#THEY HAVE LIKE SHINY FLESH N STUFF

[ask-vanity-ghuleh]

”It’s good, better than what Secondo made while you were away, he said Lance told him and left some food and a book. I think your cooking is better.”

*Primo entered the greenhouse with a warm meal, some medicine, and more blankets and pillows for Vanity's nest.*

How are you feeling today, amore?

( @ask-papa-primo )

-(He sat up a little, his good wing tucked into his sweater)-

“I’m.. better. Hurts less…” -(He rubbed his eyes)-

[tonycries]

OL-F*CK-TORY ETHICS?!

Synopsis. Pheromone perfume? Should’ve thought about the olfactory ethics of driving him absolutely wiId with them.

Pairings. [SEPARATE] Gojo x Reader, Ino x Reader, Sukuna x Reader, Choso x Reader, Geto x Reader, Nanami x Reader, Toji x Reader

Content. MDNI, fem! reader, pheromone perfume (they’re affected), they go FÉRAL, slight aphrodísiacs, creampíes, dúmbification, tummy buIges, MARATHONS, overstím, really néedy boys, GOJO’S POWERS, full neIsons, making Geto whímper, handcúffs (Geto), rough s, p sIapping, PÚSSYDRÚNK JJK MEN, pet names, swéaring.

A/N. Yes, I think I’m a comedian for that title.

♡ TOJI FUSHIGURO - BREAK HIM!

“P-please-”��

“Hm?”

“Please, doll…”

And it’s the first time in your life that you’ve heard Toji Fushiguro beg - the first ever time in his life that he has. Low, rasping over the deafening snap! of the poor headboard splitting in half, “Mercy- m’begging ya. Mercy.”

It’s hard to think that just a few hours ago, he was trying not to snicker with smugness - pheromone perfume. Really? As if anything in that shiny, half-off bottle could make him lose his composure. 

“Such a silly girl–” Toji had rolled his sage eyes down at you. Tutting at the way you were impatiently sprawled over his lap, waiting for his word. Leisurely, he’d leaned in– well whatever his lady wants. “Told ya already, this stuff isn’t gonna m-make me-”

Oh.

And that was hours ago. Hours. 

But here Toji was bullying his furiously sweat-slicked face into the heady crook of your neck - taking only one singular whiff before he flinches. Hips rutting mindlessly into yours with a smack! “O-oh, we’re not making it hngh! outta this alive, ma.”

It was the fourth time in the past few minutes that he’s babbling those very words into your perspired skin. The fourth time. 

He was broken.

Managing out only a few throaty whimpers when you’re shuffling onto your elbows, all you have to do is give one fluttering squeeze of your gummy walls before something hits your arched spine with a wet splat!

Multiple. Tears. 

“F-fuuuuck–” He’s hissing, sexy baritone thickened with clingy sobs. And the only thing sloppier than Toji’s unsteady tone, was his cock. Ruthless. “Fuck- fuck fuck fuck–”

“Need a lil’ h-help, baby?” You find yourself purring, head tilting ever-so-slightly over your shoulder to bare Toji with even more of your scented throat. Clouded wafts of it puffing over to his darkened features and making him gasp– “Because-”

In only a split-second, you’re not even sure what you were about to say - what happened other than Toji shoving you face-first into the cushy pillow in nanoseconds. 

Staggering strength leaving the bulging biceps on his big, beefy arms flex, and you keening away into your soft landing. Boneless legs stumbling onto the bed once he tilts his bodyweight onto yours and makes you stumble, “T-Tooji—!”

Oh, the sound of his name in your honeyed tone makes Toji’s hulking voice break out in shivers. 

“S-s’it turn you on ta see me like this?” Punctured with solid, pounding plaps! of his bloated tip against your springy cervix, such a staggering size that tenderized every sliver inside your heated cunt without even trying. His massive arms tremble, “To see me a-all pathetic and ngh- weak?”

Weak. 

But the way he was pinning you down onto the creaking bedcoils and slamming jagged bruises onto your mounds of flesh from behind was anything but.

“M-maybe?” Oh, he definitely was fucking you stupid - because you find yourself giggling. Globs of slippery drool overspilling from your slack maw and drenching the puffy pillow underneath you. So wet n’ utterly filthy that it makes your thighs squeeze, “You’re s-so cute, Toji.”

“Don’t- don’t you fuckin’–” Immediately leaving one spank on your puffed-up clit. Two. Three, just for good measure- shit, Toji really can’t help but bring those sappy, glazed-over fingerpads to his mouth and sucking. 

And the sugary sweet taste makes the man moan. 

“Fuck- fuck, did that p-perfume make her taste even sweeter or what?” 

Before you know it, Toji’s hard, Herculean front is sagging downwards into yours - hunching over, collapsing. He can barely keep his eyelids held open, let alone his glissading body. 

Sinking you ever-deeper into the plush mattress, you swear you could count each and every rock-hard ab pressing into you. The curvy massage of Toji’s pecs rendering your mouth to let off a soft mewl.

And he’s rough above you. Still fucking you in a way that makes your sturdy bed splinter. Dark tufts from Toji’s happy trail scratching the very tip-top of your papping ass with every merciless whack.

“Gonna tell ya a s-secret-” He spills in breathy puffs against your ear, nuzzling the pointed tip of his nose against where your perfume was the most potent. Drinking you in. Gasping. “-b-better not tell ngh- anyone- got it, ma?”

And you almost get the urge to tilt your head back and confirm that this was really your Toji.

Because not only were his choked-up words making you dizzy, so was the way that he sounded right about not. Voice numerous octaves higher, cracking. 

You’d have half the mind to tease him about it if the entirety of your fuzzy head wasn’t completely overtaken by simply the thought of Toij Toji Toji-

“Oi- oi!” Three harshly repeated smacks to the side of your cheek wrench you from your little daydream, until you’re being manhandled with a few fingers around your throat to gaze up at the man himself. Growling, “N-no zonin’ out on me just yet- gotta tell ya h-how much it turns me on, too…”

Oh? Oh.

And as soon as he starts, he can’t stop. Can’t slow down the prattling words spat into your mouth - all teeth and something lecherous. 

You’re squealing once one of his splayed-out palms rover to the bumpy outline of him fucking a tummy bulge into you. 

Skimming across until he could practically feel the rapid ba-dump–! ba-dump–! ba-dump–! being crashed into all your magical spots, “L-look at you taking it allll. Look how hard I am- feel how hngh- fucking hard–” 

He doesn’t even have to finish his sentence for you to know. For you to feel.

Another heavy gulp of the thick air surrounding you two - of that familiar candied smell - and he’s like an animal. Swollen cock stretching your goopy walls until they were wiiidely agape, throbbing a few solid centimeters wider in circumference. 

“How fucking big. Yeah? Hngh- t-takin’ it all like a big girl, aren’t ya?” 

Getting harder just from the perfume. From you. 

One hand desperately claws at his own bustling bulge, the other smearing over your overstuffed pussy.

“O-oh, god-” Your eyes sprint needily to the back of your head, head pushing into the soaked pillows. Toji’s ministrations were heavenly, rubbing quick, jerky heart all over your sugar-coated clit. Faster. “K-keep doing that n’ m’gonna c-cum.”

“M’only getting harder. Needier- fuck, I need you-” Swirling his fat thumb in circles right on time with his globular tip, “My big girl- w-with her ngh- big perfumes. Fuck-” You don’t think Toji even registers when he plants a delicate peck where your scent was the strongest. Moaning. Before pressing two more, three, four- “Don’t want- Need you to c-cum f’me. Need to feel that ngh- pretty pussy cum ‘round my big fuckin’ cock.”

You’re raking your nails down his toned forearms, “Close. C-close.”

“Fucking cum.”

And when you so, your silken soft walls are squeezing Toji’s veiny shaft so tight that it takes him everything in him to fuck you through each white-hot peak. Dragging you across your starry high and then some-

Wiping away a trickling spray of his own drool, Toji feels himself laugh - low and humorless. You’ve found his weakness.

♡ NANAMI KENTO - Mr. CEO

Nanami Kento was a gentleman. The perfect sweetheart.

But that was the complete opposite of the way that said Nanami Kento currently had you shoved face-down into his cool mahogany office desk, your delirious tears spilling over in rippling puddles over the expensive wood while he fucked you like he hated you.

“Fuck-” he’s spitting into your open maw, fingers loosening his overpriced tie. Your popped ears ring with a sharp riiiip–! once he tugs your tight satin skirt even higher, rough. “Fuck- not again, darling.”

Before you can even think of gurgling out any coherent syllables, his ragged palm comes striking down on the surface mere inches away from your face with a deafening SLAM!

Meaty thighs rippling with copious shivers from right behind you - Nanami was letting himself heave, he was letting his muscular body pin you down. Sliding the ladder-like ridges of his abs down your arched back.

“Shit. Shit shit shit- not again. M’not supposed ta-” Cutting himself off - gasping - and it’s a sheer miracle that he can even manage to wrench out those growling words at this point. Breath puncturing with a low ah! ah! ah! after every hit of his toned hips against your ass. “I don’t…don’t know why-”

Almost…feral.

You’re both letting your heads drop down at a drunken pace to catch the splat! of those first few ribbons of cum being slipped past your folds. 

Every bludgeoning inch of Nanami’s coral pink crownhead plugs your leaky hole full. He’s fucking in those dewdrops of seed to maze across your gummy walls, leaving sweltering hot geysers pooling on your cervix.

So hot. 

And in the corner of your eye, you’re catching him reel those powerful hips back until only the very tip of his swollen cock was softly pecking your entrance. “Can’t- can’t stop cumming- fuck!”

“Wh-what?” You’re not sure if you heard him right.

“Can’t stop, m’sorry–” He draws a slow five circles around your quivering hole with the very edge. A glossy white lip gloss that cakes over your pussy folds like icing. “Won’t stop cumming. Haaah- your cute cunt…s’drivin’ me mad.”

You feel Nanami’s round-ended thumb plug up the weeping orifice right in the middle of his cockhead, trying- failing to stop his trickling rivulets of creamy seed. Before letting out a pained huff and filling you once more to the very brim–

It was so much. Too much. And it just pained him to not be all sunken inside your hot, pretty pussy.

You whimper at the taut stretch, stumbling onto your unsteady elbows to peek at your husband. “I-is everything alright, Ken?”

Desperate.

You haven’t seen Nanami look this gone - eyes so hooded they were almost shuttered closed, mouth forever parted in awe, cheeks burning with a bright red blush - since the first time he ever fucked you.

So warm and dizzy. 

Your fluttery walls squeeze involuntarily around his puffed-up veins, as if you’re trying to memorize every jagged pattern. Heart racing once leans in with a vulgarly handsome snarl-

“Still here.” He gruffs out a throaty murmur into your rapidly beating pulse, teeth nipping dangerously over the drumming staccato as if to warn look what I can do, my love. And the expression plastered all over his face is nothing if not crazed, “Still there.”

Fuck, that same mantra over n’ over again.

“Wh-what do you mean, Ken?” It takes everything in you to voice out, even the leaking cum that Nanami scoops up dutifully doesn’t compare to just how much wetter your cunt gets at the hoarse baritone of his voice. He was so effortlessly sexy.

“It’s- it’s still there, darling.” And you’ve never heard your stoic husband sound so…ruined. Like he was on the verge of crying - or damn near breaking you in half. Or both.

And how could Nanami Kento have become the boss if he didn’t multitask?  

He was still pounding long, rummaging inches into you after every syllable spoken - hitting the bruised and battered target of your g-spot with a sickly sweet ba-dump! every single time. Not even slowing down to let himself catch his breath after his previous orgasm.

He wouldn’t.

He couldn’t.

Because even though Nanami’s molten eyes were stinging with tears from the utter sensitivity, even though he could feel his hefty balls flinch tenderly every time they thwacked against the front of your cunt - he still found something dark and deep inside of him begging for more more more. 

Body moving before he could even control.

In only nanoseconds, Nanami interlaces a clawed grip around your throat to haul you up like some glamorized doll. Eyes widening, he buries his face into the crook of your neck and gasps.

“Th-this-” And Nanami Kento never stutters, he never lets his statuesque facade crack with the beginnings of something that almost looks shy. Your stomach twists at the way his cerise lower lip wobbles adorably, “-what is this, my love?”

“Hmm–? Oh.” And then it finally hits you. “A n-new perfume?”

Although it looks like it wasn’t just a perfume. Fuck, you should’ve looked at the packaging a little closer. 

But Nanami doesn’t answer. He doesn’t utter a word. Does nothing but let his lungs drag in a generous heaval of your scent.

And it’s enough to send his needy cock crashing into the very bottom of your sloppy pussy. Your hands scramble for anything - and land on the golden name plate emblazoned with CEO NANAMI while he draws up a looong wet glide. Prying apart the papping mounds of your ass to rut into you impossibly deeper. 

Nanami’s vision clouds and he’s not sure if it’s from the force of the countless orgasms or simply you. His gorgeous wife. 

Wait- wife?

Before he knows it - before he can stop himself - he’s babbling away, “Marry me- marry me, my love.”

“But…” You’re reaching over to tangle your fingertips through his dishevelled strands of gold with a smile. Thumbing away that perspired furrow in his brow, “We’re already hah! married, Kento.”

Oh?

And Nanami Kento trusts you above him. Which is why he finds his eyes rovering down to steal a glance at your pretty ring finger and- oh. You were right. 

“Mhm— tha’s me, Kento. Your husband.” He’s breathing out, one hand tracing over the staggeringly large rock homed prettily on your wedding ring. 

And the other- the other was letting his fat fingerpads swipe down your buttery slit, topping itself with sweltering hot ounces of cum. Before promptly pushing past your wobbly lips, “Now suck ‘nless you want the whole office to hear about your ph-pheromone perfume.”

♡ GETO SUGURU - T-take it, dammit-

“You- you bitch.” Geto Suguru looked so pretty like this - amethyst eyes fighting to stay open in anger and need, curtaining inky hair splayed out like a halo underneath him. Each growling snarl of his only growing raspier by the minute, “Fucking knew this would h-happen, didn’t you?”

Did you just hear the oh-so-suave Geto Suguru stutter?

And it’s just about all you can do to keep yourself from snickering, hands planting precariously onto the delicious curve of his deltoids. The bulging flex of his toned muscles makes your mouth water, “Oh? I don’t know what you mean, Sugu—”

Geto’s rolling his eyes - but his hips were speaking a completely different language. Rolling up off of the sticky hold of the bedsheets to give your g-spot a good, lengthy skim of his ruby-red tip.

He’s tugging one shackled wrist, “S’that why ya have me in this, gorgeous?” 

Ah, and how could you forget your favorite part about tonight? 

Those fuzzy pink handcuffs that you’d goaded your dear boyfriend into wearing, all smug smiles and chuckles until you’d leaned down to give him an innocent peck. And then let him smell-

“Sh-shit. Look what you’ve done t’me.” He’s hissing into your loosened mouth, snatching your pouted lips into such a bruising, bruising kiss. Sharpened canines digging into your bottom lip, he practically gulps in the breaths of your special perfume. “You and th-this heavenly pussy and that- godforsaken pheromone perfume.”

You were making a fool out of him - all with a “special perfume” that he’d bought for you at your pleas. Idiot, he didn’t even read the box before gifting it to you.

Geto throws his head back with a drawling grunt when the only reply he gets is your pretty smile. “Fuck- fuck!”

Voice pitching up in volume higher and higher- and he was sure he looked crazed right about now. Hips rutting cleanly off of the mattress to spearhead you with so many copious inches. More. 

It was already hard enough keeping himself smooth n’ composed every time he usually sunk past your velvety walls - you drove him wild without even trying. But now? 

Now this stupid “perfume” of yours was here to do the very same thing, only tenfold because it was his beautiful girl wearing it.

Oh.

Geto thanks he can feel himself going wild.

The extra heavy-duty handcuffs sing out a metallic creak–! once he tugs particularly harshly, trembling fingertips aching to feel every inch of your glissading body. You were riding him at such a maddening tempo. Your hips hitting the very back of his generously curved balls, before gyrating your puffy clit down in a slooow grind up his toned abdomen — but he wanted more.

It wasn’t enough. It would never be enough when Geto was like this.

“When- when I break out of these oh!” With every empty threat puffed out into the heady air, Geto finds his achingly hard cock weeping even more thick rivulets of pre. Lungs filling up with hypnotic volumes and volumes of that scent. He can feel himself fucking tearing up, “F-fuck you.”

He was so sexy like this. 

Trying oh-so-desperately to pretend that those collisions into your gooey depths didn’t have his toes curling, heavy lids falling shut to hide away just how fast Geto’s eyes were sliding to the very back of his head.

You’re arching a brow, “Oh? What was that?”

Lips sleazing backwards into a pussydrunken grin, you had the inkling that Geto didn’t even realize what he was babbling away at this point. He couldn’t even think. “I-I said fuck-” 

Mouth still moving. Soundless.

And all it takes is a mere touch of your sensory fingertips caressing his sweat-lathered temple to render Geto speechless.

“W-wait—” He breathes out, and he sounds hysterical right now. Venomous tone lilting countless octaves higher and wobbling as if he was about to break. His chest caves in with a low please–! once you’re streaking your digits through his silky hair, shivering as if being shocked with a thousand voltages. Pulling. “Not fair. Not fair not- fuck tha’s not fair t’me, gorgeous.”

You already knew that the pheromone perfume had some…aphrodisiacal effects. But it seemed that Geto was extra sensitive to it. Cute. 

“Yes, and?” Just for good measure - oh, you were thoroughly enjoying this - you’re trekking your stray fingertips to latch onto the gleaming curve of his throat. Bringing your scented neck even closer-

“Oh.” Geto’s snarky mouth now floods with a silvery plash of scorching hot saliva, fucked out of him after every resounding slam! of your hips down on his. You watch as his weightily lidded eyes glaze over with a film of something murky.

Continuing to wrench needily at his restraints. Desperately. It was like a second nature for Geto to touch you and right now he was ruined. You can’t help but ogle the rounded flex of his biceps-

“Gonna- fuck.” He whimpers - whimpers - out, nose crinkling. It made you much too drenched when he leans in mindlessly to rub the buttony tip of it against yours in a lazy kiss. Maw slacking every time you pumped his achily swollen cock across your most tender spots, the orifice of your hole massaging his reactive shaft so greedily. “M’close…”

Whispering, right now, as if it was the most dear confession. 

Because Geto Suguru never came before he’d made you reach your orgasm at least five times over.

But right now he was teetering right over the very high edge of it, so close. His thick, sculpted thighs push up from behind your motioning body to urge your bounces vulgarly faster, skin-to-skin. 

“C-close.” And it sounded almost pained if you didn’t feel the way it was accompanied by a hastily slipped spasm of Geto’s ballooned-up crownhead against your cervix. Too close. His beautiful head lolls backwards against the tear-streaked pillows, “M’gonna- m’gonna-”

Before snapping up furiously again when your merciless pace stops.

And all you can get out is a not-so-innocent, “Whoops.”

All you can get out - because it takes Geto exactly two split-seconds to snap! those useless pink handcuffs off of him and flip the two of you over to tower over you in all his glory. Speckles of frustrated sweat slithering between his bulging pecs and down onto your heaving body.

He’d let you have your fun, already.

Geto moves slow. Calculated. 

Leisurely meandering his face all over your thrumming throat, your tits, everywhere and anywhere that godforsaken pheromone perfume was calling to him. Taking in looong languid breaths of it - and each time he did, he’s fucking up into you like he didn’t even realize. 

Pounding you into the drenched silken sheets with all girthy inches of his circumference, branding it into your slippery womb like he didn’t want you to forget. 

You’re hit with the sudden remembrance that there was a reason you had to tie Geto up. 

And that is when you catch his gaze - wide, unfocused. Feral. 

Oh, you were fucked. 

So very fucked. 

“So.” Geto shatters your anticipatory realization with a throaty few syllables, hoarse like he wasn’t even ready for himself to speak at that point. Without a single warning, he spits - right in your mouth once. Then twice onto two slender fingers, before giving your cunt a stinging spank. “Ya gonna beg for mercy now or later, gorgeous?”

♡ CHOSO KAMO - H.O.T.T.O.G.O.

God, if this was any other time then maybe Choso would’ve felt embarrassed about the way he was letting his clammy palms cling onto your waist like he never wanted you to let go. 

Because he didn’t. Would never. 

Huffing and puffing out clouded puffs of air into the sticky valley of your chest, he’s just so drunk on you. Can feel himself veering lazily into the pillow, drenching it with gumdrops of thick saliva. It takes everything in him to lift his head and puff in smoky breaths of your pheromones.  

And it makes him burn. So hot rutting up into you, skin-on-skin. 

Probing veins scouring your every nook and cranny, ruthless shaft the complete opposite of just how delicately he was boring down at you. Choso was nudging his ballooned-up cock past your puffy hole like he was making you melt around him.

Making you break - just as much as he was right now. 

And the only thing hotter is the way the slithering muscle of Choso’s pierced tongue lolls outwards to skim the buttery splotches of cum scattered across your tits from before. Shiny Prince Albert’s cooling you hardened nipples.

Eyes reeling to the very hidden backs of his hooded lids, he’s moaning at the salted caramel taste of himself. “S-so hot. So soft inside, m’ l-losing my mind.”

You’re just soaked skin-deep with him. 

And you’re blaming it all on that strange perfume - a pheromone perfume - that that assistant had dabbed on you at the store. You’d forgotten just how…sensitive curses can be to smells. 

How feral.

Finding your heart racing at the way he was narrating off every single thing, every single twitch inside you that slid across your gluey magical spots. “S’that so, Cho?”

Usually, Choso would nod away deliriously to your every word. Usually, he would prattle on sweet, sweet simperings of his very own.

But right now, you watch in slight awe as the pale skin of his pretty cheekbones scorch over with a brightly blossoming blush. The heat of it so feverishly hot that you can almost feel it, and Choso bucks his hips wildly into you with a low keen at the back of his throat.

“D-don’t call me that.” He’s straining out through a shiver. Lower lip fussed until it was a pouted cherry pink. You swear the moment Choso leans closer you see his long mahogany lashes glisten with tears. His big, beefy arms finding their way around your body, “S’gonna…gonna make me cum. Gonna- fuck!”

As if to prove his point, the perked hill of his fattened cockhead splits with glossy white swabs of pre. Buttering up your deepest insides and promising more. 

You’re tugging him in ever-closer, the look in your glassy eyes so loving that he feels his length pump greedy ounces more and swell. Growing girthier - pushing your glutinous walls further n’ further apart just from the way you’re staring at him. 

How he loved you.

You hum, “But I want you to, Cho. No need to be shy.”

Something in him breaks. And just the thought of it is enough to make the special grade in front of you drool.

Slick rivers of spittle streaming from between his jaw, unhinging when he inches in to gift your surprised tongue with a weighty splat! of webbed spit. He breathes out past the breathless bubble, “No no no no- D-don’t say things like that, baby– I’m not…myself, right now.”

Tasting him. All of him.

The sugary sweet coating lathers your tastebuds and makes you whine, your legs stumbling around Choso’s toned hips. You can feel every tense of his toned core, count all eight of his washboard abs, “S-s’this the ngh! pheromone perfume, baby–? Maybe I should wear it more hck! often-”

“No.”

No?

And Choso can bash himself for interrupting his lovely lady later - but right now, he was frenzied. 

Gulping voluminous lungfuls of that scent - of you. 

Deftly practiced fingers entrap your plummy clit and roll over not circles, not hearts- no, the letters of his name over n’ over. Branding the perked hood of your nub until you could feel your eyes burst with stars, Choso was ravenous. 

“S’because- because it’s you.” He gasps out thickly, smooth baritone unsteady under the weight of all those tears painting smudged eyeliner down his pretty cheeks. “Your scent, n-not that ngh- perfume.” You’re flinching at the looong drag of his scratchy tastebuds dragging over your scented throat. Or, well, previously scented throat. He was addicted to you. “You have me- have me in heat, lil’ human, n’ it’s making me…”

Wild.

If Choso was any lesser man then he would’ve dragged you halfway down the bedcoils and thrown your legs haphazardly over his shoulders. Folding you in half to pound you into the mattress until you were dumb.

But, luckily for your dripping cunt, Choso was that lesser man right now. 

He doesn’t think he feels alive - can’t even register his wheezing breaths once he’s manhandling you into the densest possible mating press. 

Strong biceps rippling, chest heaving-

His fuzzy brain only sparks with recognition when Choso’s heavy breeder balls clench once, twice, thrice at the way your drooling pussy was laminating his rounded curve with a slimy coating of slick. That’s when he can feel himself actually startle, actually see.

And fuck, was it a sight enough to make him cum if he wasn’t so entranced with that prettily awestruck look on your face. 

“Can’t even feel m-my legs, baby-” He’s spitting through clenched teeth, stray strands of coffee brown plastering all across his sweat-slicked forehead. And something in Choso’s voice was…dark. Dangerous. You were in trouble. “-can’t th-think of anything but ngh- breeding this pretty pussy right now.”

Oh.

Oh.

That’s what he meant by a heat.

“Mhm– my clever girl.” Shit- did you say that out loud? Rewarding your cutely spellbound mind with a hefty thud! thud! thud! right onto what feels like your lungs. He had all the time in the world to fuck you stupid, after all. “My mate.”

♡ RYOMEN SUKUNA - Sweetener

“H-heh- say that again, silly human.”

“A pheromone perfume.” You’re squirming impatiently, words sticking to the back of your throat in saccharine gasps. And even the tiniest of gyrations leave Sukuna’s ruby-topped heads kissin’ sultry circles around your weeping hole. 

Leave you wanting more.

Snickering, “A fucking- pheromone- what?” 

The monstrous king of curses displays you with a rugged sneer that makes your folds even more impossibly watery. Just for those stupid words stumbling from your mouth, you’re gifted with one - two - three solid spanks, elongated black nails curling into the stinging mounds of your ass. 

It’s all you can do to grapple on helplessly to the mountain of his toned shoulders, fingers clawing red train tracks that look more like kitten scratches on him. “K-Kuna–!”

“Don’t K-Kuna me, brat.” Raw need coats the scorching innards of your mouth when he only rolls his crimson eyes, burning hot. And out of all four of Sukuna’s beefy arms, it only takes one to latch onto the curve of your hips and hover you unstably over his doubly swollen cocks. Tutting, “What? You think some h-human perfume will control Ryomen Sukuna. I must’ve fucked ya dumb already.”

So mean.

But Sukuna always did have a soft spot for you.

And all is a single criss-cross of your wobbly arms, kiss-bitten lips puckering up into the beginnings of his only weakness – your pout. 

“Fine. Fine, spoiled girl.” It works.

Yet, you’re shivering at the thwack! thwack! thwack! of his doughy-tipped fingers swatting your plump clit. Pecs puffing out with pride and smugness when your eyes glaze over at them and you stare.

It happens all at once. In an instant. 

As soon as both of Sukuna’s round, throbbing cockheads crown the edges of your drooling pussy - he leans sultry inches closer and finally, finally smells it. That. 

That scented perfume you’d found in your king’s centuries-old treasury, untouched and just ripe for your picking. For Sukuna to get hit with a thorough blast of it off of your heated skin, simply taking one whiff to addle his honed senses.

Undoing years upon years of painstaking training to make your great king of curses halt, jagged canines baring you with a predatory snarl. “Th-think this can affect oh-”

Who was he against you? 

Your entire body vibrates when Sukuna’s chest rumbles with something carnal. Bursting from the very depths of his chest and making you shiver.

The thunderous noise has barely even stopped ringing in your ears before he’s latching on two massive hands to your waist and pulling you in. No care, no hesitation - nothing but drooling with the anticipation of being buried inside your slick-flooding pussy.

He needed it.

And he can feel his head fall headily backwards at the shuddering thud! of Sukuna’s two proud tips skimming the ends of your spongy cervix. Hooked fangs snatching onto the jut of his bottom lip at the bouncy recoil- 

Fuck, he didn’t want to separate from your gummy walls for even a split-second. Even if it was to let your hips bounce in lecherous swivels up n’ down up n’ down up n’ down.

“Sh-shit, you’re in so ngh- deep.” 

It’s a slow tempo, but you never got used to the stretch that was Sukuna’s staggering sizes. 

Both aching cocks were so unfairly long and hard that he didn’t even have to try to smear his puffy veins over your awaiting g-spot. You swear both lengths reached well over a foot, and just having him bottom out had you scrambling to caress the inflated tummy bulge he was fucking into you. 

Your jaw hangs open, a syrupy waterfall of saliva dribbling all over your chin. You’re not sure if Sukuna even registers the way he’s tenderly swiping away the overspilling excess with a fat thumb. 

“Kuna?” You have to stop yourself from almost flinching away, feeling oh-so-shy at the burning heart-eyes in his gaze. The way a fourth arm was patting the sinful cylindrical outline leading up from your puffy pussy. Reaching an arm to stroke his sweat-matted pink locks, “A-are you okay?”

The moment your fingers skim any part - any minute millimeter - of Sukuna’s body, he’s whimpering. Whimpering. 

And if that was the worst of it, then maybe he could have gathered up some semblance of his shattered dignity. 

But Sukuna isn’t simply making pretty noises - he’s cumming. 

One touch. And a thousand torrents of cum sugarcoating your claggy walls. 

So much of it. Too much of it - it sweeps through your gluey walls and forms a little puddle ‘round his bulky bases. Creamily filthy mixtures of seed and slick ringing Sukuna’s base, they hit your perked clit with a wet pap! each time you’re milking him through his peaks. 

“D-did you just-”

“Shut up.” He bites back, leaving you no time for the realization to sink in - before curling a vice-like hand around your throat and making you slam down your hips. “Shut up.”

Sudden, striking hits that bruise the curve of your ass just as much as it bruised your battered insides. You were so hot. So soft that it made him dizzy. Melty depths being contracted around thick lengths, the pace at which your greedy pussy was swallowing him up almost made the king want to whine-

“O-oh my god.”

It did make him whine.

With a creaking squeak! of cushion, Sukuna’s sculpted hips lurch off of the decadent royal mattress in repeated ruts. Animalistic.

“Shut up- I s-said ngh- s’not my fault.” He spits out, angry dewdrops of steamy pre being streaked out in twin ribbons into the back of your cunt. “Not my fault you just feel so- so ohhh- f-fuck you, brat. I-if the rest of ‘em found out…”

But Sukuna already knew he was weak for you. He knew.

Just not to this extent. 

Not till just a simple cloud of your scent made his vision swim, a fresh wave of drool slipping n’ sliding from between the traitorous slit of his mouth. Both of them.

“M-mhm–” You find yourself smiling - maybe from his reaction, maybe from the way you were being fucked so thoroughly right. The knobbled tops of your knees skid easily across Sukuna’s drenched lap when you straddle him even even tighter, “S’that why-”

He wanted you to shut up. He needed you to shut up or else he was going to fucking cum again. 

Which is why his second cursed mouth opens wiiiide to puff your cunt with steamily clouded pants. Before rolling out his tongue and dragging up the entirety of your bulging pussy. All overfilled with him.

“A-another word–” Sukuna’s seething through clenched teeth, but it’s no use. None. Not when the way you lean in to listen closer is enough to make the king blush, “-a-and I make you walk a- ngh! around the entire day with my cum all safe n’ sound inside..”

♡ INO TAKUMA - “U-use me?”

“Wh-what?”

And for the first time in hours, Ino manages to meet his hazy chestnut eyes with yours. Shivering. Half-lidded. “Use me.”

Fuck.

You thought your beloved boyfriend would regain his senses by the second round- no, perhaps the third time’s the charm.

Okay, maybe the fourth? The fifth?

But even after six looong rounds, your splintered bedframe was still trilling with shrill creaks; sagging uselessly on one end as strong, tannish arms stick ever-closer to your body like glue. Folding you into the meanest n’ tightest full nelson possible. 

Still scorching. Still needy after getting hit with just a waft of that pheromone your friends bought you as a joke. A joke. 

But this was anything but.

Ino can’t even bring himself to wipe away the wads upon wads of slippery drool leaking from his maw after every mushy thud of his globular cockhead against the very back of your goopy cervix. He can’t even think.

“Puh-please.” He’s hiccuping, soft tipped fingers clawing near the sweaty crown of your head to push you further down. Lapping a lazy stripe up your scented neck, “Just one more– ngh! Need you t-to use me to make yerself cum once more, sweetness.”

“M-more?”

And oh, your voice was warbling with such cute disbelief that it makes Ino groan. “Yes. Yes.”

Planting a few more vicious plunges of his strawberry pink tip into the target of your favorite sweet spots - Ino’s favorites, too. Especially once your puffy pussylips part with numerous geysers of slick, flooding translucent rings at his base. 

All without even looking up from your neck.

He can’t.

Ino’s entire body wracks with tremors when he even tries to pull away a mere inch. Two. All that he can manage before nuzzling back in with heavy repeated pants.

You’re only getting wetter - and that maddening little perfume one you? Only stronger. 

He swears - fuck, maybe he’s going crazy - that he can smell just how close you are, how your tummy’s tightening into wiry knots. 

“But- but are you sure, baby–?” Your fingers scratch at the tawny ends of his damp locks, a primal itch so heavenly that he almost purrs. “M’wondering if you even can-”

“I can-” He’s cutting you off, free fingers straying down to the slightly-softening base of Ino’s furious cock and squeezing. Rutting up into you with wild abandon, “I can. I can- promise, sweetness, I promise.”

“Taku–”

And throughout Ino’s hazy mind, your words ring out like a death sentence. Like a punishment. Causing him to snap open his eyes with a sharp intaking gasp, round-topped curves of his knees manhandling your thighs further n’ further open.

You whine at the burning smear, head throwing backwards in a way that makes his slow rovering over your neck break away-

And if Ino was upset before, then he’s simply devastated now.

Sounding like he’s on the verge of sobbing, “No. No no no no no- don’t run, pretty.” Like catnip. Like a moth drawn to your frame, he’s wrapping his jittery forearms around you until you could count every twitch of his sculptured forearms. Crushing you in close. “Look at yourself- smell yourself. Fuck, I need it. M’not asking, m’b-begging you to use me like a…toy.”

He almost wishes he could bring himself to lurch away from that haven of pheromones dabbed across your skin. 

Almost wishes he could do anything else but swivel a fat thumb across your weepy folds, bringing it allll the way up to his eager nose to steal a long sniff. 

Filthy. 

But it’s exactly what makes Ino’s swollen cock perk up with an animalistic flinch inside of you, probing into the target of your g-spot dead on. 

“Shit- shit— y-you just got so much bigger.” Your vision flashes blissful white when his length stiffens into even longer n’ sold inches, swabbing at your precious cunt with pressurized pounds. And whatever ounces of blood left in his melty mind? Oh, they’re sprinting all the way down Ino’s boiling veins to end up bloating his throbbing cock. 

Getting hard just by the smell of you.

“O-oh.” You’re being bounced on top of his toned pecs when they dip with a sudden hitched breath. “Yes. Yes yes yes, jus’ like that. Love everythin’ about this ngh- pussy, she’s started smelling sweeter e-even here, too. Fuck, you’re a goddess, pretty.”

Sounding as if he was in such heavenly agony - husky voice cracking a few octaves higher. His hold so vice-like on you that you can already feel yourself bruising. 

Sloppier. Needier.

Shit- Ino needed to see that dumbstruck look surely being fucked onto your face. He’s finding himself moving - body before mind - to face that reflective, floor-length mirror propped up at the end of your bed. 

He always knew that thing would come in handy.

You’re croaking out a moan at the wet texture of Ino’s mouth watering, sprinkling your heated skin with spatters of spit.

But who could blame him?

It was such a sultry sight - to watch your bloated lips be pried apart by his reddened circumference, spraying out saturated glazes of your sweet, sweet juices each and every time. 

“See? See?” Ino’s murked puffs tinge with something higher-pitched and wild. Pearly white edges of his teeth sink into your delicate lobe, and make your skin break out in goosebumps. “How fucked you have me. Think m’gonna hngh- die if I don’t fuh-fuck this pretty pussy. If I don’t make you cum-”

Shit, he doesn’t even want to imagine the thought.

Your kiss-bitten mouth slackens into a loose oh! “Wanna- I wanna cum, Taku—” Twisting your head ‘round to face him with a slight pout that makes his entire body jolt.

“Y-yeah?” So, so pretty with a dopey smile being spread all across his face, you’re leaning in to kiss the cratering dimple at the edge of his plump lips. “C’mon. Fuck back into me- ngh- use me ta make yerself cum.”

You’re heading his every word, thighs aching at the fatigued pain of bouncing your hips in a resounding pap! pap! pap! Grinding your treacly slit all the way back into his fattened balls, “L-like this?”

“Atta girl. Harder, now.” His brows furrow. “Harder.”

More more more.

Words petering out halfway into a snarl at this point, you glimpse at the glint of Ino’s sharp canines peeking through the mirror. “Fuck me. Fuck me, pretty.”

“Taku.”

And you’re not sure who wanted you to cum more - you, or your feverish boyfriend. 

But your spellbound self had some semblance of an answer when the sound of his name on your honeyed tongue makes Ino flinch as if hit with a zillion volts of electricity.makes him dart down a hand to grace your neglected clit with an oh-so-rude pinch.

Ino’s fuzzy brain wasn’t even working enough to remember those patterns you loved so much. To remember just how to make his body move.

All he knew was that he needed this.

Needed the way you’re arching your spine into the perfect curvature against his glissading front, head thrown back with a mewl of Taku—! once you finally tip over the edge.

He finds his mouth falling gape, “Y-you’re so fucking hot.” Eyes locked on the trembly image of you in the mirror, he fucks you through every white-hot peak of your high. Babbling away,”Did your dear Taku m-make you cum, sweetness? Does it feel good? 

Oh, the audacity of him to tip a few thick digits underneath your chin and force you to nod. 

Giggling, “Thought so-” And then it happens. Then, he leans in for a sweet, sweet kiss as he usually does - only to be wafted with a murky cloud of pheromone perfume. Again. You watch as Ino blushes a soft pink, “Hey, p-pretty…so…”

♡ GOJO SATORU - Everyday is everyday.

Everyday means everyday - and it still wouldn’t be enough. Not even after so many countless rounds and rounds.

Never, for a Gojo Satoru that has to grit his pearly white teeth viciously to stop himself from using just an ounce too much of his strength on your pliable body and breaking you. 

Snarling canines peeking out just when he nestles your legs over two broad shoulders and bends down, down, down in half. 

“Hngh- please—” Your chin hits the heaving edges of your chest at the burn of the sheer stretch. Gojo’s muscular thighs sticking against your own and pressing into the inflated little pouch he’d made at your tummy. Filled to the brim with his sappy cum-

“Th-that’s all your fault, y’know–” He’s hissing, handsome jaw clenching desperately to stop those tremoring keens from invading his words. He fails. And Gojo can already tell by the smug smile curling your lips, “-all b-because of you and that fuck! damn perfume.”

Nevermind that he was the one that bought it for you in the first place - some niche, overpriced brand dropped straight into your lap. 

Nevermind the fact that he had come up with the idea. 

Oh, you should’ve known that this is what wearing pheromone perfume around the strongest would get you.

Because Gojo Satoru was breaking - shattering. 

Every pressurized thrust of his leaking out a new wave of overstimulated pre frosting up your slicked entrance. Accompanied hand-in-lecherous-hand with shockwaves of cursed energy that make your unbolted furniture drag magnetized centimeters all the way towards the creaking bed. 

“Sh-shit your p-powers—” you’re whining, eyes widening at the hazy sight of blue lightning flickering across Gojo’s sweat-lathered body. 

“My p-p-powers, huh, sweetheart?” He’s leaning in to whisper, eyes wide. Wild. Breath hitching so many octaves higher that it sends your spine arching with a goosebumped chill. All into his awaiting touch, “And whose- fault- is that—?”

You’re not sure if you’re a genius - or just plain idiotic. Because even feeling the withheld power being those very same soft palms holding your boneless thighs up, you find it in yourself to snark. “Yours.”

And Gojo almost stops. 

If that didn’t torture him just as much as that would torture you, that is. Instead, he’s slowing down to sleazy drags n’ grinds pressing gluey peck after peck on your cervix. 

Such sweet, sweet leisure - yet, his words were tense. He breathes out a shallow cloud of air, “Whose?” 

Gojo’s tone was dangerous. And his battering rams even more so.

“Y-y- ngh!” Saved by a particularly hard slam of all his copious inches digging into your glutinous g-spot, it leaves a bulky circular branding that stings deliciously with every targeted buck.

You can feel yourself slowly being fucked into stupidity with every swash of thickly viscous cum swirling around your insides. And you already know by the buzzing pressure around his cerulean eyes that he was taking unfair advantage of his Six Eyes to make sure his veiny cock reaches each and every single spot inside your pretty pussy.

Locking your dangling ankles with one hand behind his head - the noticeable flex of Gojo’s pale biceps makes you moan. 

Trapped. 

Oh- how pretty you were like this, he muses, eyeing the wobbly quiver of your needy lips. Both of them. And you were so loud, too - your saturated cunt so desperate to chat up at him with ringing squelches that carry over your adorable noises. 

Maybe he should let you hit him with a waft of that special pheromone perfume more often.

His round nostrils flare, hyper-sensitive senses greedily gulping out each ounce and waft you’re letting off. Every repeated pap! of Gojo’s hipbones follows one of his choked-out syllables, “I said- Whose?”

Someone sobs - and only a few sloppy seconds do you realize that it’s you. Words coming out helplessly garbled, “M-mine.”

At that very moment, a dimly-lit lamp across your heady bedroom shatters. 

Sharp shards of glasses bounce off the two of your fervently glissading bodies, limitless. 

But if that was taxing for the strongest - then he doesn’t show it. Not even a sign. Gojo only angles his hip a few degrees to the right to bounce into your spongy cervix even harsher. In rough, jagged strokes as if it was nothing.

In fact, by the filmy glaze overtaking his hooded eyes, you think that it might just be nothing. You think that he might not even have realized what was happening. 

Pressing a drunken trailway of kisses down the helpless curve of your calf, he grins. Toothy. Animalistic. “Atta girl.”

Pulpy soft tips of Gojo’s fingers slide sneakily down to your messy pussy, drivelling up slow slides up and down your teary entrance. Just until you were getting comfortable - just until you were letting your guard down. Silly girl. 

Before slipping past your tight ring of resistance and prying you open doubly. And oh, you should’ve expected that when Gojo gets the job done - he’s going above and beyond to make sure you remember it. 

That you’re his.

Pummeling right into the throbbing bullseye of your g-spot, the edges of his long digits hit that spot so hard that you find yourself bawling. Eyes snapping open- before promptly closing as you cum.

Your high is a shock - a white-hot mess of such euphoria. 

Tipping right over the edge - and it might’ve been a surprise to you, but Gojo saw it coming a mile away with those special eyes of his. Chuckling to himself at the velvety smooch of your sappy walls milking every inch of him.

“There we go- there we g-go, my girl.” He’s pumping you so thoroughly full that you feel your vision blur, the vibrating buzz of Gojo’s cursed energy being fed into you with each strike. “Cum- cum f’me. H-heh, all because- because of me-”

Your tits bump up into his plush pecs, sensitive nubs of your nipples brushing against his rosy pink ones. You’re reaching out a trembling hand to cup Gojo’s pretty face - one he leans into and kisses. “T-Toru—!”

Just about all you can manage out.

And your orgasm might not have been a surprise to him, but Gojo’s own absolutely was.

It happens in a split second - just after that nickname spills from the honeyed tip of your tongue. 

Gojo’s snowy lashes flutter upwards, sweat-slicked brows raising all the way to the edges of his silky fringe. Bubblegum lips parting into an oh! only falling further and further slack with every creamy ribbon shot upwards into you. 

It floods, it pours. And you can feel your flooded pussylips overspilling before he’s even halfway through his orgasm.

Oozing out glutinous wads of cum with every pump - Gojo had no rhythm now, he had no rhyme. Nothing but the carnal need to push every ounce of his fatly beading seed deeper n’ deeper into your pretty pussy, heated pink crownhead swirling out what feels like hearts at the very door to your womb.

You’re so full you could explode-

A hand rovers over that inflationary bulge - bigger now. “Oh, sweetheart…”

Was that really your loving boyfriend? He sounded so ruined right about now, hoarse. You couldn’t even blink your eyes up to make out the expression on his face because the lights had exploded. Possibly in every ward of Tokyo.

You feel it before you see it.

The familiar, shrill puff! of that pheromone perfume being sprayed on you- what? 

With a sharp gasp, you’re looking back n’ forth between the shiny sheen of liquid spritzed once more over your skin and Gojo’s ever-loving smile.

“Oh, whoops.” Soft snickers punctured with a loooong sniff of the air - of you. And Gojo’s eyes take on a predatory glint that makes your entire body wrack with shivers. “Better hope you’re on ngh- b-birth control, girl.”

“...”

A/N. Fun fact, the entirety of Sri Lanka had a six hour power cut while I was writing this because some monkey jumped onto a power line </33

Plagiarism not authorized.

[truefant4sy]

sundress.

gif credit: samijey

warning: unprotected sex, daddy kink, floor sex and more nasty shit

as y/n waited backstage to see joshua after his rough match with ilja once he walked back stairs the medics wasted no time cleaning and bandaging his bloody ear. Once his eyes met hers, he wasted no time walking over to her "hey baby" he greeted her while serving what she was wearing before narrowing his eyes at her "you look cute" she looked down at her pale blue sundress that contrasted with her warm brown skin "thank you" she said giving him a shiny smile.

He reached his hand out "cmon i gotta go grab my stuff from my dressing room" she took his hand and stood up, his arm rested over her shoulder as her arm slid around his waist, once they reached the dressing room he quickly closed the door and locked it "you did really goo-" his hand was wrapped around her neck as he pulled her in for a sloppy kiss that put her into a daze "what was that for?" she asked licking her lips "you know why, walking around here lookin like that." he replied running his hands over his face "looking like what josh?" she asked knowing damn well what he meant. his eye twitched before he changed the subject.

"Can you grab my duffel bag ma?" she nodded and looked around to see the black bag sitting on the floor by the couch.

she bent over to pick it up feeling the breeze against her folds, she could hear him take a sharp deep breath "you just like fucking wit me huh?" he asked her as she turned around to hand him his bag the look on his face was making her wetter by the second "what did I do now?" she asked playing stupid "baby ima need you to stop playing wit me alright?" he grabbed the bag and tossed it back down before grabbing her by the waist and kissing her his hand going underneath her dress and gripping at the bare plump flesh of her ass making her softly groan into his mouth as he sucked on her tongue.

with one hand still on her ass the other hand snaked to the front and began rubbing at her moist clit making her legs weakly shake "ouu wait a minute" her hand wrapped around his wrist trying to move his skilled fingers off the puffy bundle of nerves "nah you wanna walk around here like that ion wanna hear you say shit."

she whined letting go of his wrist before snaking her arms around his neck once he dipped her fingers into her wetness he sighed "you always so wet for me baby" he said before fully sliding his thick middle finger into her tight puss he pumped his finger in and out slowly "fuckkkk" she grinded her hips down onto his finger as his pace started to quicken making her cover her mouth to keep from getting too loud "m'getting so close daddy" she moaned in his ear as he kissed her jaw and neck "yeah? cum on my finger ma I wanna taste it" he purred in her ear.

Once he said that she wasted no timing letting her orgasm go making her legs shake even more, making him have to wrap his arm around her waist to keep her up "oh my godd- shit" his hand was now covered in her sticky white nectar he pulled his finger out of her and went to taste it, he sucked on his finger "you taste so damn good I wantchu to taste this baby" she wrapped her brown lined lips around his finger and sucked the small bit left of her pleasure off of his finger before leaning back in to kiss him her manicured hand was now palming his dick thru the leather pants he had on making him groan "whatchu want baby? you gotta tell me" he spoke deeply his eyes on her hand that was rubbing at his hard dick "mm I want you to fuck me." she told him gripping his dick just to make him groan.

he scooped her up and tossed her on the couch her face towards the wall "tell me how bad you want this dick ma" his hand rubbing at her ass and back "I want it so bad daddy" she bucked her hips back arching her back making her perky ass perk out more "yeah?" she nodded quickly making him chuckle, he pulled his dick out rubbing at it in its full glory his pink tip dripping precum onto the caramel base.

he lifted her dress up above her titties he soon was rubbing the fat tip of dick all between her folds making the woman shiver "cmon daddy please" she begged him "shh I got you" once he pushed it in the both groaned in unison his strokes starting off slow before he quickened his pace making her get louder "fuckk daddy please don't stop please" she knew he couldn't stop but the thought of it was bringing tears to her brown eyes "I aint baby just throw that ass back on yo dick mama this all for you" he groaned grabbing at the back of her neck, she of course obliged and started to jerk her hips back onto him the sounds of their skin slapping getting louder "fuckkk mama just like thattt, who's pussy is this huh?" he asked her and when he got no reply he smacked her ass harshly "yoursss" she gripped at the back of the couch .

When he pulled out she turned her head around ready to talk shit but he quickly picked her and put her in front of the mirror that was on the wall next to the couch in his dressing room and onto the floor forcing her to be on all fours before he quickly slid his dick back in, he wrapped his tatted arm around her neck putting her into a chokehold and lifting half of her body up the angle of her thrust making her bite her plump bottom lip hard enough to draw blood "oh my goddd daddy I can't take it" she whined even though her actions didn't match her words at all with her hips still jerking back to meet his thrust "yes you can take this shit like a big girl I know you can" his face was close to the side of hers.

His other hand went down her body down to clit to start rubbing at it making her hips falter their movements and try to move away from his thrust all together "nah nah don't start that running shit baby" he warned her, as much as she wanted him to keep going she couldn't help but run his back shots were always lethal and every time she tried to run "mm i cant help it-" she cried out his fingers working at her clit faster "yes you can stop running from me baby" as he spoke everything went black as her eyes rolled back into her head as she felt the biggest wave of pleasure rush over her "oh my fucking goddd daddy im cumming im fucking cumming" her words falling out her mouth "that's right baby cum on yo dick this dick is all yours I promise mama shittt" his thrust got harder as he chased his own wave of pleasure "shit mama I'm boutta bust all up in this pretty pussy" his hips stopped and they both let out a loud moan as he filled her up with his cum.

"no more sundresses for a little bit ight?" he said jokingly as he pulled out "alright" she agreed pecking his cheek.

THE END

[multiwreckedmess]

Kinktober Day 29

Prompt: Edging Pairing: sub!Bang Chan x dom!Reader WC: 1k Summary: A leader sometimes needs to not be so in control. At least, according to you and him.

This is a work of fiction, it does not represent Bang Chan or any Stray Kids member. On top of this it is an 18+ work. For my comfort and boundaries please if you are under age do not interact with this. 

I feel the need especially with “rougher” prompts like this to put the disclaimer - fanfic should NOT ever be used as a guide to relationships or sex. ESPECIALLY SEX. Again, it’s fiction. Stuff gets glossed over for the sake of a good story. Please PLEASE please again, not fact, not a guide, just a fantasy.

Additional TW/CW below the cut.

CW/TW: NO Pronouns/gender characteristics for the reader, Chan is called “baby” “baby boy” “good boy” and “Channie.” Sub!Idol, dom!reader. edgeplay (m receiving). jerking off (m receiving). unprotected penetration. everything is consensual but this is in medias res so nothing is directly discussed in the fic.

 Cock red and aching, Chan writhes in the simple wooden chair he’s tied to. Silken cords crisscross his milky skin flushed pink from hours of play. He could stop this at any time, just say the word, but where would be the fun in that. After all, this is what he wants. This thrill. A steady stream of shiny precum flows from the tip down the veins of his shaft as your nails skim the tender surface. Chan whimpers.  “Please, I-I’m close,” he manages to hiccup.  “I know baby boy, I know. Just a little longer for me okay? You want to be a good boy right?” You coo, settling with your legs bridged over one of his thighs. His wet cock nudges your flesh as you lean into his chest. His hips falter as even the slightest stimulation has him near climax. He’s gorgeous like this. Eyes shining with tears threatening to pool and fall. Sweating like the room was on fire. Yet it was all because of you. You and your hands, and hips, and thighs, and tits, and lips.  Chan likes that you prolong it as long as he can physically stand it. Yielding to your better judgement. He belongs to you after all. He loves being a precious toy in your collection, ready to be pretty and played with and that is all you expect of him. Wait for you, listen to you, obey you. That’s all he needs to do, follow your command and you will take care of him.  You do take care of him, you always do. That’s why he trusts you.  His eyes lock and vision blurs as you tip the bottle of lubricant once more, drizzling an almost excessive amount over his rock solid erection. Chan barely manages a strangled wheeze as one delicate hand wraps loosely around him. You hold his shaft just enough to spread the liquid evenly, your other hand cupping his testes equally as gently.  “P-p-please, oh please, oh god-” he pleads as his chest heaves. It’s not enough traction to finish him off and for that he bucks up, against any direction you’ve given.  Thwack.  Your palm strikes his length, rebounding it onto his stomach. His hips go wild as he jerks forward, almost able to fuck against his own abs.  “Did I give you permission?” You ask calmly.  “N-no. I’m s-s-sorry! I-I-I- couldn’t help-” he starts to blubber, a fat tear slipping down his cheek. Chan cranes his neck back to try to stop the cascade, to stay strong. Your hands slide over the soft parts of his inner thighs, waiting.  Using his legs to push yourself up with you crane over him, kissing his wet cheeks. “I know you didn’t my good, good boy. That’s why you have me, right?  “Y-y-es. Fu-uuuck.” His nerves sizzle as your nails scrape slow half circles out from his inner thighs over aching muscles in his quads. Chan tries to find peace in the frenzy of fires burning in his body.  Chan practically screams as you sit down on him, letting your wet heat engulf his oversensitive cock completely. The entire chair shakes and groans with him, legs scratching the floor as his full force jolts through his legs. Your arms hold his shoulder down, draped over them just so, settling until he’s done writhing. You don’t blame him for this, you know he’s at his limit. Face pressed into your chest you can feel the wetness of his tears, saliva, and sweat.  “Want me to use your big fucking cock Channie?” You coo, slowly rotating your hips. “You waited so long, let me treat you.”  “Let me- let me-” he chokes, hips shifting again. His shoulders tense and tug at the restraints. “Please let me- you’ve done- let me-”  “Let you what, baby boy?”  “God damn it let me fuck you. Let me touch you. Please god damn it, let me take care of you. I’ll be so good I promise, just let me- please, please,” he’s breathless, half blind with lust, practically chafing his soft skin by pulling at his ropes.  “Oh baby,” you softly chuckle, reaching farther down his back, “you only had to ask.” One yank in the right direction frees him quickly. Chan’s arms pop free first, flexing his biceps, he doesn’t bother with the rest. It always surprises you how strong he is, arms crossing over your back as he draws you closer, practically knocking the wind from your diaphragm.  Holding you in his embrace he jackhammers eagerly, clumsily, upwards into your silken walls. It’s his hard earned reward for being your plaything. Getting to hear your wanton groans spilling from your lips, knocked loose by his efforts, has him chasing your high as well as his own. Somehow he can hold himself off just that little bit more despite it all as long as he is promised something greater at the end.  Chan’s gut burns, all he wants is to cum deep inside you but he knows he hasn’t earned it yet. Your groans turn to whines and your walls squeeze him harder. Just a little more. He bites at your neck, small little nips, just enough for you to stiffen and clench.  “Cum for me, please, fuck, cum in me,” you whisper as your wet heat floods over him. “Fill me, please.”  Grasping tightly he thrusts deeper than he thought possible, practically hallucinating a second pop as he white out. Painting your walls with his release, each pulse has him dizzy as you stroke his hair softly.  “So good, so good for me Channie. Did so well.” You praise him endlessly with small murmurs and whines as you let his release drip out and around the both of you. Softening in you, you wait for his pulse to return to normal, for his eyes to dry and head to start to nod softly into your chest.

[saltwaterburns]

as our worlds move on, in this shirt, i can be you

summary: lockwood reminisces about everything you were and everything you won't be

warnings: just sad rambles & stuff i suppose! 😁

pairing: anthony lockwood x gone!reader

a/n: Did el just?? Write angst?? While being an avid angst hater??? Could it be?? Yes. Yes it was. Whipped this baby up in half an hour while doing my bio homework. Ur welcome!!! This was written with a very specific song in mind. The reader isn't necessarily dead? Ghost touched or ghost locked, whatever your heart desires! Some of this text was taken from a tiktok caption i saw in May 😋

"My calendar's stuck on January, the month that you passed, and I haven't changed the sheets on my bed since. But it seems I still somehow find the strength to water the lilies, your lilies, because I know they were your favourite and I can't handle losing another part of you."

He stops scribbling and lets his pen drop to the table, closing his eyes from exhaustion. The hour is late, the silence around him overbearing, but his mind is amiss. His thoughts are like the wild, untameable sea, roaring out again and again and again, come back. Come back, come back, come back.

But you're not coming back. Not when he asks, not even when he asks nicely. Not when he begs, not when he cries. All he's got left of you are memories of fleeting looks, hushed giggles and gentle brushes of hands and lips against each other.

For a moment he thinks he can still smell and feel you. He thinks he can almost imagine your eyes, the mischievous sparkle in them. It's a fleeting moment if anything but it happens, his mind takes him back to when your eyes locked and that's when he realizes everything that's beautiful in the world started with you and the magic you held, the love you sprinkled like pixie dust on everyone you ever met. Then the moment passes quicker than it occurred, and he's left in a world where your touch still lingers, where your fingerprints still exist in the dust adorning his home and where the flowers beside your bed have just begun to wilt. Where the love that you carried has spread further than you could've ever imagined and made new again so many hearts you never broke.

He's left utterly alone in a world where every thing, every sensation and feeling is a constant reminder of you and who you were, who you aspired but never got to be. His mind is plagued by your essence when he wakes and it continues when he manages to somehow fall into a light sleep, his heart heavy with the knowledge that once again he shall wake with a startled gasp as the clock reaches 2 am, his hand reaching for you, only to be met with cold sheets that have long ago lost your scent and your warmth.

His gaze trails over the kitchen and falls to the umbrella holder next to the front door where your rapier, still untouched, resides. The golden hues of the kitchen light reflect back from the shiny blade, pink gemstones glimmering on the handle, and for a second he feels like as if they reflect the sparkle of his tears.

It's so you. Decorating your rapier, the one thing keeping you safe in a world filled with souls both dead and alive with cheap little gems. It's so irrevocably you that his heart leaps in his chest. This almost primal urge to tease you, ask if you want to stick some butterfly stickers onto the blade too arises in him and he gives in to it, turning to face your chair, but the words die in his throat.

He clenches his jaw, squeezing his hands into fists, letting his nails dig crescent shaped marks into his flesh. The pain sobers him up like a bucket of cold water, pushing arising tears back down his tear duct. He refuses to cry.

He refuses to cry because you aren't here to hold him, kiss away the salty tears pouring down his cheeks and muffle the sobs wrecking his body with your lips anymore. You aren't here and it finally dawns upon him. You aren't here and he's alone, just like it seems he's meant to be.

[projectcrimson]

WHB WORLD BUILDING HCS:

—» The Ring of Pride has two sections, the red and the blue forest, it has been there long before any of the Kings arrived and the demons populated the land. The blue forest is filled with vines that you can use as a medical tool, whether that'd be medicine or a bandage, glowing slugs hidden in caves that can heal injuries immediately, deceitful plants that can kill you, murky swamps, fireflies and living beings such as tiny things with mushroom as heads (called eno) and faes.

So long as you give the Eno something shiny, they won't steal your stuff. In this universe, a fae speaks in riddles and lies, you have a choice to believe them or not. If you know what they're lying about, they will give you a reward, if you don't, you will receive temporary blindness.

Meanwhile, the Red forest has lava as water, grass replaced with moss that are soft and fluffy as cotton, the trees pulsing as if it were alive, the environment looked dead and deserted. Ironically, it produces the freshest of fruits you could ever find. If you walk further, you will find Soul Sand Valley, filled with dark grainy sand that cries and groans under anyone's steps, and with each step it pulse under anyone's boots, releasing blue ribbons of light, similar to northern lights.

Lucifer's building is sectioned in-between the respective biomes. The demons that live there only respect him because he's one of the, if not, onlymedical service that is knowledgeable and available. (Another reason is that he is stronger than any of the Kings since he was the first Angel that God created.)

—» The Ring of Gluttony is one of the most dangerous Ring for MC to enter. People underestimate how Gluttony can be dangerous for someone, it isn't only an addiction towards food, it can be an indulgence towards money, sex, beauty, technology, violence, Solomon as an escapism. They indulge to the point they harmed others in order to drown in their needs and wants, throwing parties and celebrating is the only distraction but it's not enough to satisfy their Sin.

They have ravenous rabbits who travel into packs that eat and tear any creature— including their own kin, angel, demon, fae, whatever, they will be where death lies like vultures. One will appear to be harmless until another appears then another, and another, and every one of those white creatures devour your skin like their last meal 'til you're flesh and bones.

If you ever go to the Glutton Ring, either have the King to escort you or the right-hand men of Beelzebub accompany you in your stay because the minute you're out of their sight, the creatures will not hesitate to devour you. After all, even if the King favors you, their Gluttony needs to be satisfied.

A/N: I'll be posting once or twice a week to keep the grind going (& bcs of school) and I will make a short comic at 50 followers so go hit that button! :))

[johnmarstonswife]

Partners in Crime till’ the Day we Die #3

꣑ৎ ⌓⌓⌓⌓⌓⌓⌓⌓⌓⌓⌓⌓⌓⌓⌓ 𓃗 ⌓⌓⌓⌓⌓⌓⌓⌓⌓⌓⌓⌓⌓⌓⌓ ꣑ৎ

Chapter three: The Wonders of Horseflesh

fandom : red dead redemption online & 2 pairing : sean macguire x f!reader word count : ~3,500 rating : mature warnings : minor coarse language, brief mentions of murder, opening spoilers for red dead online, gunfight/gun violence summary : meeting up with Clay Davies, he tasks you with stealing back some horseflesh, rewarding you with a little more than money for your help.

a/n : tbh ive been kinda slow with making new chapters, but i finally pushed out another one 💪 more story in this chapter of course, but im actually excited for writing chapter 4 ‼️ after this chapter it’s all juice from here

tag list : @heloixe @m1stea

꣑ৎ ⌓⌓⌓⌓⌓⌓⌓⌓⌓⌓⌓⌓⌓⌓⌓ 𓃗 ⌓⌓⌓⌓⌓⌓⌓⌓⌓⌓⌓⌓⌓⌓⌓ ꣑ৎ

Never in your ‘career’ of sorts have you hunted for treasure. Honestly, it sounded like something straight out of a story book. And when that desperate bandit gave you that treasure map in a hurry, in hopes of making a peace offering for his life, you doubted if it actually exists in the first place. But, did you still go searching for treasure? Yes.

Though the sun was barely peaking through the horizon, you decided to at least check. After a couple minutes of good searching in dark— which wasn’t all that dark since nights in New Austin are fairly bright, you stumbled on an unassuming chest beside a crate and some sacks, which sat behind a large boulder. Opening it, to your surprise, there was quite an expensive load of stuff just sat out in the open desert. You collected a gold wedding ring, a platinum earring— just one, a random necklace holding a pearl, a whole bunch of revolver and repeater cartridges, wad of cash, and finally a shiny gold bar. Your face was absolutely bewildered by the vast amount of pure, well— treasure there was. Speedily looting the valuables and scooping them up in your hands to keep in your satchel for safe keeping’s.

Luck was definitely on your side, thanks to that bandit you decided not to kill yesterday. Nevertheless, you have other things to deal with. The burning heat of Cholla Springs’s late morning was a welcoming one, the soft, dusty breeze weaving through your locks as you gallop, reminding you of your freedom and fond memories of your childhood and time acting as the Scarlet Cavalier— you’re not sure if acting’s the right word, but it wasn’t of great importance right now.

Your bliss and reminiscence was quickly concluded when you’re reminded you’re riding out to your next mission advised by Horley; meeting up with Clay Davies for work. Just amazing. You had a strong disliking to that greasy, horse flesh and animal trader. Moreover, as someone used to riding some of the best horses of the west, the scrawny steed you were given free of charge from Horley wasn’t all that pleasant to be riding. He was slow, pretty malnourished and an old one. You didn’t have any feed for the poor horse, who you found was named ‘Scrawny Nag’— not too far off to what you were calling it this whole time. Perhaps the Scarlet Cavalier of New Austin will be back in business soon enough.

You dismount Scrawny Nag and hitch him at a small beam of the broken down construction of some stone building. Just two, cobble walls still half standing. As you walk around and see the scammer himself. And of course his twin brother, Clive— the mute who if he could speak, would be equally, if not more agitating than his counterpart. Both sat playing a game of cards— which Clay most definitely had an unfair advantage.

Clay lets out a strange noise of victory, “I win again!” He smirks indifferently, gesturing his arms up like he knew he would win either way; letting out a small chuckle and turning to you. “Ah… an old friend. Did Horley send ya’ pop?” He greets with pleasantries, though he already knew you thought he was insufferable. Still putting on that grand act, knowing how much you disliked him. ‘Pop’ this and ‘Pop’ that. It pissed you off to no end.

“Don’t act like me and you are friends.” You glare sharply, your eyes already fed up with his shit. Crossing your arms in front of you and lifting an eyebrow and waiting for him to just explain the mission already.

Clay chuckles, though it was basically a scoff. His dreadful grin, continuing to shine of amusement. “Alright, alright. Listen, I heard you wanted to earn some money.”

“Who doesn’t?” You adjust your stance, tilting your head slightly cocked to the side, awaiting his plan. Your speech carrying the bite you always had when talking to this guy— but also a hint of curiosity laced in.

He breathes softly of amusement, bobbing his head of agreement— even if you two didn’t particularly liked each other, he did agree on that statement. Getting up from his seat atop the wooden table he begins. “So, there’s a gang of ne’er-do-wells. They are a bunch of degenerates, not good people.” He explains, exaggerating ‘not good people’ and waving his hands around as he spoke. You just let out a small exhale out your nose— you could say the same for him. “They’re out at Rathskeller Fork, with a buncha’ horses they stole from me!— Well that’s a lie, but they stole ‘em off the feller I was steal ‘em off of.” Clay admits, voice declining in annoyance to sheepishness.

You just stare at him blankly with your arms still crossed, unamused as you listened to him rant off. Let’s be honest, Clay was probably in the wrong, but all you did was huff. “…And what’d you want me to do ‘bout it?” You answer dryly.

But, you knew what he wanted you to do. Helping Clay Davies was one of the last things you want to do, but you needed money. You weren’t really in the right place to deny jobs just because you dislike the job giver.

“Maybe… you could get ‘em for me? You think you could do that, po—“ He drags out, before walking a few steps closer with a fake tone of anticipation. He knew you couldn’t say no, especially if there’s cold cash involved.

“Don’t you dare say ‘pop’ again.” You snap before the three letter word could utter his lips. Rolling your eyes, letting out a long, deep sigh. Speaking after a pause. “Fine. You better pay up when the jobs done.” You relent sour, feeling a little defeated.

Clay lets out another half scoff, half chuckle as his sly smirk grows at the corners of his mouth at your response. “Well, good.” He hastily continues, quite proud of himself for convincing you to get it done. Like he was gladdened at your break. God, you hated this slimy scammer. “Meet me at the stable at Tumbleweed— once you have the horseflesh, and I’ll pay ya good.” He informed. “Oh— and uh, Horley wanted me to remind you any decent work you can find, take it. But just try to stay out of trouble.”

“Yeah. I’ll try— unlike you.” You reply, as if a razor blade replaced your tongue. An almost unfazed expression played on your features, setting your hands down and onto your hips, quickly glancing around before setting your eyes back on him.

Staying out of trouble was rich, since you weren’t all that good at that in the first place. Considering what placed you here was trouble you didn’t even cause. Just— stumbled upon, you guess. You’ll try, though, no promises. And with taking any good work you find, well, what else were you supposed to do? All though you did want to rest, money and getting back on your feet was all too important. Plus, you were kind of getting used to it. It was exhilarating and the action reminded you why you loved it previously. It as in crime. When opportunities come, you’ll take them. That’s just the girl you are and came to be. Maybe it’s a habit. Maybe it’s just want for money and stability. Maybe it’s adventure. And maybe it’s all of them. You didn’t really know.

Clive just brushes off the bite, huffing to himself. “Oh, and once you get me those horses…” Clay continues, whilst Clive finishes up packing their resting spot into the back of the wagon. “Well after that we’ll talk again.” He ends, helping himself up the seat of the horse wagon and taking the reins in his hands. “Oh, I do so enjoy these conversations!” He belts out so over exaggerated that even a deaf person could tell he was sarcastic. “Let’s go, Clive!” He ushers Clive, quickly handing him the reins. A loud ‘whip’ rang before the horsed wagon rode away.

Stealing horseflesh, huh? Guess the Scarlet Cavalier is really back from retirement after all.

꣑ৎ ⌓⌓⌓⌓⌓⌓⌓⌓⌓⌓⌓⌓⌓⌓⌓ 𓃗 ⌓⌓⌓⌓⌓⌓⌓⌓⌓⌓⌓⌓⌓⌓⌓ ꣑ৎ

You duck your body down whilst galloping away. Bullets just barely grazing as you ride for your life. Feeling your body rapidly fly up and down on the practically untamed horse, shooting aimlessly from your revolver— bullets so clearly missing, but enough to deter more of the angry mob of gang members from catching up and getting a good shot at you.

As you can tell, this job clearly went well. But thinking this would go smoothly after a damn long while of being out of the horseflesh stealing business— it went better than it could’ve went.

The plan— that you made up on the spot when you got there, was to inconspicuously go around the place and climb the stone wall to the horse sheds. Sneaking in and silently kill the guy guarding the place, roping as many horses you could and ride out as quickly as whatever horse you steal’s legs can go out of that place and pray you don’t get shot during the chaos. And you did execute the plan. But, you failed to realise how far they would chase you down the roads of Gaptooth Ridge.

Galloping and spurring the horse beneath you— which you didn’t get a good look at since you were rushing to just get out before you got shot. Your streak of luck apparently was still going, managing to shoot a guy off his horse from all the stray, aimless bullets you shot. More and more of them start getting lost in the chase, horses beginning to give out or just unable to keep up. Whatever breed this horse was you were riding, you knew it was expensive. How easily it could out run those gang members on horseback? You could see why Davies wanted these horses so badly.

Though the chase still wasn’t over. By this point you just focused on the path in front, hunching your shoulders and clutching the reins on this horse for your damn life. Sometimes whipping your head over your shoulders to see how close or how many remained. Spotting the two left, now further and further in the distance, their face contorted and teeth gritted, loosing their trail on you. Spewing muffled curses from the distance you couldn’t care to hear.

It was a damn miracle you weren’t shot during that horse-chase. Hell, you were surprised that you were able to control the horse you were riding PLUS the three lassoed behind you. It was a feat you completed numerous times before; but somehow was ten times more difficult considering your circumstances. Though, you made it. Slowing the horse below you into a softer gallop towards the destination Clay Davies told you to drop them off at; Tumbleweed stable.

You rode past the familiar, tiny town of Tumbleweed, taking a glance at the place for just a second before carrying on past to the stable on the further outskirts of town. Holding up into a canter then a trot, you see the two knobs waiting for you before the muted green stable doors.

“Well, well, well, the Scarlet Cavalier of New Austin never fails.” He drawled with a smug but pleased grin on his face. “Dead right! Ain’t that dandy?” Reminding you that he knew your identity. Which made you despise him more because that meant he had protection— or you guess blackmail, against you. Ever want to rat him out to the law because he pretty much scammed you, so you pretend to be an innocent civilian girl that got scammed? You would both be locked up and hung before you know it. Not worth this ratbag anyway. Guess that’s how he always saved his skin.

You sigh sharply, shifting your gaze around to make sure nobodies there to watch. Lo-and-behold it is just desert. “Just— where do I put them. And where’s my payment.” You ask, less of a question; more of a demand.

“Alright, alright— get that horse hidden away Clive…” He switches his tone completely, glaring at his brother and urging him to get on with it. “And ready to move out as soon as we can.” Clay goes and grabs the large door on the left and Clive hurriedly opens up the right. The stable doors creaking and dragging against the dry dirt below; some of it kicking up as it parts. “Here’s the money you earned.” Clay slaps the wad of cash onto your palm before going on again. “Now listen. Horley came by and gave me a message. He said go see your friend Cripps, up at your camp.” He delivers, reminding you once again. “Now listen to me for a second—“ He gestures his index finger in front your face, which you swat it away and shoot him a glare. He timidly moves his hands away and continues, “Any other decent horses you find, we and the Scarlet Cavalier can be up and running again. Just as soon as we set up, ‘kay?” He nods, starting to shut the stable doors again.

“You know what—“ Clay stops himself, rewinding his movements. “hold on, boy!” He also stops Clive. He adds, “I call him boy because I’m older. 30 minutes—“

“He went black. I know.” You nod your head knowingly, a small huff escaping your lips.

“Ha! This is why… let’s give our friend here back a horse.” He turns his head to Clive then back at you, a proud look on his face for finally doing something good, you assume. “It’s yours! A sign of faith, future and past business! If you wanna buy any extras or sundries for the animal, head inside! They’ve got a lot available.” He excites. It was pleasant, made you rethink if he was actually all that bad. If this cleared up the damages of the money you could’ve had. Maybe, maybe not. But it was nice of the scoundrel to do.

“…Thanks. That’s nice of you.” A faint smile twists at your lips, nodding of appreciation to him as you begin to walk into the dirt and hay filled stable.

“See ya soon.” He goodbyes with a riff, Clive walking up to him with a dumbfounded expression and his hands up in the air saying as if, ‘why the hell did he do that’. “Come on, Clive.” Clay ignores, ushering him with that same warning in his voice. The two walking out and away.

You turn to the four horses that are now lined up in their pens. Taking a closer inspection at the mounts, to your assumption, they were rare and expensive breeds alright. But the one you were originally riding caught your eye. The large, shimmering raven coat and white stamp on its head; that’s a black Turkoman, alright.

The mare neighed and stomped her feet— presumably from how hard you rode during that chase that had happened. You try your best to calm the beauty down, shushing her softly and slowly creeping towards her, crooning pleas for her to settle down. “Shhh… it’s alright girl… just— let me lead you out, okay?” You hush, the agitated mare calming as you take its lead. You always had a way with horses, you guess that’s why it made the job of stealing them so easy.

The horse follows you passively out the pen, as you hitch it to a post and make your way over to the large selection of saddles propped up on the stable’s wall. You didn’t have all that much money, selecting the cheapest black saddle available— so it would at least match the coat of the beautiful creature. Hooking it off the wall with a grunt, and setting it on the horse you still haven’t named yet. Attaching the straps of the saddle of the Turkoman’s abdomen, you hoist yourself up onto its tall stature. Patting her on the base of her neck as you rack your mind for any fitting name for a moment or three.

“Belladonna. That’s what your name will be. Belladonna.” You repeat to yourself, or the horse, you weren’t sure. You chose the name because it was your grandmother’s favourite plant. You weren’t able to see it at all in the great desert. But she would retell how the wondrous plant looked, describing it like a tale. Purple, delicate, bell shaped flowers, accompanied by almost berry like black orbs; which were terribly toxic. It sounded magical when you heard it as a young girl. And this magical plant was a fitting name for her. Belladonna.

꣑ৎ ⌓⌓⌓⌓⌓⌓⌓⌓⌓⌓⌓⌓⌓⌓⌓ 𓃓 ⌓⌓⌓⌓⌓⌓⌓⌓⌓⌓⌓⌓⌓⌓⌓ ꣑ৎ

Sighing, you dismount Belladonna. Your worn boots tapping the sand-like, arid dirt below towards Cripps. Who sits by a small campfire playing what sounded and looked like to be a jaw harp. He chuckled to himself before removing the small, metal instrument from his mouth and looking up at you. “How’d you get on with Clay Davies?”

“How’d you expect.” You respond with a scoff. You didn’t even want to peep another word about that man anyway, though he did give you a well horse for free. Doesn’t stop him from being agitating though.

He tittered of amusement, pulling himself up from his seat at the fire. “Horrible little wretch in my opinion— and yer’s too apparently. Pop this and pop that.” He stood beside you going off about the ratbag the same you would. “I’d like to pop him, the slime bucket.” He nudged you with a smirk.

“Hah, now that I can agree on.” You laugh, nodding your head of every curse and insult directed to the horse fencer. You two were going to get along alright, just by this interaction.

“Anyway…” Cripps turns to face the rest of the campsite, his hands gesturing around at his work, pleased with himself. “I’ve got everything set up. Well— uh, what we have so far.” You both admire the work, leisurely walking through the camp and inspecting your new home. “I, uh, think I did a good job for you. I’ll earn my keep.” The old man narrates. “When you get too old to fight, what choice have yer got? It’s either work or beg— and I’d rather work.” He added, ranting off, you both trotting on the dirt beneath your feet. “Oh, I saw Horley. He wants you to come down and meet him in Blackwater when you get the chance.” Each time, gesturing his cigarette pack in his hands to every statement.

“I think he might have some work for ya. Oh, and, er, while you’re out on yer travels, you may see some folk with employment opportunities. Good folk, bad folk— looking for a tough guy with a gun to help ‘em. Up to you if ya listen to them, I guess.” Horley briefed.

You never took all that many jobs; though, you would’ve if you had the opportunity to. You really couldn’t though, since before this mess you worked by and for yourself. It was all you knew, and you relied on yourself to get you the money. So, finally receiving consistent work was exciting, and making new connections wasn’t particularly a bad thing either.

“You know, I… I used to like that kind of stuff.” He started, stopping in his tracks and turning to you as he spoke. “One time, I almost helped a clown steal an elephant!” He reminisced with a snicker, “—but that’s a very silly story.” He quieted to himself.

“I bet.” You nod along, though you didn’t really get where he was going with that.

“Uh, welcome home!” He gestured once more to the whole camp with welcoming zeal. “Make yourself at home— it is your home.” He corrected, looking around for himself for another time.

You smile gently before taking another good look at the camp and breathing the air in, that as he said, will be your home. It was small, but it made do for the time being. “Glad to be home, then, Cripps.” Nodding before walking off to poke around camp yourself. Cripps heads and sits back down to his original spot at the fire.

You tread over to a chest on the ground, peering at it before realising it’s a telegram box.

Opening it up, you see various letters and papers that has already come in for you. You’re pretty popular, it looks like. You pull out a letter that catches your eye, a clean, fancily, red stamped letter. Contrast to the rest of plain, fairly dirty letters. You pick the letter into your dark, gloved hands, inspecting it closely before shutting the lid of the chest with your boot; still never diverting your gaze from the paper. Tearing the letter out, you read the simple, but well hand written note.

It is time we talk.

I will see you— and only you— under the pagoda by the Théâtre Râleur, Hestia Street, Saint Denis.

This is an opportunity you will not want to pass.

M.

Is all it wrote. Ominous, but hell, it was intriguing. You fold the note and tuck it in your satchel for another time, once you’re not as busy. Perhaps after meeting Horley in Blackwater, depending how that goes, you guess.

꣑ৎ ⌓⌓⌓⌓⌓⌓⌓⌓⌓⌓⌓⌓⌓⌓⌓ 𓃗 ⌓⌓⌓⌓⌓⌓⌓⌓⌓⌓⌓⌓⌓⌓⌓ ꣑ৎ

thanks for reading again !!! thankful for everyone who actually reads this mess of a story im making 😭 again, sorry for the slower chapter posts, ive been demotivated AS right now, but more will for sure be coming <33

[willtheweaver]

Alpha-write

Thanks @agirlandherquill this sure does look interesting

Rules: For every letter of the alphabet, comprise a sentence/short paragraph beginning with that letter

A- “All systems go. Let’s she what this new ship can do.”

B- Barely anything was standing on the planet’s surface. All around were huge craters and mountains of crumbled rock and dust. What water there was was as corrosive as hydrochloric acid. What kind of weapons could do this, and what kind of people would turn such tools of death on themselves?

C- Candles, beeswax, 50 count, the label said. So why was the box so heavy?

D- “Don’t move!” I stopped when I heard those words. Fearfully, I looked down at feet. One of them was right on top of a rune trap that was concealed in the leaf litter.

E- Everywhere was the sickly sweet smell of death.

F- Faith shall ne’re forsake me, when iron proves as feeble as flesh.

G- “Goblins can’t resist shiny stuff, you said!”

“Well if you weren’t a cheapskate and put some of your jewelry in the trap, we would have caught him!”

H- “Hake, extra crispy. Chips with salt and vinegar, extra curry sauce on the side. What does it all mean?”

“I believe that is his Friday takeaway order.”

I- Inside was totally different. Whereas the exterior was a grey and austere cube, the interior of the building was bright and decorated to the point of being gaudy and over the top.

J- Just lost contact with the rearguard. Radar has picked something up. It’s—[remainder of transmission incomprehensible] /end recording.

K- Kelp! If I could just make it…

L- “Ladies and gentlemen, remain cool, this is a robbery! Handover all of your valuables and no one—hey! You with the Nickleback shirt! That is not cool!”

M- “Must I remind you that it was your idea to drill holes in the bottom of the ship?”

N- “No man is more accursed than he who violates the sacred law of hospitality.”

O- “Open the door!”

“No.”

P- “Purple was never my color anyways.”

Q- Quiet. No wind, no sound of birds. Nothing.

R- Rust covered the steel beams and rebar sticking out of the cracking and failing concrete.

S- “Single malt, aged twelve years, heavy smoke with hints of seaweed. This was distilled in Islay.”

T- The order came up. Three shots espresso, ten ounces 2% steamed for exactly eighteen seconds, one pump vanilla, three caramel, one chocolate hazelnut, and the foam has to be cold and not mix with the coffee. WTF!?? I wanted to quit them and now.

U- Union pamphlets were everywhere. No doubt about it. Their meeting place had been found.

V- “Velocity is still over 5000 kph! We’ll burn up in the atmosphere unless we find some way of slowing down!”

W- “We’re with Witness Protection. You are in grave danger.”

“Me? I’m just an ordinary person!”

X- “X-rays can’t go through lead!”

Y- “You had to say something, didn’t you?!”

Z- Zzzzzzzzzzz.

“How can anyone sleep so soundly in a time like this??”

Whew! Made it through that one!

Tagging @diabolical-blue @darkandstormydolls @leahnardo-da-veggie @poethill @honeybewrites

@theeccentricraven @splashinkling @smudged-red-ink @mysticstarlightduck @eccaiia

@corinneglass @tildeathiwillwrite @fortunatetragedy and open tag

[dranna]

contents: description of body horror(?) how you call it, description of mutated creature (aka Voldemort), Writing exercise: Voldemort

a/n: I haven’t read all the books and I’m not planning to do so. I got through till order of the phoenix and it was already a battle on my side. I hate the books and Harry’s character, I’m sorry. So if there is something not making sense canon vise here or any of my future writings, that’s why.

One of the things that always strikes me as odd, that Voldy isn’t that scary(?) or gruesome as the main villain of the story. Based on the things we learn about him, we never see much of his actions. I think his character would’ve been more interesting if we see more horror fuel stuff from him … or just him to do anything .I also imagine him looking more reptile like and terrifying.

English is still not my first language

drawing is by me :D

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

An eerie feeling froze the blood in the participants' veins, as they heard the sound of naked feet tapping on the dark, marble floors. The patting was mixed with the sound of skales flowing on the shiny surface, omitting a low hissing ring.

The Malfoy manor was silent, even more so than usual. An unnatural stillness covered the building from top to bottom. It felt like the house was sick to its bone, trying to sweat its uninvited guests out.

This stillness was thick like fog, and was silently screaming into their ears.

The halls were dark, only illuminated by flowing candles, which lended the naked legged creature an even more haunted look. It was a stretch to call that being a man, because he wasn’t. Not anymore. He tossed away his humanity long ago, when the first part of his soul got torn out from his chest and shoved into an object.

Killing, consuming, ruling.

More power, more fear in hearts, more torment in minds.

The Dark Lord was walking slowly towards his ‘throne’ at the end of the long, gloomy table.

His cold figure casted a long shadow on the dark void of the floor, making it look even more ghostly.

He appeared as a mutated skeleton in the huge chair, swallowed by the fabric of his long, inky cape. His spider-leg-fingers lacked any meat or muscle, there was only paper thin stretched skin on the bones. As their gaze anxiously traveled up on skinny arms and on clothing, they saw a wretched neck first, not leaving anything to imagination. Every artery was bulging out, mercilessly working to keep the creature amongst the living, fueled by dark magic. The veins created an uneven surface of his porcelain skin, sticking out then diving back into bones.

When their eyes got used to the view of their horrific embroidery, they met with The Eyes. They sat deep in the dark holes of the reptile skull. They were glowing with a reddish light and burning with an icy flame. They lacked any kind of warmth that illuminated the orbs of men, they rather hid well contained violence and the enjoyment of other’s pain. His pupils were two lines as if a snake, cutting the red irises in half. Their look was hard and cruel, expanding in a cat-like manner when seeing something innocent breaking.

The shape of his skull tossed away the resemblance of a human’s, it borrowed the build of a reptile. If possible, the skin became even whiter and thinner than on the hands, in some places forming skale like growth around the eyes and mouth. The flesh of his nose has rotted away, leaving two empty holes in its place. The jaw extended, became longer and wider, bearing many shark-like teeth, with 4 huge fangs. The tongue became long and V shaped, having the ability to smell for prey.

There he sat at the long table, Nagini twirling around his neck and hissing something into his elf-like ears, smiling spine chillingly at his audience.

“Malfoy, why don’t you introduce me to your son?”

The voice that broke the silence was low, almost a whisper, but ran through the hall clearly. It was a strict sound, not tolerating anything but full obey of its orders.

The scarlet irises turned towards a young man, with shiny blond hair, pale face and big, gray eyes. He was wearing nothing but black which made his nervous paleness sickly.

“Perfect” - hissed the Lord while rotted away lips twitched into a terrifying smile, showing his huge sharp teeth.

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

Tagging: @giosnape

[profsilverleaf]

Silverleaf found himself wandering down, he wished he could find more time to admire the scenery but it looks like something is happening that needs immediate attention.

He continued to check through Rotomblr, he could tell that something was wrong. Grace had already warned them that the crater could cause hallucinations, but all the same hearing that she was having very strong hallucinations was surprising, and worrying.

He really had to get down there as fast as he could and get his Abra to teleport her the fuck out. He could also teleport the guy they came in for in the first place if Silverleaf finds him. From the sounds of it, Grace was heading towards the middle, so he will too.

Silverleaf looked over the edge to the vast dark space below. It was quite a drop... maybe he could get down there faster by doing the same thing he did to get into the crater? Maybe, when he gets closer to the bottom he'll do that. His Pokemon needed a rest. In particular, Houdini the Abra needed to save its strength for teleporting.

So he wound down the strange passages of plant and rock that almost seemed to float because of that absolute vast amount of space they sat in. Strange crystals were attached to trees and rocks like fantastical ivy and moss. Pokemon familiar and unfamiliar roamed around.

Silverleaf really wishes he could take the time to study them. He saw a few that resembled creatures described in Oculture magazine. They were the main reason he wanted to come down here in the first place. And the beautiful crystals were just breathtaking! They were sparkly and shiny... just like ice.

Silverleaf didn't like ice. Thinking about it, it was hard to take his mind off of it. The trees and rocks were covered in ice crystals, the air filled, not with fairy-like sparkles, but with blinding gleam of hail. Silverleaf shook his head, or at least tried to, of the image. He remembered again about Grace's warning about trauma induced hallucinations.

That Neo Team Plasma stuff happened years ago, yet, it seemed that Silverleaf couldn't quite shake his fear of the ice and the cold. Silverleaf bit his hand, grounding himself with the pain. This place was kind of a bitch, huh?

Nevermind taking his time, he needed to get down there to other people NOW. He kept Houdini in his ball, but his other three Pokemon were let out again.

They once again formed their awkward stance from before, but without the fail safe of Houdini's psychic. Silverleaf stood on top of his Klang, who would slowly move down, giving Silverleaf the chance to keep his feet moving, as to not be crushed by the gears. Silverleaf held on to his Magneton while doing this, to keep balanced. Porygon Z also held on to him to keep him from falling to either side.

But as they were nearing the ground once again, not quite to the darkened cave looking area, but near it he saw the strangest sight.

Zekrom. Was just kinda... sitting there. Guess it would explain the weird storm... He had to investigate this. Silverleaf supposed he should be surprised to see one of the gods of his homeland just hanging out at the crater, but he gotten used to ledgendarys showing up in unexpected places.

The landing he took was very similar to his last. And as he took a moment to calm down from the adrenaline he heard a voice, one he has heard before. He looked up rapidly. That was N. Motherfucking N. The leader of Team-fucking Plasma. Right there. In the flesh.

Well color Silverleaf surprised again.

The green haired fuck was asking if his Pokemon were alright.

It took every ounce of will power Silverleaf had not to punch that man in the face. Silverleaf didn't really care that N was "reformed" Team Plasma had already caused so much damage.

Silverleaf gritted his teeth and said. "What the hell are you doing here."

Silverleaf and the Area Zero Rescue Mission part 1

Of course Silverleaf choose the worse time to go to the market to buy some stuff.

He left @trainergraceneedstherapy 's house to get some supplies because he didn't think to bring any when he first came over. He was mostly just grabbing food for the camping expedition, most of the other people had already brought actual camping supplies.

It took longer than expected, he got a bit distracted sight seeing around the town, even eating at the dinner that also doubled as a gym. By the time he got back it was already a bit too late.

He arrived back at Grace's house only to find a note attached to the door.

"Sorry we had to head off without you, it was an emergency."

Silverleaf pulled out his Poryphone and checked Rotomblr. Apparently there was someone who needed rescuing, and that was why everybody ran off right away. Silverleaf wouldn't lie, not to himself anyway, it kind of hurt a little. But it was fine! It was an emergency after all...

Well there goes his plans to ride down to Thunderous with @professor-devious . He would have to find his own way down. He looked off to where the crater was, only just now seeing the storm that was brewing, he swore it didn't like that only an hour ago. Oh boy, what is going on over there

He sent out all four of Pokemon and explained the situation to them. It might be difficult but if they worked together they could probably carry him inside. Zipfile the Porygon Z, Click the Magneton, Clack the Klang, and Houdini the Abra. All four of them naturally levitated off the ground. Silverleaf was going to use that to his advantage.

And so he headed off, going through the tunnel to the area that Grace had mentioned they were going to have to head down at. He got the edge and saw how far down it was and chuckled. "Oh boy... I really hope this doesn't kill me."

Porygon Z and Abra were the safest to touch, Magneton had some parts that would be uncomfortable, namely the screws, and Klang, he would have to be careful, moving gears are dangerous after all. Well he manged to figure something out.

[I'm gonna put a drawing here later but it's the configuration]

Soon he found himself slowly being lifted down, awkwardly and uncomfortably. But he got down all the same. Once he was near to the ground his Pokemon kind of, dropped him. They were very tired, he returned them to their balls.

Well looks like he made it, time to find the others.

[have to leave again for dinner be back eventually]

[imagine-darksiders]

Tonight, I had a little spare time, so I drabbled out some simple, wholesome Anarchy stuff. :) Enjoy! xx

Strife would be hard-pressed to say which instance had tipped him over the edge and sent him plummeting out of his own mind, cleaving a path for his savage counterpart to surge forth and take control...

Perhaps it was that first glimpse of you laying prone underneath a drooling Phantom Guard. Perhaps it was the demon's hands that were pawing greedily and clumsily at its side, reaching for its axe. Perhaps it might have even been the blood-curdling wail you let out when said axe was finally pulled free and lifted triumphantly above your head.

In the end Strife doesn't much care what brought Anarchy to tear free of his shackles. All he cares about is putting himself between you and the Guard – a snarling, protective wall of flesh, scales and metal.

Like a bullet fired from a gun, Anarchy explodes out of the restricting confines of Strife's body in a painful twist of limbs and horns and ferocious intent, his thick, grey jaws springing open to unleash a roar that threatens to shake the very city to its knees.

The Phantom Guard's head flies up at the interruption and its piggy little eyes bulge open wide when they lock with the molten-gold of Anarchy's.

It can't be more than a low-ranking grunt. Its hide is still vivid and purple with youth, and the great, curling horns that sprout from the sides of its skull are still shiny and unmarred by wear or age.

Maddened by hatred, Anarchy lunges forward and takes immense satisfaction when his crushing teeth snap down around the demon's vestigial, fleshy wings and he rips it into the air, away from the minuscule human frozen in terror beneath it.

With a single and vicious swing of his bulky head, Anarchy launches the Phantom Guard across the dingy street, revelling in the 'crunch' that coincides with its body crashing hard into the side of an over-turned vehicle, hanging there for a moment in suspended animation before it crumples to the ground, barely clinging to the flimsiest threads of life.

The Horseman doesn't give it the chance to recover.

Anarchy's long, violet mane bristles and flares as he crouches low on his digitigrade legs and raises his weaponised arm in the demon's direction. The unholy fusion of flesh and metal quivers in apparent anticipation of a kill, and the four barrels begin to spin, slowly at first but swiftly picking up speed as a rich, crimson glow sparks to life deep within each chamber.

The Phantom Guard only just manages to peel itself off the tarmac and weakly raise its head before a sudden barrage of solid, black slugs tear through it at a terrifying velocity, shredding the demon and the vehicle behind it to ribbons.

The enraged Horseman doesn't cease firing until its bones are nothing more than chalk-powder, staining the road surface white.

At last, the deafening whirr of his gatling arm recedes until the only sounds to fill the street are the chuffs and grunts of the enormous beast as he pants raggedly and rolls his bulbous shoulders, fangs bared at the bright, red smear the demon left behind on the tarmac.

With an air of dismissive authority, he rattles out a hiss and lets his armoured hackles droop.

Somewhere on the ground below him, there's a sudden, muffled sob.

A little too quickly, he swivels about on his long legs and scans the spot near his feet, seeking you out amongst the rubble and dust. His golden gaze softens considerably once he finds you – the friendly, pretty human from the Maker Tree, currently staring up at him through tearful eyes that are blown wide with fright.

'Duh,' a drawling voice hedges at the back of Anarchy's primitive mind, 'Y/n is friends with Jones, not Strife, and definitely not Anarchy.'

Undeterred, the great beast drops onto his forelegs and lowers his head towards you, surrounding you on both sides with sweeping, forward-facing horns and unwittingly cutting off any escape to your left or your right, leaving you with no choice but to scrabble backwards as a blubbering, terrified mess. Some ancient memory reminds him that humans aren't terribly keen on facing down such a large and intimidating maw, but the memory alone isn't enough to override the instinct to make sure his friend is unhurt. Clicking deep in his throat like an enormous, misshapen insect, Anarchy takes in several lungfuls of of your scent, pressing his head forwards until the wide, flat snout of his helm meets the resistance of tiny palms that shoot out to try and shove him away.

Slitted nostrils flare as they sniff.... The stench of that accursed demon still clings to you like a parasite, seeping into your clothes and the oils on your skin, and it's only thanks to the Horseman riding shotgun in Anarchy's mind that the instinct-driven behemoth refrains from trying to lick the scent right off you and replace it with his own – one that will make you smell of warmth and safety and metal.

'Ulthane,' a voice tells him when he starts to nuzzle affectionately into your soft, little palms, eliciting a squeak that only compels the beast to nudge more insistently - anything to offer what scant ounces of comfort he can give. 'Gotta get 'em to the big man.'

He pulls away for a moment, intending to let you get up onto your feet so he can herd you back in the direction of the Maker Tree. He doesn't expect you to scramble upright and immediately bolt to his left in a frantic, unplanned dash.

The thought of another demon appearing and taking a chunk out of you compels Anarchy to part his blocky jaws and whip towards you, quick as a flash, closing his teeth carefully around the straps of your dungarees.

You're then subjected to a terrifying, if a little humiliating walk back towards Ulthane's den, all the while struggling helplessly to pull yourself free of those terrible teeth before eventually exhausting yourself with all manner of thrashing and kicking.

So, hating every puff of hot breath that washes over the back of your neck, you can do little else but curl yourself into as tight a ball as you can and sob meekly whilst your captor struts at a gait you might even venture to call proud.

[gingersnaaps]

making things right

you and iwaizumi just aren't meant to be, and if he has to fuck some sense into your little brain for you to understand, then so be it.

wc: 2.8k

tags/tw's(PLEASE READ): noncon, explicit n*fw, blackmail, emotional manipulation, emotional sadism, dumbification, degradation, fem!reader with inner genitals, has something resembling an actual plot

a/n: i couldn't decide which way i wanted to go with the plot, so i just did both. read a darker version of this here

i don't want minors interacting with my content

Oikawa really doesn’t like how much time Iwaizumi has been spending around you lately.

It’s not that he’s jealous, of course - that kind of pettiness is far beneath him - it just doesn’t seem right. It’s not the natural order of things for someone as pretty as you, all soft skin and glowing smiles, to be practically draped around Iwaizumi all the fucking time.

He’s counted, you know, and today was the thirty-eighth time that you’ve visited their lunch table and somehow ended up on Iwaizumi’s lap.

And doesn’t he also have to think of his team? The Spring Interhigh’s coming up, and it wouldn’t do for one of the most important players on the team to be constantly distracted. He’s seen the way Iwaizumi looks at you: it’s adoration encapsulated in a gaze, the kind of tenderness and admiration that he’s only ever seen Iwaizumi direct at himself.

Oikawa’s going to have to fix this, isn’t he? He’s going to have to make everything the way it should be.

-

He finds that he enjoys the constant planning and brainstorming and especially the fantasizing far more than he’d anticipated.

Oikawa notes down which days you go home immediately after school, which days you stay, and the routes you take home. He writes down all your friends in a little notebook, familiarizes himself with the classes you take, and pays extra attention to your mood swings.

Of course, as he spends more and more time detailing every aspect of your life, it’s only natural for his thoughts to… wander. In class, he catches his own attention drifting away from Japanese literature to thoughts of what you’d look like strung out on his cock, eyes squeezing out tears as he stuffs you full and claims your pussy. He thinks about how slutty your skirt looks when you’re bending over, and about how much he’d like to rip it off of you. He likes to imagine how Iwaizumi would react, too - the way he’d cry and sob and finally understand that you don’t belong with someone like him.

He finds that these thoughts allow him to tolerate Iwaizumi’s presence near you a lot better, even though the two of you have only grown closer as of late. When you start getting particularly obnoxious with your flirting, he just has to picture you screaming in pain as he fucks you dry, or think about the bulge in your throat from his cock shoved deep inside your mouth. And when he sees Iwaizumi finally ask you out on a date to the ramen place nearby, he almost feels sorry for how short-lived, how temporary, your romance is going to be.

As the weeks go by and the Interhigh draws near, Oikawa thinks he’s got a pretty good idea of how to make it happen.

It starts off almost too easy.

Oikawa’s usually the one who stays late after practice, slamming his serves into the opposite end of the court until his vision goes dizzy and his arms turn numb. But Iwaizumi - bless his generosity - had planned on staying after to help a few of the first years out with their serves.

He waits at the school gates, scanning the entrance for any sign of you. You should be finishing up with your little club soon if the notes he’d been keeping were any indication, and sure enough, he spots your bright teal jacket scurrying towards the gates after just a few minutes.

Oikawa plasters on his friendliest smile, waving you towards him. “Hey,” he greets. “Iwa-chan told me to wait for you today. Do you want to come over? He’ll be along in just a minute - he’s just cleaning up the gym a bit.”

“Aren’t you the captain?” you tease. “So much for being responsible.”

He forces out a laugh. Do you realize how insufferable you are? Because you’re really not doing yourself any favors with the way you’re acting. But he pushes down the surge of anger that threatens to spill over, because he knows you’ll change your tune as soon as you arrive at his place.

He can’t wait.

The walk home is filled with empty banter, useless conversation that flits back and forth on the most boring of topics. To be honest, Oikawa appreciates this - it gives him the mental room to think about much more interesting things, like the way your breasts are pushing against the jacket, or the slight sheen of your lip gloss. Or, alternatively, the way your breasts would look spilling out of his hands, and the way your shiny lips would look smeared with spit and cum.

He places a hand on your waist as he guides you inside his house, but you stiffen. “Isn’t Hajime supposed to have caught up to us by now?” you ask.

Hajime.

First name basis, huh?

It’s a small detail, but it’s the kind of change that has him seeing red at the periphery of his vision, the kind that makes him want to ruin your slutty body until it's bruised and leaking cum. He’s been friends with Iwaizumi for twelve years. Twelve years, and all he’s gotten from him is a nickname. You’ve known him for barely a fucking year, and here you are, sauntering away with his first name.

His hand on your waist tightens, gripping and squeezing at your lovely flesh until he can feel you wince in pain. “I’m afraid it might be a while,” he says, voice brittle.

“What do you mean?” you ask, turning around, your eyes widening.

Oikawa shoves you inside and slams the door. “I mean,” he hisses. “That your precious Hajime won’t be coming around anytime soon.”

Panic rises in your throat, but he slaps a hand over your mouth quicker than you can scream. All that escapes is a strangled cry, weak and thin, one that quickly dies out in the entrance hall of his house. It’s much too quiet to reach any neighbors, you realize with a sinking feeling. The last bit of faint hope you harbor in the back of your mind dies when you realize that there’s no concerned housewife coming to check on the commotion, no fumbling child who might stumble in on you and Oikawa. You’re alone. You’re fucked.

He’d made sure of it.

“Bitches like you are so stupid, aren’t you? Making me spell everything out for you.” His voice drips condescension as he yanks you by the hair towards the bedroom. There’s no reason to put up an act anymore, he thinks, so he can be as rough as he wants with his new toy - he just has to make sure he returns you in one piece to Iwaizumi. Oikawa’s sure he won’t mind if you’re a little beat up around the edges, a little used by the end of this.

As he throws you down on the bed, the thought gives him immense satisfaction. You’d been so eager to do things with Iwaizumi - he’d coaxed out embarrassed confessions from his friend over late-night calls - so he’s almost sure that you’re a needy slut during sex.

Of course, you’re not nearly so eager now, not when he’s holding your squirming body down on the bed.

“You do realize that this is what you get, right? It’s your fault for being this fucking easy. Should’ve thought a bit harder about going home with me. Did your mommy and daddy never teach you to not trust men?” he says, face curling into a smile.

You’re unable to get a word out, mouth dry and cottony from the fear that pierces you. He watches your eyes flicker between the bulge in his pants and his face, uncertain and wary, like a deer caught in headlights. Oikawa can’t help the sick pleasure that bubbles up within him at the look on your face.

“Please,” you say hoarsely. “Please.”

“You have to use your words, you know. You could be begging me to stop, but I think you like this. I think you’re begging me to get on with it,” he says.

Maybe he’s taking it a step too far with the dramatics, but he can’t bring himself to tone it down - not when he’s right about to get to the good bit, and certainly not when he sees those pretty tears trickling down your face.

He looks you up and down appraisingly. He’d always thought you were rather pretty, with your soft halo of hair and your glittering smile - but he can’t deny that there’s a special sort of charm in the way you fidget uncomfortably under his gaze.

It makes him hungry.

As he spreads your thighs apart, all he can think about is how much he wants to claim you, to ruin you, because that’s what he imagines fucking you is like: ownership and victory spread on his tongue while your juices drench his cock. All the filthy dreams he’s had, every fantasy he’s gotten off to late at night, and the stifling heat spreading through his core is begging him to fuck you, to ravish your tight hole until the only name you know is his own.

He doesn’t really want to bother with prep. He’s sure that stretching you out on three - no, maybe four fingers until you scream would be fun, but you don’t deserve that kind of special treatment. Aren’t sluts like you supposed to be wet all the time anyway?

You can feel the outline of his dick dragging along your soft thighs, pressing close to your cunt, a breathy moan escaping his lips from the friction of his sweatpants grinding against your body. It’s not long before he pulls his cock out all the way and strokes it a few times. He grabs at your hips, maneuvering you like a rag doll, and fits the tip of his cock at your fluttering entrance. Nudging at your hole, he pushes in just the head of his cock - enough so you can feel the sting of his girth, but not nearly deep enough to offer any real relief.

You whine involuntarily, and a grin lights up his face. “You’re desperate, aren’t you?” he asks, dragging a thumb against your lips. “Is it because Iwa-chan doesn’t fuck you well enough? Is his pathetic dick too small to fill up that hole of yours properly?” he leers. “I’ve seen his cock before… mine’s bigger, you know.”

“Fuck you,” you mumble. You’re dizzy from the fear and panic that clouds your brain, but anger still seeps into your veins at his crude words.

Maybe if your head was a bit clearer, you would’ve realized that only stupid girls talk back.

Oikawa’s hips snap into yours harshly, his cock tearing at your insides, and you let out a strangled gasp. You’re not prepared for how well his cock stretches you out - it’s curved in all the right places, ramming into your cervix, brushing up against your tender g-spot - and as he ruthlessly pounds your frail body into the mattress, your mind blanks, overloaded with sensation. You can’t remember who you are, or why you’re getting fucked. The only thing on your mind is the raw feeling of being cunt split wide open, of having your insides rearranged until you’re a drooling, dumb mess.

“Fuck who?” he asks, shoving two fingers inside your sloppy mouth,

“F- fuck…” you whisper. His fingers are gripping at your hips so tightly you can feel the skin beginning to bruise, and there’s just too much to handle. He’s everywhere; his fingers probe around your mouth, making you gag, and his cock drags along your tender walls until you’re left quivering around his length.

He leans down to kiss at your forehead, his lips brushing tenderly against your hair. “You can do it, baby,” he encourages, cooing at you. “You can say it.”

“Fuck me,” you whimper quietly, cheeks burning with shame.

“Good girl,” he says, voice sickly sweet. “I knew you could do it for me.”

Fucking you feels so much better once you’re compliant, he thinks. He slows down a bit, savoring the sensation of your cunt twitching uselessly while you writhe on the bed in pleasure. He feels a sharp jolt of arousal as he looks at the marks he’s left all over you, admiring how the angry bruises on your hips and waist are beginning to purple.

You tug at his shirt, sniffling and crying. “Please,” you beg. You’re not sure what you’re asking for anymore, not even sure whether you want Oikawa to stop or continue, but you can’t handle the way he’s slowly fucking you senseless.

He raises an eyebrow. “You want it faster?” he asks cruelly, bouncing you into his cock. There’s no response on your end, but Oikawa thinks he’ll take that as a yes. And if that’s what you want?

Well, that’s what you get.

The hum of pleasure in your core intensifies as he picks up speed again. This time, he angles his cock until it grinds down harshly on your sensitive spot, leaving your legs limp and body helpless as your cunt tightens like a vice. As you shudder from the orgasm that washes over you, he spills into your pussy until your hole is leaking white down your thighs.

You can feel him laughing softly as he pulls out and climbs to rest beside you, leaving you stuck in a pool of your own sweat and cum and. He wipes the remaining cum off of his cock, smearing it on your face, but you barely react. You feel so dirty, so tainted and violated, but you’re not sure you could move even if you tried - his cock has left you boneless and made sure that every square inch of your body is sore and aching.

“Well,” he says, breathless. “Better run home unless you want Iwa-chan to know you’ve been all used up.”

Hajime? Your eyes widen, welling up with tears.

Oikawa unlocks the phone in his hand and presses play.

The sounds that echo through the empty room make you feel like screaming, because there’s no denying the solid, tangible proof that’s being played back. Your breathy moans are clear as day, and it’s unmistakable when you hear yourself begging Oikawa to fuck you harder, faster, to split you apart on his cock.

With a sinking feeling, you know there’s no explanation that would ever satisfy Hajime if he heard this audio. You can already see the pain in his eyes if he were to find out that his best friend for the past twelve years had ruined you, fucked you so thouroughly that you could barely tell the difference between pain and pleasure.

You don’t want that, you realize miserably. You can’t have that.

“I’m not going to send it,” he says. He sees hope creep into your expression, as if you’re almost daring to believe that you could go back to your normal life after this little session, but he doesn’t feel any pity for you when he speaks again.

“Not if you stay away.”

You and Hajime don’t belong together anyway, so why would he be sorry?

Your eyes drop as you inhale shakily. Oikawa watches you fumble around for your clothing, entertained by the way you trip and stumble as your weak legs attempt to hold you upright. It makes for an awkward, ugly image - but he can’t deny the warm thrill of satisfaction that runs up his spine as you slink out of his bedroom.

He’s finally making things right.

-

When you go to school the next day, you’re glad that you don’t have any classes with Hajime for the first time ever. It makes it easier to avoid him, and you purposely choose to sit as far away as possible from their table in the lunchroom. You don’t bother responding to his messages either, every single text of his sending a bitter jolt of pain through you, and you eventually block his number.

Weeks later, you’re not sure he’d believe you even if you were to explain everything. What would you even say? That you’d been ignoring him and ghosting him because his best friend of twelve years had raped and blackmailed you? That someone he knows and trusts was capable of devastating violence? Oikawa and him seem closer than ever, and you start to wonder at your own stupidity. To think that you could ever get in between a bond as close as theirs - maybe Oikawa was right all along.

You’re walking home alone one day, the hazy late-day sun bathing the roads in a shimmering heat, when you hear footsteps and a voice behind you. Your heart hammers unsteadily, getting ready to run, when you hear three words that make your stomach drop.

“I’ve missed you.”

[harrywritingsbyme]

Branding

Based Off Of This Ask

And This One

This One Too

A/N: So like, I started writing something, but it went to shit so I put it to the side and started on this lil blurb bc I love this concept. It’s hot and stuff with a crappy ending...enjoy🙃

To put it simply, Harry was obsessed with branding you. Whenever he saw you, he wanted to see some type of indication that you were his. He absolutely loved displaying that you were his, not just to everyone around you both, but to himself as well. Yes he was incredibly secure in his relationship with you, and yes he fully recognized and acknowledged that you were your own person. It’s just that Harry couldn’t shake this urge fueled by his possessiveness to brand you. And it didn’t help that you were easily and fully on board with it. You were also very subby which meant that you were always trying to please daddy which meant that you were going to do anything to please daddy, especially if it meant him branding you as his. What was also very unhelpful to the situation was that you carrying around little marks of him was a major turn on. And as a result of branding you as his being such a turn on, Harry was very creative with his methods of branding.

One of his all time favorite methods for branding you would be from the inside. Harry would never get tired of pushing his cock between your delectable walls and fucking into you all the way up to his release. Of course he’d focus in on your pleasure and making sure you fall apart beneath (or above depending on whether or not you were feeling a bit frisky) him. But whenever he got closer and closer to his release an influx of thoughts on where he’d mark you with his cum went through his mind. There were four main spots that never failed to cross his mind in those moments; inside of you and all the way up into your tummy so that you can be filled to the brim with his warm cum, all over your abdomen and thighs or your backside depending on what position he was taking you in so that you can be covered in his sticky cum, all over your face so that he can really make a mess of you, and finally your mouth so that he can watch you swallow every last drop of him. Sometimes he’d venture out into the last three options, but for the most part, Harry stuck to filling you up with his cum. He just couldn’t get enough of filling you all the way up and making the area between your legs a sticky mess. To him, your pussy looked even prettier than it already is when it was dripping and stained with his cum. And on top of that you looked absolutely adorable when you were trying to walk (more like waddle)around trying to keep his cum from pouring down your thighs. This was hands down his favorite way to leave his mark on you.

Another easy and great way Harry’d go about marking you was through your skin. Whenever the two of you would go at it, he’d always make sure to to turn his HS rings inside so that whenever he gripped onto your flesh, he’d leave an indentation of his initials in your skin. He absolutely loved doing this to you. He’d latch onto your thighs, your backside, your throat, your breasts, and any other area of your body. Whenever you were on your back below him and were nearing your release, Harry’d always push his palm down into your lower stomach to intensify your already rumbling release. Not only would this send you into a frenzy, but it would also leave an indentation of his initials right on your stomach which was absolutely perfect to him since he also had a pretty strong breeding kink. He loved doing this so much that he was extremely tempted to go out and buy himself a second set of those rings so that he could leave double the usual amount of his initials all over you.  Besides his rings, Harry also loved going down the route of the classic hickey. Since you bruised easily for the most part, Harry was able to suck the marks into your skin and have them all visible in minuets. Along with marking you up, Harry enjoyed the little game that came along with leaving hicks on you at times. Since he’d leave them mainly around your neck and chest area, you’d always go into a frenzy trying to cover them up if you were supposed to be going out after you guys’ rendevouzs. To which he’d sit back with a smug smirk on his face as he watches you rush to try and cover them. He’d also use the rings in your punishments. If you were being a bad girl, Harry would take you right over his knee hand give your backside a couple firm swats with his initialed rings going in towards his palm. After delivering those swats to your backside, He’d then proceed to massage the warm and stinging flesh while keeping the rings turned inwards to really press those initials into your skin.

Now aside from using his body and rings to mark you, Harry liked to use other accessories to mark you as well.

For starters, you and Harry were obsessed with anal plugs. You had a jeweled plug in just about every color and jewel shape, you had just about every color of the the plugs with the cute little bells on them, and you had just about every color of the fuzzy bunny tail type of plugs. There was even a chain in there if Harry wanted you on your knees for the day. You guys’ collection of princess plugs was so extensive that Harry had to sit you down in his lap and choose which plug you’d wear because you just loved them all. But the one thing you two were missing from your princess plug collection was a monogrammed one. Harry scoured the internet to find the perfect place to make the missing piece of you guys’ collection. He made sure to make the H nice and big so that he could see it simply from lifting up one of those little skirts you were always in. Once he put in the size, color and things of that nature into the form, Harry looks over it once before paying for the custom plug. And for the six or seven weeks weeks, Harry patiently and eagerly awaited the plug. And when it arrived at you guys’ front door, he was quick to undo the package to see it. When he pulls the plug from its packaging, it’s exactly the way he’d hoped. The plug was a cold and shiny with a big H right in the middle of the rounded top. It was absolutely perfect to him, and once you saw it you loved it too. As soon as you saw it, you were already pulling your bottoms down and laying across Harry’s back so that he can insert it into you. Simply watching your tight hole swallow the domed portion of the plug made Harry’s cock stir a bit in his pants. But seeing you plugged up with a big H sticking out was an even bigger turn on. Everything looked perfect. So perfect that Harry couldn’t help but taking you from behind in that moment just to stare at that plug the entire time he rammed himself into you.

Aside from the princess plug, Harry also loved buying custom clothes with his name on them for you. When he saw how good you looked in his shirts that had the embroidered Styles on the lapel, Harry went on a shopping spree. He bought you shirts in your size with the custom Styles embroidery on the lapel, and he bought you some pieces custom lingerie. When he found out that he could have custom pieces made, Harry was right on top of it and he made sure to fuck you in it once the pieces were in his hands. He got designer bras for you with custom Styles tags on the back and his name sewn into the lower band depending on the style, and panties with his first and last name placed right above your cunt. With the lingerie, specifically the panties, it was incredibly hard to not lift your skirts up to sneak a peak at your panties with his name sewn into them. Your pussy was already his, Harry just liked seeing his name on it. He especially loved it when you were a dripping mess in the panties that had his name strewn across the front. His favorite piece of them all was this Gucci thong he’d ordered. He customized everything the way he could’ve possibly wanted. His name was sewn onto the front portion right above your cunt, and there was a tag in the back that had Styles written on it. And when it came to this tag in particular, Harry made sure that it was perfect. Aside from the font and color, Harry made sure to note that he wanted it to be a bit more raised than normal so that after a day of wearing it, you’d have Styles etched into your skin. The first day you wore it, Harry was a complete mess. He was constantly trying to lift your skirt to see how perfect you looked with the itty bitty thong on. He was also getting a good look at his name that was on the material. Harry was beyond excited to see his name etched into your skin later on in the day. And when that time finally rolled around, Harry was a mess. He has you lying flat on the bed with him straddling your thighs from behind.

“Daddy wants to take you from behind do badly darling. Wanna see those pretty new panties I got for you.” He says as he slips his fingers into the tight bands of the thong. From there, he pulls the sliver of fabric that was back there up and as he does, he sees his name in your skin. In that moment, Harry was losing his mind. His cock was going crazy in his pants and he could feel the precum beginning to bead as he stared at the area. He was absolutely in love and made sure to give it to you nice and hard from behind, never once taking his eyes off of you. He even flipped you over to get a better view of his name claiming your cunt as he relentlessly and deliciously fucked into you.

And on that night, and every day and night after it, Harry made sure to fully brand you as his.

Masterlist

[jangofctts]

Bloodsport (din djarin x fem!reader) (part one) 

rated: 18+

word count: 5.4k

warnings: smut, knife kink (no blood is drawn and consent is clearly given), blowjobs, vaginal fingering, din is sorta a virg duDE, alcohol, mentions of violence (reader punches someone in the face kwejrkejh), some gambling (sabaac) also please let me know if I missed anything!

a/n: oOf this is the first fic in sO LONG IM SO SORRY YALL KEHJRKEJH BUT ANYWAYS I HOPE YOU ENJOY

It’s been a couple months since Din’s stepped foot on the sandy nightmare of a planet. Went through hell and back and kriff—it feels like a lifetime ago. But the landscape before him hasn’t changed an inch, Mos Eisley same as always—busy with all sorts of scum and villainy he turns a blind eye to. 

Din hopes it’s not the only thing that’s stayed the same—selfish as it is. Someone as volatile as you is bound to catalyze and shift, so is the nature of life. A lot can happen in a month or two and it’s ridiculous to think that you would ever push your life to the side and wait for him to return.    

Turns out, you are here, still working as the resident mechanic. Though in the same elated breath of hearing that tidbit of news, it’s equally dissatisfying when he somehow misses you completely. You’re off planet, looking for power converters and electrical wiring—back in few days Peli promises. Maybe by the time his wild goose chase is over, back from the butt fuck middle of nowhere, he’ll get to see you— 

Nothing goes as planned—naturally. All Din finds is a man playing dress up, an oversized lizard, planetary drama he’s forced to resolve and—to top it all off—an attempted stickup. Maker—he’s not even worried about anything save for the kid and your speeder. The very same one now scattered over the sand in miserable heaps.           

At least some of it is salvageable…

By the time Din reaches the outskirts of Mos Eisley, the binary suns are smearing across the horizon like molten puddles of magma. Deep aches amass in his shoulders and back from the weight of the speeder parts, his gear, and the second pair of armor. Maker—it feels like his arms are going to be ripped off.

The baby babbles something incomprehensible. 

“Almost there, kid,” Din responds, sparing a quick glance down the baby. “How does soup sound?”

Instead of trudging back to the hangar, Din wanders to the cantina. Call it a hunch or just you and your aunt’s tendency to lurk around the premises, he’s certain he’s going to find one of you here. 

Din is right.

The moment he steps inside, he spots your mess of hair, the low solar lights illuminating the rich colors with a soft orange. The baby coos and blinks up at Din, his tiny clawed finger gesturing in your direction. 

Din hums. “Good job—you found her.” 

The child’s little teeth peek out, pleased with his discovery. Din steps into the doorway, down the carven stairs and over to your table. A older man—a ship rigger by the looks of his uniform—sits across from you, a game of Sabaac spread across the table between you. You’re winning. 

“Hello, Shiny.” You greet, dipping your chin in his direction. “Your armor is looking a tad ripe.” 

It’s true. The layer of slime coating his armor had baked and crusted under the suns—probably doesn’t smell too good either… 

“I killed a Krayt dragon.” Din states it with a twinge of smug satisfaction despite knowing how little something like that would mean to you. He could conquer three dozen planets and shower you in all the precious metals in the world and you’d still turn your nose up at everything.  

“And I curb stomped a centipede today—you aren’t special.” Your eyes never leave the set of worn cards you hold between your fingers, acutely ignoring him like you would an overly enthusiastic puppy. You inhale and scrape your right thumbnail along the edge of the hexagonal cardstock—it’s a subtle tell, one Din would more than likely miss if he were the unlucky bastard brave enough to sit at the other end of the table.  

“You playin’ or what?” Your opponent gripes. He scratches his unkempt salt and pepper stubble and quirks a furry brow. 

You lift your chin in scorned defiance and lay your hand down—full Sabaac. The man hisses through his crooked, clenched teeth and utters a curse as he shoves his winnings towards your end of the table.  

“Peli promised me information.” Din pushes, hearing the kid coo in curiosity as you begin shuffling the cards with practiced flare. “About others like me.”

“Do I look like my aunt to you?” You grumble. It’s the first time your eyes leave the perimeter of the game to look at him. They settle on the kid first with a guarded version of compassion, then leap to the faded green armor clipped to the heavy luggage, and then his visor. Your lip twitches at the green slime still coating the beskar. “I’m assuming my speeder didn’t make it.”

“A technical difficulty.”

You roll your eyes and snort, dealing out the cards then setting the stack in the middle. “Right…”

The background ambiance of the bar and the quiet rasp of cards fill the brief lull in conversation. Any other rational person would take the blaring hint to leave, but Din is just as stubborn as you are. 

“I don’t remember where the hangar is,” Din lies, cocking his head to the side in mock innocence, “could you show me?” 

The tip of your tongue peaks out of the corner of your mouth. The unconscious tic is not one of irritation—not yet. Though before you’re able to respond, your opponent beats you to it. 

“Yeah—I know where it is. It’s between fuck off and take a hike.”  

Din turns his head, the cool, even tone of his words sharper than shrapnel as he address the man. “I was speaking to her.”        

This is funny to you Din realizes—one of the tiny mysteries of your entirety clicking into the place of the puzzle map he’s conjured for you. 

“Well, I don’t have the time of day for cowards who wear shiny buckets over their head.” The man gripes into his drink, dark eyes flicking over to Din as he sizes him up. “What’s a Mandalorian doing out here anyway? Thought your planet exploded or something.”

The man’s ignorance irks him—sure. How could it not? But with years of harsh words and jabs at the foundation of Din’s very being, he’s learned to adapt. It’ll always sting no matter how many layers of beskar he wears but you on the other hand…

Your eyes spark, molten and bright like the last solar flare on the surface of a decaying star. Each encounter Din’s had with you, he’s bared witness to the deep well of your anger that fuels your being like the auto-mechanical heart of a droid. He’s felt the bite of your rage firsthand, but this anger—this is the tragedy of the delicate mayfly wings trapped between the black teeth of misfortune—the story of the boy who rammed a spear into the flank of an ancient beast that bites before it barks and gnashes its yellowed teeth in warning.

Din’s hand inches towards his blaster. He’s not willing to weigh the safety of the kid against your rash decisions, despite it being on his behalf.   

Though, just as quick as it appears, it recedes like the cool drawback of a tumultuous ocean. Din’s arm relaxes at his side as you release a puff of air. 

Your scuffed up fingers, stained with years of engine grease, scars and dirt, curl around your half finished drink. You stand, lay your cards face down onto the table and flash the stranger a feral grin.

Without a word, you toss your drink directly into the man’s unsuspecting eyes. In another breath, the pointed edges of your knuckles fly forward and hook beneath the point of his chin with a meaty thunk. The man’s head whips backwards and connects with the gravely wall—

Out like a light.  

Jaw clenched tight, you shake out your bleeding knuckles and gather up the strewn credits over the table. You shove them into the pockets of your jacket and side eye Din. “Restitutions for damages,” you mutter. 

The other patrons keep their eyes to themselves as the three of you hurry out the door. Only an apathetic glance from the bar tender serves as proof that something did, in fact, occur. No one wants to dirty their nose sniffing about where they shouldn’t be when they have their own business to safeguard.

The crisp night air rustles the stray strands of hair that escape from your ponytail. Ghostly moonlight carves the shape of your cheeks into an almost ethereal sight—one of those deep space creatures with pointy teeth and hellfire for eyes. Stuff of legends you’d never think to look in a dingy bar for.     

But he knows—Din knows that cool mask is just a front from what you hide. It is a hungry ghost that hounds your thin stretched shadow—what ifs and the glories of war you never really escaped. You forget that you are flesh and blood and ghosts are only air and echoes, nothing more. 

Din is sharp edged steel. A stray fragment of a shattered mirror, the lacerated reflection of a nameless purpose and a faceless existence. He’s torn edges and cracked glass but his heart beats within his chest with the blood of a thousand suns. Two souls under the umbrella of the word damaged but entirely different in nature.     

“No one—“ you growl, your voice a steady and lethal timbre that terrifies a part of Din’s unconsciousness, “—speaks that way to my friends.” 

Touching. 

“Don’t look at me like that, Creature,” you huff, staring down at the child who gurgles in return. “He deserved it—“

The reunion certainly wasn’t the one Din imagined, though it’s a relief to find that there’s no roughened edge like sandpaper over skin wedged between you. Picked up right where you left off—no questions asked and no inglorious retelling of how Din nearly died on the floor of a shitty cantina. There’s not a doubt in his mind that you'd laugh at him for it—it is sorta funny…   

The rest of the evening is spent walking back to the hangar, arguing over the fact that yes Din should take the couch instead of that miserable little hovel he calls a bed, and spend the night. He’d have to find some other mechanic to work through the night if he wanted to leave in the morning, because you certainly did not want to volunteer for that. And so—Din reluctantly takes the couch and agrees to let you tackle the monstrosity of fixing up his ship for tomorrow. 

He has to admit…the couch is a bit smaller than the length of his body, but it’s comfortable…maybe he’d buy a better blanket while he was here. As a treat.

-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=- 

You purse your lips and whistle. “I swear each time I see it, it gets worse. Y’know, I know a couple guys selling—“ 

“Can you fix it?”

You fold your arms over your chest and roll your eyes.“Yeah I can fix it, jeez—no need to get your undies in a twist.” 

You try not to take offense, because hey—you’re offering him the info on the good deals on new ships (and at this point anything would be better than this old rust bucket). But if Din doesn’t want anything to do with that, then whatever. His loss.   

When you wander onto the ship, toolbox in hand, the Mandalorian tags along. Unsure if he doesn’t trust you with his things or just wants to hang out, it blankets the space with an air of uncertainty. Turns out it was neither of those guesses. All he does is throw open his stash of weapons, collect his pile of vibroknives, and set them on a table to polish and sharpen. 

Makes sense, you suppose. Everything has to be as shiny as his armor. 

You drop to your knees near the closest wiring panel you find. You wrench open the paneling and frown at the disarray of sparking wires and tangled cords. You organized these perfectly last time he was here. “Who the fuck junked up my rigging?”

Mando sits at the little table tucked away in the corner, brooding over his cache of weapons. He shrugs. “Could’ve come loose when I landed.” 

You roll your eyes at his half assed excuse and mutter a foul string of curses under your breath that’d make even Peli wince. It’s fine. It’s cool—no biggie. You can sort through this in a couple hours, maybe three. 

But of course rarely anything goes as planned. As time ticks away, arms deep in wires older than the kriffing Clone Wars, the distractions begin. The scrape of metal on durasteel makes the hair rise into little pricks all up your arms—you shoot a glare over your shoulder. Din tilts his head, your kneeling self reflecting within the ever dark visor, features scrunched into an obvious tell of annoyance. Huffing, you bury your head back into your task at hand. 

The second distraction arrives in the form of a quiet hum of curiosity originating from the Mandalorian. Out of the corner of your eye you see him bring a vibroblade up to his visor, inspecting the notch in the blade that disrupts the electrical current that flows through the weapon. Din then rubs his thumb over the handle of the vibroblade in a slow, sensual circle. You lick your lips and tear your eyes away. That shouldn’t be hot.

You furrow your brows and tear apart another wire, but the metallic tap, tap, tap of Din bouncing the tip of a different blade over the table is bothersome. You swing your head to your left, mouth parting to snap at him, but his hand—sans glove—brings you to a halting stop. 

It’s alluring, the way his long, weathered fingers twirl the knife with practiced ease—like silk through water and followed by the low hum of electricity meant to slice through flesh. Din tosses it in the air, watching it spin three rotations then catches it by the handle. Your lips purse when his visor meets your eyes. He spins it between his fingers.  

“Am I bothering you?”

Fucker.   

You scowl. “It’s fine.” 

The soft rasp of his thumb sliding along the flat of the blade entices the eye and damnit—he’s doing this on purpose. 

“Doesn’t seem fine,” he hums. 

“Well, it is.” You retort hotly. You snatch up your pliers and imagine you’re pulling his teeth out in place of the crooked paneling. “I’m currently thriving in my element.”  

Din hums, the sound buzzing with grainy distortion. “Do you want a closer look?”

You chew your bottom lip. He’s playing with an open flame and you with volatile jet fuel. 

“I don’t know, seems kinda lame from here.” You scoff, busying yourself by pinching and twisting another set of frayed wires between your fingertips. “A toothpick if anything.”

Din snorts behind you. The deadly whisper of beskar against the durasteel tabletop makes the hair on the back of your neck prick into points. You tense as heavy boots shuffle along the floor, the near silent rustle of armor tinkling behind you as Din steps closer. You’re slow to stand, even though the presence of the Mandalorian is no less than overbearing. You wipe your grimy hands onto a spare rag, continuing to face the paneling. You then turn, a coy smile threatening to break across your face. 

Stars Din is broad—and close enough you swear you’re able to see the perspiration of your breath fog the beskar plating. Your eyes follow the seams of the cuirass, across the leather bandolier and up to his helmet that’s fixed in an impassive glare of tempered steel. Your back bumps into the wall as Din takes another step forward, boxing you in. To escape you’d need to duck under his arm and yet…you refuse to move.   

Your breath catches as he languidly lifts his hand and taps the flat side of the vibroblade over your collarbone. The sharpened point tickles up the column of your throat, a crackle of nerves and your pounding pulse following in its wake. Din turns the blade to flat edge and pushes into the space right below your jaw—you squirm when he chuckles, the sound low and deep. 

“You like this…”

Din grunts as your hand reaches between his legs, squeezing the growing hardness there. “So do you.” 

Din circles his hand around your wrist with his free palm. Moons above his hands are warm. He murmurs your name—you shiver. “Tell me you want this—want me.”

A blush, hotter than the surface of Tatooine in the midday sun, rushes up your neck and pools into the apples of your cheeks. Maker you want him. With a shuddering sigh you nod—braving the scathing shrapnel of vulnerability. “I need you, Din—please.”

A low chuckle rumbles through Din’s chest. “Don’t think I’ve ever heard you say please before.”

Din drops his hold on your wrist as you roll your eyes. “Shut up, Bucket Head.”

The Mandalorian snorts and dips his head—gesturing towards the blade still lightly pressed against the base of your throat. “This ok too, Skitter?”

You flash him a wolfish grin. “Gonna fuck me with it?”

Din swears under his breath, crowding his body closer to yours. You hear his strained sigh as he dips his head closer, the beskar a chilly whisper against your cheek. “You’re depraved…take off your pants.”

You smirk, tear off your belt and shimmy out of your pants and underwear, bottom half now bare. His visor dips, entranced.  

Your heart leaps into your throat, your pulse roaring in your ears as he settles one of his bare hands over the swell of your hip while the other trails the blunt edge of the handle from your clothes collarbone, and down your belly. From your mid thigh he skates the handle up your bare thigh and then rests it over the crack of your thigh. Heat flushes through your entire body, a stark contrast to the cool metal of the handle. A shiver races down each vertebrae when he drags it over the swell of your cunt and then carefully pressing it against your clit. You gasp and arch into the light touch, your thighs involuntarily jerking as he increases the pressure. It’s cold, rigid and filthy. Who knows where that knife has been—how many lives it’s taken or severed through muscle and skin. 

You don’t find it in you to care all that much.    

He trades his hold on your hip to slide his hand into your shirt, palming and kneading your breast through your bra as you roll and whine against his fingers. The tight circles he's drawing over your clit burns through your abdomen, drags you closer to the precipice that you’re all ready so close to. Fuck—it’s been so long since you’ve indulged in this sort of pleasure.You whine his name as wicked heat licking up your body and spreading to each limb. You arch into him, the handle of his knife slipping through your folds as arousal drips from your cunt.   

Your groan as you tilt your hips into the handle, craving any lick of pleasure he’ll give. Your breath hitches as Din pushes the hilt closer to your throwing entrance, murmuring praise as he sinks the first couple inches inside of you. It’s cold—the knobby feel of the handle not too much thicker than one or two of your fingers combines. You huff and grab at his cowl, the warmth of his hand grazing your pussy each time he rocks his wrist forward. 

“You’re so quiet,” Din goads, pulling the handle free from your aching center. “You usually have plenty to say.” 

You shoot Din a glare, tongue weighed down by arousal to come up with a god retort. You lean your head back against the wall of the Crest and with a chuckle, Din’s hand leaves your shirt to pull you against his chest, the vocoder rumbling against your ear. The blade clatters to the floor and instead brings his calloused fingertips to your cunt. He softly rolls your swollen clit between his forefinger and thumb, delighting in the way you shake. “Be a good little thing and cum for me.”

Shit, you didn’t think it’d be that easy. Your body seizes as white hot heat ripples through your core. Stars, brighter than a dying sun burst behind your eyes, a high pitched cry filtering past your lips as shake and fall apart in his arms, your cunt clenching tight around the thick fingers he slips inside of you. 

You whine as he pulls out, little aftershocks of pleasure wracking through your body in wake of your euphoric high. You groan as he lifts your head and pushes his digits, coated in your juices into your mouth. You lick them clean, tasting the tang of your own arousal and the salt on his skin. “Fuck—that was good.”

You can only imagine that Din rolls his eyes. He takes a step back but before he can escape—

You drop to your knees, a wicked smile curling over your lips. The muscles in his thighs jump as your palms smooth over the outsides of them, then up to his narrow hips, your thumbs lightly massaging the ligaments that protects the fragile joints. Din sucks in a sharp breath when your fingertips hook around his trousers. 

“What are you doing?” Din asks, brushing a thumb over your jaw. 

You pause and glance up at him. You quirk a brow. “Was gonna suck you off, but if you have something else in mind…“ He hisses and tips his head back, flashing the underside of his chin as your hand leaves his hip to cup the heavy bulge tenting in his trousers. 

“Maker—“ He looks off to the side, inhales a choppy breath and then snaps his head back. “You’d…you’d do that?”   

You nod and flash him an encouraging half grin. “Wouldn’t have offered if I didn’t want to.”

Din mumbles an incoherent string of words under his breath and shifts his weight onto his right leg. His fingers touch your cheek again then tuck a loose hair behind your ear. “But—“

Moons above this man is straight out of some kind of fucking fairytale—arguing about getting his dick sucked—or not. 

Whatever.       

“Din…” His breath hitches at the sound of his name. “I’m asking you kindly to fuck my mouth—it’s cool if you don’t wanna, but my knees already kriffing hurt and—“

He cuts you off with a hasty nod. “Yes—stars, please.”

Fuck yeah.

You smile and slide your eyes past Din’s legs to the cargo crate shoved up against the wall. “You should sit—easier that way.”

He nods and shuffles over, lightly perching himself on the edge and ready to flee at the barest hint of well—anything.

Din’s knee jumps when you place your palm over it. You assume his nerves are from the nature of his occupation—trouble always strikes when you least expect it—and what better time would that be when his pants are around his ankles. “Relax—I’m not gonna bite—maybe.”

He makes a wary sound low in his throat as your fingertips hook into the waistband of his trousers and pull. Din lifts up as you tug the fabric further down his legs, tan skin and solid muscle following in its wake. Fuck…

You swallow, mouth feeling quite dry when your eyes drift between his legs. Din is thick, a rosy brown color, flushed at the tip and curling towards his bellybutton. Beads of liquid shine at the tip, dribbling down the underside and pooling into the dark patch of curls at the base. Din’s fingers hook over the side of the crate, squirming under the weight of your stare. 

Yeah—that’s gonna leave your jaw aching.    

You hear his breath hitch, magnified by the crackle of the vocoder as your lips descend over a silvery scar on the inside of his right knee. You pepper a trail of wet kisses and light nips up his thighs, and by the time you reach the crease of his leg, his hips mindlessly rock with need. 

The second the wet warmth of your tongue brushes over the tip of his cock, his hips jolt off the crate, a load groan echoing through the empty ship. It’s like striking a match to an open line of kerosene—devouring and explosive that’ll leave your delicate skin singed. You’re not nervous playing with fire if this barest scrap of wild heat is anything like burning to a crisp. 

Emboldened by his initial reaction, you wrap your hand around the base, pulsing and achingly hard beneath the velvety flesh. You flatten your tongue over the tip, lapping up the sticky liquid the slip the head of him into your mouth. His hands fly to your hair, tightening into fists as he throws his head back. The beskar scrapes over the durasteel with a sharp squeal, but you don’t find it in you to care about the abrasive sound—eardrums be damned.  

“Fuck—kriffing hell—“ Din snarls, arching his hips to seek more of your warmth. “K-keep going.”  

Your own rekindled arousal blazes hot in your core hearing his stuttered pleas. You pull away to catch your breath, feeling almost guilty for doing so at Din’s low whine of protest. He picks his head up, watching as you languidly jerk him off—entranced with the way your hand rolls over the leaking tip, back down to the base, then up again. You could keep him like this—tease until he cracks under the pressure and begs you for whatever iota of pleasure you want to give but—

You’re not that mean.    

Wetting your lips with your tongue, you part your mouth and slide nearly half of his length into your mouth. Din mutters something garbled, his hips jolting as you hollow your cheeks and bob your head.

Din shifts, arching his back and stuttering out broken whispers of encouragement. Placing your hand over his thigh, you can feel his pulse thrumming beneath your fingertips, wild and alive—something real beneath all that heavy armor and unforgiving helmet. 

“You—you look…” He grunts as you hum around around his cock, swallowing him down further. “Shit—you look so p-perfect like this.”

You groan and squeeze your thighs together, attempting to ignore the gnawing hunger snapping at your insides. 

Rolling your tongue along the underside of his shaft, your fingers slide over what your mouth cant reach—squeezing and gently coaxing him towards his high. He seizes up tight—yet, just when you think you’ve got him skidding off that precarious edge—

His hand fists your hair at the base your neck and yanks you off his cock. He huffs, breathy little pants as he folds into himself like he’s been punched in the gut, his head rolling forward onto his shoulder. Din shivers as he scrambles for control, beginning to loose that slippery foothold he’s so intent on maintaining. His cock, flushed an angry red and still slick with your saliva, twitches and throbs for the release so cruelly wrenched away. 

You let him catch his breath. The fingers tangled in your hair go lax and drop away to rest at his sides. You swallow, his previous skittishness suddenly clicking into place. “Din, are you…?” A virgin. Your question tapers off, unsure if it’ll embarrass and scare him off. 

“No,” he answers—not in a sharp way like you’d hear with a bruised ego—just stating a fact. “Just not—not this. Never had someone—stars—“

Your teeth roll your bottom lip between them, forcing your face to remain neutral despite the stroke of pride blooming singing in your chest. You’re his first—lucky enough to make this the best goddamned oral he’ll ever have. Something he’ll remember for years.  

“Do you want me to stop?” You ask, praying to the Maker he’ll say no. 

He shakes his head, sucking in another calming breath and unfurling himself. His fingers clench into fists then relax, crackling with pent up energy and unsure nerves as to where he should put them. You solve it by threading your fingers through his and placing them around you head. 

Your lips quirk. “You’re allowed to cum in mouth—don’t worry about it.”

His cock twitches as a quiet moan fizzles through the modulator. “You su-sure?”

“Oh, yeah.”

With a smile you bring your mouth back to his cock, tongue swiping up the entire length of him. Din groans as the soft warmth of your mouth slips over the flushed tip of cock, his thick length twitching as you hollow out your cheeks and suck. You bob your head as you slowly work him in further because even like this, hardly halfway into your mouth, you feel your lips stretching a bit too much around him. You groan and part your mouth wider, letting him sink into the soft warmth of your throat.  Din inhales, the sound shaky and unsure as his hips twitch with a few tentative thrusts. 

You take it slow—lifting your mouth nearly all the up to the tip then back down to the base. Din rolls his hips, helping you ease into the gentle pace. Saliva drips down his cock and over your knuckles making an absolute mess you have zero intentions of cleaning up. It’s his ship after all. Din swears as his hips stutter, your hand squeeing around him, trying to push him off that edge he so deserves. Din gasps your name, the pitch of his words knocking up to a lighter, more airy tone, warmer than melted butter. 

“Ca-can’t believe, it—ah—it fits.” He groans with astonished reverence. You preen under his praise. 

You swallow around him and grunt at the abrupt jolt of his hips. There’s no distinctive rhythm you can follow as you let him rock his hips into your mouth—seeking out his pleasure without a coherent thought in sight. Just a cacophony of gasping breaths and rough moans. 

You can feel is cock twitching over you tongue—he’s close—and when your eyes roll up to meet the darkened visor, he’s gone. He shouts your name and knots his fists around your hair as he spirals of that edge. You nearly gag from the force of his release hitting the back of your throat—cock throbbing and jerking in your mouth like he’s been denying himself release for months. His moans, fragile and gasping, filling the quiet space as his hips grind his cock deeper down your throat, his hands threaded into your hair acting as an anchor—the sole tether he has to the waking world. 

Din’s grip relents as the last few catastrophic waves tear through his body. He doesn’t move his hands, just lets them rest over your skull  as his chest heaves for precious air, a harsh crackle through the vocoder. You pull his still twitching cock halfway out, dragging the tip of your tongue below the frenulum while one of your hands circles the base of his length. Maker—he’s still going—

Last little dribbles of his cum spurt onto your tongue and drip over your knuckles still securely wrapped around him. His legs and lower abdomen flex when your hand falls lower to carefully knead at his balls, milking out his pleasure for all its worth. You let his softening cock slip from your mouth when he swears and mumbles your name.      

When you rest your back against the wall, he slips himself back into his trousers and joins you. You take a risk and rest your head over the chilly beskar pauldron. You’d never call this love—the word is much too harsh for this delicate string of seconds. Love means giving pieces of yourself to others like martyrs give their hearts to the sky—or risk fragile skin against the rays of an unforgiving sun. Broken ribs and clenched fists, immensity beyond comprehension—

“You should come with us,” he says with a hesitant mumble. Love is formidable—but you know that somehow, here, pressed against Din’s side, that this is right. In a golden way, a honeyed way, a path that tastes of blood, freedom and blaster smoke that will leave your lungs stained with blackened soot. Cowardice has long made a home inside of your soul, and he’s offering you a chance to shake off the layer of frost clinging to your bones and step into the gentle merciful dawn.  

“Yeah—alright, Din. I will.”

tags (only tagging some moots for now bc i have no clue what’s going on in this fandom anymore dbdndn): @goldafterglow @jango-fettish @djxrxn @blsmjoon @spookoofins @krissology @steeeeeeeviebb @teaofpeach @comphersjost @gummiishark @delusionsxfgrandeur @pettyprocrastination @huliabitch

[depressoexpresso-anon]

ᴛʜᴇ ᴄᴏᴍᴀᴛᴏꜱᴇ ᴏꜰ ᴇᴍᴏᴛɪᴏɴꜱ

ᴀ ꜱᴛʀɪᴘᴘᴇʀ ᴀʟᴘʜᴏɴꜱᴇ x ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ ꜱᴛᴏʀʏ

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⚠️ WARNING ⚠️

DRUGS, ALCOHOL, ADDICTION, ABUSE, SEXUAL IMPLICATIONS, SEXUAL SITUATIONS, LANGUAGE, MENTIONS OF SUICIDE, MENTIONS OF MENTAL ILLNESS, AND POSSIBILITY NSFW STUFF.

⚠️ VIEWER DISCRETION ADVISED WARNING ⚠️

Part 1 // Part 2 // Part 3 (You're here!)

If you want to be added to the taglist, let me know in the comments or give me a DM!

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It was a Monday. It was one of those Mondays that feels like a whole year has passed in one day. Most people hate them but, these are the days that people remember the most.

Y/N took the day off today. They only took it off to see him. The man they met that night. Y/N was just hoping he was working today. If he wasn't then this was all for nothing.

You wore baggy clothes again, mostly because your nice clothes are still dirty. You were also hoping that other people weren't eyeing you while you walked into a club, in the middle of a sunny afternoon, out of all times.

You also wouldn't have any problems with the bouncers. Mostly because it wasn't a weekend night. It was a Monday afternoon. So it wasn't as busy.

You push open the one of the large glittery doors to the entrance. You felt your heart in your throat as you entered. You look around to find that it mostly was barren besides a few perverts or some guys who are trying to drown in alcohol at the bar.

Y/n walks up to the bar and takes a seat. While they wait for the bartender to come and take their order, Y/N noticed something about them. It was the same bartender that served you that night. You watched as she fixed a fruity concoction for someone else before coming to you.

As she looked up to take your order she quickly knew who you were. "Hey, long time no see, stranger!" She said with a big smile on her face, which in return made you more nervous.

"You remember m-me?"

"Oh, yeah. Who can forget the person who shouted charming words at one of the most popular workers in here? After all my years working here I never once saw a person pull what you did hun."

Her voice seemed excited almost like she was talking to a long-lost friend.

"By the way, names Kate. But, the people here call me 'Toxin' cause I'm the best bartender around!"

Y/N listened attentively as Kate went on and told you stories about her job and some blackmail that she picked up on some of the workers there. Y/N listened and watched in amazement.

They always wanted to be the type of person that Kate was. Outgoing and quick to a joke. Charming and not crude. The type of person that makes you feel warm and understood. That was probably why she was such a good bartender. Kate chatted for a bit before she started to work on other drinks for customers.

Even if Alphonse wasn't there today, at least you made a new friend.

As you waited for her to get done with her orders, you felt a hand touch your waist and gave a small squeeze.

You whipped your head around to quickly confront the person who decided to cop a feel. To your surprise, it wasn't a needy pervert but, your stranger. The man from a few nights ago. It was him, in the flesh.

"Hey, there sweetie! I thought I scared you off with that little show last time." He looked you up and down to see what you were wearing. It wasn't anything revealing or slutty, it was plain and boring.

It surprised him.

It made him think 'who are you?' And 'why are you back?' It doesn't matter now. You are here and he was dying to get a piece of you.

As you look up at him with certain awe, you noticed some new accessories to his face.

He's had makeup on and it was on point, with little rhinestone gems decorated across his cheeks and eyes. He also had a shiny septum piercing along with one on his eyebrow.

He looked down on you, taking in your features. You felt the red get to your face as he looked closer at you. You didn't expect someone to look so close.

Embarrassed flooded you as he continues to look. You knew he could see all of your small imperfections on your face, but he didn't care.

"Were you missing little ol' me, sweetie?" He said with a teasing smile.

"Yes, I did come to see you. And to be quite frank, I have been thinking about you lately." You said conveniently as you could be.

Yes, Y/N felt all types of emotions whenever Alphonse was in proximity to them. Feelings of want and desire but, also a longing to know who he is and what he was thinking.

"Awe, you really are a sweetheart! But, heh, how 'bout I get you out of this joint and someplace a little private, yeah?" Said Al with mischief dancing on his tongue. As your face became redder by the recent events, Y/N couldn't help but feel a pair of eyes staring at the both of you.

It was Kate, staring with a smile as large as the Cheshire cat's plastered on her face.

Alphonse caught on and looked back at the smiling bartender.

"Can you do us a favor, Kate, and fuck off! Thank you, buh-bye!"

Y/N stared in shock, they could never imagine that their stranger could go from charming and seductive, to sudden frustration.

Kate kept looking with her knowing grin on her face. "No-ho-ho this is priceless! Alphonse the main hunk in this joint, the one everyone drools for, falls for a stranger you just met a few nights ago! Ha!" Kate tries to hold back her sudden laughter as she looks at the boy in front of her.

"Nah, Tox. I'm just looking for something sweet. After all, this doll right here sure does look appetizing."

This comment causes kate to roll her eyes while she wipes down a glass. "Yeah, sure." Was her only comment that she made about the current squabble.

Alphonse grabs your hand and gently pulls you away from your seat and away from the bar. "Come on let's go." He says as he leads you to somewhere he considers private.

You look back at the bar to find Kate still staring and waving goodbye. You try to wave back but, the long struts of Al's legs prevented you from doing so.

Y/N gazed at their stranger and pondered why he was going in such a hurry. On your way, you caught the attention some people and a few bunny servers. As you walked by some bunnies gave you a thumbs up or even said good luck. Now all Y/N was thinking is 'How the fuck did I get into this situation?'

As you were left questioning, Al lead you backstage. The backstage was a little cluttered with wires and cables connecting to various devices. There were small racks of clothes and shoes, probably for a quick change before stage time.

The one thing that caught you off guard was the huge wrap around staircase that was smacked center of the room.

As Al quickly lead you up the stairs, his grip on your hand got a little firmer the closer you got to the top.

At the top of the staircase was the area where all the performers would get ready.

The area was long and wide, almost like a hallway but not quite. On the right, there were doors that you guessed is where they would get dressed and prepared. And on left was a balcony that looked over the whole club.

You always wondered why there was a balcony in a club and now you knew.

The flooring of the upstairs was a gross carpet that smelled of mildew and mold. Almost all of the walls were covered by posters, art, or even cruel graffiti. There were old ripped clothes that were scattered all over the floor, along with some trash. There was even broken glass from one of the many beer bottles and the broken light bulbs that had been overused and exploded.

As you were being led you looked and felt sympathy for the workers here. Before you could open your mouth and ask why is it like this up here, Al beat you to it.

"To answer your question, bossman cares more about profit instead of workers."

"How do you know I was going to ask that?"

"Sweets, look at this place. Who wouldn't want to ask that question, huh?" Al said with some resentment in his voice.

From what he said, you can tell that Al didn't like his boss very much but, you can't blame him.

Alphonse suddenly stopped walking and stood in front of a door that was poorly painted pink. The door also had his name painted elegantly in cursive with gold paint.

With the sudden stop, it caused you to bump into Al's back, and in return, he turned around and look to see if you were alright.

"Oh, s-sorry I bumped into you heh-heh."

"No, it's fine. I like it when you're on me."

As you were speckless yet again, Alphonse relished how he could turn you red just by a flick of his tongue. And while your head was screaming, Al pulled out a set of keys from his pocket and unlocked his door.

When he opened the door, Al grabbed your hand and lead you into the cold dark room.

Once the both of you were inside, Al closed the door and locked it back up tight.

The room was pitch black but, compared to all the dark rooms you've been in, this was the darkest. The main reason why you came up with this conclusion, is that there were no windows in his room.

Now Y/N was starting to panic. As they waited for a light source, their mind started to waver to the worse.

'Stupid! Why would anyone just follow a complete stranger into a room you don't know! Hopefully, the police will find my mutilated body in one piece.'

These are the thoughts of someone who watches dateline on the regular.

You hear a flick of a switch behind your head as you are suddenly blinded by the lights in the room. It didn't take long for your eyes to adjust because the light was about as bright as a floor lamp. With the dim, warm, yellow light on, you finally got to look around the mysterious private room.

The walls were decorated head to toe with posters as a way to cover up the ugly wallpaper hidden behind it. Some of them were bands you didn't know, some were anime posters, and of course the classic pin-up poster.

He had a large vanity in his room that had all sorts of makeup and jewelry setting on top of it. He even has his own personal bathroom and closet as well.

'Man, he must be pretty popular to have his own room.' Y/N thought as they looked around.

But, there was one thing that Y/N couldn't Ignore because it was so prominent. That thing was the large ass bed in the middle of the room.

The bed had to be king-size you thought to yourself. And of course, it was one of those beds that you'll see in cheesy 80's rom-coms, a heart bed.

As you looked on, you felt a large hand being placed gently on your shoulder.

"Ya like it in here? This is my personal room for-um..."

He paused thinking of a good replacement word for what he was gonna say.

"Special Occasions with some of the boss's clients. This room is all mine and I don't have to share with anyone else."

Alphonse said all while boasting his chest out a bit behind you. He spins you around to face him and he gently cups your cheek while moving his other hand to cup your waist.

"So we don't have to worry about anyone disturbing us."

Before you even had a say, you were pushed onto the plush bed. You feel another weight climb onto the bed with you as Alphonse made his way to climb on top of you.

Al cups your cheek

"Don't worry baby, I'll take real good care of you."

And before he could even make a move the palm of your gently covered the front of his face as a way to stop him from advancing.

"Hold on sir. First off, I don't like sleeping with people I don't know. Second, why do you want to sleep with me? Do you even know my name?"

Y/N was right Alphonse didn't know them and they didn't know Alphonse. So what was even the point of coming here?

Al slowly removed your hand from his face holding it with both hands as he stared into your eyes. Then out of nowhere sharted to chuckle.

'Yep, I'm gonna die.'

That's what Y/N thought as the man above them burst into a fit of giggles.

"Man you really are cute. Sorry about uh- jumping to accusations. Ya see, most people who come to see me a second time only want to fuck around and leave. But you. Your different."

Alphonse was quick to get off of you and he flopped down on the bed beside you, causing you to bounce as well.

"So precious thing, help me put a name with that pretty face of yours."

"I'm Y/N, Y/N L/N"

Alphonse propped up on his elbows to get a better look at you. He smiled at you and said

"Well then Y/N L/N, I'm Alphonse."

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Taglist: @gay-jay @hhawkz

Man, this one took a while to get out, huh.

First, I just wanna thank you lovely people who had been patient and are invested in my story.

Second, I've been experiencing burn out with this story and there stuff going on in my personal life as well. So all and all, I have no clue when the next chapter will be out but, I'll make sure it's not too late.

Thank you for reading!

Love you!

❤🧡💛💚💙💜🖤

[beskar-cowboy]

The Best Things Dwell Out of Sight

Part 4 of The Best Things Dwell Out of Sight Series

Summary: You catch an accidental glimpse of the Mandalorian without his helmet, his instincts kick in. (4.4k words) link to read on ao3 here

Warnings: NSFW, Mando is kind of mean, the helmet is off but its still canon?, PIV sex, rough sex, he low-key kinda threatens the reader idk, spanking, soft ending to make up for whatever the fuck i just wrote <3 

A/N: this series will be uploaded in a non-linear order! i realize that this way of doing things might not be everyone’s favourite so please let me know if you would like to be notified when all the parts are uploaded (linearly in my masterlist) <3

Perhaps swaddling the child to your chest on a desert planet was not the smartest idea. The heat was blistering, even though you wore less layers than usual. Just a tank top, some utility shorts and a blaster holstered to your thigh. And the baby of course, who had not stopped babbling since you left the ship, the only thing distracting you from this damned heat.

You could only imagine how Mando was feeling underneath all that beskar as he walked alongside you in silence, only stealing glances every now and then, as he usually did.

Even after travelling with them for half a cycle now, Mando still withheld so much from you.

Even after the two of you slept together for the first time, after some close call on some jungle planet, he still retreated into his usual silence.

But there were more gentle touches now, more lingering hands, more helmet tilts, but he still hadn’t let you in. You were okay with that, you knew that this was what he was used to, so you didn’t think too much about it.

You let him take what he needs without asking too many prying questions. If you were being honest, you liked the way he used you, you liked how he took it out on you, you liked how rough he got, how possessive, how starved he could be.

It had only amounted to a couple of times over the last month but… but you loved it. You looked forward to it, you thought about it, dreamt of… dreamt of him, of Mando, inside you, above you, under you-

Mando squeezed his large hand around your bicep, breaking you from your thoughts before nodding to you, then he departed. Off to meet with… whoever.

You stayed in the market and bought stuff for the ship.

Some new screws and bolts for parts that were missing or had to be fixed, food rations, dried meat, fruits that you knew Mando was fond of, some weird, shiny little trinkets the child seemed attracted to, and a new bar of soap. You had just finished the last one a few days prior.

After buying the necessities, you wandered around the little market with the child, bouncing him up and down against your chest and talking to him softly. He was very responsive today, not seeming too bothered by the heat thankfully.

But the sun was high in the sky, most likely at its peak, and it was unrelenting. The desert environment of the planet gave way to little shaded spots so you looked for water instead, finding a little mist station where children laughed and played. You ran through it a few times with the child, he screeched with joy.

On your last run through the mist, you caught sight of Mando approaching the two of you again.

That saunter… the way he walked was so intimidating, so sensual. You couldn’t help but let a shy smile stretch across your face at the people who cowered away in fear of the bounty hunter.

You made sure you had all your things in your sling, checking to see that the child hadn’t dropped his new toy and then you were off, heading back to the ship.

The walk felt longer now due to the long exposure you both had in the sun. Mando seemed to be trudging along just the same as you, profusely sweating and in desperate need for some water. And a shower.

Mando opened the hatch and you both stumbled inside, dropping your bags and untying the child from your chest where he had left a giant sweat stain from how tightly he had been pressed to you. Suddenly aware of how sweaty, sticky and disgusting you must seem, the only thing on your mind was a shower.

“I got you some Meiloorun, they seemed ripe.” You smiled at him as you gently placed the child on the floor of the Crest. He waddled towards his father, trying to show him his new toy.

“Thank you, that’s very kind.” He said in your direction, that deep modulated voice making you shiver. He seemed hesitant to look away, but picked up the child regardless, letting him show off his new shiny thing. Mando took it into his hands, playing with him, you smiled fondly.

“I’m going to go take a shower if that’s okay? To cool down a bit.” You’re not sure why you felt the need to ask his permission after all this time but you still felt the need sometimes. Maybe he would want help putting the stuff away that you had bought, maybe he wanted you to help with the child or something? You just couldn’t help the way your mind only fixated on the sweat and grime sticking to your flesh.

“Of course.” Mando nodded. You nodded back, turning on your heels to head into the ‘fresher just around the corner in the low cabin of the Crest.

You leave the door open, you think you don’t mind Mando seeing you if he decides to look or happens to catch a glimpse. Even though he’s never taken any of his armor off (besides his gloves) for you before, he’s seen every single inch of you.

You quickly peeled off your damp clothing, turning the water on and making sure it wasn’t too cold but cool enough to relax your heat exhausted body. You stepped in quickly, eager to cool yourself down.

You visibly relaxed as soon as the water hit your burning skin, your shoulders sagging, a sighing escaping your lips. You dug your fingers into your own flesh, trying to knead the tender muscles which strained under the weight of the child and the supplies. It wasn’t much but you still ached, the heat had definitely contributed to that.

Supplies… your new bar of soap! You had been excited to use it but completely forgot about it the second you returned to the ship, mind wiped blank by the desire to rid yourself of your dirty clothes.

Suddenly thankful you left the door to the refresher open, you stick your head out from behind the curtain and call for Mando, wondering if he could retrieve the sparkly blue soap bar for you.

Instead of being met with an empty doorway, you’re met with something else. And it’s as if the world moved around you in slow motion, your emotions moving over you like molasses.

First, confusion.

Hair. A head full of light brown, golden hair. It curled near the ends, into little wisps. It couldn’t be-

No. That couldn’t be Mando. It was as if your brain refused to acknowledge the shiny beskar that sat underneath that head of hair, refusing to realize it was the tin covered man you were looking at.

Second, curiosity.

Your eyes scanned over his head, taking in the way the bathroom light shined over his hair, making it reflect all different shades of brown and caramel.

It was now that you realized that his head was turning, that’s why the light was bouncing off it so dynamically.

His head continued to turn. An ear.

Third, shock.

It was only when you saw the sliver of skin, the shell of his ear, the inner workings of the intricate cartilage, and the profile of his supple cheekbone that you let out a startled, and perhaps unnecessary, shriek.

Your hands flew up to cover your eyes, to shield them from the forbidden view. You turned back into the shower, facing the wall, away from Mando.

He saw more of you than you had of him. He saw the way your chest heaved, the way the water flew off your body as you twirled to face the tiled wall of the shower, away from him. He watched the water hit your back-

You had seen him. Or at least, that’s what he thought.

He hated the way his instincts kicked in. He hated the way he was trained to kill whoever saw him, whoever looked, whoever dared unmask him.

Almost innately, his hand reached for the light switch, plunging the refresher into darkness as he stalked towards you, pressing his hand to your head and pinning you against the cool tile of the shower forcefully and efficiently.

Mando’s body followed suit, bringing both of you underneath the steady shower stream, pinning himself against your backside. The cold bite of his beskar in contrast to the cool water making you whimper, the force of his hand pressing your cheek into the wall made you see stars behind closed eyelids.

“What did you see?” He asked, voice gruff, strained, unmodulated.

Fuck.

Of all the months you had spent aboard the Razor Crest, living with him, fucking him, you had never heard his voice without the helmet, without some sort of barrier. You regret the way it made you moan, how easily he could make you melt.

“N-nothing, I didn’t-”

“What did you see?” He pressed onto your harder, with his hand and his body weight, pining you completely to the wall, making you at his mercy. You cry out at his cold touch, at his harshness. Mando had been frustrated, even angry, with you before but now… now he was about to truly end you.

But all you could think about was how beautiful his real voice sounded. It always sounded beautiful to you, from the moment you met him, it had made you weak, but this… this was unlike anything you could have imagined.

“Hair,” you cry, unsure if you were truly crying or if it was just water from the endless stream running above both of you now. “I s-saw your hair, your ear… I-I’m sorry-” You hiccup, trying to regain your breath and not inhale too much water as your chest heaved.

Without the helmet Mando was quickly realizing that he could genuinely hear you for the first time, your trembling voice ringing through his ears without being slightly distorted by the helmet’s filters. He could….

He could smell you too. The sweet scent of your skin, of your wet hair tangling in his fingers as he continued to hold you in between the tiles and his unforgiving beskar.

You… the sight of you pinned against him, your wet skin, water dripping down your flesh in rivulets, your whimpers, your cries, your tears, the way your eyes closed, the way you kept them closed even now, drowning in darkness, your cheek flush against the tile.

Completely at his mercy.

You weren’t even fighting him.

“Fuck.” He groaned, leaning his forehead against your temple. You whimpered at his sudden movement, so on edge.

You knew he was trained to kill. You knew what happened to people who even attempted to look at him. You had seen it, you had been there when it happened once, ignorant vendors trying to taunt him, trying to tease the Mandalorian. How stupid they were, now dead somewhere in a ditch. Would he do that to you? It would be so easy for him...

Mando wondered if you could see him in the darkness as well as he could see you. He knew you couldn’t, the lack of windows deprived the room of any light sources. Luckily, his eyes were trained and used to harsh environments, low visibility. Luckily, he could see you trembling against him.

He removed his hand from your head, sliding both of his hands now to hold your hips, digging his blunt nails into the flesh, leaving crescent moon-shaped indents behind. You yelped at the sting but didn’t pull away. You liked it.

“I’m sorry-”

“Stop talking.” He growled and you bit your lip, unaware that you had opened your eyes due to the deep, dark abyss you had been plunged into.

You could truly not see a thing. All your senses became focused on the way Mando touched you, the way he’s wedged you between the wall and himself, the death grip he had on your hips, the way his breaths came out quickly and evenly onto your cheek. He was breathing almost as hard as you were.

He nudged his nose onto your cheek and you nudge your cheek back onto him, trying to remind him that it was just you, that you’re not a threat, it’s just you, it’s just you, it’s just you.

This is The Way. This is The Way… This is The Way… This… is-

Fuck. You were distracting him. Your little whimpers, the way you couldn’t help but lean into his touch. So willing, you were always so willing for him. So fucking easy and it drove him crazy.

His skin… it felt so good against yours. You had only felt the rough, rarely tender caress of his rough palms. Never of his face, his lips, his nose… You felt like you were being driven insane, you couldn't believe how close his unmasked face was to yours.

You could kiss him…

Mando continued to rub his nose against you, suddenly so lost in the feel of your skin against his. No one had ever been so close to him, so invasively close, breathing in and breathing out the same air, sharing. Feeling your eyelashes flutter against his own, your lips, open panting, swollen and pliant and inviting. He could… he could-

“Mando-”

You’re cut off by his hand suddenly slithering down your body and cupping your cunt. You gasp, unable to help the way your hips involuntarily rock into his hand, into his own hips as well, feeling a growing hardness between his legs.

You were hot, so, so hot down between your thighs. Slippery too, and Mando knew it wasn’t just the water. It was thick, sticking to his fingers, practically begging for him. Mando groaned against your open lips, both of you panting into each other’s open mouths.

“You... you fucking like this, don’t you?” He rasped, biting onto the side of your bottom lip. You whimpered, hips bucking into his hand again. What were you supposed to say? How were you to answer that?

Yes Mando, I like how fucking intimidating you are.

Yes Mando, I like how much bigger you are than me, how easy it would be for you to snap me like a twig.

Yes Mando, I like when you’re rough with me, I get off on it, I crave it, I-

“Fucking answer me.” Mando growls, latching his teeth onto your earlobe now. His hand continued to cup your sex, not truly going anywhere near where you needed him. You still couldn’t fucking comprehend that he was without his helmet, his face right next to yours…

“Yes!” You squeaked as his fingers brushed along the inside of your folds, parting you, dragging his fingers along the length of you, slipping through your sweet cyprine. You let out an unholy moan, so ashamed at how easy you were for him.

Mando kisses your ear, trails his tongue down your neck, collecting the water that pebbles down your flesh as if it were syrup.

This… is, The Way. This is- The Way-

His fingers brush up against your clit accidentally and you buck into him again, desperate for any sort of friction, any sort of attention he could give you.

Mando was trying to calm himself down. He had just been on the brink of snapping your neck and now he was overcome with lust, the desire to fuck you, stuff you full of his cock. The two extremes were dizzying, he felt drunk off of some fancy and expensive cider from some far off planet in The Core. But he supposes that’s just what you did to him.

Before he even realizes it, he’s unzipping his pants, letting the top fall undone and pulling his cock out, letting it rest against your backside. You bite your lip, trying to turn your head to look towards him but your eyes are unable to adjust, you feel as though you can see the outline of his face but… but you’re sure it’s an illusion of the dark.

“Please, Mando-” You weren’t one to beg, Mando wasn’t one to make you beg because he was always as desperate, always as pent up, touch-starved, hungry as you were.

When you two fucked it was never slow, never drawn out, never languid, luxurious. No, it was rough, mean, volatile, desperate and just fucking needy. You needed each other, and Mando fucked you like it would always be the last time, every time. Like he would never have you again, like he would never split you open again.

Mando shoves his entire length into you in one hard thrust, knocking the wind out of you from how deep he reaches so easily at this angle. He rests for a moment, savouring the way your pussy flutters and clenches around him from the sudden intrusion, trying to adjust to his substantial length.

His head pressed right up against yours, he can hear all the pretty sounds you're making, even over the loud patter of water against his beskar which begins to weigh him down from how soaking wet it's getting.

But Mando doesn’t care, he can’t, not when you’re whimpering for him in that pretty way you do, not when you clench so tight around him that he feels like he could cum without even having moved. You beg, you beg and beg and beg for him to move but he just closes his eyes and feels you pulse, hot and tight and snug around him with that perfect little cunt of yours.

You hadn’t seen him, he thinks to himself. You hadn’t actually seen him, he’s okay, it’s just you, it’s just you, it’s just you.

You.

Quivering at the end of his cock, moaning, grasping at the tiles, trying to find purchase on something, taking him all the way in like you always do, like a good fucking girl.

He hadn’t even realized that he had started thrusting, in and out with reckless abandon, bottoming out every single time before pounding back into you, making you whimper and cry.

“W-what’s my name?” He asks suddenly, pulling you from floating away towards whatever astral plane you were near close to ascending too, the one his thrusts were pushing you towards as he rearranged you from the inside out.

You had to think, you had to think of his name because your find was blank, he was fucking you dumb.

“Mando.” You whimper, closing your eyes and letting your head rest against the cold tiles, keeping your head turned so that he could keep his face pressed into your cheek, nose nudging yours, lips brushing but not kissing.

“No… what’s my fucking name?” He grits from behind clenched teeth, punctuating his words between harsh, unforgiving thrusts. You hiccup, unable to swallow down air properly as he fucks you into the wall.

His name?

What did he-

Oh.

His name. Mando had never told you his name, his actual name.

Was this a test? You shook your head ‘no’ as his arms wrapped around you, locking you in place as his ungloved hands came to grope at your breasts, using your own body as leverage to fuck into you harder. You let out a wanton moan, throwing your head back, letting it rest on his beskar covered shoulder. You turned your head and let your lips brush against his cheek but he turned his head too, lips brushing against his own and you both gasped and whimpered in unison. He seemed insistent on not kissing you, so you just went along with it, all your wits being literally fucked out of you.

“I-I don’t know.” You finally answered, your voice coming out small, between laboured breaths.

You didn’t know him, he thought. He still had something of his identity held in privacy, you didn’t know him, you didn’t know him.

“You don’t- you don’t know me,” He begins to say and it makes you cry, you cry against his mouth, your body shaking, bouncing against his, water beating down on both of you. “B-but you still let me fuck you like this, don’t you sweet girl?”

You scream. You scream when his hand lets go of your left breast only to come back down onto it, slapping the underside of the supple flesh. You wail and cry and moan the only name he’s ever told you.

Mando, Mando, Mando, Mando, Mando, Mando.

He grabs your jaw in one of his strong hands, angling your face towards his, a sight unseen.

“Answer me when I speak to you, cyar’ika.” He says forcefully, regardless of the nickname.

“Y-yes.” You choke out, trying to nod your head in his tight hold but you barely can. You were right on the brink, you felt as if he were to say one more thing in that deep, rough voice of his you would cum.

“Yes, what?” He grits, fucking your harder, moving his hand down to your neck and pushing you back against the cold tiles, making you yelp and cry for him, at the cool bite of ceramic materials.

“It’s c-cold, Mando.” You whine. He slaps your ass, his hand cracking down on your flesh, no doubt leaving a mark to find again tomorrow. You squeeze your eyes shut, bordering on overstimulation from his cock, his slaps, the water turning colder.

The ship never had a great water supply.

“Answer me.” He fucks you harder, faster, deeper, un-preciously and slaps your ass again, the other cheek this time.

“Y-yes! Yes I..I still l-let you… let you fuck me like this!” You cry and shake against the tile.

Mando’s arms quickly wrap around like they had before, hauling you back into his body. He snakes his hand down and rubs against your clit in fast, precise motions.

Almost instantaneously, your mind goes blank, your eyes roll into the back of your head. One of his arms wraps across your front, against your chest, holding your shoulder in a death grip, his other hand still working on your clit, his thrusts unrelenting as you cum and cum and cum around his thick cock.

“That’s it. That’s it... Good f-fucking girl.” He rasps, holding you tightly, thrusting a few more times before he empties himself inside you with a growl, painting your walls with him, branding you, owning you.

You moan at the sensation, the way his hot cum fills you to the brim before leaking out, back onto his cock and down the backs of your thighs. You both pant, your chest heaving in time with his as he fucks it back into you as deep as it’ll go, stuffing you so, so full of him. 

You keep your eyes closed, afraid of opening them, afraid he can see you even in this darkness. Even though you know he can.

Mando stays inside you until he’s softened, relishing in the way your pussy trembles around his girth, sucking him in as deep as you can for as long as possible.

When he eventually does pull out with a low growl, you hear him twist the knobs of the shower, the water suddenly becoming warmer, heating your now freezing skin. All these temperature changes were making you feel light-headed, the rough fuck you just got from Mando not helping your case either.

“Wha-”

“Stay here, warm up.” Mando cuts you off, you hear him step out of the shower.

A series of loud bangs resonate throughout the refresher, making you jump. Only one thing could be that loud. Is he… removing his beskar?

“Mando-”

“You’re always so cold when we’re travelling… can’t believe you were taking a cold shower.” He mumbles to himself, you can imagine him shaking his head. You’re stunned honestly, at how much he’s talking, especially without the helmet, that fact alone still lost on you. His voice was so beautiful, you had thought it to yourself about a hundred times now since you first realized he took the helmet off.

You stand under the warm stream, your quaking shivers slowly dissipating. You feel his presence enter the shower again, this time you can clearly feel his body heat, more flesh. He’s naked.

Mando is standing naked with you in the shower.

You involuntarily step away from him but he catches you, his hand landing on your waist, his hand softly grasping the flesh there. Such a stark contrast to the way he just fucked you into oblivion.

He’s naked.

This man had never removed anything besides his gloves. Even when he fucked you, the armor stayed on. You’re not sure if it was an issue of trust or due to his boundaries or his Creed. But considering he almost just killed you for accidentally seeing his ear and cheek, and was now standing naked with you in the dark… well, maybe it was a bit of both. You were having trouble wrapping your head around all of this, nothing was making sense to you.

The hand on your waist pulls you closer to him, your chests and bellies bump together and you gasp. Mando is firm, you knew this but… but to actually feel him against you, well, you could cry about it honestly.

You felt uncertain about what to do with your hands, unsure if you were allowed to touch him but you tentatively lifted them to his chest anyways, letting them rest against his solid pecs. His skin was soft despite the random series of raised flesh that seemed to brand him, his scars. You don’t think you ever wanted to see someone’s scars, someone’s skin as badly as you do now. But you would right out ask for it, you couldn’t.

You felt Mando lift something to your skin, it was smooth as it glided along your arm, your shoulders, across your back. A fruity, earthy scent filled your nose.

Your bar of soap.

He must have grabbed it before he took off his beskar. You lean into him unknowingly, the hand at your waist moving to hold you against him more easily as he washed you. You let your face rest against his chest, the little spot where his throat meets his collarbones. He smelled like sweat, grime, gun powder, he smelled like Mando.

You pressed your lips to the skin, the skin you knew was tanned and rugged, worn down, tired, in need of more kisses than he would let you give.

At the gentle press of your lips, that’s when Mando speaks again. It’s so hushed amongst the falling water, you almost miss it, but the few words don’t fall deaf to your ears, you hear every letter, every syllable.

“My name...” You look up to where his face would be, trying to imagine what expression he wears as he speaks to you in the dark. Your forehead not too far from his lips, you can almost feel the ghost of them on your flesh. 

“My name is Din.”