#and sometimes I wish I had a completely flat chest

[king0fcrows]

.

[crushribbons]

please for the love of all things good if you could write a smut abt bestfriend!sebastian where he sneaks into our dorm room in the middle of the night (for the 5th time that week) because he can’t sleep 🙏 thank you in advance

ohhhh so you speak my love language helllll yeahhhh

(went a slightly dif direction teehee xx 18+ ONLY!)

---

"Is this going to be an every night type of thing?"

"Mm, yeah, every night that your feet are this warm."

Sebastian's own feet (or rather, icicles) slid under hers and she hissed and tried to yank the duvet away from him. He whined, cuddling closer to her and setting her skin on fire in the process.

She stammered, "B-back off, you hog," and Sebastian wrapped his arms tighter. His frame tucked so neatly around her, she hated how natural it felt. He was so fucking cold--why was sweat beading across her chest?

He was humming under his breath. "Hogwarts, Hogwarts, hoggy warty Hogwarts! Teach us something, please."

"Don't," she groaned. "It'll be in my head all week."

Silence settled between them. The room felt heavy and still, and she was keenly aware of how her heart would thump every time Sebastian shifted around. Her owl sighed a wispy trill. She strained her ears towards the door, hoping to determine whether those were footsteps shifting around downstairs. Sebastian sensed her train of thought.

"Your parents went to bed ages ago."

"They still might have heard the door."

"We are twenty-one years old," Sebastian laughed, husky, in her ear. Fuck. "And your mother seems to think we ought to be wed to one another or some similar type of nonsense."

Words, her brain urged her. Say words. Now!

"She just loves having company for the holidays. She'd want me to marry a grindylow if it told her that her apple crumble was scrumptious."

A huff of air from Sebastian's nose hit the back of her neck, and she didn't need to see her own reflection to know she was bright red. She wished on every star that she could make out through the gauzy curtains that he had worn a shirt to bed. He didn't seem nearly as affected as she was.

How much longer could they toe this line? Seeing each other almost every day after work, visiting each other's family homes for the holidays, falling asleep at each other's flats and, as a result, far too often, crawling into the same bed with the sometimes muttered excuse, "Warmer this way."

All he had to do was say the word, any word, and she'd make this whole thing a lot less...friendly.

"What are these garments you adorn yourself in, m'lady?" Sebastian grumbled as he felt the foreign material at her hips between his fingertips. She swallowed back the moan that rose in her throat. Silly, getting this hot and bothered over a little physical contact. Then his hands were sliding down her hips inquisitively and the moan slipped out without warning. She scrambled to recover.

"Silk," she replied, her voice raspy.

"Too fancy for me," Sebastian sighed, and he let his body crumple completely into hers, and it was heaven and bliss, and Sebastian had finally warmed up so she let herself melt into him. Everything was blurring pleasantly around the edges of her vision: the room, the outline of the sleeping tawny owl by the window, the boundary between her and her dear, best friend Sebastian, who at that very moment was snaking one hand away from her waist and pressing it down between his hips and the curve of her ass.

"What are you doing?" she asked, and when Sebastian tsk'ed in annoyance, she realized exactly what he was doing and humiliation flushed her cheeks.

He tried to pull away from her a few inches, and she whined, "Hey--you're just getting all warm!" but she felt him shake his head. She rolled over to face him and he closed his eyes when she raised an eyebrow at him.

"I'm, uh." He squeezed his eyes tight shut, then dared to open one and peek at her. "I'm sorry. I kinda got..." He gestured down to his free hand, which was currently doing its best to conceal...

Her cunt throbbed, wetness pooling. He was hard, and the hand pressing his erection down couldn't cover it entirely. She felt her lip slide between her teeth. Sebastian's chest, splattered with freckles and a light layer of chestnut hair, was rising and falling too fast. They locked eyes.

"Should we?" He didn't finish the question. He didn't have to.

Should we? she thought. She didn't care.

They fucked, slow and tender and hot and fast, until the orangey glow of dawn kissed the room. When she rolled her head to the side, hair mussed all over her pillow, and saw the tiny light filtering through the window, she laughed to herself, but it was pathetically choked off when Sebastian's nose pushed against her clit in perfect little circles. Her hips arched and she used the handful of wavy hair in her hand to pull him deeper into her. He chuckled into her pussy, and the feeling of his smile pressed against her weeping heat had her riding his face until she eeked out a broken, "Fuck, Seb, baby!"

He shushed her, although his face was still buried inside her, occupied with cleaning every last drop from between her legs.

"Have you got one more for me, darling?" he purred over her fevered panting.

"N-no! I d--!" Sebastian covered her protestations with a sloppy kiss, lips still covered in her, and her body suddenly found the wherewithal to endure one more mind-bending orgasm. She moaned and pressed her chest to his and he laughed again.

His cock slipped in easily this time. The first two, three? Merlin, four? times, his size had been almost too much for her. But a groaned, "Fuck, so tight for me, just like I always dreamed..." was what ultimately pushed her to the edge the first time.

What pushed her to the edge this time were the desperate, rough thrusts he fucked up into her with, and the gleam in his eye as he panted, "You'll be lucky if I don't keep you in this fucking bed all day, shit! I'm...f--fuck, I'm coming!" He grabbed her hips and pumped once, twice, three more times.

"In-inside me," was all she could get out before her body hummed with a high-frequency, white-hot pressure, and she collapsed onto Sebastian's chest. He held her tight while he filled her up, and afterwards did not pull himself out while they caught their breath.

"Hey," Sebastian said suddenly, breaking the hazy quiet that had settled around their intertwined bodies.

"Mm?"

She felt him smile to himself. "Nothing."

[writtenbowss]

Self indulgent Adam x reader...that man....he's got one strong grip on me and idc atp :3

Adam x winged!sinner!reader

Takes place after the final episode, he gets judged again and is now a sinner in hell, new member of the hazbin hotel!

---------

Sometimes you wish you didn't bend to Charlie's will so easily when she used her puppy eyes, she knew you had a weakness for cute things despite your colder demeanor, it was this weakness that had led you to taking care of the first human, dick master as he wanted you to call him, Adam. Who nifty had swiftly killed and now lives in the hazbin hotel after being re-judged as a sinner, though still injured.

You begrudgingly walk into his room where he is admiring himself in the mirror....again. he doesn't look that much different from when he was an angel, just more demonish, kinda human in a way? His wings are now a charcoal black from being disgraced from heaven. You groan and cross your arms, your own wings tucked in since you didn't have the power to just magically retract them....that would be nice though.

"Adam. You should still be in bed, resting." You say with an annoyed tone, he just looks at you before starting to flirt with you again for the millionth time, although with more backhanded compliments and insults thrown in this time. "C'mon cold tits, you sure you wanna hide this body? I may be one of you shitheads now but I say this dick is still holy~"

....yeah no. You go over and force him back onto the bed, having forced him back into bed countless times before since he doesn't seem to grasp the fact that his wounds aren't fully healed, he grasps your wrist, quickly dragging you down successfully this time, he had tried before but never succeeded...

You land on top of him, eyes slightly wide as you keep your arms propped up so you're not on your hands and knees on top of him....what an embarrassing position, you had to get off him quick, but he was quicker. Without thinking he wrapped his arm around your back in an attempt to make you stay, smirking and winking at you as you look down with slight uncomfortableness apparent on your face. Your wings move so that he's not touching them, you never liked anyone touching your wings because their a little sensitive in some spots, although Adam had tried to disregard that boundary in favor of trying to tease me by attempting to touch my wings which earned him a slap across the face once.

His hand slipped up your back, causing you to flinch slightly, it felt weird. You thought about punching Adam, not caring about his healing wounds, until that thought was tossed out your brains window when his hand grazed the base of your wing which caused you to gasp and flinch. Dear God cock, when was the last time someone massaged there? probably no one but it felt nice, like you had just found a comfy spot on your bed, your ears slightly brushed as you felt embarrassed being this kind of vulnerable in front of him.

He instantly noticed your reaction, his smirk turning into a full blown grin as he realized he found a delicate spot on the infamously cold (name), his rough hand then pressed and moved slightly at the base of your wing which made you flinch and sigh somewhat contently.

He continued moving around the base of your wing before you full on collapsed on him, laying against his chest looking like you're about to fall asleep, he chuckles and finally says something "looks like you're not so difficult to deal with after all, cold tits"

It sounds somewhat like mockery, but he honestly has grown some feelings for you, he enjoyed a challenge anyways! Now that he's seeing you like this, all sleepy and laying against him he can't deny that he wouldn't mind being like this with you, even if you glare at him yet don't stop him as he ends up massaging the base of your wings as you lay completely flat against him.

This feels like complete bliss, even if it's by someone you don't really like, you can't deny that it's lulling you to sleep. Maybe it's because he has his own pair of wings that he knows how to maneuver his hands against your back, now under your shirt that's surprisingly, not in a sexual way. It's quite nice, actually.

....he looks down again after spacing out for a second, seeing you asleep against him. Honestly, he thinks that you and him can maybe become more than just cocky asshole and a cold sinner...just maybe.

----------

RAHH IM SORRY IF THIS FEWLS RUSHED THIS IS LIKE PRETTY SELF INSULGENT SO UHHHHH

[justwinginglife]

Can I Come Home?

1- I am so sorry in advance. My random thoughts do be wildin sometimes. 2- There are 2 endings for this, you'll know where it splits when you get there, a little choose your own adventure action, if you will. 3-This is the longest fic that I have ever written so I apologize for people with short attention spans like me. With all that being said, enjoy the fic (or don't, it's angst, so you probably won't.)

You and Soshiro were always close. 

Close in childhood, closer as sweethearts.

You’d known each other your whole lives, and your sweet 16 turned even sweeter when he finally worked up the nerve to ask you out. You had always had a crush on him, but you never thought that the boy who had seen you in a bikini and snorted about your flat chest would ever be interested in you. But he was more than just interested; he was completely, irreversibly, and incandescently smitten with you. 

When you started dating him, it became clear to you that he’d stored away every bit of information you’d ever told him. He remembered when you were 12, you said you’d always wanted a locket, so he strung one around a bouquet of peonies (he knew that was your favorite flower) and presented it to you when he picked you up for your first date. He remembered when you were 13, you told him you’d always wanted to ride on a hot air balloon, so for your second date, he took you out for a romantic flight at sunset, flower petals sprinkled across the floor of the basket. He remembered when you were 14, you absentmindedly made a comment about wishing you knew how to ice skate, so he learned how to skate for you and taught you how to skate on your third date. There was no doubt in your mind that you were going to marry this man someday. You weren’t sure how long it would take, but you didn’t care; you could wait for him. 

When you turned 18, he solidified his love for you by gifting you a promise ring. By this time, you’d already talked marriage and cradles with him extensively, so you wondered what exactly he was promising you. Your heart was already his, you didn’t need a trinket to hold you over. But he wanted to make promises to you anyway. He wanted to promise you that he’d buy you a better ring one day, that when he joined the JAKDF he’d save his entire officer’s salary for the purpose of weighing your hand down with the fattest rock he could find. He wanted to promise you that he’d love you infinitely, that he’d love you overwhelmingly, that he’d love you every day of his life. And even when he turned 19 and prepared for the Defense Force exam, he promised that he’d carry you with him always, that your soul had left an imprint on his, and that even when faced with death, he’d be yours. The Reaper himself couldn’t tear him from your side. 

Having fears about the lifestyle Soshiro was choosing, the lifestyle that would take him far away from you, that would lead him in the way of danger, you begged him to wait another year or two before joining the Defense Force. You knew you couldn’t keep him from his dreams forever, but you could stall him. You wanted more time with him, wanted any time you could get, any time he’d allow you, any time he’d spend safe in your arms, time where you didn’t have to be riddled with the worry that one day he wouldn’t come home. 

So you pleaded with him to wait a couple years. To spend the time training you. You’d made the decision to go with him to join the force -you’d follow him to the depths of Tartarus and back if it meant you could stay by his side- but for now, you needed more time with him. And then you’d give in to his dreams when you turned 21. You’d let the Defense Force claim you both. And if he died, you’d be right behind him. So you begged him, begged him to stay. Just until 21. 

You thought he might say no, thought he might run off and join anyway. After all, he’d been waiting for this since the day he took up the sword. But the Defense Force wasn’t his only dream anymore. You were his dream too. And if he had to wait a couple more years just to have you by his side when he joined up, then he would wait for you. He would do anything for you.

You spent long days and even longer nights training with him. Training until your limbs were on the verge of combustion, until your muscles reacted before you commanded them to, until your reflexes were honed to perfection. Your regimen was grueling but it was nothing compared to the thought of letting him die in front of you. You had to be stronger; no, you had to be the strongest. For him, you’d do it. And when you perfected a move or when your combat power increased, Soshiro would reward you with kisses over and over again, and you knew you’d die for him over and over again. Anything to protect his smile.  

When the cruel hand of fate brought disaster to his door in the form of a crippling accident and Soshiro was grounded to his hometown, imprisoned in a cage, with his lifelong dream now out of reach, you felt you failed him. You couldn’t protect him from his fate. You couldn’t protect him from the emptiness, from the feeling of watching his desires slip from his fingers. It was your fault that he never got to join the Defense Force- you’d made him wait. It was your fault. Everything was your fault. 

You almost couldn’t face him.

You watched lines of friends, of family, of neighbors file in and out of his house, offering their sympathies, offering their support in this hard time, offering gifts, offering flowers. But you knew he’d never “get well.” He’d never recover from what you’d done. From what you failed to do. He’d wasted so many promises on you, and you couldn’t even promise to protect him. 

You wanted to atone.

You wanted to die.

You wanted to fade from existence.

But he wouldn’t let you. He kept visiting, kept calling on you, kept loving on you. He wouldn’t let his regrets become your regrets. He wouldn’t let you waste your life away, drowning in your bedsheets and your depression. He’d make you hear him even if you wouldn’t listen. He’d tell you that you were meant for more. That you had bigger things to live for than him. That he couldn’t wait to watch you take the Defense Force by storm.

He’d joke that he was sure you’d coerce your way to the top in no time at all, reigning over the JAKDF with terror. When you were unamused, he laughed. “I was just kidding, love, I know my baby’s a softie. I know you wouldn’t hurt a fly. A kaiju? Different story. But a fly? You’d put a bandaid on its wings.” He teased. 

And against your better judgment, despite his terrible jokes, despite his annoying persistence, because of his annoying persistence, you let him love you again. You let him forgive you. You missed him. You loved him. You loved loving him. 

You thought you could keep going on this way forever. Just basking in his presence. Just stealing time from him wherever you could get it. Now that you weren’t training, now that he wasn’t training, you had endless hours to spend with him, just talking, just laughing. But then you got notice that this year’s Defense Force Exam was starting. 

He wanted you to go.

He wanted you to leave him.

You wanted to stay. 

You weren’t like him, you weren’t noble, you weren’t honest; the Defense Force meant nothing to you if he wasn’t by your side. You begged him to let you stay with him. You begged him to let you live and die with him. 

But he simply smiled at you and said he believed in you.

And somehow, after kicking and screaming, after crying and pleading, you found yourself on the first train out of town. You found yourself carrying the weight of both your dreams, carrying the weight of your need to make him proud, both a burden and a beacon, slung across your shoulders as you made your way into unknown territory. You took heavy step after heavy step until you crossed the threshold of the Defense Force’s doors. 

This was your life now but somehow you felt like you’d left your life back in your hometown. Like your heart only beat in Soshiro’s chest, like your air only contracted Soshiro’s lungs, like your blood only pumped in Soshiro’s veins. Without him, you felt lonely.

Distance had always been a stranger to you, having grown up next door to him, having spent every waking moment with him, and now that you were making its acquaintance, you thought you might just die. 

You’d reach for his arms and find they weren’t there. You’d listen for his laugh, for his footsteps, for his singing in the shower, and find nothing but sadness in the silence. And when the shirts you’d stolen from him stopped smelling of his scent, you almost ran back home right then and there, barefoot, crying, running like a madman, running to get back to him. “Can I come home now, Soshiro?” you’d beg him.

But he’d always stop you. He’d tell you that you were so close to achieving everything you’d worked so hard for. That you couldn’t quit now. That you were strong, that you were fearsome, that you could endure the storm. That he believed in you.

When you passed the exam, you pleaded with him again. “Can I come home now, Soshiro? Let me celebrate with you, at least.” But he knew if you came home now, if you didn’t establish roots in the Defense Force, if you didn’t have anything to go back to, you’d stay home forever. You’d never leave. And he didn’t want you to quit before you’d started. So he coaxed you into staying where you were, used that sweet voice of his to murmur sweet promises to you, to promise you nothing short of the sun and the moon when you finally did come home, if you could just make it a couple more months without him. 

Before you knew it, you were too busy to come home, even just for a day. You were too good at your job, too loaded up with work. Your heart was empty but your hands were full. 

The only free time you had, you spent talking to Soshiro. You’d steal minutes from your schedule, sneak away for a mere moment, just to talk to him, just to drink in the sound of his voice. You’d tell him about your day. About a dog you met on the walk to work. About the bitch who worked in operations. About a new drink you discovered that you thought he’d like. About all the lives you’d saved. And he was proud of you. Not just for being a hero, but for being alive. For putting one foot in front of the other. For doing your best. 

He tried his best to make you smile even if he couldn’t physically be there for you. If he was there, he would’ve poked two fingers into the edge of your lips and dragged them upwards, “See, this is how you smile. Can you smile for me, love?” And you’d weakly muster up some semblance of a smile, tears staining your cheeks, as you’d say back to him, “Yeah, baby. I can smile for you. I can do anything for you.”

Then, when you watched officer after officer die, when you scrubbed your hands raw to get the blood out, when you couldn’t smile anymore, you begged him again. “Soshiro… I’m tired. I miss you. Can I come home now? Please, can I come home now?��

“They need you, love. Don’t worry about me, I’ll be okay. You can do this, you’ll be okay.” 

You’d hear his words and cry yourself to sleep and the aching in your chest would take up permanent residence inside you. 

He must’ve known then that you needed more than just his words. He showed up the next day, peonies in hand. “Your favorite, baby.”

You bit your lip, trying to stifle the tears that were threatening to overflow. “You’re here. You’re actually here.”

He smiled at you. “Snuck in for you, baby. I’m not supposed to be here, it’s a secret, just between you and me.”

Suddenly the weight of the situation hit you, the baggage of everything you’d been carrying the last several months crashing into you like a wrecking ball. You’d never see your fellow officers again and you’d never see more of him than these few, stolen moments.  “Soshiro, I can’t do this anymore.” You began to cry. 

“Shh, shh. Don’t cry, love. I’ve got you. You’re okay. You can do this. You’re the strongest woman I’ve ever had the pleasure of meeting, you’re the most amazing woman I’ve ever had the pleasure of loving. And I know my baby doesn’t give up. I know the wind and the waves would come if she called. You’re a force to be reckoned with, don’t forget that, love.”

“I don’t feel like a force to be reckoned with. I feel like a walking corpse, dead inside and yet not dead enough. Why am I here? Why am I living and breathing when so many of my loved ones are dead? Soshiro. Can I come home now?”

For a moment you thought he’d let you. You thought the pain in his eyes, the sympathy in his saddened smile, were signs enough that it was okay to give up, it was okay to go home. But you never got to hear his answer.

“Hey. Platoon Leader L/N. You okay? What are you doing all the way out here?” A girl with bright red hair bounded up to you. You thought her name was Nakanoshima? You had tried to keep everyone at an arm’s distance after all the rookies who’d joined up with you had died. 

You quickly wiped the tears from your eyes and straightened your posture, “Just talking to my boyf-” You suddenly realized Soshiro had said that he’d snuck in and when you turned to him in a panic, scrambling to find an excuse, you discovered that he was nowhere to be found. “I mean my-myself. Talking to myself.”

She raised an eyebrow. “Okay…Well, the girls and I are heading out for some karaoke, would you care to join?”

You shook your head quickly. “No, thanks. I appreciate the offer, though.”

She searched your face for a moment. You almost thought you caught a glimpse of sympathy in her peachy eyes, but any trace of it faded when she finally shook her head. “Alright, well just know you can come anytime. See you around.” She waved and disappeared into the distance.

“You should’ve gone with her. I would’ve been fine.” Soshiro emerged from behind you. 

“I don’t need her. I don’t need anyone else but you.”

He sighed and ran a hand through his hair. “Baby. I don’t want you to be lonely up here, all by yourself. Make some friends. Have some fun. Live your life.”

You shook your head insistently. “I don’t wanna make friends. I don’t wanna have fun. I wanna come home. I wanna be yours again.”

He smiled at you softly. “You’re always mine, love. And I’m always yours.”

“So let me come home.” 

He shook his head. “Can’t do that, dearest. But I’ll come visit you more, okay? I love you. Never forget that I love you. You’ll be fine, okay? I believe in you.” Then he disappeared without another word, leaving you empty yet again. 

But he kept his promise. You should’ve known he would, he always did. At first, he’d come to your bedside in the dead of night. He’d lay there with you and you’d talk together until the sun came up and he disappeared again. Then, he started to visit during the day. 

When he’d visit, he’d ask if you were taking care of yourself. If you were making friends. You’d tell him the same thing every time. But one day, Nakanoshima overheard you talking to him and when she came over to investigate, he nudged you towards her, whispering, “Make friends.”

You rolled your eyes at him but then grumbled to her that you’d like to join her the next time she went out. Her eyes lit up and by the time she finished excitedly rambling about how much fun you were going to have with her, Soshiro was gone again.

The next time he visited, you were in the middle of training. When you dropped anything and everything to run to him, you earned yourself some strange looks from the other officers, but you didn’t care. You were tired of pretending and tired of hiding. You wanted to be in love again. You wanted to be happy. And he made you happy, visiting you like this, with no more fear of being discovered, with public displays of his love. 

And it made you happy to make him happy. When you told him all about your movie night with Nakanoshima, and your lunch date with Ashiro, and your shopping spree with Okonogi, he was extremely happy. You were finally living your life. 

You thought you could find contentment like this, sharing time between your friends and your boyfriend, living the good life, fighting the good fight, but the dream ended in an instant when he visited in the middle of a battle strategy meeting. When you bolted out the door to greet him again, your friends began to worry about your state of mind. They’d whisper to each other about the man you’d run off to in the middle of training, in the middle of lunch, in the middle of dinner, in the middle of the night, and now in the middle of meetings. Wasn’t he the guy who got into that horrible accident? Wasn’t he the reason you’d almost forgone joining the Defense Force? Wasn’t he the man you almost married? This couldn’t be good for you, they’d tell each other. Clinging to a man from your past. Clinging to a future you used to dream of. 

They had finally decided to have an intervention for you, when suddenly calamity struck the town. Another wave of kaiju was attacking in full force. Their concerns about your love life would have to wait; the entire city was now a concern. 

You fought with renewed purpose, with a fire lit within you that they hadn’t seen since you’d first made Platoon Leader. You refused to let any more of your squad, of your team, of your friends die. 

In a frenzy, you cleared out half the Yoju, and made your way to the Honju, entrusting the rest of the lower ranked beasts to your friends. The battle was long and arduous, your muscles tense and taut, as you fought for your life and the lives of all those you cared for. 

You thought of Soshiro in the heat of the moment, wondering if he would’ve wrapped this whole thing up in a matter of minutes. But you weren’t him. You were just you. And for all your training, for all your combat experience, you found yourself weak when it counted. You found yourself struggling, your reflexes weakening, your state of mind crumbling, your body aching as you begged yourself to just be enough, to just protect somebody, to protect anybody, to be worth something.

So when you finally took down the Honju at great cost, your life hanging on by a mere thread, you were okay with that. You were resigned to death. You were grateful for death. You ran a finger over the promise ring that had long been worn out over the years as the light began to claim you. 

In your final moments, you dreamed of the beach. Soshiro laid beside you in the sand. Your physical body was squirming around someplace somewhere in some patch of gravel, but all you could feel now was the sand beneath your back, the ocean lapping at your toes. 

“I meant to take you to the beach.” He said finally.

“Well, we’re here now, silly. This is good enough. This is more than enough. This is perfect. Let’s just enjoy this moment.” You slipped your hand into his, interlocking your fingers as you turned to look into his eyes. 

He shook his head at you. “Baby. You know you can’t be here. You know you have to go back.”

You put a finger to his lips. “Shh. Baby, I’m finally home. Let me stay home.”

He brushed his thumb across your cheek. “I’m sorry, my love. I wish you could stay. But you have people waiting for you. You have people at your bedside, praying for you to wake up, praying for you to come back. You finally have a life, love, so live it.”

You frowned at him. “I don’t have a life without you, what are you talking about?” 

He smiled at you sympathetically. “Darling, you know that’s not true. You know I can’t see you anymore. We can’t keep doing this.”

Your eyes widened in fear. “No. No, don’t say that.”

He kissed your hand. “In fact, I don’t think I want to see you again for at least another 70 years, okay? Promise?” The tears burst from your eyes. “No, no, no. Soshiro, don’t leave me. Soshiro, don’t say that. Soshiro, let me come home, I want to come home to you. Let me be with you, damnit!”

“I love you. I’ll always love you.”

“Don’t say it like you’re leaving, don’t say it like you’re saying goodbye! Soshiro, don’t you dare leave me alone again! You promised you’d always be by my side!”

You woke up screaming.

You were in a hospital bed and Soshiro was nowhere to be found. 

“Soshiro.” You called weakly. “Soshiro. Please.” 

He didn’t answer. 

You tried listening for him, tried searching for him, tried scrambling for some semblance of him, some part of him you could cling to, but he was gone without a trace. The weight of his absence dragged you into the depths of despair, and you murmured, “You promised me… you promised…” to yourself as a dark and deep sleep finally overtook you.

In the morning, you were surrounded by your friends. 

Tae almost forgot you were injured and nearly smothered you with her affection. 

Konomi yanked her off of you, scolding her when you winced from the pain.

Mina was the one who finally spoke. “I’m glad you’re okay. We weren’t sure if you were going to make it for a moment there.”

You were quiet. “Why… why did I make it? How am I alive?”

They shifted uncomfortably. “Honestly, we’re not sure. The doctors said there was nothing they could do to save you. Your heartbeat flatlined. You were dead. And then somehow you came back to us.”

The room filled with silence. 

Then Tae spoke up. “Who’s this Soshiro you keep talking to?”

Konomi jabbed her in the ribs for her insensitivity, but she awaited your answer with equally bated breath. 

You swallowed. “He’s my… my boy… my fiance.”

Tae stilled. “Your fiance… Soshiro Hoshina?”

Your brows furrowed at the sound of his name on her lips. How did she know his name?

She continued. “The same Soshiro Hoshina who died in that horrific accident all those years ago?”

Suddenly your lungs felt like they were collapsing all over again. Your skin had been set ablaze by her words and yet you’d never felt colder in your entire life. You shivered from the sweat that had started to form all down your body.

“No, he’s… he’s waiting for me to come home.” You said weakly.

Konomi sighed and rubbed at the crease on her forehead. “Dear, I’m worried about you. He’s… he’s gone. He’s been gone.”

The tears began to flow down your cheeks before you even registered they’d formed. “No, he’s not. He’s at home. He’s fine. He’s at home. He’s waiting for me. I need to go home. I need to go to him. He’s fine, he’s just waiting for me at home. At home. At home.” Every broken denial, every repeated word, felt like a knife carving its way up your throat. You rambled so much your throat went hoarse and you started seizing up. The doctors were called in before your friends could continue. 

In the chaos of it all, you thought you vaguely heard Mina whisper to you, “Take as long as you need to heal. We’ll be here, waiting for you on the other side of this, no matter how long it takes,” before you blacked out.

You weren’t sure she understood just how long that would be. You weren’t sure just how long you could survive calling for him, trying to conjure him up in your mind again, and not seeing him appear. Remembering him hurt. Remembering the love you’d once had and lost, remembering the happiness you’d once had and lost, hurt. Everything hurt. But feeling like you were forgetting him hurt worse. 

Would you remember what his voice sounded like in 20 years? Would you even remember it in 10? Would you remember if he ever had dimples when he smiled? Would you remember his favorite color? 

Who were you if you weren’t his?

How would you ever find peace if you couldn’t ever go home?

If your home had been taken from you?

You woke up to the familiar sting of your tears burning trails down your cheeks again. You wondered just how many tears you had left, just how much could you cry yourself to sleep before you finally just drowned in your own depression? Would that be better if you drowned? Could you try to drown? Would it bring him back, would he try to save you again? If you tried to get back to that beach, would he be waiting? 

You tried furiously summoning him again. You knew he wouldn’t come when you called, knew he wouldn’t answer your pleas, knew you were talking to nothing more than air, but you tried over and over again, your screams filling the silence with your desperation.

“Soshiro! Soshiro, don’t leave me! Soshiro, I need you!”

“Come back, Soshiro! Come back to me!”

“Soshiro, you promised you’d stay by my side even in death! Even in death!”

“I need you, please, I need you!”

You screamed and screamed until your throat bled, until all that was left of him, all proof that he ever existed, that he ever loved you, was the burning in your throat and an emptiness in your chest where he’d stolen your heart and left you hollow. 

—----------------------------------------------------------------------------If you like angst, stop here, if you don’t and you’re like me and you cried reading this, please continue. 

—----------------------------------------------------------------------------

Your friends waited for you.

They waited and they waited. They waited so long, you weren’t sure you’d even still have friends on the other side of this. You weren’t sure there was another side of this.

But when you could finally sleep without having nightmares about the damn accident, even just for an hour or two, when you could finally walk down the street without your eyes darting everywhere looking for him, when you could finally breathe again without feeling like you owed payment for each breath, that was when your friends were there at the ready, waiting to take you into better days.

And when you could finally laugh again, even just a small laugh, and when you could finally smile again, even just a small smile, you knew Soshiro was smiling with you too, somewhere on some beach. 

Sure there were times when you’d get swallowed up by sadness again, when you’d miss his touch, miss his voice, miss his presence. He was the love of your life and always would be. But you learned to love your friends too. You learned to love the blue in the sky and the green in the grass. You learned to love all the little things in life that he’d always loved.

Then, years and years later, you found that you were finally living the way he’d always wanted you to live: happily. 

And when your time finally came to face death -70 years into the future, as you’d promised Soshiro- you greeted it warmly.

At the gates of heaven, there he stood, handsome as always, light shining all around him as though he were light itself. 

And then he smiled. 

“Welcome home, love.”

[mudisgranapat]

Civilian!Reader X ToxicBF!Simon (Part 2)

Word Count: 2,9 K

Content: Toxic and manipulative behaviour, mention of blood, swearing.

Part 1

.

.

.

When Johnny invited you to the bar that day, you were reluctant to go. Even though you could use the night off, the mere thought of seeing him paralyzed you in fear. Two weeks ago, Simon came to your flat to keep you company. The two of you had ordered takeout and eaten it while you talked about your life. Simon was always so attentive, his eyes looking at you with pure worry and care, and it made your insides twist every time you felt yourself under his gaze. 

Your whole life you had wished, dreamed, ached for someone to look at you the way Simon did. But at the same time, it felt like a paradox. Simon saw you, but he didn’t see you. You knew he didn’t feel the same way about you because Simon Riley never needed anyone. Not only did the two of you have nothing in common in terms of lifestyle, you also had completely different expectations for a romantic life. 

You wanted someone to live a movie romance with, someone who would crave you just as much as you did them. A man who was rough around the edges but melted when it came to you, fighting off the whole world while holding you tight to his chest. And every time you looked at Simon, it was a sour reminder that you had all you ever wanted within arms reach, but were never able to grab it.

He was from a different world, where people were tough, solved problems with their fists, and faced their fears with all their might. Someone as strong as Simon would never go for someone as fragile as you. What could I ever give him? The question would pound in your head when you felt lonely, a reminder that you had nothing to offer but timid confessions and a feeble mind. But even knowing that, you still came back to him, because he was the silver lining on your cloudy days. 

So you tortured yourself, over and over again, spilling your guts out to him over tea, movies, and walks in the park, entertaining the idea that he needed those moments as much as you did, only to come back to the darkness of your flat and coldness of your bed. Alone.

You found yourself whining about your problems again, that fateful day, two weeks ago. It wasn’t uncommon for Simon to go to your house to comfort you, and instead of dismissing the pity party, you would bake the cake and provide the entertainment. Sometimes, Simon would get a phone call or a text, but he never stopped your rambling to pick it up, opting to quickly look at the name on the screen before putting his phone on silent.

Until that day. 

You had been talking about your coworker, who you were sure was stealing your pens, when he said “Hold on, I have to take this”. Amidst your shock and neglect, you managed to capture a name on the screen of his phone. Sarah. You could feel the knot forming on your throat, while simultaneously feeling like you were about to throw up all the food you had just eaten. Fucking Sarah? Who the fuck is she? A party wrecker, at least. Setting in flames the walls of the scenario you had built. This wasn’t a date, it was a favor a good soldier did for the helpless girl he met. You were hopelessly attached to him like a leech on a vein, feeding from another being’s nurture, just to be pulled without courtesy from your shelter and chucked to the side to rot under the scolding sun.  

The longer he spent on his phone, the more visible the tethers that united the two of you became, and with each laugh he let out, the weaker they became, falling on the floor like loose and meaningless strings. That day you realized you needed to stop this parasitic relationship before it got worse. The two of you were just friends after all, yet there you were, wanting to rip your hair out every time you heard the other woman’s voice coming through the speakers on his phone. 

Your luck hadn’t been good lately, in fact, it had become increasingly worse since you started ignoring Simon, two weeks ago. You couldn’t deny that talking to him was like having someone take all the weight off your shoulders, but it was time to be a big girl and move on. You needed to learn how to live without him and deal with your own problems, instead of dumping them on someone else. Besides, alcohol was always a good friend when times were bad, and you knew you could never say no to going out with Johnny, especially because he always paid for your drinks. 

So you put your best clothes on, styled your hair, and did your makeup. That way, even if you saw Simon, you wouldn’t look like a complete loser, even though you had been soaking alone in your own misery all this time. Your problems were piling up throughout the day, resting above your bed during the night and avalanching you in the morning, now that you didn’t have Simon to magically make them go away. So, if you were to start dealing with your problems by yourself, facing him should be on priority on that list. It took all your strength not to cower and go back under the comfort of your covers, but you put your high heels on and made your way to the bar.

You took a breath to calm yourself down before opening the doors of the bar, not giving yourself time to change your mind and… Oh, how you regretted your decision the moment you walked in and saw Simon sitting at the table, a glass of whisky on one hand and a woman’s waist on the other. But it was too late to turn around because a certain Scot had already seen you. 

“Aye, lass! Over here!” He said, bearing a smile so wide you could see all his teeth. “I told ya she would come.” He turns to Simon for the last sentence.

Simon takes a sip of his glass, hiding the small smile that escaped his lips, visible due to the small folds he had made on his mask in order to place it on top of his nose. But he knew you would come. He had dealt his cards carefully so that he could safely bet on your return to him. He wraps his arms tighter around the other woman’s waist as you approach their table. “This is Sarah”, he introduces her to you. “She’s a Sergeant.”

You want to barf at the sound of pride in his voice. It doesn’t help that the woman in front of you is gorgeous, exactly the type you knew Simon would go for. You can see her defined muscles under her shirt, and her impeccable posture. She has a tall pint of Guinness on the table in front of her, and a small scar on her left eyebrow that somehow makes her more attractive. The tone of her voice is confident as she introduces herself to you, making an effortless conversation the whole night. Not only that, but she makes Simon laugh. You feel yourself wanting to jump across the table and grab her by the neck, even though she would probably knock you out before you even made it to her side. 

Simon watches you with silent joy, noticing the venom that seeps from your mouth with every smile you make toward Sarah. He can sense the longing in your voice when you talk to him, desperate for his attention, and it’s like music to his ears hearing you after so long. He knew it would be a hard couple of days, or however long you could handle without talking to him before falling back into his arms. It was a risky game that he had played with excellence - leading you to believe you were in control of the situation, choosing to distance yourself from him. It was all calculated, letting you see Sarah’s name on his phone, telling Sarah you would be free to call at that time when he knew he would be with you. It had hurt him to see your suffering, but he needed you to walk away to realize how much you would miss him, and he could see that it had worked. Every crumb of attention he gave to you now was like watching a drug addict relapse into their first high.

The jealousy that seeped from your pores was the best part, he thought. It was a result of pure, unaltered desire, condensing into spikes on your skin that you mentally flicked into Sarah’s direction. Watching his innocent girl fight the urge inside her to go ballistic was a delight. Because you were his girl, even though you didn’t know it yet. He sat comfortably in his chair like he was in a movie theater, spectating from the front row all the conflicting emotions that you screened on your face. 

“I’m going out for a smoke.” He said after some time, grabbing a pack of cigarettes from the pocket of his jacket. He didn’t have to look back to know you were following him, probably after delivering some bullshit excuse to the table. He welcomed the fresh air outside the bar and walked to a corner, your footsteps following behind him. He lit his first cigarette as you approached him. “Smoking now?” The humor is clear in his voice, but you don’t fall for it.

“Started last week. Not that you would know.” You say a blatant lie, holding out your open palm for him to give you a cigarette. 

“I don’t know what this fuss is all about.” His tone is dismissive, knowing where the conversation was heading so he acted like you were making a situation out of nothing. “You’re the one that started ignoring me for no reason.” He gives you a cigarette and you take it to your mouth, both of you fully aware you don’t smoke. But you’re not backing out of any challenges tonight, so when he lights it, you take a long drag of smoke, holding it in your lungs for a few seconds before letting it out. 

“How long have the two of you been dating?” He laughs at your question, shaking his head while he takes a drag of his cigarette. “How long?” You insist. 

“You really think that I would date her?”

“That’s exactly the type I think you would date.” 

“Really? How so?” He’s in front of you now, centering you between him and the wall. He smiles sarcastically while he turns to blow the smoke away from your face, acting like this is all some joke.

“Beautiful, strong, same job as you…” You trail off, fidgeting with the cigarette on the tip of your fingers. “The list goes on.”

“Does it? It seems like a pretty short list to me.” He shrugs, and you can’t help but notice how his muscles flex under his shirt. “How have you been?”

You scoff at the sudden change of topic. “Like you care, Simon.” Deciding you’re done with the conversation, you drop your barely smoked cigarette to the ground, using your foot to put it out, a motion you’ve watched Simon repeat a thousand times. Whenever he smoked, he always made sure you were okay with it first - and if it were anyone else, you wouldn’t be, as you loathed the smell of nicotine. But with him, it was different, everything was. You would watch as his arms flexed, the details of his tattoo poking out from his sleeve as he put the cigarette in his mouth. Hypnotized by his lips, you would try to be discreet, observing the smoke dissipate in the air when he exhaled, dreaming of what his mouth would taste like if you were to kiss him at that moment. 

Before you can leave, he puts his hand on the wall at the same height as your head, caging you with his body. You hold your breath, wide-eyed, looking up at him in surprise, as he disposes of the cigarette with his other hand.

“Of course I care.” Simon loved catching you by surprise, relishing the look in your eyes as you waited for his next move, completely frozen. He adored how you surrendered all control to him without ever noticing it, inert until his gestures gave you permission to move. It was almost like a dance, as you helplessly waited for him to guide you into the next step.

He tucked a strand of hair behind your ear with his free hand, taking time to observe each feature as he let his hand follow down your face, finally landing on your lips. Resting his hand on your chin, he runs his thumb over your soft lips. He wondered what your lips would taste like if he were to kiss you at this moment. 

He could see the rapid movement of your chest, your sweet heart thumping under your ribcage. You dry-swallowed as you tried to calm down your breathing, fear mixing with lust in your veins as you came to the realization of how much power Simon had over you, not just physically, but emotionally. You knew then that there was nothing you wouldn’t do for another chance to have him touching you like this again, so delicately, so intimately. You couldn’t care less if he were to kill you right now, it would have been worth it just for having him look at you like you were the only woman in the world. 

“Stop lying to me, Simon.” He hadn’t even kissed you, yet you knew no other man would ever make you feel that way. You wanted to hate him for leading you on, for listening to you like no one else ever had, knowing it didn’t mean the same to him. But you couldn’t, because this one-sided relationship had been all you had thought about since the two of you had met. 

“Lying? Love, why would I ever want to lie to you? Do my actions not speak louder than my words?” He asks with fake innocence, knowing well enough that you didn’t know about his actions. A good girl like you could never imagine all the things he had done, all the work he did in the shadows, covered in blood and gunpowder so you could sleep safely at night. So he could come back to you with peace of mind, knowing he got his hands dirty so you wouldn’t have to. 

“I can’t do this.” You’re talking to yourself at this point, confessions slipping from your lips in the heat of the moment. “I kept lying to myself thinking that I would be okay with you being with another girl, but I can’t Simon. I can’t handle the thought of sharing you with someone else.”

“You are so oblivious.” He says, taking a step forward and closing the distance between you. His hand moves from your chin to the nape of your neck, intertwining his finger with your hair and softly pulling it, securing you in a firm grasp. “You really think it’s been the Universe solving your problems all this time, huh?” He chuckles, clicking his tongue. His other hand moves down to your waist, grabbing it with a firm grip as he presses you against the wall. “Let me give you a hint. The Universe didn’t beat your bloody ex-boyfriend into a pulp.”

If your eyes could have physically widened more, they would have. Your mind is brought back to the day Simon showed up at your flat at 5 am, his fists bloody and covered in bruises. He had told you it was from a bar fight and you believed him. You had taken him to the kitchen, where he sat on the isle while you positioned yourself between his knees, wet cloth in hand. You took care of his bruises and washed the blood off his hand, not realizing until now it was your ex-boyfriend’s blood. You fell asleep on the couch with Simon afterwards, while you ran your hands through his hair and told yourself that whoever he had hurt must have deserved it. When you woke up to your friend calling you to deliver the news that your ex was in the hospital, beaten beyond recognition, Simon shushed you and convinced you to go back to sleep in his arms. 

It made sense now, why sometimes the coffee shop would charge cheaper for your order because of the “skull guy”, but with the owner’s thick accent, you didn’t think much of it, assuming it was a foreign word for “deal” or “promotion”, sipping your coffee mindlessly as you left the shop. 

Not even when your boss made the sign of the cross and muttered “ghost” every time he crossed your path did you ever realize it had been Simon pulling the strings all along.

When you think back to every problem you had told him about, only to wake up to it magically solved, you finally notice that Simon had been looking out for you all this time, not ever worrying about getting credit for his deeds or the consequences they could ever cause him. 

“How could I not care about you, princess? I would kill for you. All you have to do is ask”. 

[theemporium]

yes please, I love ur Remus stories <3 maybe write about him and reader having a fight but the other boys kinda agree that she's right and remus getting mad at them too? idk if u understand what i mean haha but a happy ending ofc

thank you for requesting!🖤

.

You and Remus didn’t fight often, not really.

You had the odd squabble here and there, the ones that didn’t really mean anything and would usually end with the both of you laughing it off. Or the ones that were so stupid that you’d go a few hours not talking to each other before realising just how dumb you both were.

But it had never been this bad. And it had never been in front of an audience either.

“He’s gonna come around, bug, just gotta give him some time,” Sirius murmured as he slumped down onto the couch next to you, wrapping an arm around you and pulling you into his side.

“Is he though?” you whispered, the thought that had been plaguing your mind for the last few days and saying it out loud only made the pit in your stomach deepen. “He hasn’t spoken to us in three days, Sirius.”

“He’s just a stubborn git sometimes,” Sirius assured you with a soft squeeze to your shoulder. “He needs some time to realise that he’s wrong. He’s gonna come back to us, bug, I know our Moony.” 

“I’m just worried,” you admitted, your chin tucked against your chest as you stared down at your hands, picking at the skin around your nails before another hand reached over to bat your fingers away.

“We are too,” this time it was James who spoke as he settled on the other side of you, flashing you a smile that made the tightness in your chest ease a little. “But he’s a good egg, even if he is a bit emotionally slow sometimes.”

In all honesty, you couldn’t remember exactly what the fight had been about. It started off as a conversation about the full moon and Remus’ safety, and it ended with you two yelling at each other from across the room before he stormed off after Sirius and James stepped in, backing you up.

He didn’t return to the flat that night and you heard from Lily that he had crashed at Mary’s place for the time being. You were happy he was safe but you wish he was home, you wish he was with you. Sleeping in your bed alone only further set you on edge and the fact the house seemed so empty didn’t help. 

It was why the two boys had been hanging around as much as they could. You knew exactly what they were doing, even if they didn’t say it out loud. But you appreciated the gesture nonetheless. 

“What do you feel like for dinner today?” James asked as he reached for the pile of takeout menus lying on the coffee table. “It's your turn.”

Sirius frowned. “I thought it was my turn?”

“Yeah but you’re gonna choose something weird,” James grumbled, narrowly avoiding the attack when Sirius leaned over to smack the back of his head.

You laughed. “Both of you are actual children, I—”

But you cut yourself off when you heard the door lock turning. 

In an instant all three of you were standing, the boys taking a stance in front of you with their wands drawn and ready, only to pause when they noticed it was Remus walking through the door. Remus, with heavy bags under his eyes and a bouquet of your favourite flowers in his hand. 

“Hi,” he whispered, taking in the sight of his two friends before his eyes fell on you.

“Hey,” you whispered back with a timid smile.

“Uh, we’re gonna go!” James suddenly announced as he slapped his hands together. “Isn’t that right, Pads?” 

“Very right indeed, Prongs!” 

If it weren’t for the werewolf standing a few feet away from you, you would have found the sight of two grown wizards scattering and rushing towards the door quite amusing. But your attention was completely snagged on your boyfriend.

“Let me just get this out before you say anything,” Remus quickly spoke up before you could even open your mouth. “Please.”

You nodded for him to continue.

“I’m sorry, baby,” he whispered out as he began to walk closer to you. “I am so fucking sorry for being an idiot these past few days. I am sorry for having my head up my ass. I am sorry that you just cared about me and my safety and I freaked out on you.” 

His eyes never left yours as he stopped a few inches in front of you, letting out a shaky breath. “I guess it’s still hard for me to remember that I have people who care about me and accept me. That I have someone like you who loves me unconditionally.”

“Even when you’re being an ass,” you added with a soft smile.

Remus grinned. “Even when I’m being an ass.”

“I just want you to be safe,” you murmured softly, almost as if you were scared to kick off the argument all over again.

“I know, I’m sorry I freaked out,” he muttered as he placed the flowers down gently before taking your face in his hands. “I love you and I would have done the same for you.”

You leaned into his touch. “I love you too, Lupin.” 

“Thank fuck for that,” he said with a sigh of relief before he leaned down to kiss you.

“Be honest,” you muttered against his lips. “Did Mary kick your ass when you told her the whole story?”

Remus snorted. “Big time.” 

Your grin widened. “I knew I loved her.”

.

[yviqq]

jason todd || stake outs, they never really... work

i.e. jason peter todd brain rot hit my brain in the middle of the night when i had an assignment to complete (the assignment was never completed) with this song on REPEAT.

warning: this fic was an oc insert, the only thing changed was the name (or lack of... i suppose) !!!

afab!reader, she/her reader, reader has unnamed boyfriend, reader cheats on said unnamed boyfriend, a lot of f bombs, this is unfinished, stops just when they bouta...

“I didn’t know your eyes were so green,” she mumbled, almost incoherently as her nail graced his cheekbone like it never left, “Like… Deep green.”

Jason doesn’t need a mirror to know his ears are already doing the thing where they’re all flushed, he can feel in the way his breaths stop at that point in his throat, feel it in the way his heart starts stuttering against her hand on his chest. Fuck.

He fidgets underneath her, hands flat on the floor of his van as he tries to sit up, “They’re not— Well sometimes they are… Just… Could you get off me? ... Please?”

Her eyes flicker (and God he wished he didn’t notice the way they wander his body to his lips) before her hand leaves his chest, her nail stopping its movements, and she's sat with her knees to her chin. With a groan, she rests her chin on her knees, quickly replacing it with their forehead when she groans even louder.

Jason chuckles, glad to have his space again but somehow missing the flush of his ears. Fuck. His stupid revived brain cannot be doing this right now. Not on a stake out, not on a stake out with his best friend, not on a stake out with his best friend who just so happens to have a boyfriend of a couple months— Yeah… That’s fucked.

A silence wafts through them, and they both wonder if the other can tell there’s something more in the silence than just that, than just silence.

She shivers at the very thought, shuffling away to one of the computers of the van. Jason stills, finding the back of the van suddenly extremely comfortable as he watches her hands type away. He watches her every move, the way only the slightest movement of her hair falling to her face would irk her off and she’d tuck it back into the back of her ear just as quick as it moved, the way her bottom lips insides were bitten as she examined whatever was on that monitor, the way her eyes flicked from the monitor to Jason— Oh.

“What?” She mumbled. Odd, he realised, she never really mumbled around him before— Not when they were kids, teens, after his revival, not after anything. She was always so…. Snarky.

He clears his throat in hopes it’d clear his mind too, “Nothing, nothing—” he curses at his awkward responses, he was never like this around her before either— “Just lost in thought.”

She nodded, understanding as always, quiet as never.

“Jason…” his heart jumped to his throat at the sound of her voice merely uttering the two syllables that made up his name, “Do you wanna pass some time with me?”

His mind started rushing and his blood started squeezing around his veins at obscure speeds, down, down, down. He let out his second and hopefully last awkward chuckle, “Like a game of ‘I Spy?’?”

They used to play that all the time back in detention whenever Prof. Duong started nodding off to dream lands far far away from that dumb school for the troubled. But Jason guessed they weren’t back at detention, guessed they weren’t really kids anymore when she started to inch closer to him than ever.

He tried his best to look everywhere but her, in hopes his hands didn’t jump at the chance to grab her waist and just have her as near as possible— But of course, as always, he failed. And all of a sudden his eyes couldn’t leave the two piercings that sat symmetrically on her bottom lip— and his thoughts couldn’t leave the mere feel of them against his lips alone.

“No, birdie wonder,” she made herself at home between his legs, on her knees as she leaned in closer and closer. She hadn’t changed her perfume since before his death, he realised when she was just a couple of inches away, “Something more… Grown up?”

The only thing keeping him grounded, keeping him from absolutely taking her in with all his soul, was the two necklaces that were clasped onto her neck. His mothers necklace, and a newer one— A silver heart-shaped locket engraved with the lettering ‘K’.

His hand comes up to fiddle with it, “Hm… Do you think ‘K’ would approve of this?”

That stalls her, just for a bit, just for a small stutter of her heart. All until her hands leave his chest— and he starts wishing he never said anything about no stupid ‘K’— and goes behind her neck to unclasp the poor thing.

She slides it to the other side of the van, “Fuck it.”

The very moment she turns around, he knows how those piercings feel against his lips— Right.

His thumb caresses her cheekbone as he leads their kiss down so that she’s on the floor of the van. His knee comes up and slots easily between her legs as he’s met with the surprise that she’s got a piercing in her tongue as well. He shivers down into a small groan against her lips, his other hand sliding up her shirt and tracing the line of her bra.

She whimpers into his lips and he wishes he could let that consume all of him forever, keep that exact moment engraved in his brain as the feeling of her reverberates across his very soul. He wonders if ‘K’’s ever felt that exact same whimper on his lips, and wonders if he even took care of her like Jason could.

His kisses grew hotter yet languid in the way of savouring every moment their lips touched, he starts to kiss down from her lips, down to the expanse of her neck where he held himself back on leaving any mark of some sort, down to her collar bone where he left the smallest of nips that made the smallest of moans leave her shaky lips.

He looks at her through the gaps of his lashes, the way her eyebrows furrowed and her lips trembled at just his teasing knee and a couple nibs and kisses. He grew hot. And bothered. Very bothered.

But before he could do any more than just that he huffs as he spoke out to her, “Are you sure...? Are you so sure this is what you want? ... With me?”

[ithinkabouttzu]

omg feel free to ignore but can you do BoB headcanons of having a female medic s/o with big boobs 🙏

Easy co.’s reaction to having a nurse s/o with big boobs

genre: Fluff; suggestive

warnings: Language, suggestion (sorry guys)

description: Easy company’s men reaction to you (their s/o) being their nurse and having big boobs.

a/n: Hey!! Sorry I totally didn’t see the medic part and I accidentally wrote it as nurse i’m so sorry 😭 Anywho, just a reminder that this isn’t any hate towards any itty-bitty-titty community at all! (love you guys for real!) Also, some of these might seem like they’re sexualizing the reader but please don’t take it that way, it’s all supposed to be about love!! Hope you enjoy reading <3

Taglist: @sweetxvanixlla @ronsparky @samwinchesterslostshoe @executethyself35 @linhkhanhcps @1waveshortofashipwreck @grumpy-liebgott @barbeygirl (if you want to be added to the taglist, let me know!)

Dick Winters: - He tries to be the most respectful, it’s inappropriate to look at your body that way and he really respects you.

- But he also is fighting himself from blushing when he sees how your figure looks in your nurses uniform

- He finds you beautiful regardless though, no matter what your chest size is (even tho he’s had a very hard time trying not to stare)

Lewis Nixon: - his eyes get really big when he sees you in your nurse uniform, your cleavage out almost perfectly.

- His throat becomes dry, he feels the urge to drink water, lots of it from his recent thirst, but it seems the only thing he’s thirsty for is you.

- After seeing only men for the past months, and you being the first women he sees in the hospital, he almost dies flat out and he would be completely happy to do so

Carwood Lipton: - He doesn’t even notice at first, he only looks when you have to reach across his body in order to find a good vein.

- His face gets so red, one because he’s guilty for looking, another because he’s absolutely in awe of the beautiful things in front of him

- He still tries to not objectify you, but he truly finds you beautiful in general. He can’t help but get goosebumps at the thought of seeing you again

Joe Toye: - Man when he sees you in that nurses dress, after almost a year of seeing only the men around him, he gets so close to losing it

- He literally starts drooling at the mouth whenever he sees you, you’re like a dream come true, an answer to every single one of his prayers.

- When you do get close to him it’s like he can’t breathe, your body only clouds his mind with unholy thoughts and the dying urge to feel your pretty chest. He’s absolutely desperate for you and getting to know you for the rest of his stay at the hospital.

Joe Liebgott: - NOW WE ALL KNOW THIS MAN IS HAVING THE TIME OF HIS LIFE When he sees you, he actually does lose it, a big smile rising onto his face as though the girl of his dreams is now assigned as his nurse

- He’s an absolute slut for you. Like he’s gonna try his absolute best to make you his, whatever he has to do, he’ll do it. He can’t help but flirt with you any chance he can get.

- When it’s getting close to the end of his stay, he’s dreading it. Only wishing to see you everyday. He’ll practically beg to see you again sometime, or if he can write to you. And being good friends you say yes, making him the happiest man alive.

Bill Guarnere: - He’s probably the biggest flirt you’ve had as a patient. The look on his face is the equivalence of a kid in a candy store for the first time. He’s quick to introduce himself to you, bringing out his best charm for you

- “You always walk around looking like that? It’s killin’ me, doll, and you know it” He would whisper in your ear as you take care of him. It’s hard not to give in when he’s so enticing like this, his voice sending you chills when he talks to you so romantically.

- He’d promise he’d write to you once he gets better, making sure that once the war was over, he’d find you again and take you out the right way.

George Luz: -He gets so smiley when he sees you, he doesn’t mean to stare at your chest, in his defense your chest was kinda staring at him first, your uniform was a bit tight in the upper half making you a bit more revealed, but he didn’t mind one bit.

-He was actually rather joyful, whenever he saw you, you brought his hopes up a bunch. It always made him so happy to see you. Just being around a women and getting to be taken care of by you was a dream.

- He loves every second that he has with you, I could definitely see him being quite smitten with you after you taking such good care of him.

Eugene Roe: - He gets super shy around you and finds it pretty hard to make eye contact for the longest. He never thought he’d be the one to end up hurt, especially when he was supposed to be the one to help people get better, but being around you makes things a lot better.

- Sometimes he’d like to imagine that you guys are together while you’re taking care of him and when he’s really sad. just a lovely girlfriend taking care of her sick boyfriend is what he sees in his head (even tho he knows that’s not the case)

- When you ask if he’d like for you to write letters, he almost finds it impossible that a gorgeous girl like you, would want him to be your man. He’s estatic and would say yes immediately.

Bull Randleman: - It’s love at first sight for him. “Wow” is all he can say under his breath when he sees you for the first time. It’s an amazing sight.

- In the most non-offensive way possible, you’re like a wet dream come true to him. A sweet, pretty girl, with the prettiest tits known to man, taking care of him while he’s hurt.

- It’s like a dream for the rest of his time there. He waits and counts down the hours until you take care of him again, he’s just so happy to be in your presence.

Floyd Talbert: - After everything he’s endured the past months, you’re the best thing he’s ever seen. Literally a gift from God. You and your amazing top half mesmerizing him by the way you do practically anything.

- He looks forward to every-time he sees you. And when he does he’s flirting with you nonstop. “You know, when all this is over with, I would love to get to know you better.”

- He’s gotta a staring problem really bad, he tries to stop, but he can’t help it. You’re the first woman he’s laid eyes on in so long and he just can’t get enough of your body.

Skip Muck: - “Christ in heaven, you’re the best thing i’ve seen my entire life” He says when you walk to his bed, urgent for your care. “How are you today beautiful? Do I need to fight any fellas for giving you a problem?” He’s very playful with you, but there’s only truth to his words.

- He thinks you’re so pretty though, he’s like a schoolgirl crushing on her teacher, anticipating for your arrival everyday, and being a pet to you everytime you are around.

- When his stay is ending, he finally confesses his feelings to you, letting you know how much he actually enjoys spending time with you, and how he would love to see you after the war.

Don Malarkey:- He’s like a little boy around you, so cheerful and happy. When he first met you he was struck by your pretty face, and its was no surprise that your chest was perfect too.

- He tries being respectful every time you’re around, but it’s hard not to steal a glance at your pretty chest every now and then. You never fail to send butterflies down his body when you get close to him too.

-He’s extra sweet to you always, calling you ma’am respectfully, asking if he can do anything for you despite his physical condition. He’s just very happy to have a positive energy like you around him.

Babe Heffron: - “My goodness, what have I done to deserve you” He says when he sees you walk over to him, it doesn’t even matter if he’s hurt, he can’t feel it anymore. Only thing he can feel is a burning desire for you.

- You’ll catch him staring towards you a lot, he doesn’t even try to hide his staring eyes. He is truly fascinated with you.

- When his stay gets cut short, he asks you if you’d like for him to write to you, it was the sweetest you’d ever saw him. When you said yes he would grab you in a hug and swing you around with joy.

Shifty Powers: - He’s the most respectful out of all the guys. He’s well aware of how perfect your chest is, but he’s not going out of his way to make you uncomfortable at all. He’s pretty mature about it.

- But he does find you beautiful, to him, your body is obviously amazing, but you are so much more to him then just a nice nurse with pretty tits. You’re amazing girl that he would love to know more of.

- He probably would tell you how he feels later on once his time there was up, it he would be super nice and respectful about it.

Frank Perconte: - He’s like a dog to a bone, absolutely enamored with you and your smokin’ body (as he would like to call it)

- “What a dame” He’d say under his breath, suddenly in the need of water by your nice looks. He’s definitely gotta staring problem (he really can’t help it 😭)

- “When all this is over with, you wanna come home with me, pretty girl?” He would flirt with you until he physically can’t anymore

Ronald Speirs: - He doesn’t want to give you a huge reaction, but if you could read his mind, you’d be surprised about the things he’d been thinking about….

- “Doll, do you know the effect that you leave on half of the guys in this place? I can’t tell you what all they’d do just to touch you”

- In all, he’s mesmerized by your body and the way you move. Even in the most basic moments, he just can’t help but watch you do your job.

Skinny Sisk: - “You’re my nurse, wow. Is it my lucky day or somethin’?” When he sees you, he’s so happy that you’re gonna be the one taking care of him

- He’s a big simp for you, if you need anything, someone to talk to, help (if he’s physically able) then he’s more then willing to do it.

- He’s so smiley and happy around you it’s so sweet!! He tries not to stare at your amazing rack but he thinks you’re the prettiest he’s ever seen.

Chuck Grant: - “Golly, am I in heaven?” He thinks you’re an absolute angel after all of the hell he’s seen. If good looks could kill, he’d be willing to die under your watch.

- He has to remind himself constantly than your eyes are “up there” instead of anything otherwise, but he can’t concentrate on anything when you’re in the room (for obvious reasons ofc)

- He’s well behaved on the most part though, just a sweet bby who loves your chest like it’s nothing LOL

Johnny Martin: - He actually feels so much better when he finds out you are gonna he his nurse. Christmas day came early for him (a pretty girl with nice tits was for sure on his list)

- “What are you doin’ here? Shouldn’t you be performing at some show or something, you’re too pretty to work” He doesn’t understand why you’re having to move a finger tbh, you’re too precious to him 😭

- “I had a nice time with you while I was here, if you ever wanna write to me, you can, doll” He honestly gets kinda sad when he knows he won’t be able to wake up to your pretty face (and tits) everyday.

David Webster: - Tbh you’re the real reason why he’s in the hospital for so damn long 🤣 like the moment he met you he just had to be around you at all times

- He stares a lot, and has a quite bit of dirty daydreams containing your chest and him 😭

- Honestly he didn’t even think he was a boobs guy until he met you, you really changed him for the better

Buck Compton: - He’s this emoji: 🤤, actually drooling at the mouth, you look so good to him.

- He’s never been happier to be in a hospital at the moment, your presence is enough to bring him back to full health tbh

- He’s super thankful in general that he has such a pretty and well rounded (see what I did there ) nurse taking care of him while he’s down

Thank you for your request! If you enjoyed, make sure to reblog or like! 🩷

[your-queer-dad]

Hi Finch!

I just tried on my new binder (the one I told you about a few days ago). I'm glad that I tried to manage my expectations, I think I'd be upset now if I hadn't done that... but let me tell you about the new binder.

The front is a lot less stiff than my other one. That's not what I expected, but it makes sense given the descriptions n stuff. It's also more flexible and comfortable than my other one. That's good, because I bought it primarily for the comfort. Now, the compression it gives is just a little more than a sports bra, which is fine, my other one doesn't do wonders either, that one just looks like more bc the front is more stiff and does a better job at concealing the under boob gap thingy (if you know what I mean). Overall I think I like this one but I might still look into buying another one of the first one, but in skin color. Idk, we'll see.

I wish binders would do more for me compression wise. For some reason my chest doesn't get compressed a lot even though it's on the small side. I feel like the tissue is just dense or something? Idk, I don't have a lot of knowledge regarding the density of tissue in that area lol. I just want a clearer picture in my head of what I might look/feel like with a flat chest, you know? And I need tools like the binder to get that picture as having aphantasia means I can't just imagine it, which is really annoying. I don't really have any notable dysphoria, I just want to know if I'd feel more comfortable with a flat chest. Idk, gender is weird...

Anyway! As for binder safety, I don't wear binders in my day-to-day life, I just sometimes put them on for pride events or dinners n stuff like that. I should be good to go on that front ^^ instead of binding I just do the slouching method lol, I know that's not great either but I think it's slightly better?

I think that's it from me for today though! I hope you and everyone else who reads this has/had a wonderful day ^^ go hydrate and take care of yourselves everyone!

- 🌌🌃

Hey kiddo! I completely understand your frustration with binders not compressing fully, I have a similar situation and it can be frustrating. But I'm really glad you have it as an option!!

- dad x

[floral-force]

first request ever for you so HERE WE GO! i’m kinda stuck on the thought of like, angst right now. maybe hurt/comfort. but here’s the idea: i haven’t finished s3 yet so pardon me if this is completely wrong, but imagine like, in general, din, the other mandalorian and friends are going to battle to like re-take mandalore or smth, take over smth that’s very important. reader and grogu are both force sensitive and when din thinks victory is theirs, one last attack hits, making reader grab grogu and like bins their force together like from fire, and reader ends up getting burned. i need a nice juicy hurt/comfort with some marriage at the end 🤞

I really ran away with this idea. I needed to flex my din djarin muscles again and this was a great prompt for that! I got into a flow, one thing led to another, and now I present you with the fic below. all I can do now is sit and hope you enjoy it!

(requests are open! search the tags #prompt requests or #prompts and send me an ask!)

The Only Hope for Me Is You

Din Djarin x GN!Reader, Force user!Reader

summary: Din’s fearless, Force-sensitive partner has been at his side through everything. Unknown to him, his partner has slowly fallen in love with him. When Din gets the chance to start a new life after they help retake Mandalore, a confession paves a new path. Will they choose to take it?

words: 4.8k+

warnings/tags: my blog is 18+ ONLY/NO MINORS, fluff, first kiss, minor injury (burn), Mando'a pet names, marriage, soft!din djarin, the helmet comes off, grogu is a guest star

read on ao3 | masterlist | send a request

They were fearless and brave—something Din deeply admired about them. They never hesitated to protect Grogu or scout ahead of Din. Sometimes, he’d nearly beg them to stay behind him or at least stay close. They’d insist that they’d be okay— “I have the Force on my side, Din”—but the love he carried for them in his beskar-plated chest would have him close to begging them to let him protect them. Din would fall to his knees for them and grant their every wish. He wished he could rip open his chest and show them how his heart beat only for them and the child.

Din had gripped their arms before they both left the ship to retake Mandalore, had told them that they needed to put their and the child’s safety first. He thought he’d gotten through to them, had broken through their stubbornness. Din really thought that telling them how important they were to him back on Nevarro would soften it and make them more compliant when he asked them to listen for their own safety. They’d nodded and held Grogu closer to their chest, leaned into Din’s touch when he put a gloved hand on their cheek, kissed his palm with their soft lips.

Din should have known better.

When a fireball was headed towards where he, Bo, Grogu and they knelt, Din knew Bo’s small shield would do nothing. He accepted that he’d die for his home and his people. He’d closed his eyes, took a deep breath, and made peace with it as it barreled towards them, the heat closing in. But when he looked to his side to look at them and Grogu one last time, they weren’t there. They were on their knees next to the child in front of him and Bo, their left arm extended, the other flat against the ground behind Grogu. Their body was angled slightly in front of Grogu, a protective stance so they would take the brunt of any injury. His breath caught in his throat when he realized the fire was splitting around them, diverted by an invisible forcefield that they and Grogu created with their powers. Bo looked at Din, and he glanced at her, but kept his helmet trained on them. 

Din moved again when the fire dissipated and they yelped, falling forward to the ground, Grogu plopping down to sit. His breath caught in his throat—they were alive, but he could tell their breaths were labored from exertion. Bo scooped Grogu into her arms and nodded at Din before lifting into the air. Din shook his head when he took them into his arms, noticing a blistering burn spreading up their left forearm from the wrist to the elbow. As he followed Bo into the air and escaped with them from the crumbling cave, he squeezed them closer in his arms, whispering their name to himself. 

He hoped to whatever powers may be that they would be okay, that he’d get to spend another day with his brave partner and son. 

“Din?” you groaned, rubbing your eyes. Your vision was blurry and the environment around you was dark and quiet. All you knew was that you were laying down on a ship, the mattress under your back firm and the hum of engines filling your ears. Your pulse quickened and you nearly shouted, “Where am I?”

Your anxiety started to fade away when a familiar hand brushed your head, rubbing its thumb across your sweaty forehead.

“Shh, cyar’ika, I’m here.” Your vision adjusted, and you saw a beskar helmet hovering over you. Din was on your left side, forcing you to gently turn your head to see him better. “We’re going back to Nevarro.”

You made a mental note to ask him about that word later. “It’s over?”

He nodded. “It’s over.” When you went to move your left arm, you hissed in pain. Din gently pressed your hand back down to rest on the rack. “You’re hurt. Don’t move that arm.”

You lifted your head up and looked down your torso to see your forearm wrapped in a bandage, some pink splotches bleeding through the white material. You looked for Grogu, but when you didn’t see him, you panicked. 

“Where is—What happened to Gro—”

“He’s okay,” Din assured, his voice low and grounding. 

He was the calm in your storm, always calling you back when you drifted away. It was one of the things you loved about him. Din centered you and grounded you, reminded you of your strength and power. Without Din, you’d surely be dead by now. Even the Force couldn’t save you from making rash decisions driven by emotion alone. 

It was why you couldn’t train Grogu when Din found you and asked you. You’d agreed to travel with him and at least get Grogu started, help him start to channel his abilities. At least you’d be able to leave the backwater planet you were hiding on and start to consider the possibility of a new life elsewhere. Slowly, you got to know your beskar pilot better, constantly fighting the feelings growing within you. He was witty and smart, protective and surprisingly passionate. Din had made it incredibly hard not to fall for him when he gave you gentle touches and soft reassurances. 

You were the one comforting him when he gave Grogu away to Luke Skywalker. Din had looked at you later on Boba’s ship and taken your hand in his, giving it a tight squeeze. You selfishly hoped he felt the same, but it wasn’t likely. You had let your feelings consume you not long ago, but you stood on uncertain ground with the armored object of your affection. The doubt festered within you even after he’d taken you aside and told you that you mattered a great deal to him and the child, and that you needed to be careful.

But those feelings were why you didn’t hesitate to leave his side and stay next to the selfless little child as he fought back the fireball. You joined him and felt your energy quickly fading; you hadn’t exerted yourself this much in years. You held on and fought back the black threatening your vision, pushing yourself to protect your little family and the woman who had looked out for all of you. You must have let go a little too early, judging by the bandage on your arm. If getting a burn meant your family survived, then you would gladly offer your skin to the flames every day for the rest of your life.

Looking into the visor above you, you had no doubt in your mind about where your heart was and who you were called home to. The galaxy had given you a purpose when Din had entered your small hut with a tiny, big-eared, green baby in his satchel. You were determined to fight for them with every breath you took. Even if Din didn’t feel the same, you’d defend him with your dying breath. That was what mattered.

“Are you okay, Din?” You asked, your voice hoarse.

He nodded and reached over your torso to place a hand on your waist, gripping it as if he could lose you again at any moment. “I’m fine, cyar’ika. Bo is flying us back to Nevarro, and we’ll go from there.”

There was that word again. You swallowed and felt fatigue sweeping over your body again. You looked up at him and asked meekly, “Can I go back to sleep?”

He chuckled, a low hum in his chest. He said your name with a nod. “Yes. I’ll be here at your side the entire time.”

You gave him one last smile before closing your eyes and drifting back to sleep.

You’d grinned when Din told Karga he’d take up his offer of land and a cabin. The two men shook hands as Grogu cooed in your arms. Greef had looked at you both with a knowing smile. 

“Hopefully, you can all rest now. Nevarro is thankful for all that you’ve done.”

Din nodded at his old friend. “I can’t thank you enough.”

Greef shook his head. “Not necessary, my friend. It’s the least I can do.”

The cabin was modest in size and decoration. It had basic furniture and cookware, enough to get by while shopping around for new things. The hot spring in front of the cabin kept Grogu occupied, and the porch let Din kick his feet back and relax for the first time in his life. Din left that same day to make a quick trip to the Adelphi outpost and told you about his offer to Captain Teva upon his return. While it made you nervous—these Imperial remnants were serious threats—you were glad he could return to bounty hunting on his terms with somewhere stable to return to. The end of this journey left you even more uncertain about your place in the world—was it with Din and the child? Were you meant to leave and start a life somewhere else, hiding again?

That night, you sat on the porch with him under the stars. His armor and gloves were off, his bare tan skin in the open air. You felt entirely at peace—Grogu was asleep in the cabin, your belly was still full from dinner, cheeks a little heated from the wine you’d indulged in—and you were overjoyed to be sharing this with Din. Despite your confusion, you were so grateful to share this moment of calm with him as he began a new life. So much so, that you needed to tell him. You couldn’t stand the thought of leaving things unsaid. You stood up and cleared your throat. His helmet turned to look at you, the hand he had resting on his thigh clenching into a fist.

“Din, I have something to tell you.”

“Are you alright, cyar’ika?” Din asked with worry in his modulated voice. “Is it your burn? Are you injured?”

Before he could get up and fuss over you, you shook your head and pushed on his chest so he’d relax back into the chair. “No, Din, I’m fine. I promise. It’s just—” you bit your lip and glanced around— “this is important.”

“You can tell me,” he said, sitting up and taking your hands in his. His gentleness never failed to surprise you. The man had killed so many for his son and for you, had fought his way through hell and back just to help retake his people’s home, had experienced so much hurt and pain. But despite it all, he sat in front of you stripped of his armor, defenseless and trusting you not to hurt him.

You turned your head to stare at the flats stretching into the dark. Your eyes glanced up at the stars to avoid his helmet before dropping to the cement beneath your shifting feet. Taking a deep breath to center yourself, you turned your head and focused back on the visor and how the beskar was gently lit by the two warm yellow porch lights. You absentmindedly stroked your bandage and sighed.

“I love you, Din.” Your heart was drumming in your chest and shaking your skin. 

He was silent. Off in the distance, something chirped, and you heard yourself swallow. You weren’t sure if you preferred silence, or his modulated voice, even if it was a rejection. The doubts that lay dormant within your chest rose with a snarl and twisted under your ribs. Each second that passed in silence let them sink their claws into you a little bit more each time.

Finally, he softly whispered your name and squeezed your hands. Din rose to his feet and gently pulled you closer. You could smell him—sandalwood, musk, leather. Intoxicating and alluring, just as it had been from the beginning. You wanted so badly to taste him, too—to feel his lips on yours and melt into him.

“I love you too,” he murmured. Din cupped your cheek with his hand and stroked it with his thumb.

You sighed in relief and chuckled, dropping his hand to rest yours on his chest, tugging on the fabric of his flight suit. Din wrapped his arms around you and held you close in his embrace, a large hand cupping the back of your head. You sank into his warmth and let yourself go limp with love, feeling your mind calm for the first time in a long time. 

“I was really hoping you’d say that,” you mumbled into his chest.

“You thought I wouldn’t?” he asked, his words vibrating underneath you.

You shook your head. “I thought you wouldn’t want…” You trailed off and hummed. 

“Wouldn’t want what? Wouldn’t want you?”

When you nodded against him, he dropped his arms and gripped yours, his warm palms burning through the fabric of your sleeves. Din took a step back and shook his head.

“That couldn’t be further from the truth, cyar’ika.”

You felt your eyes start to water. “Really?” 

He nodded and ran his hands along the curve of your shoulders to your neck. Broad thumbs stroked the underside of your jaw. Your chest expanded with something warm and bright, the Force flowing through you with an unusual calmness. Your doubts had fled into the night, replaced with that glowing love and calm that only something truly wonderful can create. It felt as if you were meditating and at one with everything around you. You wouldn’t want to feel this way with anyone else.

“I adore you.” Din stated. “You’re one of the most fearless and honorable people I know. You’re selfless to a fault, always putting others first.” He chuckled. “I think the burn is proof of that.”

You smiled. “I’d have to agree.”

He nodded. “You’re the most beautiful person I’ve ever seen, cyar’ika.”

“I think you are too, Din.”

“You’ve never even seen me.”

You shrugged. “Don’t have to. I just know you are.”

“Would you—” Din cleared his throat. “Would you want to see me?”

“Din, no, your Creed—”

“I can remove it—” he said, cutting you off— “when I find the person I want to marry.”

You felt as if he’d stolen the air from your lungs, everything leaving your body with a sudden, stunned exhale. You’d been at his side throughout this journey with him and only stayed behind a few times, one of which being his redemption in the living waters. He hadn’t told you much about that moment, but you didn’t need all the details to know how much it meant to him. You could practically see him beaming under his beskar when the covert accepted him again. Hearing him offer to remove his helmet just so you could see him filled you with love, but fear as well. 

He caught on to your hesitancy and nerves. “Are you afraid I’m ugly?”

“No, I just—I…” You stopped and sighed, your chest deflating. “I don’t want to be the reason you become an apostate again.”

“No, cyar’ika, no.” He placed one of his hands on your waist. “Mandalorians can remove their helmets for the person they want to marry.”

Your eyes widened. “You want…to marry me?”

“I wouldn’t ask if I wasn’t sure.”

He was right. When he spoke, there was rarely uncertainty in his words. Din was unwavering and steadfast, rigid and surefooted. 

“And that’s one of the things I love about you.” You gave him an affectionate smile. “But, you’re sure?” Din nodded; you raised an eyebrow. “Absolutely certain?” Another nod. “Entirely, fully—”

Din drawled your name and laughed, dropping his hands to his sides. “There’s nobody else I want to spend forever with.”

“Not your son?” He groaned and you patted his chest, letting your hand linger over his heart. “Just teasing you, my love.”

Din placed his hands over yours and asked, “You’re sure you want to be with me? That you want to see me?”

“Absolutely, positively, one-hundred percent sure.” You leaned forward and pressed a kiss to the back of his hand, skin warm under your lips. 

All he did was nod and bring his hands to the side of his helmet. You watched him turn away to take it off, a soft hiss before he removed it and revealed tousled brown curls to you. His hair was short and messy, and you already adored him. Din set his helmet on the chair, and you heard him take a deep breath before facing you again. Your breath hitched in your throat when you laid your eyes upon him for the first time.

Maker, he was ethereal. 

Even with the dim light, you could see a hint of a flush across his cheeks. His brow had a few lines showing his age and the stress of his profession. A mustache lay above his plush, pink lips. It was nearly impossible to resist smothering them with yours the longer you stared at him. Patchy brown scruff crept up from his soft jawline; you tilted your head and saw a small patch of gray near his jaw on the left side. You made a mental note to kiss that spot often. His curved nose split his face almost perfectly in two, accenting it perfectly. It was hard to make out the color of his eyes, so you took a step forward and squinted, placing your hands on his cheeks. Din inhaled sharply at your touch, his eyes fluttering closed for a moment before opening and gazing into yours again. Finally, you were able to make out the color—a warm chestnut brown. 

“Din,” you breathed. “You’re beautiful.”

He placed a hand over one of your wrists, the other on your cheek. Seeing him softly smile made your heart soar and touch the stars above. He leaned in and your heart started to race as those warm eyes got closer to yours, his lips now close enough that you could lean forward and close the gap. Electricity ran up your spine when he whispered your name; you could feel his breath push against your mouth, tempting you to give in. Your bones felt like they were vibrating; whether it was from nerves or your unconscious disturbance in the Force, you weren’t sure.

“You have no idea how happy it makes me to finally see you without the visor.” His low voice was even sweeter without the vocoder’s slight modulations. His thumb stroked back and forth over your skin, leaving you breathless.

“I’ve never been happier than I am now,” you confessed.

Din nodded, his eyes half closed and flitting between yours and your lips. “Me too, cyar’ika. I love you.”

You choked back a happy sob with a chuckle and a soft smile. “I love you too, Din,” you panted.

Din stole his name from your mouth as his lips crashed into yours. The fingers on your cheek gently pressed into your skin as if he was afraid of you slipping away into the night. His grip on your wrist loosened and he grabbed your waist, pulling you even closer to him. Yours fell to his neck, trailing down to his chest, nails scratching against the fabric hiding his skin from your greedy touch. Din pulled back only an inch and you both panted, catching your breath. His hand moved to the back of your head and his fingers rubbed slow circles into your scalp.

“I’ll never get enough of you.”

You shook your head and gave him a quick kiss. “I want to get married tomorrow.”

Din pressed another breathless kiss to your lips. “Tomorrow?”

You nodded and stroked his jaw with your right hand’s knuckles, lavishing in how he nearly whimpered at the feeling of your skin on his. You knew that you’d never be able to see or touch his handsome face enough. It was a sight you wanted to see forever. His smile lit you up from the inside out, sent shockwaves throughout your body. He calmed you even more without his helmet.

“Yeah,” you smiled against his lips. “I can’t wait any longer.”

His laugh was warm and lighter than you’d ever heard it before. “You’ve always been impatient.”

“Oh, you love it, Din Djarin.”

Din nodded. “I do,” he rasped against your mouth, quiet pants mixing with yours. 

His lips melted into yours once again, making your brain buzz with ecstasy. If this was a dream, you never wanted to wake up.

He woke up the next morning in bed with them at his side. He rolled over to face them, propping himself up on his elbow, resting his head on the heel of his hand. They lay on their right side, lips slightly parted and a little speck of drool on the corner of them. The morning light cast a natural spotlight on them and made Din’s heart burn even more for his soon-to-be riduur—his spouse, his partner for life. He felt himself smile as their eyes slowly opened, squinting and then focusing on him. They beamed at Din, filling the room with their radiance. 

“Hello, handsome,” they said with a hoarse voice. Din hummed when their fingers graced over his cheek, nails gently grazing his stubble. “You ready?”

“As I’ll ever be, cyar’ika.” 

“I forgot to ask,” they yawned. “What does that word mean?”

“Cyar’ika?” They nodded, and Din continued, “It means darling. Sweetheart.”

They gave him a sleepy smile. “I like that. Maybe I’ll start using it.”

Din pinched their chin and shook his head. “No. That word is yours.”

“I’m not a Mandalorian, goofy.”

“But soon you’ll be married to one.” Din laughed when they rolled their eyes and groaned dramatically. “It’s yours. It always has been.”

They gave Din a soft smile, then rolled onto their back and reached out for the holopad on the bedside table. Din watched them push themselves up and lean back against the headboard with a few tired huffs. He pushed himself up and scooted closer, pressing his leg against theirs, feeling their warm skin against his. They were talking, but Din was too focused on their beauty that he missed everything.

“Din?” they said, raising an eyebrow. “Did you get all of that?”

“No,” he grabbed their jaw and pulled them in for a kiss. “I was too busy staring at you.”

He loved the way they looked when they were flustered—face-splitting smile, nose crinkled, and the corners of their eyes creased. 

“That’s very sweet, my love. But this time, I need you to listen.” They cleared their throat. “Bo is coming over in an hour to go with me into town. Karga is coming over a little bit after that to get you and Grogu. The Armorer said the late evening—right at dusk—is when we’ll have the ceremony, and she told you to meet her there an hour beforehand.”

“Dusk?” Din’s eyebrows knitted together. “She didn’t give a time?”

They shook their head and held out the pad. Din took it and they got up, swallowing and feeling his ears heat up when he saw that they were still naked. Last night had been incredible to say the least. He wasn’t upset that they hadn’t hidden their stunning body under fabric before falling asleep on his chest, one of their hands resting on it, and the other loosely clutching his bicep. Stroking their head as they drifted off to sleep had been one of the most peaceful experiences of Din’s life. If this was going to be the rest of his life, then he was the luckiest man in the galaxy.

Din was reminded of that at dusk under a purple sky when they stood in front of him again, staring at him and into his eyes despite the visor. It hurt to see them with a barrier again, but the Armorer assured him they’d have a hidden moment alone together after the ceremony. He could feel the joy radiating off them, enveloping him in a safe embrace that only they could ever give him. Grogu made a small noise, and he looked down at his son, one of his tiny claws touching his calf. After this, they’d be a clan of three, and Din could be free to show his face in his home—their clan’s home—with his riduur and their little green ad’ika. 

Din had never been happier in his entire life.

The ceremony flashed by—Mandalorians were known for their prowess in battle, not lengthy displays of love—and soon Din was holding hands with his riduur. Grogu sat on a rock within arm’s reach, focused on levitating a few random pebbles on the ground. His helmet sat next to his son; Din looked into his spouse’s eyes, unmasked. It was heavenly. Their clan was standing behind a piece of stone jutting out of the ground, wide enough and tall enough to hide them from view. A couple Mandalorians stood watch a few meters away on the other side, making sure they were safe from being seen.

“You look beautiful,” Din said, stroking their cheek with his fingers.

“So do you,” they replied. “The beskar is extra shiny. I like it.”

“Good. Worked my ass off polishing it.” Din gave them a quick kiss, swallowing their laugh at his comment. His right hand was resting at the base of their skull, the other holding their left hand. “You deserve nothing but the best.”

“So do you, Din,” they breathed, pulling him towards them with hungry eyes. 

Din groaned when they kissed him with passion, burning him from within. They turned him to ash and brought him back to life all in the same breath. All he needed was their love, and he’d live forever. As their lips meshed together, he let go of their hand and placed it on the small of their back, making sure this was real—that they really were warm under his palm, that their lips were soft and delicious, that they were really his.

Din pulled back and stared into their eyes, giving them a kiss on the forehead, then the cheek. He heard one of the watchers call out for them to return soon, and he gave his riduur a wide grin; his cheeks were beginning to hurt from how much he’d been smiling. 

“Well,” they sighed, pushing away to reach over and grab his helmet, “time to go.”

Din looked at his son. “Grogu.” He smiled when the child looked up at him with his large eyes. “You ready?”

“Patu,” the child cooed, reaching his little claws up. 

Din lifted him up and set him on the ground, indulging his request. He knew that Grogu was more than capable of jumping to the ground and landing without injury, but his son seemed to love his touch and affection almost as much as he loved eating. Din was always happy to spoil his ad’ika no matter what the request was, and so was his riduur.

He looked back up at his stunning riduur and took the helmet from them. Din gave them one last kiss, letting their hand trail down his cheek to his jaw, then down his neck as he slowly replaced his helmet. Their hand landed on his chest plate, resting over his heart. That was where they lived within him; something deep and vital and full of love and life. Losing them would destroy him. He vowed to always protect them, to fight for them with every ounce of his being. Din looked at them again, gently resting his hand on their neck and smiling at the way they looked at him, their eyes full of love and hope.

“Come on, my love,” they said with a grin that could light up the darkest cave. “Let’s celebrate.”

Din nodded and said their name, loving the way they looked at him when it rolled off his tongue and into the air. “I love you.”

“I love you too.”

They took his hands and met his helmet’s gentle tilt forward with their forehead for a Keldabe kiss. Din had a feeling it would be the first of many that night. They stepped back and started to pull him with them, Grogu keeping pace with his slow, resigned steps.

Shereshoy. That was what he’d been feeling ever since last night—maybe even before then, maybe when he’d first met them. They gave him the strength to go on, motivated him to be as fearless as them, made him let go of his fears and let himself fall in love. As they walked into the light of the party to a symphony of cheers and clangs of beskar vambraces on chest plates, Din grinned. He was right where he belonged. Din was burning with a newfound lust for life and determination to keep his clan safe and forever loved. He never wanted the fire within him to go out.

Mando'a Translations: ad'ika [ah-DEE-kah]: little one, son, daughter of any age cyar'ika [shar-EE-kah]: darling, sweetheart riduur [REE-door]: partner, spouse, husband, wife shereshoy [sheh-REYSH-oy]: lust for life and much more - uniquely Mandalorian word, meaning the enjoyment of each day and the determination to seek and grab every possible experience, as well as surviving to see the next day - hanging onto life and relishing it..

masterlist | join the taglist!

taglist (sorry if your tag isn't working!):

@charlottetownwaffles, @theamuz, @jellybeanstacey0519, @elinedjarin, @kaqua, @tortor-mcgee, @tizylish, @graciexmarvel, @dheet, @kalea-bane, @mymindfuckery @bbyanarchist @threeheadedlamb @dindjarinsmut @hardlystrictlystarwars, @hrtsforpascal @notsosecretspy

[whatarewedoingdude]

Gonna rant about my gender identity because I've been pondering it lately for some reason

I was born with the body of a girl, and I don't mind it. Sometimes I wish I was different, but most times I don't. Sure, the monthly bleeding and hormones are annoying, but I love this body. It may not love me, but I'm doing whatever I can to help that.

I feel like this is mainly due to the fact that I have grown and changed- both physically and mentally- as a person. I grew up hating this body, doing whatever I could to disgrace it. I went through a period in my early teens where I would never look at my body in the mirror. Every time I went to shower, I would turn and face away from the giant mirror in the bathroom. I would cover my eyes so I didn't have to see the body I so badly wanted to be rid of.

Since then, I have come to terms with the shape and anatomy of my body. I now truly believe I am beautiful.

When I was a small child, before reaching double-digit age, I was avid on not being feminine. I hated the color pink, I didn't like stereotypically "girly" things, I did not wear skirts or dresses, I did not paint my nails, I did not like makeup. I never understood why, but now I know it was dysphoria. I did not know it at the time, but I was a boy internally. There was a great disconnect between me and femininity- even though I was a girl, I never felt like one. I felt like I was pretending whenever I presented myself as such.

This is still partially true. Internally, I feel like a boy.

As a preteen, I was obsessed with presenting as femininely as possible. I would shave my arms and legs, stuff my bra, and try to act as "girly" as possible. This was mainly to get male attention. I wanted to be seen and wanted as a woman, to be pretty and desired like all the other girls who had boys falling all over them. At that time, I had a boyfriend and was wildly insecure. By increasing my femininity, I thought he'd pay more attention to me and love me more. This was to no avail.

Only until the pandemic hit did I discover myself.

As I reached my teen years, I thought I was a transgender man. I would dress in jeans and button ups every day, wear sports bras that made my chest look virtually flat, and never shave. I believed that I was a boy, and wanted to be a boy. But I did not want to change my body. This was confusing to me, since at the time, I didn't fully understand that your body doesn't coordinate with your gender identity. It was at this time that I chose my second name: Axel. In typical 13-year-old-me fashion, this name came to me through a video in which a German grandmother gave Haikyu characters German names. Of course, she named my favorite character "Axel", and after a quick google search, I discovered that the name was Scandinavian in origin. Seeing this as an opportunity to pay homage to my ancestors, as well as reinvent myself, I took the name and ran.

After a few years, I am still incredibly happy with this name. The nickname "Axe" is an additional perk.

Only in recent years have I really put two and two together on my real identity. I came across the knowledge that my gender was very flexible and dependent on how I felt that day. I discovered the term "genderfluid" shortly after, which completely transformed my identity. Before, I had classified myself as ftm, even though that never felt quite right. After some research, I concluded that the term "genderfluid" perfectly described how I felt.

I am still very happy with this label. It fits like a glove.

A year or two ago, I finally got my first gender-affirming haircut. It was still fairly feminine, but having hair that didn't go past my shoulders was like a puzzle piece finally clicking into place. Since then, I have gone shorter and shorter, and I now have my sides shaved and a stylized mullet- to the distress of my twin flame, who hates mullets. As I entered my first serious relationship, I discovered that I don't like being seen as a girl through and through. I like being seen as a boy and being referred to as such, even though I present incredibly feminine.

The best way I can describe this is through the analogy of a drag queen. Some fully identify and embrace being physically and mentally male, even though they enjoy presenting feminine. I'm like a drag queen who never takes the makeup off.

[st-danger]

Happy your surgery went well, Saint! And a little selfishly excited to see how completely unhinged a Saint on weed AND narcotics is. You write kinks that would usually be a hard pass for me, but I always finish them thinking “what the fuck” while simultaneously propping up a wet floor sign and calling for a cleanup on aisle me.

Do you have any unhinged thoughts to share on Dew getting rimmed to within an inch of his life?

OH I HAVE LOTS OF THOUGHTS ABOUT DEW GETTING RIMMED. Firstly...

Surgery went very well, the easiest, most positive surgical experience I've ever had (and I've had a handful of surgeries, so this was a treat). Thank you for the well wishes!

If you see this, I'm super curious as to what those kinks are? If it's stuff like piss, I think that's a kink that's layered, if that makes sense. For some people, it's the fluid itself, but the psychological aspect, whether it's release or embarrassment... kinks are interesting things to explore.

AND YEAH DEW RIMMING LET'S FUCKING GO I'M TOASTED ON THESE PAIN MEDS RIGHT NOW.

It's always been my personal headcanon that Dew loves the way it feels but it makes him feel vulnerable in a way that he struggles with, and the struggle itself is a strange turn-on, too. But I also think that varies a little with who's eating him.

Also- regardless of how good it feels, the mental anguish of it, the misery, makes him struggle to stay hard the whole time. It may feel amazing, his body might l o v e it, but it's difficult to get out of his own head. He's fine rimming others, but when it's his turn...

Swiss and Dew have a very power play heavy dynamic. The purpose of Swiss demanding Dew present himself and spread his own cheeks open for Swiss is to cause pleasure, obviously, but to really lay into the shame factor. Continue to make him feel exposed and nervous, put him in a position where he feels like he can't hide. Talk to him about it and let him know what a pretty hole he has, while Dew pushes his face into the bed to hide his blush while Swiss makes a big deal of it.

Aether, though they do play rough sometimes, Aether is the only one Dew tells he loves them regularly. He loves all of his pack mates, but him and Aether are bonded in a really unique way. And Aether will take him on his back, fold his legs up, and eat him slow and sloppy and lets Dew cry it out without calling him on it. Just a long, flat tongue lapping over, twitching against the stimulation. Licking him without worrying if Dew's cock is hard or not. Just for the sake of making him shiver and blush and beg Aether for...more? Less? It renders him a little insensate.

Rain demands Dew sit on his face for it, digging his fingers into Dew's cheeks just this side of painful, and listens to the shocked gasps while he tongues him. Rain wants to make him feel good, but he likes the overwhelm it brings Dew. Nobody is actually possessive, but it's Rain's goal to make Dew feel useless and owned by him. After all- Rain's underneath him. Dew could clamber off whenever he wants, right? Nothing's stopping him. He's shaking and scrubbing his hands over his chest and whining that Rain's mouth is too much, it feels so good but Rain, oh, he can't. He can't push his tongue in like that, he can't-

And yet.

[gimmethosedaddymilkers]

Soft Words

This is inspired by a work from @kieropal I asked for a chubby reader with chubby Arthur and it was one of the best things I’ve read! So I’d like to take a crack at writing something myself! 

Chubby Arthur needs love just as much as regular Arthur! 

I realize I’ve been bad at putting warnings in the beginnings of my work so I’ll do my best to list them at the beginnings of each work! 

Not smutty this time but I WILL be writing a chunky Arthur smut at some point

I hope you enjoy this! 

Warnings: Fluff, Angst, Chubby Fem reader x Chubby Arthur Morgan, just sad Arthur in general NOT smut but there are 18+ themes involved and suggestive material and some smutty terms/thoughts

You held your hands against your stomach, staring up at the ceiling of your tent, trying to do your best not to feel the way you did. 

It was like this all the time, this wasn’t new.

You hated yourself. There was no point in you trying to hide it from yourself, no reason to sugarcoat it. 

You hated the way your body looked, the way your stomach looked. It wasn’t flat, like you wished it was, like you hoped it to be.

No matter how much you tried to get rid of it nothing worked.

You drank nothing but water, you tried to do as many exercises as you could, picking up extra chores from others in camp, ate as healthy as you could considering what Pearson cooked for camp.

Yet the stomach still lingered.

Hanging over your pants, so you hiked them up as far as you could, often only stopping after your belly button. 

It wasn’t attractive. It was ugly. 

Who wanted anything to do with someone who looked this way? 

Hell, you might have had breasts, but they sure as hell didn’t make up for it. If anything they just barely came past your stomach and you hardly had an ass. 

You felt disproportionate and it wasn’t like you could do anything about it. 

You sigh and put your hand over your eyes. 

How did you get here? What exactly had led you here tonight specifically?

The day had been good for the most part. You felt as though you’d sweat up a storm, you’d done more than enough exercise for the day, and you felt just...

Content, for the first time in what felt like a long time.

So what had happened?

You take a moment to wipe away a tear that rolls down the side of your face, warm and irritating.

Arthur.

Arthur Morgan had happened. 

That man did nothing but confuse you.

He was just completely and utterly complex. 

No matter what subject it was.

Was he rough? Or was he kind? Smart or dumb? Did he like you or does he not? Are you nothing but a friend to him? 

Jesus it was so frustrating. 

He was a hulking man. A huge man. His shoulders were wide, his back was strong, and he had a barrel chest. 

His hands were huge too, hell, you watched him in camp, noticed how he stood, how he acted. 

His hands were often clasped over his belt and they engulfed the entire thing. 

Sometimes your thoughts ran wild and you couldn’t help but imagine Arthur’s hands, those massive hands, wrapping around your neck.

Hell sometimes.....shit sometimes you imagined what he must look like with his hand wrapped around his cock in his own tent.

His stomach protruded a little outwards, hanging over his belt, but the difference between your stomach and his was that for him it worked.

It only added to his intimidating nature. 

That and he managed to make it look good, in no way did it make him look ugly as yours did for you.

He was a massive figure, one that you didn’t expect to see being so kind to Jack, or smiling at a stupid joke Sean had made at the fire. 

He made you fall for him, and sometimes it seemed like he felt the same for you, but then he’d go and confuse you again.

Like this afternoon.

The two of you had sat together near the fire quietly, him next to you, your knee gently grazing his thigh.

You’d sat and talked to each other, babbling on about each others days and making each other laugh with your stupid jokes that probably weren’t even funny.

Then all the sudden he’d clammed up and headed to his tent, claiming he had a headache. 

It was things like that, that made you question what was going on.

He offered you sweet little smiles, you watched his face grow red on multiple occasions, and yet...

He always had an excuse to leave you.

You rolled to your side and managed to force yourself up.

You weren’t going to sleep you knew that, so you might as well go enjoy the view of Horseshoe. 

Horseshoe Overlook was a beautiful place, and you tried to remind yourself that everyday, but your anxiety got the better of you most days, it made your head clouded and it was difficult to actually be thankful for things around you. 

The edge of camp, where a cliff resided, was your place of choice. 

There was a small tree near the overlook that you always headed to. You loved to lean against it and look out to the sky above. 

Tonight was no different.

The night sky was much more beautiful than that of the day sky. 

The stars littered it from east to west, and you could see a few constellations. 

You sigh and leaned your head back against the bark of the tree. closing your eyes. 

“Y/N?” 

You twist slightly and look towards the voice that’d called out to you, and your stomach drops as you look at the man standing there.

Arthur has a lit cigarette between his lips, and a furrowed brow as he looks at you. 

“Hey Arthur.” You mumble. 

“You alright?” 

“I’m fine.” You return back to your view. 

“Ya sure? I....it’s awfully late for ya to be up miss.” 

“It’s not stopping you.” You reply with snark, and then you immediately feel bad, knowing he’s only trying to help you.

“Nah, it ain’t stoppin’ me, you’re right but I ain’t a pretty woman in need of sleep Darlin’.” 

Your stomach flutters at the sound of his voice, the name he called you.

You clear your throat, doing your best to ignore the compliment. Quietly you look over as he nears you. He plops down on the ground next to you, groaning with the effort and mumbling something that sounded like: I’m too old for this, under his breath.

“What about you?” You question quietly. “Why are you up?” 

“Thinkin’.” He muses. “My brain’s goin’ too fast for me to just sit and sleep, so, I was gonna come out, smoke, hopefully knock myself out on a damn tree.”

You snort and sigh as you close your eyes.

“I guess it’s the same for me too.” 

He grunts in response and takes a drag of his cigarette. You hear his inhale, and look at him.

He’s much more attractive than he should be, even doing something so mundane as smoking. 

You watch his lips as he smokes, watching as they wrap around the form of the cigarette and you wish you knew how it would feel to kiss those lips.

“There somethin’ on my face?” 

You swallow and shake your head. 

“No, nothing.” 

“So what the hell you starin’ for?” 

“Nothing Arthur, I’m just...Sorry, I was thinking.” 

“You know...” He takes a moment and heaves a sigh. “I ain’t gonna judge you.”

He stutters for a second.

“I mean...I ain’t...for...you know, for whatever’s buggin’ you.” 

“There’s...I can’t....” You feel a lump begin to form in your throat.

The idea of telling him what you feel, telling him how much you care for him when you look the way you do...it makes you terrified. He was a nice enough man, despite what he did for a living, but you knew that if he rejected you, which he more than likely would, you wouldn’t be able to face him ever again.

You didn’t want to risk losing him, not when you considered him to be such a good friend. 

“Course you can Sugar.” He twists, facing you a little more head on. “I’m here for you, you know that.” 

“I wish you wouldn’t call me that.” You nearly whisper it, and you almost hope that he doesn’t hear you.

“Oh..” He clears his throat and you feel your face redden. “I...I didn’t...uh...I’m sorry it just kinda slips out I didn’t mean to make ya...uncomfortable or nothin’...I want ya...I mean I want ya to feel safe-” 

“Arthur I wish you wouldn’t say it because all it does is confuse me.” 

“Confuse ya?” 

“Yes, confuse me.” You mumble. “One moment...you...you call me darling, and the next you run away from me.” 

You do your best to avoid his face, looking down at your hands as you pick at the grass below.

“It’s like one moment you...you want to kiss me and the next you’re repulsed and I don’t know what I’m supposed to feel, I don’t know if you’re doing this to toy with me, to make fun of the fat girl, or what, but...I..Arthur you’re just confusing me.”

He’s silent, even his breathing is almost nonexistent, and then you hear him move, standing up with another groan.

After he manages to get himself steady he reaches his hand out to you which you take hesitantly, and he hauls you to your feet with one big heave.

“I ain’t pickin’ on you. Well, I am, but...Not like that. Never like that Darlin’.” He swallows. “I ain’t got no room to talk about your weight, I mean, take a good long look at me, you can tell I ain’t skippin’ any meals.” 

He rubs a hand over his stomach. 

“I...I ain’t...I haven’t done anythin’, or said anythin’ I should have cause I’ve been to worried to, ‘fraid you’re gonna laugh in my face if I do. Some fatass, grumpy old outlaw comin’ up to ya pourin’ his heart out. Figured I couldn’t stand another heartbreak from someone as important as you.” 

You go to speak only for him to cut you off.

“I don’t want to hear that come from your mouth again. Okay? Can you promise me you won’t call yourself fat again? Please, for me?” 

You can’t refuse that southern drawl of his, that deep voice, with that pleading tone, you would never make it.

“What do you mean you haven’t said anything?” You choose to ignore the question, rather you answered it with one of your own.

“C’mon...You...You know what I mean Y/N.” 

“I don’t Arthur.” 

He scratches his stubble and looks down, and you can see his face begin to change to a shade of crimson. 

“I...Darlin’ I’m sweet on ya. Real sweet on ya...I know that...I know it ain’t somethin’ you wanna hear from me, I know that.”

He huffs as though it’s physically difficult to force the words from his throat.

“I know that I ain’t attractive, that I ain’t...I ain’t fit, I ain’t....I could lose...hell let’s be honest I could lose two of me, an’ I rob and steal, and lie, I know what I am, and I know you don’t deserve that. You deserve far better than me, what I can give ya. So...I...I get...I understand if me sayin’....tellin’ you how I feel....I-”

You cut him off and rush into his arms, catching him by surprise as your arms wrap around his middle.

He’s hesitant but his arms return the favor, gliding gently over your stomach and around your waist.

“Arthur,” Your voice is muffled by his strong shoulder. “You’re strong, you’re kind, and you are so much better than you give yourself credit for. You look good, to me you look good. I don’t care that you’re big, in fact to me that’s...I mean...it’s..” You struggle to find the word.

Then quietly you move your head near his ear. 

“It’s...to me incredibly attractive, the...the sheer size of you Arthur. It’s...it’s impressive.” 

“I...Well...I...Why can’t...” He stutters himself, confused at your words, not used to such kind things being said to him, let alone hearing that kind of tone in your voice, seductive almost. 

“Why can’t you see yourself that way?” He finally spits out. “I mean...why can’t you see yourself as attractive? To me...To me you’re the most attractive woman I’ve ever met.” 

You blush and lean back slightly. 

“Arthur your weight...it fits you better, it looks better, but on me? It...it looks wrong, my stomach pushes out further than anything and I just-” 

“It looks beautiful, jus’ like you.” He cuts in, and brings a hand to your chin. “You ain’t fragile. You ain’t breakable. You’re not some porcelain doll I’d break by touchin’ you...” 

His breath comes out in a slight pant.

You can tell he’s thinking about what he’d said, touching you... and that makes your own breathing hitch. 

“You really think that?” You keep your voice low, almost afraid of running him off. “You really think my stomach...it’s not...it doesn’t make me ugly?”

“Of course it don’t.” He hesitates for a moment, but then places his chin on your head. “Darlin’ to me...like I said to me you’re....You’re the most beautiful, most attractive woman...I’ve ever met.” 

“Arthur...”

“Y/N, I...Shit, I don’t think it’s just bein’ sweet on you anymore, I....I think I...shit I think I love ya.” 

You feel your heart speed, and you pull yourself away, gently running your hands over Arthur’s stomach. 

“I...I love you too Arthur, I do. Every part of you, your personality, your body, that stomach, your arms, shoulders...Your...your thighs.....” You cough out the last word trying to keep your face from heating.

“If I weren’t so damn nervous...I’d take you to a hotel.” He lowered his voice and pulled you closer again, and his hands ran up to the sides of your face, pulling your head closer as he planted his lips on yours.

It was as if the whole world disappeared. 

All that mattered was Arthur, the taste of his tongue, the whiskey on his breath, the feel of his large hands caressing your body, running along the sides of you, over your soft stomach.

He was gentle, large and rough on the outside but kind on the inside, and he let that show, through the soft words he spoke in your ear as he broke from your lips. 

“I love you so much Y/N, I’d die for you, and I’d kill for you, but, most of all, I’d give ya the stars.” 

“Arthur Morgan, I’d give you the world.” 

Okay so, again, this was a on top of the head kind of thing, but I think it came out well, I’d like to play arthur’s chunkyness in a little more next time, but considering next time will be ya know....

smutty 

it’ll be a little more descriptive of those scrumptious thighs of his. 

Feedback is appreciated! I’d love to hear your thoughts and your guys’s tags are the funniest things I’ve ever seen! 

I hope you liked it! 

[nogoodnik-captions]

“Hey guys, I know you’ve all been following me for a while, I saw the comments, believe me. Everybody has been wondering, since my friend got not just a reduction, but a full mastectomy, when will my big ol’ bouncy boobs be going away? Well, you can consider this an announcement!”

She brings her friend out, the song they dance a bit to says “wish there were two of me”, and it’s fairly apt. “That’s right, you remember how short and stacked she was, Hell, she was at least three sizes bigger than me before…now look at how flat she is! Uggh, thinking about how they chopped all that down to this complete flatness…it kind of makes me wet, as does reading you guys’s comments. 😩”

Her friend nervously chuckles. “Uhh, yeah, wow, that is a lot, but I don’t blame you. Reductions have been a big social media trend, haven’t they? I don’t even think most busty young women even make it to 23 now without their tits getting chopped off or liposuctioned away. Guys and girls alike are pressuring us, sometimes saying for health reasons, but mostly feel like they’re either catcalling or trying to tear us down. It feels so weird that our generation isn’t allowed to have anything bigger than C-cups by like 25 or so.” “Oh, nonsense! You remember me groping your jumbo jugs from before? Those fat lard sacks were full of tumors, too, I felt it, I swear.” The taller girl bites her lip as she says this, then looks down at her own bouncy pair, groping it and saying “Bye bye soon, titties.”

“I-I’m not sure where this social pressure or trend came from. You don’t seem like you need this medically or anything, you just seem…horny.” Her friend slapped her in her flat chest. “Ow!” “Nonsense! It’s very necessary! Young women bouncing around with massive, boingy chests…it’s so perverted! Having big tits is for mothers after they’re impregnated, maybe then you can earn back the right to having a large chest, when they’re there for a purpose, and not just sexual lust and titillation! Although hateboners fuck the hardest, and getting rid of your pillowy soft tits makes all the sex you have hatesex.” “Shit, you’re full of contradictions, girl…”

“Whatever, bitch! My insurance approved, and I’m gonna get my tits chopped completely off, and nobody’s gonna stop me.” “Okay, I guess. Honestly, did you and my mom make me get them cut off out of jealousy?” “Well, since you don’t have them any more. Yes, yes, we did. In fact, your mom and I were talking about it a whole lot. And you see, she grew back, after she got married and became a good wife.” “Yeah, like C-cups…I saw pics of her when she was 21, she had H-cups, then went flat after college.” “Don’t be such a bitch, if you want your precious tits back, that’ll at least give you something, right? You know how it is now, reductions are like the hottest thing on the planet…”

[timaeusterrored]

(The Northern Lights)

Depression was a common thing in the Eurodyne household. It normally hit at different times luckily enough, their bad weeks never usually lined up. But the one time it did, Kerry booked them a trip. He needed to get them both out of the city, away from stress and reminders.

Kerry wanted to spice things up, go somewhere Vax had never been. He tried to keep it to his place in Florida or Italy simply for his husband’s comfort, but he felt they needed something new, and see something Vax would be all over.

So next thing he knew, they were on their plane to Iceland. Vax was mostly quiet, lost in thought as he usually was as Kerry answered emails and did the less fun part of his job.

“What’s goin’ on in that pretty head?” Kerry spoke up after about an hour of silence, making Vax look up. His exhaustion was hitting him hard, and Kerry wished he didn’t over work himself like this.

“Static. I think if I had a single thought right now I’d explode.” Vax got up from his seat and moved to cuddle up with Kerry, the older man moving his laptop away in favor of his favorite person.

“Understandable… try not to think too hard. You take your meds today?”

“Yes Vik.” Vax mumbled sarcastically.

“Hey now, don’t get sassy because I’m making sure you’re doing what you’re supposed to.” Kerry held him to his chest, looking out the window. He hoped he had planned this right.

When they landed, Kerry got them checked into their lodge as soon as possible, they had a tour to get too and he could see that Vax’s interest had been caught.

He had Vax out of the lodge in ten minutes flat, basically dragging him. Vax had no idea what was going on, but he was into it. And Kerry had to keep that interest for the next few hours.

Okay, the beginning of the tour was kind of a drag, Kerry wouldn’t lie… but goddamn was it worth it when he saw what he had dragged his husband all the way up for.

“Aurora.” Vax breathed, staring at the night sky with childlike wonder. Kerry was glad the Space station hadn’t completely ruined the stars for Vax.

Kerry leaned into his side, for warmth and support. This was totally worth it.

“Can I-“

“Yes you can tell me facts, that’s why we’re here.” Vax was his own personal stars podcast sometimes.

“So basically, the Northern lights, or Aurora borealis, is actually sun storms. But our atmosphere protects us from them, they’re as pretty as they are violent.”

“Sounds like someone I know.”

“Yeah Venus is fucking violent sometimes-“

“You asshole. You knew who I was talking about.”

“A n y w a y, speaking of Venus, did you know that the lights were named after the Roman goddess of dawn, Aurora? And the Greek god of winds, Boreas?”

“I did not.”

“Yeah, it’s really fuckin cool when you think about it-“

Vax proceeded to take about the lights for the next 15 minutes, until they had faded and his face fell a bit.

“What?” Kerry frowned.

“It’s just said something so beautiful only lasts for a short amount of time. We’re lucky we even got to see them.”

“…kinda like life.”

Vax’s arm tightened around him, and Kerry looked up to find grey eyes staring down at him.

“You didn’t drag me up here to serve divorce papers did you? Because we are stuck in this shit together, no one else could possibly-“

Kerry cut him off with a kiss, holding his face with a small smile when they pulled back.

“I’m genuinely amazed you haven’t exploded yet… I’m not going anywhere.” Kerry whispered, bumping their foreheads together.

“Good…” Vax whispered back, looking back up at the stars.

[maelstroms-blog]

Another dabble, this time Hob shows Dream the delights of going to sleep.

The lord of dreams lay wide awake, how ironic. He lay in the, albeit, comfortable double bed, staring up at the ceiling. Though the room was shrouded in darkness, he could clearly make out the pattern in the light fixture above him.

He sighed, glancing over at his partner. Hob lay on his back, shut away from the waking world and fully immersed in the Dreaming. A sudden pang hit Dream in the chest.

Jealousy.

Watching someone else experience his creations filled him with pride but sometimes he wished he could experience it for himself. He had only ever admitted this to Hob.

He smiled that smile of his, the one that crinkled his eyes and said,

'Well, why don't you?'

Dream blinked.

'Sleep like a human.'

As the silence grew, Hob's smile dipped slightly,

'Do you know how?'

Dream let out a scoff,

'I am the embodiment of the collective consciousness, king of Dreams and Nightmares, of course, I know how.'

Hob looked at him,

'But have you?'

Dream's unblinking gaze wavered, only slightly, but Hob noticed. Hob always noticed.

'I thought so, come with me,' he held out a hand, motioning him to follow. Dream looked at it, the way a king would scrutinze an offering.

The king accepted. The pale, slender hand fit nicely into Hob's calloused palm. They made their way towards the bedroom, Dream quirked an eyebrow,

'Again, Hob Gadling? My, your stamina is to be admired.'

The Dream king would be lying if he said he didn't enjoy Hob's reaction. His cheeks flushed bright red and he spluttered a bit before speaking.

'No, my darling, dear, not that, we're trying to relax.'

Dream smirked, watching as Hob opened his wardrobe and pulled out pair after pair of pyjamas,

'Take your pick, duck, I have a decade's worth of pyjamas. Everyone seems to give them out at Christmas.'

Dream only half listened, thumbing through each folded set, his frown growing deeper and deeper.

Hob chuckled, 'Not to your liking, huh?'

He pulled out a rainbow pair of joggers,

'Oh, great, I was looking for these,' he shucked the pair he was wearing, much to Dream's amusement. Then, his eyes found a dark pair, navy cuffed joggers, dotted with silver stars. They were soft, like the clouds he hung in the Dreaming, or Hob's hair.

'Oh, if you like those, I have just the shirt to go with them.'

Searching through the pile, he found another dark item. A blue shirt, large, it would have swamped Dream's thin frame, and on the front, a picture of a large, fluffy cat, sprawled on its back.

'Guess why I bought this one,' Hob smiled, Dream accepted the shirt, never taking his eyes off the cute image.

'These will suffice.'

After he changed, and allowed Hob to take a photo on his mobile telephone. He subjected him to a warm bath, complete with overpowering bath bombs. Hob couldn't stop marvelling at his fluffy, towel dried hair. After that, Hob offered a hot chocolate, though Dream claimed it was too sweet, it didn't stop him from drinking the whole thing.

Once they were situated in Hob's bed, and Dream had been buried in every blanket Hob owned. He went through the step by step process of going to sleep. He lay down flat, pulling Dream to his side. They chatted for a while, about nothing, about everything, and then, with a sigh and a snore, Hob entered the Dreaming.

Leaving Dream behind.

He huffed, trying not to take offence, but it was hard not to when he was left alone, with his thoughts. The darkness suddenly didn't feel so comforting. Dream sighed, the weight from the blankets weighed heavier and heavier on his chest. He thought of all his responsibilities, the duties he was neglecting while he lay there, pretending.

This is foolish, Dream thought, he should just leave and return to the Dreaming, he would find Hob there and explain to him.

Just as he shifted, trying to remove the mountain of blankets, a warm hand sneaked around his waist, effectively pinning him there. Hob, still fast asleep, had turned and burrowed into Dream's side. His face nuzzled into his neck, his breath hot against his skin. This close, he could smell all of Hob, the scent of old books, leather and lavender from their bath.

Dream looked at him, memorising every line and wrinkle in his partner's face. He sank back into the blankets, staring at Hob until his eyes closed.

He yawned, all thoughts of escaping vanished from his mind.