eager bunny before.”

“Are you saying that the big bad wolf is afraid of the tiny bunny?” Jaskier grinned cheekily, unable to help himself. The unexpected slap on his ass made the air in his lungs hitch, and his cock stir in his pants.

“Maybe the bunny should be more careful around the wolf,” Geralt growled. Impossibly, his voice went even deeper. It made Jaskier tremble with need. He didn’t even try to hide the quiet moan that fell from his lips, this time.

“The wolf could destroy him.”

“He wants to be destroyed,” Jaskier breathed. Daringly, he took Geralt’s hand and placed it back on his bum, sighing in bliss when Geralt squeezed it. “He’s been dreaming about it for long months, haven’t you read the lyrics?”

“He wants to be impaled on the wolf’s cock,” Geralt read the line, a teasing edge to his voice. “He wants the wolf to re-arrange his guts.”

“Okay, probably not my finest lines,” Jaskier cringed, “but sue me… I mean, the bunny. He’ll die if he doesn’t get to feel the wolf’s huge dick inside him.”

With a deep, guttural growl, Geralt dropped the paper, then surged forward and smashed his lips against Jaskier’s. His fingers dug into his buttocks through the material of his trousers possessively as he licked into Jaskier’s mouth, his tongue slipping past his lips, coaxing his mouth open. Jaskier obeyed him willingly, moaning as Geralt’s teeth dug into his lower lip.

His own hands flew up, desperately tugging at Geralt’s hair. He pressed his body closer to him, grinding himself against Geralt’s pelvis. He gasped in delight when he felt the hardness in Geralt’s trousers pressing back against him.

This was really happening, that part of his brain that was still able to make coherent thoughts, reminded him. Finally, finally, Geralt understood the message. Jaskier wished it didn’t happen through his embarrassing mess of a song, but he gladly took what he could get.

Jaskier whimpered when Geralt pulled away, desperately chasing his lips. Geralt smirked, giving Jaskier another curt spank that had him arching into his touch.

“How does a male bunny go into heat, by the way?” Geralt laughed. Jaskier groaned, quickly shutting Geralt up with another kiss. He nipped at Geralt’s lower lip, enjoying the way Geralt’s hips shot forward in response.

“Is he still in heat?” Geralt pressed further. He moved to Jaskier’s neck, licking at where his pulse thrummed quickly. He took the pale skin between his teeth, making Jaskier let out a high-pitched whine as he marked him, sucking a deep blue bruise into his neck.

“Yeah,” Jaskier moaned, his aroused body deciding to stop feeling embarrassed about his ridiculous lines. He needed Geralt so badly, he felt like might actually truly die. His body felt like it was going to explode any second, and Geralt’s lips on his neck didn’t help. He swore under his breath as Geralt’s hot breath ghosted over the blooming bruises on his sensitive skin. He was being marked, being owned by Geralt – the sheer possessiveness of it all nearly sent him over the edge right there. He tilted his head back, exposing more of his throat. He was the perfect prey, and Geralt was the perfect predator.

The exact opposites of each other, and yet, that was exactly what made them work.

“The wolf needs to take care of it,” Jaskier panted as he rocked against Geralt’s body. “They ended up fucking in the song, Geralt…”

“Don’t worry,” Geralt drawled into his ear, his large hands travelling over Jaskier’s body, squeezing and pinching and caressing everywhere he could reach, “the wolf wants the bunny just as bad. He’s gonna fuck that little bunny within an inch of his life.”

That in itself nearly made Jaskier come into his pants. He cursed under his breath as he whipped around and fell to the ground onto his hands and knees, not caring the slightest about how ridiculous he must have looked like. His sheer need clouded every single rational thought inside his brain; there was no more shame, no more second-guessing. They wanted the same thing, and it was finally time to tangle up in each other after months of excruciating tension.

“That’s a very needy bunny,” Geralt chuckled behind him. Jaskier lifted his butt higher, wiggling it with a whimper.

“And that’s a very slow wolf,” he shot back, “I thought he said he wanted to fuck the bunny, so what is he waiting for!?”

Geralt slapped his ass again with a growl. Then again, and again, until Jaskier was a panting mess, desperately humping the ground like the bunny in the song. His ass stung with every slap, making Jaskier crave more of the delicious pain. He arched his back needily when Geralt yanked down his pants along with his underwear.

He heard the pop of a bottle opening, and immediately there was a cool, wet finger circling his entrance. He moaned at the realization that Geralt was carrying a certain oil with him, probably hoping to do this for a while now.

“The wolf needs to hurry up,” Jaskier hissed, “if he keeps playing, the bunny will hop onto a different wolf’s dick.”

Jaskier felt quite triumphant as Geralt growled again. He pressed his finger inside not too gently, the stretch burning just enough to make shivers run down Jaskier’s spine. He shut his eyes tight, rocking back against the finger inside him. The callouses on Geralt’s finger felt rough against his sensitive insides, making him keen. He spread his legs further apart, welcoming the second, then the third finger inside. Geralt scissored them, stretching him wide open. He rubbed that sensitive spot inside Jaskier, making him see stars.

“Please,” Jaskier moaned, canting his hips backwards, fucking himself on Geralt’s hand. “The wolf knows the bunny is in heat, he can’t keep making him wait…”

Just like that, Geralt removed his fingers. Jaskier mourned the loss of them for a couple seconds, until he heard the sound of Geralt unbuckling his belt behind him.

There was something so incredibly raw and animalistic in fucking like this, out in the open, with only their pants undone, too impatient to do much foreplay. The whole thing made Jaskier’s blood buzz inside his veins pleasantly; that was what he wrote about in the song, after all. The wolf fucking the living soul out of the bunny, taking him fast and rough, the way they both needed it.

Jaskier gasped as he felt the pressure of Geralt’s cock against his rim. He’s expected Geralt to be big – he hoped he was, even- but the reality of it made him tense up momentarily. He whimpered at the burning ache, clawing at the ground.

“Are we sure the bunny can handle it?” Geralt breathed against his neck, raising goosebumps all over Jaskier’s skin. “He might be too delicate to take the wolf.”

“He’s not,” Jaskier moaned. He took a deep breath and relaxed his muscles as much as he could. Slowly, the head of Geralt’s dick pushed inside. Jaskier’s eyes rolled back into his head as it stretched him, slowly but mercilessly pushing inside him. “Ah, fuck. He can take it, he needs it!”

Geralt caressed his bare hip gently as he buried himself to the hilt. He moved his hips gently at first, letting Jaskier get used to the stretch. Jaskier arched his back impatiently as the ache subsided, giving place to pleasure.

“Come on, now,” he groaned, wiggling on Geralt’s dick and making him swear, “the wolf is a wild animal, isn’t it? He should act like one!”

His voice died on a gasp as Geralt shoved his hips forward. Jaskier felt so full, stretched and owned in every way, and he fucking loved it. He gripped onto handfuls of grass, mouth falling open on loud moans as Geralt started pistoling into him, not holding back anymore.

“Is that what the bunny wants?” Geralt rasped, his fingers digging into Jaskier’s hips, hard enough to leave finger-shaped bruises there. His hips shot forward at a maddening speed, knocking the breath out of Jaskier’s lungs. “To be taken apart by the wolf?”

“Yes!” Jaskier screamed. He was surely going out of his mind. This was even better than what he imagined, better than the nasty little fantasy he wrote down: the reality of Geralt’s girth inside him, the delicious pain of being filled to the brim by him, the sound of his deep moans and their skin slapping against one another was beyond everything Jaskier has ever imagined. It was all so nasty, so absurd in a way that thrilled him to no end.

Geralt let go of his hips to drape himself across Jaskier’s back, his body covering his and pushing him further into the grass. He braced himself with his hands on the ground by Jaskier’s head, his hips thrusting in and out of him without any support – it really felt like they were a pair of wild animals coupling. Geralt growled, and Jaskier whined, their sounds creating a confusing, sinful orchestra.

Geralt tilted his hips and drove the head of his cock straight into Jaskier’s prostrate. Jaskier cried out, pushing his own hips back to meet Geralt halfway. There was a tiny string of drool dripping down his chin as he was getting fucked out of his mind, jaw hanging slack and eyes half-lidded in bliss.

“The wolf is going to come all over the bunny’s pretty bum,” Geralt whispered into his ear. He grinded himself into Jaskier’s sweet spot, making them both moan in unison. “Gonna show everyone who the bunny belongs to.”

That sounded wonderful, the idea of Geralt’s cum joining the decoration of bruises on his hips, but Jaskier had different ideas.

“No,” he whimpered, twisting his head to look back at Geralt. His witcher’s eyes were dark, his hair escaped his ponytail, messily framing his face. The strong, wild white wolf, so dangerously beautiful. And he was Jaskier’s.

“The bunny wants to be bred,” Jaskier moaned, face burning with his words that stumbled out of his mouth carelessly, his brain to mouth filter even flimsier now that he was mad with lust, all his darkest fantasies coming to life as he was coming apart, speared on his wolf’s cock.

“He wants to be bursting with the wolf’s seed.”

The sound that ripped out of Geralt’s chest would have been terrifying in any other situation. Right now, it made the heat coiling inside Jaskier’s belly flare up even more.

“The wolf’s gonna breed him full,” Geralt rumbled, driving himself impossibly deeper inside Jaskier, “gonna pump a litter into the bunny.”

By the gods and all the higher entities out there, this shouldn’t have been the sentence that made Jaskier blow his load with an embarrassingly loud, half-sobbing half-screaming moan- but then again, everything they’ve done today was so wrong in all the best ways, Jaskier shouldn’t have been surprised, really. His vision blurred for a couple moments as he spilled onto the ground beneath him, his body trembling and twitching with the force of his orgasm.

His hole tightened around Geralt, making Geralt practically howl as he desperately chased his own completion. He sunk his teeth into the back of Jaskier’s neck, biting down hard on the skin until Jaskier screamed, his spent cock twitching one more time as the wonderful pain exploded in his nerve endings.

Geralt kept his teeth around his neck as he fucked him, growling and hissing as he reached the edge. His hips stilled inside Jaskier, and he let out a shaky breath as he came deep inside him. Jaskier closed his eyes, his lips curling into a tired, but very pleased smile as Geralt emptied his load into him.

They stayed like this for a while, Geralt still inside him, panting against Jaskier’s back. He gently kissed over the bitemark on Jaskier’s neck, soothing the pain with his tongue. Jaskier sighed happily, a very pleasant exhaustion settling into his bones.

“And you say my songs don’t have power,” Jaskier chuckled tiredly, “how long do you think we would have kept this stupid façade up otherwise?”

Geralt hummed softly, kissing Jaskier on the cheek gently. Nowhere was the animalistic horniness now, seeping out of them as they both came down from their high.

“Your metaphors are incredibly on the nose,” Geralt murmured, “at least you could have made some effort and not make the wolf white, or the bunny brown with blue eyes.”

“Leave my horny song alone!” Jaskier whined. “That was my only outlet!”

“Not anymore,” Geralt grinned, gently cupping Jaskier’s jaw and making him turn his head to kiss him on the lips, sweetly, languidly, until Jaskier practically melted against his mouth.

“Not anymore,” Jaskier repeated with a dreamy sigh. He pecked Geralt on the lips one more time, before he patted his bicep with a smile. “Now, as much as I like how this all turned out, I think the big bad wolf should pull out of the little bunny now. We still haven’t found that apple for Roach.”

“Hmm. I thought the bunny would like to go for another round. He could show the wolf how well he can hop. On the wolf’s dick, maybe.”

Jaskier huffed out a laugh, but he didn’t have the heart to argue. Instead, he gently pushed Geralt off and flipped them around with a triumphant grin.

[kira-the-whump-enthusiast]

17

From this ask game :D

17. Manipulation/Gaslighting

Okay this took me really long lol. But it is!! Finished!!! Tbh Idk if this is exactly whump. I literally just. Okay I feel like this writing is a very straightfoward metaphor for depression. Like I'm just gonna say it. It's not whump in the traditional sense, I guess? It does include a sad girl tho so

Also tysm to @whump-queen and @whump-in-the-closet for beta reading this you guys are awesome >:)

Content: Severe depression, self-loathing, suicidality, death wish, lady whumpee with male whumper, toxic/abusive relationship

---

He's truly the sweetest, so reliable and caring. He whispers sweet nothings to her as they lie in bed together.

"You're just the worst."

"You're horrible. You're a disappointment."

"Why are you alive? You should have never been born."

She stares at her lover and sighs. The worst part is that she can't argue, can't shut out the words. His voice stings with utter, destructive truth.

Despite it all, they embrace tightly under the messy covers. She doesn't hold him, but his arms are wrapped around her, almost strangulatory. She's used to it. But does she want to be used to it? Does she even want this? She asks these questions, but it's not like it matters. Deep down, she knows the answer is no, but it doesn't matter. It has never mattered.

They'll be together forever, and every day his presence only gets more and more inescapable.

Making tired eye contact, she whispers to him, "Why do you do this to me?" The words fall from her lips, silent and resigned.

"You know I only say this because I love you. And I want what's best for you."

It doesn't feel like it. It has never felt like it.

Her eyes wander around the room. It's the middle of the day, but still dark inside her bedroom. The blinds are drawn and the lights are off. Discarded clothing, forgotten papers for work, and dirty paper plates litter the floor. The door is locked, although no one else is home. It's been locked for a week.

There's so much she needs to do that she hasn't been doing. "I have places to go," she laments to him.

"I know."

"Let me go, then," she pleads.

"It's not my fault that you can't get out of bed."

He grips her even tighter, nails digging into her flesh. She would be afraid her shirt would tear, if not for the fact that it's old and she hasn't changed in days.

"You're useless, huh? Stay here a while. It's less embarrassing. It's not like you could ever face them, anyways."

"I guess…."

They fall silent, no words exchanged, although her mind is running, running with thoughts that she has no energy to think about.

The silence is interrupted by her stomach growling. She clutches her abdomen with her hands.

"I'm hungry."

"But you don't deserve to eat."

He finishes her sentences. They're truly meant for each other.

"Are you tired, dear?' he asks her.

She nods. She's always tired. There aren't many times she's at full energy.

He runs a hand through her oily hair. "Go to sleep, then."

"I woke up an hour ago." But truth be told, she wished she could fall asleep. He's never there in her dreams. It's more than she could wish for when she's awake.

"Do you have anything else to do today?"

"I…."

Her eyes well up with tears.

"I want to."

"I want to read. I want to sing. I want to draw. I-I want to see my friends." Her voice cracks, but she doesn't care.

"Are you sure?" He cocks his head to the side.

"You're not good at those, anyways. And your friends don't really like you. I've told you this, haven't I?"

You're a dirty liar, is what she thinks, but in her heart of hearts, she doubts whether that's true.

"This is sad, isn't it? What a sad fucking life."

She can only nod in agreement. Because you make it like this, she thinks.

But… it's her fault too. She can't deny it, she knows it, she lives it. Every failure is simply her own responsibility.

She's a horrible artist, a horrible friend, a horrible daughter, and she's never been able to do anything right. She'll never escape anything she wants to escape. Everything weighs down on her so much--how the fuck is anyone supposed to live like this?

He grasps her hand tightly, pinning her down with his gaze. His eyes are empty except for sheer determination and poisoned love.

"Let's end this here."

"It'll be quick. It'll be easy. And then it'll be over. And then you can finally stop. You can stop being a bad person. And this is the closest to happiness you'll ever get."

It's tempting. It's so tempting. He makes this offer to her every day.

"Let me kill you."

She wants it. She wants it, right? But it terrifies her and makes her sick. It would be quick and it would be easy and that scares her. But she has to end it here. She has to end it because she doesn't know what else to do. Despite it all, she doesn't want it to end.

"No, please, no." Her voice is quiet. She shakes her head, tears falling down her cheeks.

He looks crestfallen.

"It'll be for the best."

"I don't want that. Not today. Please." It comes out as almost a whisper. She's petrified, glued to the bed with terror and self-loathing.

He sighs. He's not like most parasites. He can't kill her, not without her hands. It's the one mercy she has in this life. Or maybe it isn't? Maybe it'd be easier if she just died and didn't need to decide that.

"Okay. Maybe later," he concedes, words empty and disappointed.

She releases a breath she didn't even realize she was holding. She's alive. Today, she's alive, and she thinks that she wants that. She doesn't really want that. But she's too scared to want anything else.

He turns away from her, taking some of the blanket with him, and she's almost relieved.

She's not going to die. He won't kill her. Not today. Maybe one day.

But if she's lucky, maybe never. Maybe one day he'll even leave.

---

AN: Hope you guys enjoyed this! Also I'm mentally okay I promise

Consider this a Christmas gift to you all btw <2

[narcissa-black-supermacy]

i don't know how you can seriously ask me a question like that bc i think that after you, the person who's the most unhinged about this fic is me. i agree that it very much does contain some of the best writing you've ever done, and also i'm completely shocked to find out that you were 17 when you first started writing it because that first chapter definitely does not feel like a 17yo wrote it, i would never guess. hell, i've writing fic since like 13-4 and all my writing from age 17-8 is so whiny and bad and annoying there's a reason why i moved to ao3 and left everything else to rot on ffnet forever.

here's a list of scenes that i've reread the most, in no particular order and for no reason whatsoeve

[warning for on fire spoilers below]

the first chapter

it just. never fails to gut punch me. you're thrown into this scene so abruptly and sharply, with no backstories or preparations whatsoever, and yet somehow you can picture it all perfectly and you can feel exactly whats going on and the severity and intensity of it all. "he's been hurt" - those words, just echoing over and over, setting this horrible sense of dread and urgency. the encounter with remus confirms even further that something is very very wrong, this unusual sense of estrangement between them, and it all twists into a knot and sinks in your gut, setting such an intense fear there. 10/10. absolutely would reread again.

the cruciatus scene

this one is just. ohmyohmyohmyohmy where do i even start. the entire motif of love as violence and violence as love is very very prevalent all throughout the fic, but this is where it absolutely explodes. and honestly, ive been sort of,,, waiting (hoping??) for it, ever since the foreshadowing with what the healer told them, and yet seeing it all laid out in action in front of your eyes is just...... actual chills. shivers down my spine every time i read it. and the fact that its..... ohmygod i cant even talk about this normally without getting all hyped up like im on illegally obtained adderall and 7 energy drinks or something. the metaphor, the fact that its james putting the gun in his hand and telling him shoot me, asking sirius to do it to help him its just....... one of my all time fav lyrics is from a song called dirty by grandson and it goes "Do you have enough love in your heart / To go and get your hands dirty?" and i think anybody can show love in a tender way, in form of warm words and kisses and care, but to love someone so strongly you are willing to turn yourself into a monster for them, you are willing to do the (literally!) unforgivable is the kind of insane love people write books about. okay, you love him - but do you love him enough to hurt him? do you love him enough to take the shot when he's the one putting the gun into your hands? (not even to start talking about the other side of things, the fact that james, even in his not-fully-yet-himself state just naturally trusts sirius enough, trusts him so much with the force of a years old instinct, to give him that power and that authority is just...... bye dont talk to me). and at first sirius doesnt want to, he calls james insane and an idiot for even suggesting it - even when he does let the hypothetical thought cross his mind, he doesn't think it will work because you have to mean it in order to do it and how could he ever mean it, how could he ever want to hurt james? but love and hate are just two sides of the same coin, like tenderness and violence, and its like this metaphor with the pendulum clock, where one side is hate and the other is love - if youre in the middle, maintaining balance, it will be very hard to sway the pendulum into one of the edges, but if youre already at the very edge, it only takes a second for you to tip over to the other extreme. thats why most people get murdered by someone they know, thats why most women are murdered statistically by their partners - because its much easier to drive yourself into murderous insanity by jealousy or frustration when you deeply care for a person, rather than hurt someone you don't know at all. and james keeps pushing, he keeps talking to him, and pressing all the bleeding wounds, reopning them fresh until sirius finally reaches that tipping point and all hell breaks lose - until he's screaming his throat dry with the cruciatus until james can barely take it anymore and is begging him to stop. until he slumps forward, limp and lifeless. and all of that is suddenly gone, replaced by this cold dread, the pendulum back in its original position. sirius' wand drops to the floor. and we get this very very dramatic and emotional scene of him rushing over to hold his lifeless body, all panicked and on the verge of losing it entirely and barely breathing himself, just begging over and over no, no, no, please, please wake up, don't you dare, don't you dare leave me, not again; and then once he does wake up, after sirius has already circled through all five stages of grief at least a dozen times and already ran through all the possible scenarios and possibilities of ending his life that he hasn't tried yet, with this sudden jolt up and gulp of air - it's james. it's james james, his james, james from before, and it's crazy how sirius, and all the readers present in the room, we can all tell that that is it immediately. just from one look, one word,--

(lmao apparently there's a characters per block limit on tumblr and ive reached it ahahahahaha i never even knew it existed and ive been on tumblr for over a decade) -- that little spark in his eyes that was missing this entire time, this sharp edge to his tone when he says "sirius," like sirius hasn't heard his name being called in years. and its all just. the big bang. like people say "anti climatic" about things - so this is the opposite of it, it is climatic. its like if reading was sex, then this would be the orgasm. i'm gone. bye. extinct. ended by this chapter. unreal.

THE Smut Scene

i was going to have at least 5 different scenes here but i got ridiculously carried away with the previous one ajkshfsg so. just because i can not skip it, ever. a honorary mention of that one smut scene that lives in my head rent free from chapter 15. i love absolutely everything about it, i love how you can't tell apart where the love ends and the violence begins - or maybe it doesn't, maybe its just different shades of that same passion. the way sirius is so upset and frustrated and he wants it so badly but he wont, refuses to, just to see james suffer until he is literally begging for it - just touch me already, please, i missed you, i need you - all the words sirius yearns to hear, just not like this, not in this context, not as a dirty little secret once more. he's so hurt and in so much pain and none of it is even acknowledged because to james he's just "acting like a baby" and so when it finally snaps in him, it snaps fully, and he just shoves himself inside with no warning-- and the pain is there but its not enough to drown the desire, and its all just mixing together in this messed up mix of "what the fuck--" and "dont ruin it by talking" and the "you have no idea how much i miss you" together with "shit slow down you fucking sadist" because it's all there - the pain and the hurt and the love and the passion until you literally can not tell them apart - there is no concept of consent or kink negotiation with these two like there would be with any other sex scene, there isn't even a warning for dubious consent or anything like that bc it doesnt work like that with them, all those stupid rules apply to regular mortals in regular mortal relationships and their regular boring mortal sex - but james and sirius are part of each other's souls, its irrelevant when it comes to them. and its all so insane and overwhelming when its sirius trying to physically hurt him (by giving james what he actually wants, giving it brutally but giving it regardless), and all he gets in response to that violence is just james saying i love you, and then he's crying, he's the one who was meant to hurt james but he's the one who ends up crying - and when james sees that he has all the right in the world to make fun of him (bc who the hell cries during sex? thats just embarassing and pathetic come on), but he doesn't, instead he leans into the tender side of it even more, hes encouraging him, (yes, you feel so good, keep going, just like that) (i'm yours, you feel amazing) and it's all just---- its too much for my little heart to bear.

i think you severely underestimate me saying that i'm just as unhinged about this fic because i am, i could write novels about it, and i swear to you on my firstborn's life that if you ever finish it (even if its in 8 more years, we are in no rush here), im gonna get it bookbound into a beautiful beautiful cover and annotate the hell out of it and send you a copy. i need to be able to hold it and be able to draw hearts around my fav lines and see the stains that my tears leave when i reach the most emotional parts.

[in a flirty voice] hey wanna be insane and talk about On Fire all day long together

you are playing a dangerous game dani i am sooo unhinged about that fic. it's my magnum opus. my brain child. my baby. it contains some of the finest writing i've ever done and i love the way the story evolved along with my characters over the years. for a long time before i was really active on tumblr/fandom again, writing that fic was my only real connection to the hp world (other than rereading the books themselves); i started the first chapter when i was around 17 ... and i'm 25 now lol.

i'm not the kind of person who outlines stories, i kind of just sit down and write and let my brain take things where they want to go. so when i wrote that first chapter all those years ago, i still hadn't worked out a lot of later plot points, like what sirius did to cause the fallout between him and james, james' relationship with lily, etc. i like to think that this story was as much of a wild ride for me as for the readers because i literally did not know what to expect until i sat down to write it.

also i adore the themes of love and violence the story touches on. i wanted to make readers think about love as a destructive force, love with carnivorous teeth, love that burns everything in its path. love as a kind of devotion that borders on religion. all-consuming, devastating, and uncontrollable. the kind of love written about in wuthering heights, macbeth, anna karenina. love tinged with obsession and lust. love resembling psychological torment.

i just think sirius and james, with their natural codependency, and this intrinsic idea that they're each other's soulmates, make the perfect pairing for a story like that. i wanted to know: what would it take to break down a relationship between two characters who would die for each other? how deep the wound, how sharp the blade? i wanted readers to be both horrified and unable to look away from all of it, to be made to feel uncomfortable but still root for james and sirius to be together at the end.

people always say: write the story you want to read. on fire, but we can't feel a thing is that story for me. it contains elements of all my favourite books growing up, the exact characterisations of james and sirius that i hold most dear, and honestly i'm still surprised that my brain was able to come up with something like it. i don't know that it ever will again, tbh :')

[offbrandhange]

Wedding Day ! | 𝕳𝖊𝖆𝖉𝖈𝖆𝖓𝖓𝖔𝖓𝖘

Fluff & NSFW headcanons on your wedding day/night with some of the AOT boys!

! Slight NSFW !

Warnings: Alcohol, mentions of sex, pregnancy. Fem ! reader.

Majority of this is fluff, but there are mentions of !BEEP! sooo yeah.

Characters: Armin, Eren, Erwin, Jean, Levi

a/n: I have to take my SAT tomorrow, please wish your girl good luck for those sweet, sweet good grades....

𝕬𝖗𝖒𝖎𝖓 𝕬𝖗𝖑𝖊𝖗𝖙 ~

Helps you plan the wedding and possibly loves it even more than you do. He’s a sucker for quality time. 

Armin would prefer a small or medium-sized wedding. If you want a large wedding though, there’s no way he’s holding you back from having it. 

100% a beach wedding. No doubt.

The venue is BEAUTIFUL. Spent countless nights researching and visiting places to make sure you got the best.

Eren is chosen as the best man, although Armin feels guilty for having to pick only one out of all his friends.

On the day of the wedding, Armin is a panicking mess. Eren and Jean literally have to give him a pep talk before he goes to stand at the alter.

Practiced deep breathing techniques before the wedding. Unfortunately, they aren’t working.

When you finally walk down the isle, Armin starts crying softly. Eren put his hand on his shoulder to comfort him......which just made him sob harder. He cried multiple times during the wedding.

Your wedding rings are the set his grandfather and grandmother shared :’)

Specifically told the bartender not to serve Connie and Sasha more than 3 drinks. He doesn’t trust them making their own alcohol-related decisions at his wedding.

Armin isn’t a dancer but....he practiced how to slow dance just for you.

Shy at first when it comes to the more fast-paced dancing, but Jean coaxes him into it, and he ends up having a lot of fun.

The speeches are so nice!!! But mostly because Armin asked Mikasa to read them over before hand to make sure they were okay.

After the wedding ends and everyone has left, you and Armin sit and watch the waves at night.

NSFW below !

The beach was reserved...meaning it is now completely deserted. I am now politely reminding you, Armin is not a saint. Honeymoon sex on the beach, anybody?

The sex is slow and sweet; he takes his time with you and kisses you all over. It’s 100% the definition of, “making love.”

If you’re down for a kid right now, Armin’s down for a kid right now. He WILL try for a baby with you if it’s what you want.

After you made a mess of yourselves in the sand...Armin would probably let you sleep for a little bit as he watched the waves. He doesn’t want it to end yet.

When he’s finally content, he would carry you back to the hotel, trying not to wake you.

Super considerate dusting the sand off you, and then tucking you in bed. He’s totally cuddling you to sleep, too.

𝕰𝖗𝖊𝖓 𝕵𝖆𝖊𝖌𝖊𝖗 ~

Pretty much gives you full control of the wedding planning; he only has a few requests.

Eren would be the type of dude to invite friends, friends of friends, and friends of friends of friends. Your wedding is gonna be packed.

Has no idea what kind of wedding he prefers.

Please, god, don’t let him pick the venue. He will go to the first one, look around, and go, “Yeah, this is pretty nice.” That’s how you’ll end up getting married at an AirBNB with a nice backyard hidden behind the local Walmart.

Doesn’t know if he should make Armin or Zeke the best man, so he flips a coin to decide. It landed on Armin, and from that day on, Zeke was super salty.

Tries to convince you to try on the wedding dress/suit the day before. He can’t sleep that night because he’s so keyed up thinking about how pretty you’ll look.

On the day of the wedding, he’s super fucking ecstatic and practically bouncing all over the place.

Eren would get kind of impatient when waiting at the isle, to the point it would annoy the groomsmen. Jean came so close to saying something but was thankfully stopped by Armin.

When you finally walk down the isle, he’s BEAMING. He tears up a little bit out of happiness, but nothing too extreme.

Armin had to help him pick out the wedding rings otherwise you would’ve ended up with one of those plastic spider rings you win at Chuck e. Cheese’s.

Eren gets so fucking drunk you’re worried you might have to carry him back to the room by the end of the night.

Jean literally nit-picks everything Eren does the whole night....which almost ends up resulting in a drunken bar fight...at your wedding. It ends up fine, though, because Levi and Mikasa step in as bodyguards.

You SWEAR Mikasa is giving you dirty looks. Likewise, Eren SWEARS he’s getting dirty looks from Levi.

He does alright slow-dancing, but is so tipsy and distracted by how attractive you are to him, he’s kinda just....trying his best.

Absolutely OBLITERATES the dance floor when the fast-paced songs come on...

WILD assortment of speeches. Mikasa is crying, Armin’s reading a poem, Floch’s trying to get you to join his cult, Zeke is crying......and Eren is sitting there like, “Is this almost over.” You’d think it was America’s got talent, or something.

When the wedding ends, he 100% drags you to your favorite fast-food restaurant. Still in your wedding attire. Seriously, this dude is crazy, but he’s fun.

NSFW below !

When you get back to the hotel, he lets you eat your food--and then he fucks the shit out of you.

Way, way, way more rough than usual; super passionate sex. Multiple rounds, too. You don’t even KNOW how he has this much stamina by the end of the night.

Not even TRYING to get you pregnant, but his dumbass probably accidentally would.

Good luck trying to walk tomorrow!!!

When he’s finally tired, he is GONE. Like, you could scream bloody-murder and he still wouldn’t wake up.

𝕰𝖗𝖜𝖎𝖓 𝕾𝖒𝖎𝖙𝖍 ~

You can TRY and take that wedding planner from Erwin--the only way he’d give it to you is if you pried it from his cold, dead hand(s).

Tells people he’s married MONTHS before the wedding.

Everyone.....and I mean EVERYONE.....knows you’re getting married. he will walk up to strangers and brag about you.

Erwin invites everyone he sees. Elderly woman crossing the street? Invited. Barista at the coffee shop? Invited. Guy on the bus who offered him a seat? Invited.

All those people attend the wedding, too. Why? Everyone knows and loves Erwin. So when your wedding is literally PACKED with people you have never seen before--you’re only slightly surprised.

You know those reality shows where they have HUGE, expensive weddings? Your wedding would put theirs to shame. Erwin goes ALL OUT.

The venue? A literal castle. How did he manage to book and afford a castle? Don’t question it.

Your wedding dress doesn’t have a budget. Seriously, your wedding is crazy expensive--and straight out of a fairy tale.

You’re pretty sure Levi made himself the best man--and Erwin was fine with it.

Is super excited on the day of the wedding. He knows it’s going to be perfect; he got his eyebrows done just for the occasion.

When you walk down that isle his smile is SO BRIGHT. he is SHINING.

Yeah, those wedding rings? Imported from Italy, plastered with giant, real, diamonds. You will never be able to say Erwin doesn’t spoil you.

Pretty chill wedding, nothing’s too rowdy and everyone’s still having a good time.

Whispers sweet nothings and tells you how happy he is the whole night. He can’t go five minutes without saying, “I love you.”

Just TRY to get him to stop holding your hand; he won’t.

Erwin is so good at slow-dancing??? And he’s so careful with you, too. 100% the one in the lead, but he’s spinning and dipping you so sweetly. Not to mention the way he’s looking at you...

He’s a serious guy a lot of the time, but I honest to god believe in the sweetest way possible, you would genuinely have a really fun time fast-pace dancing with him. You would both be laughing at each other’s moves.

Majority of the speeches are super nice. Hange tried to get Levi to say something, brought him up to the stage and....he starred at the crowd for a couple awkward seconds, then walked off. He conveyed his message through his eyes, I guess?

The wedding is so long you weren’t sure it was ever going to end...

Hotel? Nah he booked that castle, that’s where you’re spending the night...

NSFW below !

You’re fucking in the king bed tonight baby, literally.

Pays attention to your needs/wants the WHOLE NIGHT. Seriously, he’s a soft dom, and makes sure you’re more than satisfied.

Tons of body worship?? He’s so sweet and careful with you.

Erwin secretly really, really wants to give you his babies and start a family with you on the honeymoon. If you’re willing, he will make sure he gets you pregnant; you’re getting no sleep.

After you’re done, he will run you two a bath and clean you off. He adds in a little bonus massage, too.

When you get in bed, he pets your head, cuddling you until you fall asleep. You could’ve sworn you saw him smiling before you drifted off to sleep.

𝕵𝖊𝖆𝖓 𝕶𝖎𝖗𝖘𝖈𝖍𝖙𝖊𝖎𝖓 ~

Jean would definitely help you plan the wedding--he values romance a lot, so having the perfect wedding for him and you, is important. He also doesn’t want to put all the weight on you.

Brags to his friends that he’s getting married--they all get tired of hearing about it.

Normal sized wedding--not too many, but not small, either. Lots of family and friends.

The venue is at a barn. Yes, he picked a barn. it’s a nice venue, too; the only problem is that he’s not going to be able to escape those horse jokes.

Marco is chosen as the best man--and when Connie hears about it, he sulks for a few days. He gets over it eventually, though.

He’s kind of nervous the day of--but Marco reassures him and teaches his some deep-breathing techniques.

Keeps his cool until he goes to stand at the alter--and then he’s in full-blown panic mode. “What if I can’t make her happy?” “What if she runs away with Eren?” meanwhile, Eren is standing right there with the other groomsmen, like “wtf?”

When you walk down the isle--he’s super overwhelmed. He feels a huge sense of relief you didn’t ditch him and run away, but also metaphorically hit by a semi-truck of emotions since he realized he’s ACTUALLY getting married. There’s a little bit of happy crying.

His mom picked out your wedding rings; you only find out when she brags about it--and Jean yells at her for telling you.

His wedding gift to you is a giant portrait he drew of you--and on the back, there’s a message in French. He won’t tell you what it says, but you’re pretty sure it’s an oath to love and protect you ‘till the day he dies.

He does pretty well slow-dancing. His mom also mentions he begged her to practice with him so he didn’t mess up.

He’s a little worried about making himself look like a fool dancing in front of you--but for you, he does it anyways; You both laugh your asses off and have a lot of fun.

The speeches make Jean look like he wants to drop dead from embarrassment. He’s not sure what’s worse--Connie and Sasha doing karaoke, Eren making horse jokes, or his mom telling all of his embarrassing baby stories.

After everyone leaves, Jean takes you to look at the animals before you leave, too.

NSFW below !

 As for honeymoon sex; you better not make a horse joke, otherwise you’re getting laid in that fucking barn. Maybe. He threatens that, but you know he wouldn’t want to have sex there on your wedding night. He’s 100% down for another time, though.

A mix of rough and sweet at the same time--he does the right things at the right times.

Is a lot more passionate and soft than usual--very careful with your body, and makes sure to really take everything in; He wants to remember the night for as long as he lives.

Immaculate aftercare; and on top of that, he lets you fall asleep in his arms, occasionally kissing your forehead.

Bonus: he sings you to sleep.

𝕷𝖊𝖛𝖎 𝕬𝖈𝖐𝖊𝖗𝖒𝖆𝖓 ~

Lets you plan the wedding, but looks it over and makes sure there’s nothing too crazy happening. He, somehow, is worried you’re going to plan a circus or something else ridiculous to show up.

No one knows you’re getting married until the envelopes are mailed to family and friends. In fact, some people didn’t even know you were together.

Pretty small wedding, it’s mostly people who are very close to you two. It has a very homey-feel.

The venue HAS to be indoors. Levi thinks an outdoor wedding is unsanitary--so you end up getting married in a banquet hall.

Erwin is 1000% the best man. You don’t even have to ask, you already know it’s going to be Erwin.

Is literally shaking and sweating his ass off he’s so nervous the day of the wedding--if anyone asks, though, he swears he is fine. Has no idea it’s completely obvious he’s on the verge of absolutely freaking out.

Erwin and Hange try to get him to relax--but he continues to deny that he is in fact, NOT calm.

When you walk down the isle and he makes eye contact with you--his brain short-circuits. His mind literally stops working and is constantly repeating, “p...p...pre....pretty..” the whole damn time.

Mentally saves the image of you in your dress/suit to use as his motivation to always come home to you.

Tries to remain expressionless, but is literally tomato-red and on the verge of crying; he never thought he’d be able to find happiness--it feels like everything is finally going to be okay. Erwin is smiling like a proud dad, and Hange is trying to suppress their amazement that the dude’s showing emotion.

Your wedding rings are fairly plain--but on the inside of the bands, both of your names are etched.

He won’t read the vows out loud, he simply hands you a letter and tells you to read it another time.

When the time comes to kiss--Levi literally hides behind you and shyly pulls you in. The view the audience gets is your back--and they aren’t sure whether to clap or not.

Your wedding gift to him was a giant assortment of different teas--and he genuinely seemed really excited to try them. He didn’t realize it, but when he mentioned tasting them, he said, “with you” at the end.

Has no idea how to slow dance. Erwin tried to help him, but it didn’t do much, so you teach him on the spot. Your first dance, he concentrates really hard on not messing up, eyebrows furrowed and all.

Doesn’t know how to dance fast-pace either, in fact, he’s pretty confused. You have to grab the man and force him out of his comfort zone, spinning him and all. Hange and the Survey Corp members are laughing their ass off at his bewildered face.

The speeches went pretty well--except for when Hange didn’t stop talking; Levi threatened to force them off the stage, and you don’t think he was joking.

The wedding was fairly short--but only because Levi rushed everyone home; he just wanted to drag you off and keep you to himself for the rest of the day.

After the wedding, he takes you to a spot nearby to watch the sunset. He has a soft smile, and you can tell he’s genuinely happy.

You take HIM back to the hotel--he would’ve been fine staying there just a little longer, in the peace of it all.

NSFW below !

You’re literally taking his virginity. He saved himself for marriage; he wanted to make sure he gave himself to the right person.

Very nervous--and kind of insecure, too. He isn’t sure what you’ll think of him, and he’s worried about you seeing his scars. He STILL isn’t completely convinced you really want him.

Lots of body worship and reassuring him; he melts at your touch.

Once he gets comfortable and into it, he repeats “I love you” a lot.

He doesn’t last very long...but keeps going until you get off, too. He’s still a little confused by everything, so you have to teach him.

He’s half asleep after cumming--but still insists the two of you need to get in the shower.

Was too tired to stand, so you took a bath together instead. He falls asleep, leaning on you, when you massage his head.

You end up being unable to wake him up--the man is dead tired from not only sleep deprivation, the long day, but also his first time.

You can’t get him out of the bathtub, either--he’s too bulky to lift. You expected him to be much lighter due to his height, but his muscle makes him a lot more heavy.

Hange and Erwin have to be called to haul his ass--naked--out of the tub and into the bed. Hange is of no help since they’re laughing so hard--and Erwin is helping, but trying so hard not to break face and laugh too.

After they leave, you cover him up and cuddle into his frame; you could swear you heard a quiet, “thank you.”

[no-droids]

Whenever You Want

Part Fourteen of the Rough Day Series

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 11.2K

Warnings: Listen there is some dirty smut in this one yall okay like I was blushing when I wrote it, it has a very stark beginning and theres a pagebreak afterwards if you would prefer to skip over it. Smut includes oral sex (female receiving) rough sex, sensory deprivation, butt stuff (ass to mouth, anal fingering/penetration) so PLEASE LOOK OUT FOR IT PLEASE. Also there is jealous/possessive mando in this, season 1 Karga makes another appearance, and some angst/fluff towards the end

A/N: Nothing much today yoditos just love you all

***

Din said he’d meet you here.

You’re currently sitting across from Greef Karga in a cantina on Nevarro, a closed shield next to you and a blaster tucked into the back of your waistband, hidden underneath your shirt.  You’re barely even looking at him, though—your eyes are attached to the door by an invisible string, forcing your gaze back to it no matter how much it bounces around the room.

You don’t know where Din is, you haven’t seen him in hours.  But you do know that when he left, he was moving slower than you’re used to.  You don’t think anyone else would notice, but you sure did.  Not that he was obvious about it—you only picked up on very subtle hints.  Leaning up against things just a bit more than he usually does.  Taking slightly longer exiting the ramp of the Crest than his normal strides would carry him.

He didn’t say what he was going to do—just that he needed to find someone before meeting with Karga, and you accepted it.  But truthfully, you didn’t want to.  You were worried about him—still are, actually.  But for all intents and purposes, he was speaking and acting like himself, showing no real signs of exhaustion other than the smallest instances you described before, so you didn’t really have a leg to stand on.  He’s been through way worse, and you know it.  You just… find yourself worrying about him so much more than you used to, and you need to learn how to gain some control over that part of you.

The kid was still passed out from healing him and you remember Din carefully setting four pucks down in the sleeping baby’s sphere and giving his ears a gentle rub between leather fingers.  He turned back to you and told you to meet him at the cantina in three hours, but if it ended up taking him too long for any reason, to try your best to see if Karga will let you exchange on his behalf.

Admittedly, he didn’t sound too confident about it—the instructions were delivered with a tone that implied a doubtful, just-in-case scenario he wasn’t foreseeing happening.  Or maybe he just doubted the likelihood of Karga agreeing to do business with you, you’re not entirely sure.  All you know is that when he left, you were almost certain he wouldn’t be late, but you also took the time to grab the smallest blaster from his armory before heading out just in case.

Yet—here you are, three and a half hours later, eyes flicking between the door and Karga as you attempt to keep up polite conversation.  After turning down his offer of alcohol for the fifth time and still not seeing any glimpse of beskar coming to your rescue, you figure this may be as good a time as any to start the exchange.

During an extended break in the small talk, you slowly reach over to the corner of your booth and press a button on the face of the kid’s shield.  It hisses open and you completely miss the way Karga’s hand raises while three of his guards automatically reach for their hips.  The little green monster is still snoozing comfortably while you pull out the four glowing pucks Din left you and set them on the table one by one.

They scrape along the top of it as you slowly push them over to him, before sitting back in the booth and clearing your throat, flicking your eyes between Karga and his guards.  To you, nobody appears to have moved, so you muster a polite smile at him.

Karga smiles back, but makes no move to gather or inspect the offerings in front of him.

“Um…” you say after a moment, suddenly feeling your heart start to beat a little faster.  “Mando… Mando gave me permission to exchange on his behalf.”

“I believe you,” he drawls out in response, but the pucks still sit untouched in front of him as he leans back in the booth and studies you.  “Mando has always had a… let’s say, a frustrating penchant for disregarding the pillars of our code.  My apologies, young lady, but I’m afraid that I cannot accept these from you.”

Your voice comes out quieter than you’d like it to sound.  “Why not?”

“It is… unlawful,” he answers after a moment.  “Our organization operates under strict rules.”

Does it?  You blink.  No, it doesn’t.  You’re nothing to the Guild and you’ve sat next to Din quite a few times while Karga talked, listening to him drunkenly boast about return rates and out members by name.  You’re not sure why he’s barring you like this, but you’re also not self-assured enough to put practically any spine into it whatsoever.  “I’m… afraid I don’t understand.”

“I cannot legally do guild business with individuals not recognized as members in an official capacity,” he sighs, sounding grave and almost apologetic about it, but you don’t know him well enough to know if he’s a good actor or not.  “There’s nothing I can do for you besides provide you with my company, not until Mando decides to show.”

Well now that doesn’t make any sense, and you’re starting to worry that for some reason or another, he isn’t going to show.  Though it was incredibly well concealed, you’re well aware that Din was still lingering in the final recovery stages when he left the Crest earlier and all you have to go on is his word that he’d be here.  Something could’ve happened.  Something could be happening right now, you need to push.

“People pick up bounties for extra credits all the time,” you mumble, still way too fucking quiet about it.  Maker, you’re not even sure if he could hear that over the sound of the cantina.  Speak up, speak up.

“Yes, but those quarry are listed on the New Republic’s most wanted database,” Karga acknowledges diplomatically, educating more than he is arguing, before uncorking the bottle of glowing blue alcohol in front of him and beginning to pour himself another shot.  “They’re fodder.  Up for grabs—names, last known locations, and biometrics published for the entire galaxy to read.”�� He tilts his head down at the four metal pucks on the table without removing his gaze from the gradually filling glass.  “Those pucks are different, they’re commissions.  Tied specifically to Guild contracts.”  Karga clunks the bottle back down again and corks it, pinning you with a stare.  “For all I know, you could’ve murdered a member of our ranks and come to collect payment for his bounties.  Can’t have that.”

Your blood suddenly turns to ice at the implication, eyes wide and your heartbeat rocketing as you look from Karga to the three guards casually stationed behind him.  “You—You think I murdered Mando?”

“No,” he says, easily and in the very same breath, before throwing the shot back and wiping his mouth with a grimace.  “Not sure I’d care too much if you did.  It’s not my rule, but I am required to follow it or risk losing my position in the Guild.”

Shit.  Shit.  What do you do?

You’re blank, left quiet and feeling increasingly unsure of how to proceed.  Karga, however, seems completely unbothered and even appears to be enjoying himself and your company.  He gives you another smile, this one a lot friendlier and more genuine than the one earlier, before setting his elbows on the table and leaning forward.

“Look, I want to help you,” he admits, keeping his tone light, “but my hands are tied.  Just relax and share a drink with me until he gets here, it’s not a problem.”

Fuck, you don’t like this, and a quick look around brings another reminder of Din’s continued absence.  Your chest feels tight, the anxiety starting to compound and make you jumpy.  It’s been too long—it’s been at least forty minutes or so of waiting by now and something just feels wrong about this.  Not having him next to you feels wrong enough on its own, but when he specifically told you he’d be here?

You clench your jaw and try to work up your nerve.  Karga is a nice guy, right?  He knows you by name, he knows who you are to Mando.  And while you never really thought about the bounty hunter’s omnipresent protection as being anything other than metaphorical, you suddenly realize that… it might be literal, too.  How much sway do you actually have here, you wonder?  You’re not stupid, you’re not going to try anything stupid, but maybe just another question won’t hurt?

“Well, um… how do you become a member, then?”  You ask him, and you watch as he leans back in the booth, raising both eyebrows at you.

“Excuse me?”  He asks, though there’s a genuine amusement in his voice.  Stunned that you’d even say the words aloud.

“I have four bodies,” you tell him shortly.  You’re still quiet about it, but his thoroughly entertained astonishment is beginning to rub you the wrong way.  You don’t want to be part of the Guild, you don’t want to be here, you’re doing this out of growing necessity.  “One of which I dragged through a blizzard on Hoth by its ankles and put into carbonite myself, so please just tell me what I have to do to get you to take them.”

“I can’t,” he repeats, shaking his head like you’re just not getting it.  “New members are only accepted if they bring in an S-level criminal from the database or if they complete a commission that was granted to them by someone of my station—neither of which apply to you.  If you cannot present me with any sort of reasonable argument for which they could, then I’m afraid this is not a favor I can swing.”

“I was sitting right here,” you return, suddenly finding your voice.  If Karga wants an argument from you to get this to happen, then you’ll do it.  You just need to finish this exchange, go back to the Crest, and scan around for Din’s signal.  “When you first gave the pucks to Mando, I sat right here and you pushed them over to this side of the table—I was present for the commission and now I’m here to complete it.”

He shakes his head.  “But I didn’t give them to you, I gave them to Mando—”

“Yes, but you only wanted to give him three,” you immediately point out.  “The last one, the one I told you I put into carbonite—you said you threw it in because you liked me, it could’ve been for me.”

Karga suddenly stops and blinks at you for a few seconds, and you bite your lip, wondering if the logic will hold.  It’s flimsy as fuck and you know he could very easily rip it apart if he wanted to.  It could’ve been for you but it wasn’t, he gave it to Mando.  You also purposefully leave out the fact that you’re also the reason Mando only gave him three bodies in the first place; your only goal here is to complete this transaction as quickly as possible and leave.  You don’t like the fact that it’s taking Din so long, and you also don’t like the fact that Karga seems so keen on keeping you here with him, no matter how many reassurances he provides.  He said he wants to help you?  This can be his chance to prove it.

After a few extended moments of consideration, Karga finally shrugs like he really couldn’t care less before reaching across the table for the pucks and beginning to stack them in his palm.

“What is your last name?”  He asks, turning behind him to gesture for one of his men with a jerk of his head.  The bodyguard exits the cantina without another word and your eyes flick back to Karga’s.

“Why does it matter?”  You ask uncertainly, watching another guard approach with a holopad as he shrugs once more.

“It doesn’t, but we need something for our records,” Karga explains, grabbing the device as it’s tapped against his shoulder without removing his gaze from yours.  “I can just use Doe if you don’t feel like sharing—most of our members tend to prefer anonymity, including your companion.”

Your eyebrows furrow even as your heart continues to pound, wondering how they can afford to be so lax about some things but take others so seriously.  “You have him down as John Doe?”

“First name Man,” Karga grunts in response, finally breaking eye contact to begin navigating through pages on the holopad.

“Ah,” you say shortly, knowing you’d probably find the joke funny in other circumstances.  You’re not out of the trenches yet, you still feel the worry tugging hard at your chest.

“Very well,” Karga announces with a sigh, pocketing the pucks in his leather overcoat and then handing the holopad back to one of the men flanking him after a moment.  “Someone is collecting the carbonite plaques from your vessel as we speak.”

You give him a nod, taking a deep breath that you hope is slow and subtle enough to not give your anxiety away.  He helped you out, you’re halfway through this.  Now comes the exchange.  Now it’s his turn to give you the credits and four more pucks, that’s how this should go.

Only, Karga leans back in his seat and cocks his head at you.  “Unfortunately, I believe we have found ourselves in the midst of yet another predicament.”

Your heart continues to slam, praying you haven’t somehow majorly fucked things up by getting this far.  Din still isn’t here, why is he so fucking late?  He nearly froze to death and you handled a dead body just to make this meeting on time, where the fuck is he?

You raise an eyebrow at him, willing the building panic not to show on your face.  “Have we?”

“You’re lucky credits are attached to commissions instead of rank within the Guild,” he prefaces, pulling out a large handful of them to begin counting, and your eyes flick around the cantina while you know he isn’t looking, “or else you’d be getting about half of what I’d normally give him.”

Heart galloping when you still don’t see any sign of him, you just decide to keep extra quiet as you watch Karga divvy out a sizable stack of credits, hoping your prolonged silence will protect you somehow.

“The question now becomes…” he lifts an eyebrow at you while sliding them across the table to you, “how many pucks do I give you in return, hm?”

Fuck, you don’t like this, you’re trying to make it crystal fucking clear that your intentions do not extend beyond the perimeter of this table.  There’s no you to be found in this deal, you’re just an emergency proxy in Din’s absence and you only inserted yourself in the situation to accomplish that task.  “I told you I’m only here to exchange on Mando’s behalf, that’s it.”

“Be that as it may…”  Karga glances around the cantina like he’s thinking extra hard about it.  This is a made-up problem, you both know there’s no predicament here.  He knows you didn’t kill Mando, he knows there’s no real reason to be giving you such a hard time about this, and you clench your jaw as he still seems to take his time considering it.  “Tell you what, young lady,” he finally turns back to you.  “Do me the honor of sharing one sip of this fine spotchka with me and I’ll give you four pucks to pass along to Mando.”

Okay.  Okay, you can do that, if he really cares that much.  Karga gestures for the closest droid to come by with a glass for you, but you just grab the bottle in front of him and uncork it without thinking too much, balancing the glowing blue liquid with two hands and diligently taking a small sip of it before setting it down again.  Appearing satisfied with your demonstration of upholding your end of the bargain, Karga grins and reaches into another pocket.

“Four for Mando,” he pushes four pucks across the table, “same rate and return as last time, as promised.”  You nearly deflate in relief as you quickly gather them up and begin dropping them into the snoozing baby’s shield along with the credits, but then Karga reaches back and pulls out another puck, pushing it over to you.  “And one for you.”

You blink at him, frozen in place.

“Lowest level, lowest pay.  Not even a criminal by New Republic standards, just a missing person,” he goes on to say, but then quite suddenly… 

Quite suddenly you’re absolutely fucking horrified.

You don’t want it.  Everything inside you surges up to scream that you do not want that puck.  It’s a waste of time, even if it’s an extra job—it’s too much trouble, too much fuel for such a small reward.  You already know good and well that Din won’t want to bother, getting this extra puck would be considered a detriment to him.

“What if I don’t want it?”  You ask, sounding nervous and vaguely out of breath as you look down at it.

Karga scoffs.  “Of course you don’t.  Nobody wants these, why do you think I’m trying so hard to pawn one off on you?”

Shit.  This is not at all how you expected any of this would go.  You know he’s not really asking, even if his tone and continued courtesy implies it’s only a request.  There’s an expectation attached to this, and it appears you take too long pondering an offer that isn’t actually voluntary.  Karga stares at you and your clear apprehension for just a few seconds more, before finally giving you an ultimatum.  “You said you’re here on his behalf.  You either take all five pucks now or Mando only gets three next time, your choice.”

Oh.  Oh, no.  This is a lose-lose; three pucks means more fuel and less credits, five pucks means more fuel and less credits.  It’s not like you have any real bargaining power here—almost everything he’s done for you today has been a favor of some sort and you’re well aware that things can always get worse.

Still, you take a deep breath and try your best to throw around whatever weight you have left in one final agreement.

“Give me your word you’ll go back to giving him four from now on, no more hassling or hard time constraints and we’ll take it just this once,” you tell him, trying to conjure and put power behind your words even though you’re unsure if they’ll stick.

“Deal,” Karga readily agrees with a smile, reaching his hand across the table.  You have no choice but to meet him in the middle and clasp it, unable to feel anywhere close to good about your performance here.  It was clunky and insecure and even though you just barely succeeded in making the exchange overall, you’re massively disappointed in the specifics.

But then Karga’s eyes quickly flick over your shoulder.

“Ah, Mando!”  He suddenly calls out, and your hand nearly snatches away from his while your body goes rigid.

Oh, this isn’t good, this is not good.  Well, it’s good that he’s here but it also really fucking isn’t.  You don’t even turn your head; you sit completely straight and still while the cantina falls to a hush and heavy footsteps begin to approach behind you.  You fucked up—you fucked up, you didn’t wait long enough and you feel the sharp regret instantly twist in your stomach.  He said he’d be here, why didn’t you trust him?  Your anxiety and stress compounded and spurned you to act too quickly, you made the deal a few fucking seconds before he showed up.

And, as Din eventually comes into your peripheral, taking his time leaning his rifle up against the table, you immediately realize that you should not have worried.  Recovery isn’t even a word in his vocabulary right now—he’s more intimidating than he’s ever been, more powerful and certain and dangerous while he lowers himself into the seat next to you than he’s ever felt to you before.  Everything is so quiet now that he’s here; you feel like even just swallowing against the sudden dryness in your throat turns into an audible gulp.  The man sitting across from you may own this cantina and every material good under its roof, but the one sitting by your side feels like he steals the literal air from the room just by walking inside it.

Yet, in spite of the daunting presence of the Mandalorian, Karga beams and tips his glass at him.  “I believe you’ve arrived just in time for your favorite part of the conversation, friend.  The farewells.”

You stare wide-eyed down at the table as Din leans back into the booth and very slowly extends his arm behind your shoulders, saying nothing at all to him.

The testosterone is radiating from him to the point of near suffocation, you can taste the alpha in the air.  Your heart slams in your chest at the unspoken claim he just made with a subtle movement, and though you’ve never been one for masculine displays, this one weirdly feels… good right now.  You know it’s primitive and crude and you’re not a piece of meat to be fought over, but it doesn’t feel like that at all.  It’s the immediate feeling of security that serves to heat your cheeks, the fact that you’ve been a nervous mess trying to be extra brave this whole interaction and then suddenly you have the backup of an entire army contained within one single suit of armor next to you.

If you weren’t internally panicking at how badly you screwed this shit up, you’d probably be going fucking feral for him right now.

Karga says your name and your gaze snaps to his, feeling like you can’t breathe.  “My associate has collected the plaques, nothing keeps you here any longer.  It was a pleasure doing business with you.”

Still, nobody at the table moves.

After a moment, you carefully glance up and to the side at the sharp, metallic profile of his helmet.  Maker, you can’t explain it—it’s like you feel terrified but not really for yourself, if that makes sense.  You’re upset with yourself for not having enough trust in his word, absolutely, but something in Din’s demeanor tells you that he’s going to be considerably less understanding of how Karga handled this situation than the way you did.

The helmet slowly turns down to look at you, and you bite your lip while carefully placing your hand on his thigh brace under the table, letting him feel your fingers brush against the bend of his knee.

He turns back to Karga after a few seconds, still not saying a single word, until eventually Din’s arm is lifted from behind your shoulders and you feel his leather fingers gently clasp your hand, before he starts to rise from the booth and pull you along next to him.  You both stand, and he silently presses a button on his vambrace without dropping your grip, urging the kid’s shield to follow along behind him.

“Um, goodbye,” you just barely remember to tell Karga as Din begins leading you away, apparently not waiting for the polite farewells he arrived in time for.

“Wait!”  A voice calls out just before you can make your exit, and Din pauses just in time for Karga to extend that damned fifth puck out for you to grab.  Right in fucking front of him.  “Can’t forget this!”

Fuck.  Great.  Thanks.

Blood rushes to your face while you go to reach for it, taking the puck and then placing it in the open shield along with four others in a way that you hope is casual but you know isn’t.  You close the lid on it and then squeeze Din’s hand slightly, but he stays rooted to the spot for a few more seconds, having watched the entire exchange play out.  Though you obviously wouldn’t be able to read his facial expressions even if you could lift your head to look up at him, you can’t will yourself to do so right now.  You’re too disappointed in yourself and nervous—you just stand there silently as he looks back at Karga, staring at your feet and praying he doesn’t do anything brash.

After too many moments of uncertainty, you squeeze his hand again and slowly begin to pull on it.  Without needing much pressure at all, he goes where you go, and you end up being the one to lead Din out of the cantina by the hand still tangled with yours.

*** 

The walk back to the Crest lasts an eternity.

Neither one of you say anything at all to each other the entire way there, and you know he’s not mad at you yet, but you’re worried.  You feel incredibly self-critical right now and it’s really not helping that he seems even quieter and more wound up than usual.  You don’t know if it’s because he already figured out that you just handed him extra work or if it’s because whatever made him late to the cantina also altered his mood, hit a reset button and reminded him of the way he used to be, the armor he’s wearing.  Was there a confrontation, you wonder?  Is he okay?  He seems like he’s… extra Mandalorian right now, there’s not really a better way to describe it.

He doesn’t drop your hand, though.  As you pass through the markets and shanty huts lining the streets, Din holds onto you.  Shoulders tense and strides heavy, but his fingers stay tangled in yours.

Regardless, you keep your mouth shut and eventually the Crest comes into view.  The ramp drops to the ground and the three of you make your way up, and you have enough foresight to carefully drop Din’s hand and lead the baby’s shield over to the unused cot built into the hull walls, closing him in a safe quiet place to sleep and continue building up his strength again.

You turn around to see Din press another button on his vambrace.  He stays with his back to you as the ramp slowly closes, but as soon as it latches up against the hull and locks into place, he nearly whips around and suddenly he’s right in front of you, gloves cupping your face.

“What happened?”  He asks sharply, the helmet looking you up and down.  “Are you alright?  Why did you look so scared?”

You reach up to rest your hands on his, blinking up at him and not knowing what to say.  How are you going to tell him?  He’s gotta waste extra fuel and time on a bullshit quarry because of you, what are you going to say?  You don’t even know if it’s last known location is nearby; he might have to fly to some remote, desolate corner of the galaxy just for a handful of credits because you couldn’t wait a fucking hour for him.

“I, uh…  I-I’m sorry, I just…”  But it’s nearly impossible to form a coherent thought when he’s this close to you and sounding fucking sincere, genuinely concerned about you while you’re stuck worrying about how to break the bad news to him.  “Oh, stars, um…”

“Did Karga fuck with you?”  He asks in that same sharp tone when you don’t finish your thought, but you’re so absorbed in your own conflict that you barely even hear him.  “Because I can go back right now, the cantina is just—”

“Okay wait, please—” You suddenly speak up, “before I tell you, just… please keep in mind that I did save your life two days ago, so…”

“Sweet girl,” Din rumbles slowly, a subtle warning for you to hurry up and spit it out.  His fingers tighten just slightly on your cheeks, still so gentle but needing you to communicate with him right now.

Tell him, you just need to tell him.  If he gets mad, then he gets mad, but at least he’ll know at that point and you won’t just be springing it on him out of nowhere.

“I fucked up,” you breathe out, eyebrows pulling up in the middle as you tighten your own grip on his hands.  “I’m so sorry, I fucked up and you were late and I got nervous and I didn’t wait long enough and I tried to make the exchange like you asked me to but then I had to take a fifth puck and I didn’t want to but Karga threatened to short change you next time around unless I agreed to take an extra one for the lowest pay just this once and I didn’t have any bargaining power and you showed up right after I agreed to the deal and I’m so so sorry—”

You cut yourself off with your own ragged gasp, not having paused once to breathe throughout the entire thing while your expression twisted up with regret more and more the longer he allowed you to speak.

Din stands there in front of you and doesn’t move, hands still attached to your face.

“Okay,” he eventually tells you.  Stunted words, like he’s trying extra hard to find them when yours just fell out of your mouth in a complete mess.  “It’s okay.  You did… good.”

The silence is tense and you’re becoming more and more anxious the longer he takes to speak.  He’s lying for your benefit, he must be.  When he drops his hands from your face and takes a full step back, you take the gesture as symbolic and nearly launch into panic.

“Maker, I’m so sorry I didn’t wait for—”  You start to say, but Din cuts you off.

“Did he make you…”  His back suddenly goes a little straighter, voice finding a quiet edge through the modulator as his fingers subtly twitch at his sides, “…Uncomfortable?”

You pull back at the sudden change in subject and furrow your eyebrows.

“Who, Karga?”  You have to think about it.  Did he make you uncomfortable, or were you just uncomfortable already?  You might’ve just been scared because you were making it scarier than it really was, you can admit that’s a valid possibility.  “Um… no?  I don’t know, not… not really, I don’t think.”

“No?”  He asks, taking a small step forward.  “You don’t know?  Or not really… you don’t think?”

You know you can only see the blade of his visor, but something makes you feel like you’re looking right in his eyes.  You even go back and forth between where you’re pretty confident each one is, trying to read his intentions right now.  It’s like he’s purposefully trying to keep space between you even though he looks like he wants to move closer, fisting his hands at his sides when he looks like he wants to touch you.

“No, he just… lowballed me towards the end of it and I got intimidated, but I’m also not…”  Your expression narrows in concentration while you try to find the words to explain yourself, wanting to be as honest as possible with him.  “I don’t know, I’m not like you.  I’m not that strong, but I’m trying to get better.  I think he was probably just being normal.  He did offer me alcohol a bunch, but I’m pretty sure he also did that last time, so—”

“And I didn’t like it the last time he did it,” Din says quietly, taking another small step forward.

You blink up at him, completely dumb.  This is what’s bothering him?  Is he really not upset with you at all for giving him more work?  It’s like the major fuckup on your behalf just went in one side of the helmet and out the other, he barely even acknowledged it other than the role Karga played.  He said it’s okay and you did good, which are like… five of the most common words in Galactic Basic, a Wookiee could probably find a way to say them.  How are you supposed to take that?  Were you just overthinking this whole thing from the very beginning?  You know anxiety tends to be irrational by definition, but has none of your panic from the past hour been justified whatsoever?

“Why were you so late?”  You ask him, but it’s not accusatory in the slightest.  It’s… concerned, worried about his well-being without having a real reason.  He’s clearly more than fine right now, he’s like a hurricane enclosed in metal and holding still in front of you.  Too much potential energy just waiting for a reason to be released, too much tension held tight and ready to snap.

“I’m sorry.”  He quickly reaches out to grab your hand and squeeze it, before dropping it just as quickly.  Fucking lightning quick, you’ll never understand how he can be so damn quick with all that extra weight strapped to him.  “It took longer than I thought it would and she’s not really someone you can rush.”  His response, ironically, feels very rushed, like he’s trying to address the tangent but also keep things on track, but something in the answer he gives catches your direct attention.  “Did he flirt with you?”

“Who is she and what can’t be rushed?”  You blurt at the same time, not even taking a split second to think about it.

Din stops short at the blunt question, staring at you in a silence that feels like it’s vaguely taken aback.

After a few moments of that… strangeness, of the two of you realizing that you’re both feeling slightly possessive over each other for absolutely no reason whatsoever, you start to feel… warm.  In another weirdly stupid, primitive way.  You know that letting those kinds of thoughts have their day in a relationship isn’t a good thing, but you can’t explain it.  Some deep-seated, prehistoric instinct inside you just goes fucking nuts whenever he gets in either provider or protector mode.  Now you understand exactly why he wanted to get you alone after you admitted to being jealous once before.  You totally fucking get it, you’re right there with him right now.  He hasn’t said anything, but you think he feels it, too.

“She makes things,” Din finally answers you, careful with his words and somehow managing to address your question while also sidestepping it, leaving you with only the smallest bit of information to go off of.  “Did he flirt with you?”

“I don’t know,” you tell him honestly.  “Maybe.  He could’ve just been trying to be friendly.  What did she make for you?”

“She made it for you,” he responds, again not really answering the question but continuing to juggle two separate conversations for your benefit.  “Did he scare you?”

“For me?”  You ask, eyebrows shooting upwards.  Provider, that stupid cavewoman DNA whispers to your lower body, making your voice go a little breathless.  “You asked her to make something for me?”

“Did he scare you?”  Din repeats sternly, grabbing your hand and giving it a firm squeeze.  “Because I can go back, I swear—”

Protector, it whispers this time, and your knees nearly buckle.

“Everything is scary when I don’t know where you are,” you admit to him, knowing it’s the truth regardless of how self-deprecating it sounds.  The only times you’ve ever truly been brave was because of him or the kid.  Stabbing a Corellian and then immediately flying the Crest out to him afterwards, walking through a pitch black forest believing a dangerous criminal was hiding in it, dragging a dead body through snow and shoving it into carbonite, standing up for yourself and pushing a deal through when odds were stacked against you.  Though it’s nothing to him, it’s nothing, it’s leaps for you.  You’re slowly learning to find a backbone, and he’s the one inspiring it.

Din holds there for a moment, unmoving with his hand still clutching yours.  You can’t get a read on him but you know how you feel right now.  Achy.  Hot.  Needy.  Wanting him to come closer.

“Will you do something for me?”  He asks you after a prolonged silence.  His voice is quiet, but… incredibly restrained.  Controlled chaos—his body is rigid and he’s flexing muscles that aren’t necessary for just standing, feeling like a sprinter holding still on the starting blocks.

“Of course,” you breathe out.

Din lets go of your hand and tilts his helmet over at the corner of the hull behind you.  “Go turn around and face that wall.”

You freeze, immediately recognizing the undertone in his voice.  Heat ladles deep into the pit of your tummy, sends warmth pooling downwards.  He wants to do this here?  Right now?

“We’re—” you look around the enclosed hull, “Mando, we’re not in hyperspace, we haven’t even left the surface yet…”

He looks around too, taking a second to blankly take in his stagnant surroundings like he had absolutely fucking no idea, before turning back to you and not saying a word.  Maker, everything below your waist is already stirring, twisting hot and deep inside, but you’re trying to be the voice of reason for a second.

“What if somebody hears us?”  You whisper, and Din cocks his head to the other side.

“I can help you stay quiet,” he murmurs, and… fuck.  You don’t know what it means, but you immediately imagine his hand held tight over your mouth while he takes some of this stress out on you and you already feel yourself wilting at the thought.  Okay.

“Okay,” you breathe without needing anything else at all, before spinning around and standing exactly where he told you to.  It’s just a corner near the back of the hull, nothing else here to look at besides two metal panels meeting at a right angle, but that’s admittedly what makes your heart start beating quicker.  You can’t see him come up behind you but you can feel it.  Slow, measured, but so restrained.

But then he stops almost immediately, before the back of your shirt is suddenly being yanked upwards and you remember at the very last second.

Din carefully grips his blaster and then eases it out of your waistband, the metal sliding warm along your skin from pressing against it for so long.  You never told him you took it with you, and he’s so fucking quiet behind you.  You have no idea how he’s reacting to that piece of information you originally didn’t think twice about.

“Do you like carrying my gun around?”  Din’s voice murmurs soft through the modulator to you, but then the blaster is tossed uselessly to the side, skittering loudly across the floor of the hull.

“Yes,” you reply, beginning to shyly turn your head back to look at him, hoping to gauge his response.

“Don’t turn around,” he quickly interrupts you, pushing your shoulder back into position and keeping you facing the corner.  You blink at the metal walls in a bit of a daze but follow instructions regardless, feeling your heart pound at the sudden display of dominance from him.  He has a very valid reason for it and you don’t realize what it is until a few seconds later, but even if he didn’t and he was just telling you what to do for the fun of it… you’d still like it.

But then his helmet is carefully being lowered over your head and you shudder as your vision is replaced with a familiar black abyss.  Fuck, his helmet, why does he like it so much when you wear this?  Admittedly, you don’t have much time to contemplate—as soon as it’s fitted and secure, he spins you around and you have to just do your best to maintain your balance, not having any visual to help.

“Can you hear me?”  Din asks, and your clothes start to be ripped off of you.  Your shoulders tip sideways with how quick he is about it, feeling him pull the fabric off and hearing the soft sound it makes landing on the floor.

“Yes,” you tell him, but he doesn’t respond, continuing to strip you completely naked in the hull.  Once your upper body is bare and he’s yanking your pants and underwear down your legs, you try saying it again as you step out of them, louder for him this time.

“I can’t hear you,” his voice grunts after a moment.  You know he’s in front of you but you can’t really tell where, now that he’s not touching you.  “Scream.”

You take a second, not having hard evidence anymore but still very well aware that you’re parked close to a marketplace on Nevarro and multiple people are nearby while you’re wearing his helmet.  This is dangerous for him, and not sure if you should, but then an arm is wrapping around your back and a large leather palm rests directly over your chest.  Din repeats his last word very slowly and clearly for you, waiting to feel it under his hands.

Your sternum lifts while it rises with your deep breath and then collapses as you diligently yell as loud as you can into the helmet, feeling like you might deafen yourself with the trapped sound.

“Good,” he growls, suddenly spinning you around and pushing you back into the metal paneling.  “I can’t hear you, be as loud as you need.  Hit me or something, put up a fight if you want me to stop, alright?”

Arousal rockets through you and you let out a moan already, taking advantage of the noise suppression and beyond turned on at this point.  You feel like you’re buzzing with it, lit up with excitement and wondering with bated breath what he’s planning to do to you.

“Alright?”  Comes his voice from behind you once more, and you quickly jerk the heavy helmet in a nod for him.  You can put up a fight and you know he’ll stop, you don’t have any problem with that and the fact that he specifically made sure to wait until he knew you understood him makes you start to pant inside the hollow beskar.

But then you feel him flick a small switch at the base of the helmet and then everything abruptly cuts out and goes dead silent.

Nothing.  Nothing.  You’re standing in a pitch black room where no other sound exists besides your own labored breathing.  Just like the waterfall on Naboo, but you can’t speak this time.  Temporarily making you blind, deaf, and putting a proverbial gag over your mouth all with one powerful piece of armor.

You shudder and he kicks your legs apart before you can do much else, yanking your hips back while you just try your best to cling to the wall for stability.  You don’t know what he’s going to do, you’re completely isolated in here and the only way you can even tell he dropped to his knees is the hot glide of his tongue through your pussy from behind.

Oh fuck—you arch into position as best you can while hands wrap around your ankles to pull them apart, trying to make the angle better.  His tongue licks softly over your clit and each time is like an electric shock jolting through your body, making you twitch back and up for him, stretching and begging him to do it again.  You can’t see anything right now so your mind readily imagines the visuals instead, providing you with a third party view.  Din, fully clothed and face shielded by your thighs, eating you out from behind while you brace yourself against the wall, completely naked and at his mercy, head tilted down from the weight of his helmet and living for the moments he decides to drag his tongue across your clit.

Without warning, a sudden burst of sensation ripples along your backside and causes you to lift the beskar in surprise, but without being able to hear anything, it takes you a second to figure out that he just smacked your ass.  The realization comes more or less at the exact time he decides to flatten his tongue and follow the curve of you back and up.

You gasp into the pitch black and there’s a moment where you just hold utterly still for him, experiencing and processing the sensation for the very first time.  His mouth is soft and warm as he tastes you here, his fingers digging into the swell of your cheeks to spread you open.  You’re glad your face is hidden so he can’t see the shock in your expression, the way your mouth drops and your eyes close as you let him explore you this way.

His gloved hands leave you for just a moment while he continues gliding his tongue against you, along every single bit of skin he can reach, and then you feel a bare hand reach up between your legs and begin to rub slow circles around your clit.  His other arm pushes against your lower back and you’re forced into the corner even more, your naked breasts pressing hard against cool metal and feeling his hot mouth and strong fingers work you closer to the edge from behind.

You’re panting into the helmet, your hips arching back to feel that stimulation on your clit better, and as his fingers move over it slow and strong, you feel a soft vibration against your skin and you realize he’s moaning into you.  The knowledge sparks a different kind of heat through you and makes you suddenly go still and tense right here.  If he stays just like this for even just a few more seconds, you’re going to cum.

“Din, I’m gonna cum,” your voice warbles inside the enclosed steel—just as his touch decides to abandon your body.  You groan loudly in distress, completely alone without his hands or mouth on you anymore, but all he likely hears is the silence of the hull and the way your palm smacks against the wall with it.  You were so close, everything feels like it’s pulled up so tight and painful and it hurts—

A hand clutches your hip and then a thick cock is suddenly pushing up against your soaking wet entrance, going to alleviate that twisting discomfort.  Your eyes roll back and your whole body goes limp as he slowly eases forward and breaks you open, fitting himself deep inside where you love to feel him most.  Your hands claw down the walls with a swell of bliss as he pulls out and then starts thrusting—and fuck, you love this.  You love the way he’s trapping you up against the corner and making you see stars at the same time, the way he’s supporting your weight but crushing down into you, too.  It makes you go boneless and want to riot simultaneously, groaning loud into the quiet abyss as he gives you what you both desperately needed.

One of his hands sinks down between your legs to play with your clit again, while a slick finger presses up against your ass and you gasp as he slowly penetrates you there, too.  Din’s hips work steady and powerful behind you, pushing you into the wall with every desperate thrust, using the arm shoved between your legs to support you as well as stimulate, and you just feel yourself move into a different place.  You don’t have a name for it but it feels like hyperspace.  Silence so loud it feels suppressing, faster than anything light can touch, nowhere and everywhere, hurtling towards something you can’t see but know lies in the distance.  You can tell he’s still fucking the tension out of his body, you can feel him working another wet finger inside you and stretching the virgin muscles back there, but every sensation begins to slowly blur together in a wicked uprising of ecstasy.

You don’t know where you are anymore, just that his fingers keep rubbing your clit and you think he's trying to ease a third into you when your destination abruptly arrives.

You nearly collapse when you cum, contracting so hard around his cock and fingers that you cry out unexpectedly—and because of the helmet, you think it’s just as unexpected for him.  He stops moving—everything stops moving besides you.  Your hips stutter backwards into his stationary body, dragging your clit back and forth against the tips of his unmoving fingers and fucking him as best you can.  It shatters white hot and goes straight through to your soul, wringing pleasure and wetness between your legs in waves.

Your knees are knocking against each other when Din pulls out, his cock still deliciously hard and now soaking wet with your cum, and then they just suddenly decide to give up without warning.  You don’t fall necessarily, but you do slowly slide down the wall like a slug and Din follows you to the floor instead of holding you up any longer.  His sternum moves quick and heavy against your back as he breathes and then suddenly the same switch at the base of his helmet is flicked, and sound bursts into existence all at once.

He’s panting.  Harsh breaths behind you that match the rapid pace of his chest, and the ambient noise of the rest of the hull.

“Can you hear me?”  He gasps, sounding fucking wrecked, and you nod the helmet against the wall while gravity and exhaustion and his beskar chestplate squishes you into it.  “P-Put up a fight if you want me t-to stop, p-please—” he rasps out, almost the entire thing air and so close to cumming, and then his knees lift just slightly and the blunt head of his cock presses against your other entrance.

And, if you wanted, you absolutely could.  He’s got you boxed into the corner but he’s not constricting your movements, he’s given you every ability to struggle.  You could easily throw an elbow back against his side, push against the wall to shove him away, smack at his arms or even just flail against his body in panic—you could do one or all of those things to signal him to stop and you know he’d do it immediately, he’s asking you to.  You could struggle.  If you wanted.

Instead, you just grab hold of the beskar strapped to his thigh and drop the helmet to your chest, nearly vibrating with the thrill and preparing yourself for it.  You know he’s gotta be inches away from orgasm, you know from the tone of his voice that he’s right there on the edge and it’s not like it’s going to last a long time.  Thanks to him, you also feel like you’re just as slick and wet back there as you are between your legs, stretched open by his fingers while you came all over him.  You want nothing more than to give this to him, to let him be the only person in the universe that knows how you feel this way.

When you pointedly do not put up a fight and even go so far as to arch your lower back for him in presentation, Din curses and his fingers begin jerking back and forth over your sensitive clit once more.  It might normally be too much for you, but your body is sparking with lust and quickly acclimates to the stimulation, learning to burn and ache for it, too.  Fuck, it feels so good, you tense and melt into it at the same time, letting him ease you back up to that peak once more.

He pushes up against the tight ring of skin and you can’t fucking explain it—his fingers keep rubbing your clit and he’s slowly pushing into your ass and—

“I—I think I’m—” you suddenly lift the helmet to gasp out in surprise, forgetting he can’t hear you, “ngh—D-Din, I think I’m gonna c—”

He’s just barely able to breach the tight entrance and fit the head inside before he freezes—and even though everything happens consecutively, it’s all so rapid that it feels simultaneous.

Your hips could go forward, but they don’t.  Your body decides to send you backwards into him, pushing him inside nearly halfway all at once as your muscles lock down and just fucking strangle his cock.  Your piercing scream gets trapped in the silence of his helmet as you cum once more—painfully, madly and with every fucking part of you for him.  There’s maybe one or two mind shattering pulses of ecstasy before the rest of your body catches up and starts convulsing, and by then Din is already gasping and fumbling behind you, suddenly realizing what’s happening without hearing the sound of your ragged warnings and then ripping himself away just in time.

He punches out your name when he cums like you just fucking snapped him in half—his body hunches and the beskar digs hard into your back as warmth starts splattering along your skin.  You crumple while he shoves his hips up against your spine, riding and working the orgasm out of himself while yours just fucking obliterates you.  You think you whine his name—or a curse word or something, but it gets strained and your lungs lose air every time his powerful armored body humps you into the wall of his ship.

Finally he eases up and you just lay there and listen to the ringing in your ears.  Blissfully empty, still pulsing from cumming so hard and feeling like your bones just decided to stop existing and the rest of you was okay with it since you were already on the floor anyways.  You feel him shudder and twitch behind you, letting go of that last bit of tension until he too allows gravity to slouch his heavy torso over onto you.

You both stay like that for a while, until your eyes close and your everything below your waist goes numb.  Eventually you feel him shift and your head bobbles as the helmet is slowly removed, but a large palm cradles your chin to stop your face from slamming into the wall in exhaustion once it’s off.  You just continue to melt into the paneling like you’re nothing more than goo of a human being while he trades it back to its rightful place on his shoulders and tucks his cock back into his pants, before wrapping his arms around you and lifting you both up.  The floor and metal walls, once feeling like you and them were one, suddenly decide to disappear entirely as you’re hauled up into Din’s powerful arms.

He slowly carries your naked, fucked senseless body over to the fresher, and you squint your eyes open over his shoulder to see… he’s still got his rifle slung around his back while his cum is dripping down yours.  Not a single thing on him is out of place and you’re, well… a mess is a word that works.  Limp and doll-like, carried like your weight is practically nothing to him after years of having the densest armor known to the galaxy strapped to his body.

Setting you down is a mess, too.  At some point you think he just gives up and decides to return you to your humble floor abode with a patience and care unexpected from someone who just defiled you so thoroughly.  You hear the fresher door open and the faucet squeak, before he turns back around and crouches to your level.

“Stay here,” Din tells you lowly, his modulated voice coming gentle and warm through the sounds of water raining down against metal.  You don’t feel his touch directly, but your hair moves away from your face.  “I’ll be right back, okay—just stay here.”

Can do.  Easy.  He waits until you murmur a soft mhm to him before he leaves the tiny compartment, and then you soon hear his heavy footsteps ascending the ladder to the cockpit.

***

You don’t think you fall asleep, but the powering up of the Crest’s thrusters make you realize your eyes were closed.  Opening them barely qualifies as a squint though; you look around to see steam slowly filling the fresher, the water already running hot and welcoming in the small room.

You know you need to shower but you’re so fucking exhausted, you feel like you can’t even move your body.  You also know you can just do the same exact thing in there as you’re doing in here, you just need to muster up the energy necessary to get inside it and then fall back asleep.  He set you down in the small little space outside the shower door and then got everything set up for you, you can at least stand up and take a few steps.

Unfortunately, you might pick just about the worst time possible to plant your hands on the ground and work to struggle upright on all fours like a newborn animal.  The steady rise through Nevarro’s atmosphere pushes gravity down harder than you’re expecting—is he trying to fly quickly or are you just that dead-limbed?—and then of course, by the time you do manage to fight it and successfully get on two wobbly legs to hold yourself up, the subtle shift of the hyperdrive kicking in nearly knocks you back down again.  You stumble and grab the walls, bracing yourself against them and looking down at your knees in exasperation.  Come on, work.  Move forward.  Come on.

You’re glad he’s not here to witness this monstrosity, honestly.  Just opening the door and taking a few steps into the fresher is a feat—while you’re not in any pain and he didn’t leave any marks on you, you just feel… steamrolled.  Ran over by a truck.  Only having the strength to keep your feet beneath you as you finally move under the water and close the door behind you.

Oh, but this is wonderful.  This was such a good idea, he’s so fucking smart.  The shower falls warm and lovely against your body, wetting your hair and immediately heating you down to your bones.  You don’t move really at all—you kinda just stand there and slouch, closing your eyes against the spray and slowly breathing the mist into your lungs.  It feels so nice—not really restorative even though you like that word, it would imply the water provides you with any energy whatsoever.  It just feels like a comfort, a relief and sedative for your already wildly fatigued body.

You haven’t been in here for more than a minute or two when knuckles tap gently against the metal walls of the fresher, before the natural bass of Din’s unmodulated voice murmurs from somewhere beyond it.  “Hey.  Keep your eyes closed.”

How did he know?  You figured you’d be way ahead of him.  You’re standing but slumped over, wanting nothing more than to just say fuck gravity and pass out right here.  The walls are too cold to lean against now that you’re all toasty from the heat and steam, so you’re just unconsciously swaying on your feet, trying to balance the precedence of sleeping versus not falling over.  You don’t even comprehend the sudden flip of the light switch overhead beyond the fact that it makes it easier to snooze without being so bright behind your eyelids.

The door eventually opens at the very same time you realize you never answered him, but you just commit to the silence at this point.  It’s easy, you like it.  Soon you feel warm hands touch your shoulders, slowly spinning you around while you follow and hang your head, your neck not wanting to support it any longer, and then suddenly a bare chest is pressing up against you and powerful arms are wrapping around your body, and you can just lean all of your weight into him while your head rests right here on his shoulder.

He holds you without moving for a long time, keeping you just like this—your ear pressed against his skin while water rains hot and comfortable down your back.  Knowing you’re facing one of the walls, you crack your heavy lids just the slightest bit and finally notice the tiny compartment is dim and shrouded—the only light source is a single one coming from somewhere in the hull beyond the partially closed doorway.  It’s dark and quiet and you can barely see anything besides the metallic fresher walls and unfocused droplets chasing each other down Din’s naked skin.  Just you and him, flowing water with a sheet metal backdrop.

You think you spend an eternity like that and yet you still find yourself wanting another when he finally shifts, reaching over you to grab a bar of his generic soap but making sure to use the arm whose shoulder you’re not currently resting against.

It glides slow and hypnotic down your back, dragging up over your sides and then back down the curve of your spine.  He’s so sturdy and he doesn’t say a word while he does it, lathering it along your body and rubbing it into your skin.  His bar of soap, not yours.  They started out almost the same since you picked them up at the same vendor, but there’s just a slightly bolder and sharper scent to his that you recognize.  How the bar is far larger than yours because of how often he’s gone away.

Your eyes droop and you feel the water trail over your lips, dripping down your chin and pooling the dip of his collarbone.  The only other time you two shared this fresher was terrifying and he’s rewriting the memories right now, whether consciously or not.  Hot water, not freezing cold.  Standing upright and supporting you.  Heart beating strong under your ear, taking care of you this time until you can care for yourself.

You… you just worry so much more now, it’s becoming an issue.  You didn’t realize how much until you nearly lost him, and you know in your heart that he’s just going to go away again.  Throw himself into more danger, tempt death as always, risk his life for mere credits while all you can provide in return is this.  Skin to skin contact.  Someone to hold.  Someone who knows him, who knows the way he struggles between reaching out for a softness that life has always denied him and clinging to what is rough and familiar.  Someone to remind him that there’s still gentle and forgiving things in this galaxy that won’t disappear when he’s gone, and that he can always come home to them, as long as he can manage to find his way back.

Something sad tugs hard at your chest.  You want to tell him not to leave.  Again, again—you want nothing more than to beg him to stay.  You don’t have anything better to offer instead; if he asked you how it would work, how you imagine your lives would go if he wasn’t hunting quarry on a constant timetable, you’d be hard-pressed.  You don’t know.  But you know what you want to say, because it’s two words you shouldn’t say but always find yourself needing to say regardless.  

Don’t go.

But, instead of two words, you give him three.

Instead of asking him not to leave you again… in the haze and comfort of his arms, you think you just tell him that you love him.

And… you also don’t think the water falling down on the two of you is loud enough to cover it up this time.

It’s not ideal, you know.  You know.  From his point of view, he just got finished releasing all sorts of pent up tension on you, overwhelming your body with the strength and power of his in a way that normal people wouldn’t take as an expression of affection.  But you know him.  You know that he finds it much easier to express the things he feels in a physical way, which is why there’s a bar of soap against your back right now instead of his voice in your ear, telling you all the things you’ve always wanted to hear from him in return.  You know that sex is how this all began and it’s likely just the closest link between roughness and sweetness that he can really put his hands on, something that can fit him equally as well as it fits you.  Love is different, it’s thrilling and scary.  Even to someone like him, who lives everyday of his life surrounded by thrilling and scary things, who’s seen more bloodshed and suffering and pain than you can ever even imagine, you know that it’s scary.

Din doesn’t say anything back to your confession, and truthfully, not a single part of you was expecting him to.  It wasn’t said so he could say it back.  It just is.  Some things don’t need explanations, they just are.  You’re okay with that.

But, you eventually come to realize that he always waits until you’re just on the very edges of sleep, holding out until your blurry vision and fading consciousness can trick you into thinking you only imagined it.  You won’t ever figure out if it’s purposeful or if he just needs that long to find what he wants to say.

Another soft, lilting sentence in a language you wouldn’t be able to translate, even if you could pick out a single word.  It sounds so beautiful though, regardless of how mysterious and far away its meaning feels.  There’s something hidden underneath.  You ache to know what it is.

But you’re so tired.  You just whine softly against his shoulder, not being able to transform the thoughts into sentences anymore but hoping he understands regardless.  He can’t just resort to bearing his soul in Mando’a all the time now, especially when you’re always on the verge of sleep when he chooses to do so.

But at some point, his arms subtly tighten around you and the pressure is one of the only things that’s keeping you awake anymore.

“I won’t ever ask you to,” he says to you, the quietness of his baritone getting lost in the gentle spray and your looming slumber.  “I’m…  not allowed to ask.  I can’t.”

Your expression twitches just the slightest bit against his shoulder in confusion, wondering distantly what word or sentence you must’ve missed from before that would make him make sense.  Was that a translation?  Or a continuation?

But then your wet hair is slowly moved away from your nape and his head tilts down, face pressing into your neck and voice lowering until it’s nothing more than a breath against your skin, nothing more than a confession that he couldn’t ever say out loud with his full chest.  It’s a secret he only ever wants you to know, a truth he’s choosing to admit to even though you could ruin him with it.  You have no idea how much, you won’t know for a long time just how much power he’s giving you by telling you this one very simple thing.

“But whenever you want to look,” Din finally whispers, the only version of I love you too that a Mandalorian knows.  “You can.”

[savnofilter]

                      dabi x cam girl!reader

warning(s): sexual content, fingering, squirting, camgirl, cunt slapping, edging, dirty talking, overstimulation, established relationship.

a/n: lmao ive always stated how lame cam au is... here i am now lol. consider this a sorry not posting hjvihihv anywhom, and its a lil rushed but its okay enjoy & happy birthday dabi! <33

The number of viewers was starting to pile up. You had only started your stream about a few minutes ago and there was enough of an audience to fill 100+ slots.

Your heart raced and your cunt tingled, walls slick against your boyfriend's fingers. The tips of his digits were quick to stroke against your g-spot with each thrust his hand delivered. You couldn't help the shuddered moan that left your lips, the pressure on your bladder becoming almost unbearable.

"Honey — please," You gasped. You managed to catch a quick glance at the views to see it has jumped up tremendously. Your plea didn't convince him to let up, the pressure against your sensitive spot increasing. Your legs jumped too close at the feeling, his other free hand stopping your thigh from closing.

"Ah-ah, don't be selfish," Dabi mumbles against your ear. "your viewers can't enjoy themselves if your legs are closed."

He withdrew his hand from your cunt, a desperate sigh coming from you as your cunt ached in need. His fingers moved to pull your lips apart and show off your pink insides to the viewers. With the way that camera was angled, your viewers had a perfect view of your pink walls.

And so the views rose. Your boyfriend insisted on keeping you open, enjoying the comments just as much as you were. He stroked at your labia a few times before rubbing at your clit to tease you. Your breathing deepened as his rubs were slow and calculated, cunt twitching in need. You closed your eyes in bliss as the familiar of an orgasm was sure to come soon. Getting lost in the pleasure, you hadn't expected the next outcome.

Smack

You jumped at the stinging feeling against your clit. With your eyes wide open now and hands gripping his tighter, you didn't think you could last any longer. His hands moved to soothingly rub at the hot skin, muttering dirty praises in your ear as you could barely hang on.

Another was delivered to your cunt with no remorse from the last. Others may find this... kink painful, but it was a pleasurable type of pain to you. He continued this process once again and made sure to press more against your sensitive clit.

"Baby please." You pleaded desperately, so wanting to cum but not wanting to disobey him. Your nails were practically digging into his skin as you metaphorically and literally clung onto him for support.

Your words only encouraged him to toy with you more. With added pressure against your erect bud, he sped up his pace to the rhythm you liked. Your mouth hung open and your hips jerked. "Then cum."

Of course, it took you a few seconds before you could, the release of pressure on your bladder and the coil in your tummy being released at the same time. You moaned out as he didn't stop rubbing you even with your fluids coating his fingers and even the equipment in front of you. You shivered as he completely rode you out, slumping against him tiredly.

"Good girl~" Dabi started, "who wants to see her do it again?"

[delimeful]

Snapshot: Cleanse

snapshots: a new compilation of mini-fics taking place in the WIBAR universe! this one takes place a few days after Making Adjustments!

warnings: none! Whoops, All Fluff!

-

It was a few days after the Breakfast Ceasefire that Virgil decided enough was enough.

He needed a shower. Badly.

It didn’t matter that he was on an alien ship full of alien stuff, or that showering meant temporarily ditching the comfort of his hoodie, or even that two out of three aliens would probably happily see him dead at any opportunity.

He had picked up what felt like an entire football field’s worth of dirt, mud, and other muck while him and Patton were planet-hopping, and impromptu washcloth (read: a patch torn from the back of his shirt) cleaning sessions had only done so much. They only came across clean water every so often, anyhow. Most of it couldn’t be wasted on washing.

Patton had picked up on his discomfort back then— that or the smell— but the Ampen’s idea of ‘cleaning up’ was very similar to that of chinchillas’ back home on Earth: dust baths. That’s right. More dirt.

(Yes, he’d rolled around in the dirt with his friend. Contrary to popular interstellar belief, he wasn’t a monster.)

Still, it was time to come clean. Literally and metaphorically.

Patton had spent last night cuddled up to him, which meant that he had actually gotten a full eight hours of sleep (good!) and that Roman was probably sulking around (ungood!). The sense of clarity that came with not being quite so horrendously sleep deprived only made him more aware of how dirty he was. It felt like heresy to even touch any of the numerous well-sanitized surfaces in the ship.

“Patton,” he called, once the Ampen had started doing those little antennae twitches that meant he was half-awake. “Can you show me the wash room?”

The response was a little delayed, but eventually Patton startled into full wakefulness with a little chirp-peep that reminded him of a computer startup noise.

From there, he was led down the circular halls to a square room that sort of resembled a locker room shower area, complete with drainage grates in the floor. There was a ledge along one side of the room that led up to a windowbox-like protrusion, and Virgil could see from here that it was full of soft, beige dirt.

Patton paused, visibly turning his head from Virgil to the washbox, as though measuring things out in his mind.

“That’s probably too small for you, huh?”

Virgil stopped him before he could start making plans for a human-sized sandbox. “Uh, actually, Pat, I need water to wash.”

“Oh!” Patton exclaimed, more surprised than disconcerted. “Well, water we doing over here then?”

Virgil couldn’t hide a smile, and Patton crinkle-smiled back at him before waving him over to the opposite end of the room. He pointed up, where there were little circular discs with a grid of tiny holes set into the wall. “Here you go! Roman uses these to help with his slough, or when he gets particularly rough and tumble down on planetside!”

… Great. Odds were borrowing his shower was probably going to make Roman even more homicidal towards him. Virgil decided to worry about that later. For now, he was faced with the biggest challenge of them all: figuring out how a friend’s shower knobs worked.

Surprisingly, it seemed like the panel set into the wall below each disc worked similarly to the other touchscreens he’d seen set into the control room of the ship. Unsurprisingly, they were all labeled with the written form of Common, which meant he had about zero chance of figuring it out on his own.

Patton noticed his blank stare and patted at his knee, and Virgil squatted down easily so the undersized alien could clamber onto his shoulder. He rose up, and Patton’s little claws scrambled for purchase for a moment before he caught his balance, Virgil tense with preparation to twist and catch him if he fell.

“This little icon has the symbol for on, and this is how you get it hot or cold,” he chirped, leaning forwards to point at the screen for emphasis. Virgil obligingly shifted closer, trying to commit the guidance to memory. “You’re a little squisher than Roman, so you should probably change the pressure, too.”

Once he’d shuffled around so he was sure neither of them were about to get slammed by a jet of water, he tapped the power button.

A three-note chime played as a sort of countdown, and water shot out of the disc, at what was probably the appropriate pressure to powerwash muck from under tightly-packed scales. Virgil pushed the slider down until he could put his hand under without feeling any sting from the water’s impact. Then, he cranked the temperature up until it was just short of scalding.

Patton eyed the steam curling up into the air with a concerned fluff to his feathers, but didn’t protest after seeing the small, delighted grin that Virgil made as he held his hand under.

No, this wasn’t dunking his head in cold streams, or dipping his arm in a lukewarm puddle, or the humiliating icy hose downs in captivity. This was warm water. He’d never take it for granted again.

He shrugged out of his hoodie as he walked over to the entrance. “Does this… lock?”

“Any door on the ship can be sealed,” Patton replied, and bonked his head to Virgil’s sympathetically at the shudder that information sent through him. “Nobody’s going to lock anything without your permission, though, okay?”

“Yeah,” Virgil said, knowing he sounded less than convinced. “Can you guard the door, still? Just in case,” he added in English, one of the phrases he’d used a lot while they were on the run.

Patton gave him a sad look, more than aware how unsafe he still felt, but nodded firmly and dropped carefully down to the floor, taking up position just outside the door like a tiny sentry. Virgil draped his hoodie over him, and then-- checking that the others weren’t nearby to witness and freak out about it-- he gave him the world’s smallest noogie, ruffling the feathers atop his head with a knuckle.

Having preemptively twitched his antennae out of the way, Patton made one of those bird-like laughs at him, batting his hand away. “Go clean! And make sure you wash out for slippery floors!”

Virgil snorted, and carefully sealed the door behind him, trying not to think about the feeling of being stuck in a tiny square room again. He shook his head, dragging his thoughts back on track.

He had access to a warm shower, his first in literal months (...years?). He was going to stay under that spout until every bit of dirt washed down the drain.

---

Roman was midway through a session of storywriting when he heard Patton’s bright voice coming down the hall, passing by his room and chattering all the while.

His ears flicked back automatically to check in, and he frowned when he realized that he couldn’t hear Logan’s arms clicking alongside the Ampen. No, apart from Patton’s tiny tapping footsteps, there was nothing. Patton had to be talking to the Human, then, since he was the only one who ghosted around the ship silently enough to make Roman feel stalked at every corner.

Well. He’d grown tired of watching his characters make a rather vexing detour from his carefully-plotted main storyline anyhow, and he was loath to leave his smallest friend alone with a Human, regardless of how docile that Human pretended to be.

After a brief cleanup of his writing instruments, he was sweeping down the corridor to the commons after them.

Logan was already in the room when he arrived, which was surprising; even Roman had picked up on the ludicrous lengths the Human went to avoid the Ulgorian, as though Logan of all people was someone to be scared of. The nerd’s poison blood was the most “threatening” thing about him, and the Human had already shown how easily he could shake that off.

Patton was leading the Human by one hand, their size disparity as jarring and terrifying as ever. And the Human…

Roman turned his head to the side to study the scene more intently, and that in itself was strange.

Normally, Virgil was almost preternaturally aware of when he was being watched, according to Logan. It was obvious when he knew: the Human went tense and rigid, practically poised to pounce at any moment.

But now, he was trailing after Patton with a relaxed slope to his shoulders, his steps almost languid. He all but collapsed on the fluffy cushion Patton gestured to, eyes gliding shut as the Ampen climbed up after him.

Roman took a few steps into the room, and the Human cracked one eye open-- not entirely out of it, then. The mild suspicion he was regarded with was almost reassuring.

Upon closer inspection, there were physical changes, too. The human had gone from pale, almost grey-toned to having a pinkish tint to his skin. The grey-brown still clung to the hooded garment he’d draped himself in, creating an even more jarring contrast. Dirt, then? It would certainly explain the smudges he left everywhere he touched much better than some strange Human Residue.

… He wasn’t crossing Human Residue off the list of possibilities, though.

Most striking of all was his head. He had originally stalked around with a matted mess of fur, glinting oily in the light where it wasn’t dull with dirt. Now, the fur was clean and stuck out in little fluffy tufts, creating a much less menacing look overall.

Patton apparently agreed, because he’d scampered up to one shoulder and immediately buried his tiny hands into that fluff. Roman and Logan both startled, exchanging an alarmed-exasperated-fearful look, one that had become exceedingly more common after Patton came home with his new Human cellmate.

Surprisingly, all Virgil did was go even more boneless on the cushion, turning his head to better meet Patton’s touch. Patton closed his eyes happily, apparently completely fine with petting one of the most feared creatures in the galaxy.

That wasn’t surprising at all, actually.

What was surprising was the Human’s apparent tolerance for it.

“I wasn’t aware Humans enjoyed tactile ministrations,” Logan said, tapping his wristplates curiously. “Is Virgil alright?”

The Human in question turned slightly to glance at them, eyes still half-lidded. It was probably the least threatening body language Roman had seen from him since… well, ever. “Mm?”

“You’re just relaxing, aren’t you kiddo?” Patton combed through that mess of fluff some more and Virgil lost what little tension he’d regained. “Virgil spent a lot of time on guard while we were on the run planetside. He deserves all the time in the world to recuperate… and all the head scritches!”

Roman’s tail swished exasperatedly, but even he really couldn’t come up with a reason to begrudge the Human for this, not when Patton was so clearly enjoying having someone else onboard to preen. Even if that someone was a Deathworlder.

He moved to settle onto his own cushion under the guise of supervising, though for once he thought the Human might actually fall asleep in front of him.

And if he was perhaps just slightly curious about what exactly a fluffy Human felt like? Well, that was nobody’s business but his own.

[memxntomxri]

𝚏𝚛𝚊𝚐𝚒𝚕𝚎

𝗽𝗮𝗿𝘁 𝟮 | 𝗺𝗮𝘀𝘁𝗲𝗿𝗹𝗶𝘀𝘁 | 𝗵𝗼𝗺𝗲

𝘱𝘢𝘪𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘨 - bisexual!hinata shouyou x gn!reader, hinata shouyou x miya atsumu

𝘨𝘦𝘯𝘳𝘦 - angst, break up

𝘥𝘦𝘴𝘤 - hinata shouyou is trustworthy - with everything except for your heart

𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘥 𝘤𝘰𝘶𝘯𝘵 - 2.4k words

𝘵𝘸 - slightly descriptive nsfw?, cheating (i'm sorry to be doing my children hinata and atsumu dirty this way but this got stuck in my head 😭), major angst, break-up, no happy ending, lots and lots of crying, lots and lots of reader's internal thoughts, atsumu is an asshole

𝘯𝘰𝘵𝘦𝘴 - this is the result of brainrot i had stuck in my head after reading chapter 18 of SabbyWrites' A Study in Depravity. HAIKYUU BOYS ARE NOT CHEATERS - I REPEAT, HAIKYUU BOYS ARE NOT CHEATERS. BISEXUAL PEOPLE ARE ALSO NOT CHEATERS. i just couldn't resist writing this lmao

also, i'm doing my best to make this a gender-neutral reader, but it might lean more towards AFAB/non-binary readers since i'm both ashelkgjkdlkjf male-identifying readers i'm sorry

thanks @meiansmistress, lou (LouEve_094 on ao3), lena, and emmy (Noisy_Emmy on ao3) for betaing! your feedback helped me a lot

𝙢𝙞𝙣𝙤𝙧𝙨 𝙙𝙣𝙞 - there are some descriptive scenes of smut in here 👀 shoo, shoo

｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆　　 ｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆

Hinata Shouyou is trustworthy.

You know this.

It's the reason you met, after all.

⋇⋆✦⋆⋇　 ⋇⋆✦⋆⋇

The summer you moved to Miyagi, following your father's dream of teaching in a little town similar to the one he lived in as a child, you were unhappy. Who could blame you, after all? You had a comfortable life back in Osaka, and unlike your father, you were a city dweller at heart. It was also the middle of your first year of high school—who wanted to transfer schools, let alone across prefectures, in the middle of a school year?

It was hot in Miyagi, and when the moving truck broke down on the side of the road, the entire family piled out and sat on the curb. Just your father (who you were still mad at), your mother, and you. That was what it had always been. Sure, you had friends, but somehow the friendships never got too deep. You were willing to bet that within a month, there would be no texts other than the occasional New Year's greeting or "happy birthday" from your so-called friends back in Osaka.

And don't even get you started on romantic relationships. It wasn't that you weren't attractive, or that you weren't easy to get along with—it was just that there was never anybody. Yes, you had liked people before, but nothing had ever come of it.

Your mother piped up, saving you from your dark thoughts about the state of your relationships with other people. "Y/n, love, can you go back down the hill again? I think we saw a konbini a bit that way, please buy some cool drinks." she says, depositing coins in your outstretched hand. Oh well, something to do, you supposed.

You strolled casually down the road, sweating buckets. When you pushed open the doors of the konbini—Sakanoshita Store, you noted, it definitely didn’t look like a konbini—opened, you basked in the cold air of the air conditioner for a bit. As you stood there, looking a bit dumb with your arms outstretched, you felt a weight barrel into you from behind.

With a bang, you fell forward, the weight landing on your back. "Ow!" you cried, rubbing your right wrist, which had unceremoniously made contact with the ground, pain shooting up the limb. You twisted around to glare at whatever had so unceremoniously bowled you over. You were met with the sight of wide, brown eyes and flushed cheeks. "Sorry!" the boy squeaked, getting off of you quickly. "So sorry!" You frowned and got up.

"Watch where you’re going, okay?" You were a few centimeters taller than him, you noted.

He started blabbering, talking about how he needed to get the first-aid kit because a "Stingyshima" had "accidentally" ran into "Bakageyama" and this "Bakageyama" now had a bleeding knee and that he was the fastest runner in their volleyball club (he was strangely emphatic about this point). By the time he was finished rambling, you were chuckling slightly. It was obvious that he hadn't meant anything by running into you, and it was actually kind of endearing how earnestly he was trying to explain himself.

You held up a hand, stopping him from continuing to ramble. "Y-you aren't mad, right?" he asked anxiously. You smiled and shook your head slightly. "It seems your team trusts you to help take care of your friend, so why don't you grab the first-aid kit and go help him?" You suggested gently.

He nodded quickly and darted behind the counter, grabbing a white box. As he jogged away, he seemed to remember something and turned around to holler at you. "My name's Hinata Shouyou! I'm a first year!" he introduced himself in a bright voice.

Just inside the konbini, a small smile slipped across your face.

Hinata Shouyou, huh. He seemed nice.

⋇⋆✦⋆⋇　 ⋇⋆✦⋆⋇

Hinata Shouyou is trustworthy.

It's the reason you fell in love with him.

⋇⋆✦⋆⋇　 ⋇⋆✦⋆⋇

The first day of school, you meet Hinata Shouyou again. And again. And again. He somehow seems to pop up everywhere you go—not that you're complaining, he's entertaining and nice—and soon, you think you can count yourself as his friend.

You go to his game against Aoba Johsai, then Shiratorizawa, then you're hugging him as he jumps up and down, celebrating their win. That’s the first time your heart jumps when you look at him, haloed by the lights of the gym.

Slowly, you feel yourself falling in love with him. Not just falling for him, no, because Hinata Shouyou will not let anyone do anything in halves, especially not falling in love. Shouyou, to you, (because by then you were on first-name basis) is someone you can rely on, someone that is always there, like the sun, trustworthy.

And because he is always there, it's also easy to confess to him in your second year. You know him well enough by now to know that even if he doesn't feel the same, nothing would change about your friendship except for the addition of unspoken words. And you think that he might love you back, if the lingering glances and brighter smiles are any indication.

Your guess is right, and by New Year's break, the two of you are a happy couple.

⋇⋆✦⋆⋇　 ⋇⋆✦⋆⋇

Hinata Shouyou is trustworthy.

It's why you let him go, if only for a little bit.

⋇⋆✦⋆⋇　 ⋇⋆✦⋆⋇

When Shouyou left for Brazil, you took a break from each other. To be honest, it was your idea.

It wasn't that you didn't think that you couldn't trust him ten thousand kilometers away—it was that you knew you would hold him back. He was going to Brazil to chase his dream, and having a tether to his hometown would only slow him down. It hurt, having to say goodbye at the airport, but somehow the two of you got through it.

You still talked—a little more than "just friends" should—but you were careful not to let him think that you were together.

Shouyou was meant for greater things, and back then, as an insecure, just-barely-adult going into medical school, you weren't sure if you fit into the picture.

⋇⋆✦⋆⋇　 ⋇⋆✦⋆⋇

Hinata Shouyou is trustworthy.

It's the reason why you let him back in.

⋇⋆✦⋆⋇　 ⋇⋆✦⋆⋇

When Shouyou returns from Brazil, the first person he visits is you. You, all the way out in Osaka, pushing yourself to your limits as you study for med school. When you open your door and see him standing there, smiling as bright as ever, you fall into his arms—both literally and metaphorically. It turns out, even two years later, you trust him to catch you.

It was all too natural for you and Shouyou to get back together, and by a stroke of luck, he joins the MSBY Black Jackals, right there in Osaka. You move in together, his slightly larger salary allowing the two of you to rent a bigger apartment.

Yes, it's hard work being in a relationship again, but you like having Shouyou to return to every night after your shift is over. You wake up early every morning to make the two of you breakfast and lunch, and Shouyou always has dinner waiting for you when you step back in the door, often also staying up so that you can talk.

You're content.

⋇⋆✦⋆⋇　 ⋇⋆✦⋆⋇

Hinata Shouyou is trustworthy.

It's the reason why you think nothing of his closeness with his teammates.

⋇⋆✦⋆⋇　 ⋇⋆✦⋆⋇

Shouyou has always been a people-magnet. Even back in high school, everyone loved him. Shouyou is bisexual. You know this. He’s always had more than enough love to give back, too, and his bisexuality had never impacted your relationship. Why should it, when you’re every bit as queer as him? Your relationship was strong, and you believed in it. That's why, at every team dinner that he takes you to, when someone else inevitably takes the seats next to him instead of you and you're relegated to a corner, you don't worry about it. Shouyou loves you, and it doesn't matter where you sit for a couple of hours.

Yes, Miya Atsumu is a bit aggressive whenever Shouyou compliments him, throwing a smirk over his shoulder at you triumphantly, but you chalk it to them being good friends and Miya-san wanting to get to know you better by having a little friendly competition, and that's okay.

Yes, Shouyou starts going out with his team more and more, but they're his team. He's supposed to be close with them.

Yes, you start to feel a little neglected, but it wasn't as if you were the most attentive back when you were still struggling through med school.

And anyways, Shouyou always makes time for the two of you on Saturdays, your designated date nights. You have trust in your relationship, in its rock-tight foundation built upon years of knowing each other.

⋇⋆✦⋆⋇　 ⋇⋆✦⋆⋇

Hinata Shouyou is trustworthy.

It's why you believe his words.

⋇⋆✦⋆⋇　 ⋇⋆✦⋆⋇

One Friday, after an especially busy shift at the hospital that got cut short for you when a coworker unexpectedly came in to fill in for you, you decide to head home early and get some rest, maybe cuddle with Shouyou while watching those romcoms you both enjoy.

You had told him that you'd be home late that night, and you hoped that you could surprise him with some dinner. So, you swung by his favorite yakitori place and ordered dinner, driving home as fast as you safely could.

As you open the door to your apartment, you hear the distinctive sounds of sex, skin slapping on skin, grunts and moans, high keens. You frown. Maybe Shouyou was watching porn? He sometimes liked to get himself ready (the two of you enjoyed the occasional pegging) before you got home. You drop the food on the kitchen table and put your jacket on the hook.

"Love, I'm home!" you call out softly. No response.

Frowning deeper now, you move towards the bedroom door. Just as you're about to open it, you hear something that stops you cold.

"A-ah, Atsumu!" It's distinctively Shouyou's voice, and suddenly, you can't move anymore.

Shouyou, who told you you could make it through med school.

Shouyou, who made you yakisoba and miso soup whenever you were stuck studying.

Shouyou, who whispered sweet nothings in your ear every morning as the two of you made breakfast.

Shouyou, who is currently in bed with Miya fucking Atsumu.

You want to get up, you want to slam open the door, you want to demand answers, but somehow, you can't get your legs to budge from the spot in the ground they've rooted themselves to.

Then,

"Who do you love, Sho?" Atsumu growls.

Your heart skips a beat.

No.

No.

You pray to all the gods you know that what's about to pass Shouyou's lips will miraculously stay trapped in his throat, but it seems like the gods don't feel kind today.

"Y-you, Atsumu, you!" you hear Shouyou cry.

Your heart shatters into a million little kaleidoscopic pieces. Tears start running down your face, hot, involuntary, painful, because they represent the six years of a beautiful relationship down the drain, because nothing will ever be the same, because Shouyou is cheating on you.

Finally, your legs decide to move again. It seems like someone else is controlling your body as you walk towards the door, opening it with a shaking hand.

Shouyou is pinned down by Miya-san on the bed, legs thrown over his shoulder, as he slams into him.

The door bangs against the wall.

Shouyou looks up, and when he sees you, his face floods with guilt.

You don't say anything. You just stand there, tears flooding down your face, betrayal evident in your expression.

"Y-y/n!" he says. "I-I- I swear, this isn't-" he begins.

You cut him off. "I don't want to hear it, Shouyou." you spit.

Miya-san chuckles. "Who are we kidding, this is exactly what they think it is. What, did you think that you would be enough to satisfy Sho? You, with your infinitely busy schedule? You, who has no clue about volleyball?" he says, cutting into you.

"Atsumu, stop!" Shouyou says, frantic. He can tell that he's going to lose you, but he's not going to go down without a fight. "Babe, I love you, please-" he says, getting out of Miya-san's embrace and moving towards you. You sidestep him, holding a duffel bag with a change of clothes.

You stand there, looking at the scene, chuckling darkly inside your head. Just a scorned lover, a man, and his side-piece. You take a deep breath.

"You know, Shouyou, if you fell in love with someone else, you should've just told me. I trust you to be honest. I'm leaving—because even though you might love me, you're in love with Miya-san." you said.

Shouyou looks stricken with guilt, but you know it's from lying, not because he loves you anymore. Your laugh is broken and rough on the ears. "You think I didn't hear you? Oh, Shouyou, I heard more than enough. Have a nice life, and I hope that you remember how you broke me. I hope it fucking haunts you to the day of your death," you hurl at him.

Because even though at that moment you're screaming at him, you know that you still love him, that you’ll always will love him, and that you will carry this scar for the rest of your life. And even though you love him enough to leave now, to let him be with the person he loves—you still have enough love for yourself to hope that he bears some of the weight of this horrible, messy end too.

And with that, you walk out the door.

⋇⋆✦⋆⋇　 ⋇⋆✦⋆⋇

But you're wrong.

Hinata Shouyou might love Miya Atsumu, but he still loves you more.

Years later, looking back, he comprehends that he didn't just break you. As he stares at his empty apartment, devoid of a lover—because what you said was true, he still carries the guilt, the memory of your tear-stained face, the recollections of your golden time together that ruined any relationship he might have had before it started, the echo of your absolute trust in him,

—Hinata Shouyou realizes he ruined himself too.

｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆　　 ｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆

© ʙᴇᴛʜᴇʏᴅᴏᴄʀɪᴍᴇᴡʀɪᴛᴇꜱ 2021 - ᴘʟᴇᴀꜱᴇ ᴅᴏ ɴᴏᴛ ᴄᴏᴘʏ ᴏʀ ʀᴇᴘᴏꜱᴛ ᴡɪᴛʜᴏᴜᴛ ᴄʀᴇᴅɪᴛ

[shiggyscumrag]

Just tenya iida being yandere.

Basically, he's like Monika for DDLC (Doki Doki Literature Club) he doesn't care about who you are gender/sex wise he's just obsessed with you.

Let's say Izuku is playing the part of Sayori

Uraraka is playing the part of Natsuki

And Shouto is playing the part of Yuri.

I have never played nor watch someone play Doki Doki Literature Club so I dont know the dynamics enough to write for it, BUT I can wrote some yandere shit. Maybe some drabble of tenya being a yandere?

Tenya Iida

He wouldn't just kidnap a stranger. No, no he would do it after a couple months into your relationship or he would slowly start to isolate you from everyone over time.

Maybe you get hit on by one of your friends and you didnt even realize they were flirting with you. You would never leave nor cheat on iida so you didn't think anything of it. Iida on the other hand was furious, but not only at your friend but you too.

That's when he would find a way for only him to see you and not your lousey friends.

He might fuck with your head and slowly convince you that no one actually cares about you like he does and that the only person you need is him. Then you'll isolate yourself and only stay around him and him alone. You'll be in the palm of his hand. So needy for him, so obedient.

Definitely keeps up the "nice guy" facade, while hes emotionally/mentally manipulating you

Iida would be the type to film every thing he does to you have that be just basic torture and interrogate information out of you for whatever he wants to know or the deed

Izuku Midoriya

Baby is just a stalker

A stalker

That's it

No but seriously he would get so creepy about it-

Sneaking into your room while your at the gym and snooping around. Stealing panties, clean and dirty might I add

Comes into your room late at night when you're asleep and watches you sleep. He just finds it adorable how cute and vulnerable you look.

Learns the passcode to your phone after watching for awhile and snoops throughout whenever

Has a whole notebook dedicated just to you- would ask you out in the most ideal way for you. All your fav snacks, fav music playing, fav space/setting, etc. Some stuff you don't even remember telling him you like.

If you did agree to start dating perpared to slowly be manipulated into thinking he is the one and only person you need. Total isolation from the outside world<3

Shigiraki Tomura

I feel like he would be one of the biggest sadists ever so good fucking luck surviving his stalking and kidnapping because ummmm-

He would torture you to the brink of death but he would get sick twosted pleasure out of it

Definetely jerks himself off while questioning you and watching dabi, twice, and toga torture you.

They don't know he's doing it (okay dabi might know but he would do it to and hinwslty doesn't give a fuck-) so they just going ham and not knowing he's back behind the two way mirror fucking his fist

Once and if you finally break and spill everything his ego would sky rocket dude-

If you don't well...you're fucked. Literally and metaphorically.

[vargassdottir]

CHICAGO MED | Two Halves Make A Whole

✮ Part Three ✮

[Chapter List] [Part Two] [Part Four]

Chicago Med: Connor Rhodes x Original Female Character

Warnings: Swearing, adult themes, usual hospital/emergency department blood and gore. Inaccurate medical terminology and depictions of treatment.

Despite anyone else telling her that she was crazy, absolutely mental even, Mia loved early mornings. She didn’t like alarms, of course, very few do. But mornings, the earlier the better, were something of a guilty pleasure.

When Connor had asked her about it, way back in the early days of them dating, she’d laughed, her cheeks reddening in a delicate blush that he adored, and sat back in the couch they’d been cozied up in when the topic has arisen.

“So, what was this I overheard about a ‘dawn run’ with you and Eliza?” Connor had asked at the time, resting his chin on an open palm, which in turn caused him to rest his elbow on the back of the couch.

“Ah!” Mia had laughed, shaking her head a little. “Okay, so call me crazy but.. I like the morning. Early mornings.” She had then quickly held up her hands in mock surrender, as she noticed Connor’s bewildered expression. “Hear me out!” there was a nod before she continued: “There’s something.. Peaceful, about them. We spend all our days, and evening, rushing around trying to save lives, clean up after the worst of humanity even, but when you wake up before sunrise.. It’s as if none of that matters. There’s silence. A.. tranquility, to the world. It helps me focus on what’s really important.”

At the time Connor had just thought she was a little odd, sweet mind you, but odd all the same. But over time he couldn’t help but realise what she meant. Oh he still hated the crack of dawn alarm and hearing her bustle around the apartment before 4am, but on the rare occasions he’d join her for her morning run and coffee pit stop to watch the sun come up, he got a glimmer of understanding about what went on underneath those lazy blonde curls.

It’s why he also didn’t complain anymore when she did wake up so early. And why he didn’t think anything of it when he woke up alone that day.

Across town, Mia had gone to meet with her sister, Evelyn. Since moving to Chicago, a short drive from Evie’s own home, she had been bombarded with messages, emails, phone calls and damn smoke signals to meet and catch up. They had gone for a couple of short lunches and such, but today she’d agreed to take the day and see a movie, go for dinner with her and Connor after his shift was over. She actually wasn’t dreading it, which surprised her more than it should have.

It wasn’t that she and Evie didn’t get along particularly, just in that they were very different people. Mia liked to travel, she didn’t mind getting her hands dirty in whatever situation she found herself in (literally and metaphorically) and she couldn’t stand to sit still for longer than a few hours, else she was convinced she’d go mad. Evie on the other hand was her polar opposite. Evie had never left the United States for a single day of her life, calling airplanes “horrific contraptions of fart plunging us to our deaths”, Evie despised getting any sort of grime on her to the point of cleaning her nails obsessively four times a day, and above all else, Evie could somehow sit like a statue for hours on end behind some boring office job staring at computer screens all day.

But despite their differences, they were only a few hours apart now, for the first time in almost ten years, and that was no small thing to either of them. With Evelyn making the drive down from Grand Rapids, she could hardly pass that up unless she wanted to come off as a total ass.

So that’s where Mia found herself that morning, waiting for Evie to arrive, outside the same café they’d been to the last two visits her sister had made. Evie shared her love of early mornings, and had insisted on driving down the previous day and stayed at a nearby hotel so they could spend a full day together, so as Mia sat sipping her latte and flicking through cinema times on her phone, Evie rolled up.

Despite being almost four years apart in age, Evie being the elder of the two, they looked almost identical. Both with blonde hair, blue eyes and lightly tanned skin, roughly around the same height of 170-172cm, and the same kind smile that didn’t quite reach up to their eyes. But that’s where the similarities stopped. Whilst Mia’s hair reached to just past her shoulders and was naturally wavy, in a lazy and beach blown kind of way, Evie’s was short, barely past her chin, and straightened into a militaristic sort of bob. Mia preferred a more casual style, jeans, t-shirts and comfortable sweaters, easy to move around in, whilst Evie insisted on expensive blouses, skirts or tight leggings and low heels at least.

Naturally, as they left the café that morning, arms linked and laughing about some terrible joke their parents had made during their last weekly phone call, they discussed the Christmas ahead and what corny movie they could trash this year that would inevitably work in some Mariah Carrey monstrosity.

It had barely hit afternoon when Connor received a text midway through his lunch break. Chuckling, he received a raised eyebrow from April Sexton who was just receiving her order from the food truck Doctor Rhodes had called in for the day. Noticing the confused look he waved her over, flipping the phone in her direction.

The screen displayed a very recent picture of Mia and Evie were standing side by side, arms around each other and pulling ridiculous faces that would scare any young child. Cheekily posing in front of a local cinema where the sign read about Christmas classic reruns.

“Her sister’s in town, trying to spot how many cinemas are playing ‘Home Alone’ for a Christmas special.” Connor explained with another quiet laugh.

“Aw, well I’m sure she’s glad to have her sister nearby for the holidays. She mentioned they hadn’t seen each other much.” April said, having grown to be quite good friends with Mia in the months since she’d arrived, grinning at the picture, before moving to the side a little to allow others to order. “You met her?” she asked as she nodded back to his phone.

“Yeah, about.. One and a half? Two years back? Just before we went out to Riyadh together. Mia’d been up in Baltimore to finish her surgery part of residency and I’d gone up to San Antonio to meet her. Evelyn was in town for work, had a few drinks.. She’s something alright.” He uttered with a shake of his head, his tone amused, clearly hinting towards some tale or another about sisterly drinking acts. But before April could ask, the beeping of pagers set them, and everyone else around them, on alert. Before they could even register it, Maggie came rushing out the front calling the words no doctor or nurse likes to hear.

“Shooting in a movie theatre! Mass casualties. It’s about to get crazy. EMT four minutes out!” Maggie called out urgently, earning worried looks between the lunch crowd and the putting down of their bright coloured truck orders.

The loud, blaring tones of an ambulance screeching past them all however turned the mood to urgency very quickly, and hearing a yell of: “Check that, they’re here.” from Will Halstead just a few meters away, Connor and the rest of the hospital staff ran inside, a mental prayer ringing in his head, hoping it hadn’t been the very same Mia had been at today.

Connor had just pulled away from performing chest compressions on a woman, Mrs Simms, he recalls something of the name, with Will arriving to set up a tube into the lungs, when he finally caught the thought in his head.

Had he heard back from Mia?

He’d sent her a quick text, when he’d tossed his coat inside earlier, asking if she was alright and about the cinema shooting. But with everything going on of course he hadn’t had time to check yet. Sparing a moment before the inevitable next victim, he pulled his phone out of his pocket, the lock screen blaring back at him with a picture of the two of them, but no message alerts.

Fuck.

Panic began to build in his chest, a gnawing and sinking feeling sticking in his gut like a nasty bug. Maybe she had just put her phone on silent for a movie? Maybe she was at lunch with Evie by now? Maybe..?

The trail of thoughts and devolution into the stress of where his beautiful blonde could be, and whether or not she was okay, was cut off by the alarm of the next arrival.

Panic later. Work now.

A mantra in his mind, to focus, but not for a second would he not be hoping that Mia and Evie were alright.

Not even half an hour later however did his heart truly plummet right into the floor.

He’d just finished cracking the chest on the ‘shooter’, Peter, a barely out of teens prankster, and was about to lead the gurney up to the OR where Doctor Zanetti was waiting, when he saw a flash of blonde hair being rolled in… And Mia’s green jacket draped over the legs.

The next few minutes he couldn’t really remember, Peter’s gurney leaving without him, Connor’s feet pushing him in the direction of his target, his breath quickening till it felt like his lungs might collapse at the sheer amount of air forcing its way through.

Not her. Not her. Please not her.

“Connor!”

Mia’s voice rang out like a jolt of electricity being shocked right through him, winding him almost entirely when he turned and saw her. Her hair was half out of it’s relaxed ponytail, hanging around her face and behind her ears haphazardly, mascara running down her cheeks somewhat and jeans torn at the knees. Her face littered with small cuts and gripping her left wrist with her right, pulled tightly into her chest.

“Oh thank god.” was all Connor could say, pulling Mia into a tight embrace. At a light whimper coming from his beloved, he pulled away quickly, noting the dark bruises around her left forearm and hand, and the panicked darting of her eyes.

“I’m sorry I’m sorry I couldn’t reply but I—”

“Hey no, don’t you dare apologise. Let’s get you seen to okay?”

“Evie, she—” Mia choked up briefly, coughing a little as she did.

Mia then nodded towards the treatment room beside them, the blonde on the gurney Connor had mistaken as her, instead baring Evelyn. The green jacket tossed aside, he could see Mia’s sister’s leg was twisted at a painful angle, definitely broken at the knee if he had to guess, and the woman’s face and hands also littered with small cuts and bruises, but at least she was conscious. Quite so, considering she was telling the doctor and nurses not to rip her top else she would throw.. Something.. At them.

“She’s okay, she pushed me of the way when the stampede started. I stabilised the leg as best I could but—Aeh. Shit.” her own groan of pain cutting off her intended explanation to both Connor and the nearby doctor treating her sister, who had listened in a little once he heard about the first aid administered, when she’d waved her hands in explanation and in doing so moved her injured arm.

“Woah, okay, let’s get you seen to, alright? Let’s get you up to x-ray, see what we’re dealing with.” Connor said quickly as he looped his arm around Mia’s shoulders, earning a nod in agreement from both her and the other doctor as he led her towards the elevator.

“A broken wrist, it could’ve been worse. Oui maman, j'appellerai bientôt. Evie envoie son amour. Je t’aime, au revoir.”

Mia took a deep breath as she hung up the phone, having spent the last half an hour explaining to her parents that yes, she and Evie were hurt but relatively alright, no they weren’t going to need to stay at hospital and yes Connor was looking after them.

Leaning back against the pillar separating the treatment rooms on either side of her, she slowly inhaled, counted to four, breathed out, and returned to her sisters room.

Both the sisters had been bandaged up now, with Mia having a cast placed around her left wrist and hand, and Evie in turn had something similar over her right knee and lower leg, they made a right pair she thought.

Connor had barely left her side since she came in, insisting he’d run all the tests on her himself, and since Mia wasn’t in dire straits there was no need for Goodwin or Maggie to reprimand him for his closeness to this particular patient. This time. Holding her hand comfortingly through waiting times, which he knew she abhorred, and analysing the scans from x-ray and CT when she went through, just to be sure she was 110% alright (besides the wrist of course). He’d even persuaded the docs in both departments to let her sit in on Evie’s scans too, much to Goodwin’s impending aneurysm on the matter.

But, a couple of hours later, with both the Lambert sisters out of danger and ready for discharge, Mia had finally talked Connor into taking a look back in on his patients. She couldn’t very well leave mid-crisis anyway, and once she’d signed her paperwork she volunteered herself to Doctor Charles immediately, since he seemed a little short handed on psychiatrists right now. It seemed like the least she could if she couldn’t get hands on right now anyway, and neither he nor Goodwin could really come up with a rebuttal on the subject. Her sister however..

“Amélie Yves Lambert, do not tell me you are going back to work right now?! Êtes-vous fou? Nous avons failli être tués!”

Sighing, Mia rubbed her forehead with her right forefinger and thumb. Full names were reserved for guilt trips and speaking to her grandmother. No surprise which instance this fitted into.

“Oui, but people still need my help ‘Evelyn Jeanne’—” Mia struck back. “We weren’t nearly killed, we were barely bumped by the tail end of a stampede. Very different. Right now, there are people suffering and they need someone to listen to what is wrong, not all injuries are physical, vous connaissez? So please, let me do my job.” She huffed, turning from the room and moving to the hub.

“Hey, how’re you doing?” Nat immediately asked as she looked up from her chart and at Mia, who’s deepest cuts seemed to have been stitched and was sporting a dark blue cast by now to match her stormy expression.

“Had worse when I crashed my bike at fourteen.” Mia replied a little coldly, then offered an apologetic smile to her friend. “Who’s up next?” she asked with a nod towards the waiting room doors.

“Almost everyone’s been seen to, except.. Two sprained ankles and a concussion. All the physicals have been done, they just need clearing for their discharge papers. You want to handle that?” Doctor Manning responded with a flick through her iPad to check on the incoming patients. Nodding, Mia moved off to the locker room to change and returned almost exactly twenty minutes later in full scrubs, sans lab coat because getting that over her cast was just not going to happen, and picked up an iPad before moving off to see patients.

Later on, as Mia was finishing processing the last of the discharges, a headache beginning to build between her eyes that she attributed to stress of the days events, she found herself pouring through the computer of the days DOA’s. Why, she honestly had no idea.. There was no rational reason for it frankly. She didn’t know anyone there besides her sister, she hadn’t even seen these people at a store or passed them on the street.. But something compelled her to flick through the dozens of faces, pale fingers twitching on the keyboard every time she pressed the arrow to move onto the next.

That’s where Will Halstead found her about half a minute later after her realisation about what she was doing.

“It’s called survivors guilt.”

“Pardon?”

There was a moment of silence between them, the redheaded doctor sighing as he seated himself in the desk chair beside her. Rubbing his hands together with a thoughtful expression, he went on to explain. “When we endure a traumatic experience, we tend to feel guilty about—”

“—Surviving the event when others didn’t. I know. Psychiatry and all that.” Mia finished for him, scratching just above her eyebrows with her uninjured hand.

“Ah, didn’t know that actually.” Will replied with an apologetic smile. A tiny chuckle of surprise escaping his otherwise grimacing lips. Unsurprising that was his more dominant expression today, considering the patients he’d had fall in his lap.

“It’s alright, I switch between both quite a bit here anyway. But here is.. Often busier.” Mia said with a lazy wave to the hub and treatment rooms just past their glass bubble of doctor-patient divide. “Though I suppose I’ll be spending a bit more time up in psychiatry for a while.” She murmured with a five-yard stare at her cast. The ring finger there sporting an outline of where her engagement ring usually sat, but had been taken off earlier when her wrist was being treated. Her beloved ring now safely hung around her neck as it usually did when she was on duty, and her fingers reached for it in idle comfort.

“So.. You and Connor?”

“Mhm? What of it?”

“Nothing..” Will trailed off, emitting a brief sigh before he started up again. “Just, two doctors in a relationship. How’s that work for you guys? Not judging! Just curious..”

But before Mia could reply, Doctor Choi suddenly was seen running past the windows, a code blue beeping off the cream walls of the ED like the ringtone of death it was. With both of them rising to their feet, they quickly darted out into the larger hall to try and find out who’s life was hanging in the balance next.

[To Be Continued in Part Four!]

[neon-junkie]

The Big Bad Wolf

Summary: After a too-close-for-comfort encounter with a wolf, Flaco finds himself in a new form, and he's willing to put all of his new abilities to good use.

Pairing: Flaco Hernández x f!Reader

Word Count: 5254

Rating: NSFW

Tags: Werewolf/Human, Mating, Accidental knotting, Monsters, slight A/B/O, Scents, Praise, Dirty talk, Mating press, Transformation, Smut without a plot.      

Notes: This is ENTIRELY self-indulgent and super horny. I'm not sorry for it at all, not in the slightest.

It was just a scratch. A tiny, little scratch that could have been much worse if Flaco hadn't managed to draw his sawn off shotgun just in time, blowing the wolf's chest open. You fussed him, jabbing back at his protests, insisting that despite it barely bleeding, the wound still needed to be treated; who knows what diseases that wolf was carrying.

Flaco's gloves were ruined, and another scar is soon to join his various collection, dotted across his body. "I'll buy you another pair when I come to see you next," you told him as you patched him up before both of you retired to bed, throwing a few extra logs on the fire to keep the chill out tonight.

Only you wake up sweating, peeling off your clothes, tossing them to the floor in an attempt to cool down. You're no stranger to being naked around Flaco, considering how many times you've found yourself in those kinds of situations with him, but it feels odd, being completely bare and rolling over, your eyes half-lidded, to cuddle up to the thickness of his coat.

But his coat feels thicker than usual; the fur feels longer, cleaner, not matted and slightly rough like the usual, well-worn Bison coat that he wears. You try and not pay much attention to it, wrapping your arm around his waist, attempting to be the big spoon, only to be met with even longer hair as your palm rubs across his chest.

Not only does his coat feel unusual, but he feels big. Well, Flaco's a big man, but this is suspiciously big, as if he's doubled in size. After a few minutes of trying to ignore it, you give up, propping yourself up on an elbow and tapping Flaco awake. The logs from a few hours ago are finally turning into embers, barely lighting the cabin, but still keeping it somewhat warm and lit, not that you need that extra heat right now.

"What?" Flaco grumbles, making no effort to move.

"..." what are you meant to say? that you woke him up because his coat feels weird? "Just roll over," you instruct, and he complies without question.

Flaco's reaching out, attempting to bundle you up in his arms, assuming you just want to cuddle. However, you feel the life suddenly drain from you as you're met with a sight that you can't quite explain. That's not Flaco, or at least, not the Flaco that you know. That's not human, either, but it's still... him...

"Look at me," you order, your voice quiet yet firm, and Flaco laughs at your sternness.

"What? am I cuddling you wrong?" he chuckles. Flaco looks up with a happy smile, warmth in his deep, brown eyes, his ears perking up, and his wet nose wiggling. Your mouth is wide open, stuttering a string of incoherent sounds, and Flaco's smile soon fades away as he realizes that you seem off. "What is it?" he questions, shuffling up the bed and sitting upright, the blankets pooling down over his waist, exposing his thick hairy chest, only this time, he's covered. Literally.

"You're... uh... Flaco, you're a..." you attempt to inform in, but words continue to fail you. Should you laugh? cry? scream? Instead, you scurry out of bed, rushing over to your rucksack and fishing a pocket mirror from it. He laughs when you hand it over, assuming that you're making a fuss over nothing.

"Oh, have I got dirt on my face again? you know, it's not that big of a deal, there's no need to-" Flaco shuts his mouth once his gaze meets his reflection, only for it to fall open again seconds later when he's confirmed that yes, that really is what he looks like right now. "I'm a wolf," Flaco exclaims, and begins grinning at his own reflection, checking out his teeth, or specifically, his fangs.

Of course Flaco is going to be overjoyed about this. Something catches the corner of your eye, quietly thudding in the darkness beside the wall. You pull the blanket from Flaco to be met with his tail, long and fluffy, wagging away joyfully. "Nice," Flaco comments with a laugh, brushing through the fur on his tail with his large paws, as if to confirm that it's really there.

"Nice?!" you yelp. "How is this nice, Flaco? you're not human!"

"Yeah, nice! Now I really am a wolf, huh? it's not a metaphor any more," Flaco laughs, flashing his fangs as he chuckles to himself.

Oh, you know how much Flaco likes to call himself 'the wolf.' He wears his title with pride, like a badge of honour, so much to the point that he often refers to himself in third-person with that nickname. He's a proud man, and even prouder to associate himself with such an animal; and his pride only seems to be doubling in size due to his new form.

Flacos focus is on his reflection again, and you watch as he shuffles out of bed, attempting to stand, only to bonk his head on the roof of his cabin. "Mierda!" Flaco hisses, crouching over and giving the top of his head a rub; he lets out a soft whimper as he settles down by the fire, using its light so he can admire himself in more detail, opening up your pocket mirror once more.

You sit and watch, mouth open, questioning how this has happened. Flaco's reaction really shouldn't be a surprise to you, and you decide to leave him to gussy himself up, whilst you begin trailing into deep through about how this might have happened.

It must have been the wolf from yesterday, the scratch on Flaco's hand. "I think it's a curse," you mutter to yourself as you pull the blanket up over your shoulders, bundling your naked body up, something that for once, Flaco has paid no attention to. The blanket covers most of your frame, your feet sticking out at the bottom, and the rest of you is snugly covered.

"Cursed?" Flaco repeats. "Eh, I don't think it's a curse, but a blessing instead."

"A blessing?!" you yelp, "how?! what if you're stuck like this forever?"

"Well, I guess you'll have to get use to having a big, loving werewolf as a partner then," Flaco laughs. His laughter is deep, coming straight from his chest, as always. However, there's now a soft growl in the mix, his fangs on display as he chuckles away.

"Flaco this isn't the time for jokes!" you pout, standing up and peering down at him with softly furrowed brows. "I'm not joking!" he defends, and attempts to stand yet again. This time, Flaco doesn't hit his head; he's unable to stand up straight, his back arching slightly, his frame standing tall over you in a way that doesn't mean to be dominating, but it is. And for some reason, you don't seem to mind, knowing that this werewolf in front of you is far from a threat... unless this really is a curse, and he begins to change even more.

"You don't like me like this?" Flaco questions, and lets out a soft whine when you don't reply, his ears falling flat. He crouches back down to your level, attempting to meet your height. "C'mon, look how nice and soft my fur is," Flaco states as he moves your hand to stroke over his chest, "and look at how my tail wags whenever I look as you!"

You let out a light laugh, peering behind him to admire the wag of his tail. He knows you're concerned, seeing as you're the logical one in this relationship. "I don't want to start petting you until I know how to get you out of this mess," you explain, moving your hand off his chest to wrap the blanket tighter around your shoulders.

"Okay, chiquita," Flaco nods. "You have a think about it," he encourages. Flaco finally puts your pocket mirror away, slipping it into your rucksack, and watches as you begin pondering on your thoughts.

The wolf from yesterday. The scratch on his hand. A curse. A blessing. You're no stranger to reading about werewolves in books, fictional books, fantasy ones, books that aren't real, or aren't meant to be real. Only there's a werewolf crouched beside you, watching in awe as you begin pacing around the room in thought. Flaco tries not to stare, not wanting to overcrowd you, and continues checking his new form out instead.

He gawks down at his frame, coated in a layer of thick, dark hair. His paw pads are soft, squishy, complimented by his long claws, sharp enough to cause some serious damage. Flaco's tail relaxes behind him, but begins softly wagging as he peers over to you, watching you pace and ponder.

You pull the blankets up higher, the edges brushing against your neck, your arms beneath them, cocooned inside with only your feet and head poking out. Flaco's head tilts as he admires how protective you are over him, so concerned for his safety, his future, and his current form. However, his admiration is paused, and Flaco's nose begins to twitch, picking up a scent he's never noticed before.

Flaco begins sniffing the air, his head perked up at the ceiling, eyes falling shut so he can put more focus into the scent that's caught his attention. It seems he's developed heightened senses, and he's putting them to good use.

"Can you smell that?" Flaco questions, but you're too trapped in thought to bother replying. "You smell different," Flaco states, his head now peering down at you, watching as you continue to waddle about his cabin. "Now right now, Flaco," you brush him off, shutting your eyes and rubbing your temples, attempting to find some sort of cure for Flaco's new form. "You smell sweet," he states, and shuffles closer to you, his nose twitching as he presses it to your shoulder. Flaco quickly moves it away, your scent now being covered up by the thick blanket, so he crouches further down, only to be lightly pushed away seconds later. "Flaco," you grumble. His deep eyes meet yours before he dips his head down again. He buries his nuzzle beneath the blanket, and you yelp as a cold, wet nose presses against your knee, swatting him away once more. "You smell slick," Flaco states. There's a huskiness to his voice, a deep and low growl that comes straight from his chest. His eyes meet yours, dark and alluring, peering up at you before disappearing beneath the blanket again. "Flaco!" you grumble again, but Flaco doesn't let you push him away this time. You feel something cold and wet on the inside of your thighs, followed by a gust of wind - Flaco has his nose pressed just below your pussy, and he's inhaling your scent. A large paw wraps itself around your thigh, and Flaco boldly moves his nose up, his wetness now pressed softly on your clit. "You smell like you need me to help you calm down," he states after taking in another deep inhale, before removing himself from under the blanket. Flaco stands tall, his back slightly bent over, gazing down at you with slightly furrowed brows - a natural expression for your partner. The hand on your thigh moves itself to your waist, now pressed over the blanket; his hands have always been big, but this is ridiculous. Flaco could pick you up as if you're nothing, his single paw covering most of your body, making you feel so small and inferior. "I know that tone, Flaco, and I'm not letting you... seduce me right now, not when you're like this," you huff, sending him a glare and gesturing to his body. He laughs. It's deep, a mixture between a growl and a human laugh, making the hairs on the back of your neck stand tall. "C'mon, don't you want to try it?" Flaco questions. "You're just turned into some... dog... and the first thing you want to do is fuck?!" you yelp. "Correction, I've turned into a wolf, a werewolf, and mhmm," he nods. "I do, do you?" Your eyes meet the floor, looking away from the beast towering over you, his thumb now softly stroking over the blanket, attempting to soothe you. You can't deny that you're not curious, but is it wrong? to fuck somebody that's... well, that? He's still Flaco, he's still your partner; only now he's doubled in size, is covered in hair, and has perky ears, a snout, and a tail. "I can sense how curious you are, chiquita. My senses have heightened. I know how you look when you're aroused, but now I can really smell it," Flaco flashes you a toothy grin, dipping his head down to your level as he crouches. He licks your cheek, his rough and damp tongue brushing over your skin, coating most of your face in one stroke. "What was that?!" you cry, and attempt to push his snout away. "A kiss," Flaco states, before licking you again. Ugh, should you be surprised? of course Flaco is going to put all of his new abilities to use. All of them. He moves from your cheek, making his way down to your neck, attempting to kiss the usual spots that you enjoy. "C'mon, we can do doggy style," Flaco urges with a soft laugh, chuckling at his own joke. "You're a menace, you know that, right?" you huff, placing your hands on his large cheeks and moving his head so that he's looking directly at you. "I know," Flaco laughs again. "We can give this a try... but if I say stop, then you stop, alright?" "Oh, come on, you know I'll stop if you tell me to," Flaco shakes his head. He understands that you're after reassurance, concerned with exactly how this is going to go. "Flaco promises he'll take care of you," he says with a wag of his tail. "...and don't start howling," you order. Flaco laughs again, giving you another cheek kiss between his chuckle. "Okay, no howling. Flaco promises," he giggles, and begins urging you over to the bed.

Flaco's gentle as he slips the blanket from your shoulders, letting it fall back onto the bed. He attempts to kiss your neck again, running his tongue over your skin, resisting the urge to attempt giving you a hickey. The last thing that he ever wants to do is hurt you, so he's being extra cautious in his new form; his claws are sharp, his teeth even sharper, not to mention his intimidating size and figure. But his eyes remain soft, a deep brown, the same shade as his 'normal' ones. Those dark eyes meet yours as he climbs on top of you, before shutting them as he nuzzles you. Large paws find their way to your waist, trailing down to your thighs, the rest of his body following after as he shuffles down the bed. The bed is far too small for him, so Flaco pulls you until your legs are dangling over the side, and he settles on the floor, still having to dip his head so that he's in line with your body. His breath is hot, tickling your skin as he dips between your thighs. There's a pause of uncertainty, before Flaco presses his wet nose against your clit. He instantly moves it away, exhaling heavily, and mutters "too much," under his breath. His tail is wagging, thumping against the floor, and you can only assume your scent is making him a little too excited. Flaco dips his head down again, this time letting his tongue fall from his mouth, and licks a firm stripe across your cunt. He peers up to watch your reaction, checking for any signs of discomfort, and since you've shown none he does it again, over and over, both of you getting use to this new sensation. His tongue is rough, but soft, squishy, but firm, the perfect balance between wolf and man. The paws wrapped around your thighs tighten their grip, his claws pressed against your skin, but not digging into you. Over time, Flaco becomes more confident, and begins lapping at your clit, his tongue occasionally slipping into your cunt, making his thick hair tickle the inside of your thighs. He's bigger in every way, his tongue reaching depths that it's never reached before, making you whimper as you finally relax on the bed. Flaco's ears perk up, overhearing your positive reaction, reassuring him that he's doing well. His licks become firmer, longer, wetter, more open mouthed; unintentionally Flaco's fangs begin to trail over your skin, light enough that he's not hurting you, or even realizing what he's doing. However, you're definitely aware; it's a strange sensation, having a set of sharp teeth almost nibble at your lower stomach, often trailing up to your bellybutton whenever Flaco opens his mouth wider, pushing his tongue deeper into your cunt. "F-Flaco, that's..." you stutter, your head still pressed to the bed. "Huh?" Flaco hums. He slips his tongue from you, resting his chin on your stomach, worried that he's accidentally hurt you. "Your teeth, they're..." "Sharp?" "Uh-huh, but they're... it's uh... they feel nice," you manage to stutter. Flaco bites back a laugh. He licks his chops, your taste heavy on his tongue and around his mouth, and dips his head back down to lap at your cunt again. "Oh, so you do like it when this big, bad wolf has his jaws wrapped around you?" Flaco teases, ensuring that his teeth continue to trail over your skin in between kisses. "Yeah..." you shyly confirm, and let out a soft yelp as Flaco dips his tongue into your cunt again. He removes one of his paws from your thighs, going to slip a finger into you, but stops in his tracks. "Mhm," Flaco grumbles, realizing that his claws are far too sharp to be risking that. "Hey, finger yourself for me," Flaco orders, and grins when you readjust your position, reaching down and beginning to work yourself open. You dive straight in with two fingers, seeing as Flaco's thick tongue already counts as one, possibly more. He watches for a few moments, admiring how flustered you look, before dipping his head between your thighs again. You know what's going to happen, but since Flaco is crouched down on the floor, his body bent over, you're unable to see what he looks like. Is his cock... normal? it must be bigger, surely? seeing as he's doubled in size. You decide to prepare yourself for the worst, or the best, you'll just have to wait and see. You begin to scissor yourself, attempting to loosen your cunt up as much as possible. Flaco takes up the opportunity, and dips his tongue into your pussy, slipping it between your fingers, and runs it along your soft, velvet walls. The noise you let out can only be described as a bitch in heat, a whine, calling out for Flaco to come and fill you up. "You can fit another," he urges, and lets out a soft sigh when you slip a third finger in. "Good girl," Flaco praises, and you assume the thumping you can overhear is his tail wagging against the floor again. Yet again, you attempt to scissor yourself, and within time you're certain you could fit a fourth finger in... but what about fitting Flaco? Hm, you'll find out eventually. You're getting there, slowly but surely; Flaco's spit and slobber is slick enough to help stretch you open, and he graces you with even more as he slides his tongue into your pussy again. Flacos hand disappears from your thigh, dipping down between his own legs, and you know he's touching himself. Nervously, you ask an important question "Flaco, how big are you?" "Big," Flaco blankly states, chuckling as he removes his tongue. "D-Do you think it'll fit?" you question. "I guess we'll just have to find out, eh?" he laughs. "Do you think you're ready? you look it," he comments, and moves his head back down to press his wet nose directly on your clit, his ears perking upright and his tail wagging even faster. "You smell it, too," he grins, flashing his fangs. "Yeah... Okay, I'm ready," you nod.

And with that, Flaco's up on his feet, crawling on top of you on the bed. He wolfhandles you, moving you up to the centre, giving himself enough room to join you. Flaco's grinning, and places a soft lick-kiss to your cheek before sitting back on his knees, finally showing you what's between his legs. Liar. There's no way he's going to fit. "What the-" you stutter, sitting upright and reaching out. Your hand alone is nothing compared to his cock, and even as you wrap both hands around it, there's still some untouched space left over. "Flaco, there's no way this is going to fit," you sigh, comparing his cock against your forearm. Flaco laughs. "It will, Flaco promises," he nods. "You've just gotta relax and let me take the lead, okay?" "Okay, but I-" "-Shh," Flaco hushes. "Stop doubting yourself, we both know you can fit me," he reassures, and presses his paw to your chest, lightly pushing you back down against the bed. The paw on your chest moves to your thigh, holding you steady, and his other hovers by his cock. You watch as Flaco spits on his cock- no, he dribbles on it, letting thick strings of spit coat his length, falling from his jaw, and then pumps himself a few times, ensuring he's generously slick. He moves his hand to the bed, just above your head, and uses the other to hold his length steady as he begins pushing into you. You lie there awkwardly, feeling the tip of his thick cock rub against your entrance, unable to slide in. Flaco begins to grumble, his tail no longer wagging, and his brows furrowing. He dribbles again, being far too generous and soaking your cunt, but it's enough to help ease in the head of his cock. You yelp and begin hissing, unintentionally tightening up around the tip of Flaco's cock. He's thick, unbelievably thick, and you're starting to question your life choices. "Relax," Flaco orders. He dips his head down to your level, placing a wet kiss to your cheek, and grumbles "relax," softly against your ear. Deep breaths. It's not that bad, honestly; once you begin untensing and calming down, you realize he's surprisingly snug, stretching your pussy in a way that makes you shiver, and your reaction came from fear, not his size. "Good girl," Flaco says as he licks your cheek again. "You let me know when you're ready for more." You take your time, relaxing your walls, unclenching them around Flaco's length. Finally, you give him a nod, and he begins sliding into you. There's a slight burn as he stretches you out, his cock getting thicker the deeper it goes, and he comes to a halt just past halfway. There's a knot to your stomach, a tight one, and you can feel the tip of his cock hitting your cervix. "How is this? okay?" Flaco double checks, straightening his back and talking down to you. "Y-yeah, it's okay," you nod. Once again, you're struggling to relax, so you calm yourself by rubbing quick circles on your clit, along with taking deep breaths. "Too big for you, eh?" Flaco chuckles. "Of course you're too big, Flaco." "Give it time, you'll warm up to me eventually," he shrugs, cockily grinning as he talks. Flaco's patient, waiting for you to ask for more, and when you do finally ask, he happily delivers it. He continues sliding in slowly, and your eyes go wide once you feel his fur press against your clit. "You fit?" you question, shuffling up on your elbows to peer down between your legs, instantly noticing the bulge to your stomach. "Mhm," Flaco nods, "I told you I would. Now we've just gotta see if you can keep up," he smirks.

Flaco takes a hold of your legs, lifting them up and wrapping them around his waist, your ankles barely crossing over behind his back. He bends forward, his body towering over yours; one paw stays wrapped around your thigh, whilst the holds his weight up, placed above your head. Your knees hit your shoulders, practically bent in half, and you're about to ask why Flaco's wolfhandled you into this position, but he begins thrusting.

His patience has worn thin, and Flaco jumps straight in with a quickened pace, forcing you to yelp beneath him. The new position makes sense, as he's able to really drive his cock deep inside you, smacking your cervix with every thrust, turning both pairs of your cheeks red. "You are tight, aren't you?" Flaco smugly comments, flashing his fangs as he licks your cheek again, his attempt of a kiss.

All you manage to do is nod, unable to process words, let alone thoughts. You begin rubbing your clit again, whining beneath Flaco, whimpering as he fucks you, the sound of skin against skin echoing around the cabin. "You sound like you need me to fill you up," Flaco states. He lets out a deep breath before saying "and it smells like you need it too."

"Y-yeah, I do," you stutter, nodding at the same time.

"All in good time, loba."

Flaco picks up his pace, mercilessly slamming his cock into you; his ears perk up at the sounds you're making, moans and mewls, and Flaco can't help but let out a choked whine, intoxicated by every part of you. He soon begins softly panting, slowly over-working himself from the fast pace, but Flaco's stubborn to the point that he won't slow down, not until you're overflowing with his load.

There's still a slight burn to your cunt, and you'd be lying if you said it didn't feel strangely good. Flaco's knot is threatening to slip inside you; it's wider than the rest of his cock, but only slightly, and you're certain that within time, it'll slip in. How big do those things get? There's only so much that you can, and now that you've taken this much, far more than you ever thought you'd be able to handle, you're uncertain on where your new limit lies.

You tighten your legs around Flaco's waist, feeling your orgasm slowly approaching, your clit rubbing so fast that your wrist is starting to ache. You attempt to grip onto Flaco's arm with your spare hand, but Flaco swats your hand away, and pins it down to the bed, his large paw wrapping around your wrist, feeling so dainty in his grasp.

"You're going to cum for me soon, aren't you?" Flaco questions, speaking directly into your ear.

"Uh-huh," you manage to nod.

"Good girl. Go on, I want to feel how tight you get around me," he orders.

Should you feel this good? being mercilessly fucked by your werewolf partner, whimpering and whining in his grap, your orgasm threatening to hit at any moment. You've always felt small beneath Flaco, but this is taking things to a whole new level; he's towering over you, folding your body in half, your knees pressed firmly against your shoulders. Flaco shifts his weight, planting his feet on the bed and bending his legs, bucking his hips down against yours. He whimpers at the slight change of position, and both of you let out a choked moan as Flaco's knot finally slips into you.

The sensation of being full to the brim - overly full - causes you to cum. Your wrist is burning from being over-worked, and you clench tightly around Flaco's cock, panting and sighing as your body begins to tremble. Your orgasm catches Flaco off guard, letting out a choked moan as you squeeze his cock, milking him for all he's worth as he joins your high. Flaco cums, and he doesn't seem to stop cumming, fucking his load into you, hoards of it over-flowing and spilling from your pussy, dripping down over your ass and onto the bed.

His tail is wagging in the air, your knees are pressed right against your shoulders, and Flaco won't stop thrusting, over-stimulating both of you. Eventually, he's forced to stop, his cock buried deep inside you as his knot begins to flair up. "Mierda," Flaco yelps, tugging on it; he instantly stops when you yelp in pain, and mutters another string of swears under his breath.

"I didn't think it would do that," Flaco confesses. He sits back on his knees, not bothered by his mess on the bed, and gawks down at the sight of his swollen cock buried inside you, a visible bulge to your stomach. "Are you okay? does it hurt?"

"Not really," you shake your head; you're still trembling, catching your breath, barely able to keep your eyes open. There's a slight burn to Flaco's knot, but you've been stretched to a point that your body seemed to be expecting it, and thankfully, it's oddly sensual, similar to whenever you've cock warmed him, only on a larger scale. "It's uh, strange, but it doesn't hurt. Just don't tug on it..."

"Good," he sighs.

Flaco asks you to wrap your arms around his neck, clinging onto him as he shuffles about on the bed, finding a comfortable position for you both. He kicks off the dirty cover after using some salvageable parts to clean both of you up, and thankfully, Flaco's warm, warm enough to keep you cosy throughout the night, and you feel even warmer as he wraps his arm around your waist, your head resting on his chest.

"What did you think of that, huh?" Flaco eventually questions.

"It was... something," you sigh, unable to find the exact words.

"Oh. Did you not enjoy it?" he whines, perking his head up to peer down at you.

"No, no! I enjoyed it... a lot... too much," you sheepishly reply. "And I think you enjoyed it too," you tease, tensing your walls, giving his knotted cock a squeeze.

"Don't do that," Flaco whimpers, his ears falling back, "you'll get me worked up again."

Is that a bad thing?" you raise a brow, and Flaco chuckles at your eagerness.

"Hey, earlier on you were too nervous to try it, and now you're asking for me to fill you up again?" he laughs, trailing his paws tenderly over your back.

"You did spill most if it," you shrug, and Flaco rolls his eyes at your comment.

"How about I wake you up with a morning surprise? once this swelling has gone down. We didn't do doggy, so I think we need to make up for that?" he offers. Flaco smirks when you nod in agreement; if you had a tail, it would also be wagging.

He places another kiss to your cheek, but this time uses his nose rather than his tongue. Flaco's head rolls back onto the bed, his chest rising and falling slowly, his arms wrapped around you, acting as a blanket. His cock is still swollen, but it's strangely soothing; it's practically the same as falling asleep whilst cock warming, something that you two have done many times before.

And you won't be surprised when Flaco wakes you up how he usually does, with slow and deep thrusts, and soft coos of praise and affection.