#but just doesn’t know how he could express it verbally or casually

[ninja-knox-ur-sox-off]

//the slightest of shaking you

Sonic's ego is actually used for the delight effect on his friends hhhgh your killing me with wholesomeness/j

I wonder though, is there's ever any nonverbal platonic methods aspecSonic could have developed?

Aroace Sonic pt 8 (no they're not dating)

Sonic’s got all kinds of ways of showing affection. Obviously there is more than just these, it’s just all i doodled last night before passing the heck out in bed hgLKJSDF

1. Sonic usually moves away if anyone expresses active verbal dislike of his physical affection; Knuckles is the exception to that rule. He would genuinely throw Sonic through a wall if he actually didn’t like what he was doing, no words required. But Knuckles is touch starved! He doesn’t know how to do this whole physical affection thing, and most everyone else is kinda nervous about crossing boundaries with him so it means he gets very little touch. Sonic notices that and instead of drawing attention to it, he just invades personal space like the gremlin he is and no one questions it, chalking it up to his usual antics. Knuckles gets a safe place to get the physical affection he needs without worrying about how it looks and Sonic gets to love his friend, it's a win-win. (Rouge is p much the only other person chill with touching Knuckles casually since she’s just comfortable with physicality and not the least bit nervous around him.)

2. Speaking of Rouge she and Sonic are very silly with physical affection because Rouge is extremely comfortable expressing herself physically and Sonic is chill with p much any small gestures because its just another way of showing affection. Platonic cheek kisses and aggressive flirting are pretty normal for them! They find it funny to fluster other people this way.

3. Sonic will very randomly just plant his hand on someones face if they're standing close enough. No context, no warning, usually they're not even part of the conversation that's happening and he doesn't move it off unless they move it themselves or it's time to leave. (He does this whenever he notices someone zoning out or look like they might be lonely since they aren't part of the main conversation to make them know someone else notices they're there and cares.)

4. Sonic's physical affection is so incredibly casual that if you're around him long enough it kinda starts to fall of your radar and you just stop noticing when it happens, (i.e Tails.) It's much more common than his verbal compliments so it ends up pretty commonplace. Physical touch is actually his first go-to unless the person is really touch-averse.

5. Falling asleep on people is his ultimate weapon because they're less likely to try and escape if he's asleep (cat sleeping on lap rules sorry.) The other reason is because they're free to be as soft as they want without worrying about him using it to gloat at them later. (A lot of stuff this dude does is hecka strategic.)

[hylianane]

Reading Zoro’s character description for the LA really hit me hard with the fact that Zoro’s probably happier now than he’s ever been in his life. “Meeting Luffy is the biggest thing that ever happened to Zoro”. And yes yes yes that’s true for most Strawhats, but thats usually because Luffy freed them from villains who were actively making their lives miserable. Zoro was in trouble when he met Luffy, yes, but it was because of a deal he willingly made with Helmeppo, a punishment he decided to endure against someone who wasn't a real threat to him. Zoro was always free to do as he pleased. But, much like Luffy was before setting sail himself, he was also terribly alone.

Unable to build connections because once he set sail from each island his sense of direction made it so he could never return. Having to fight and kill to afford each meal, while maintaining a very demanding lifestyle. Facing each battle knowing that even if he wins, it could still be game over, as he couldn’t afford to sit back and let himself recover, and there was no one he could trust to help him dress wounds and stand up again.

By giving him a navigator, a cook, a doctor, a crew, Luffy has given him the world. People to love and protect and fall back on, people to help him follow his dream and enjoy every second of the chase. And I’m sure he tells himself that if he were to quit the crew at any time, he’d survive on his own just fine, but that’s such an empty fucking threat because these people have made him happier than he’s ever been, just as free as before but now finally living. I love him sm.

[rosy-hollow]

Your husband, Sukuna, is a menace—but he can't say no to your even bigger menace of a daughter.

He already can't say no to you—the absolute sweetheart he had fallen deeply for—so how could he stand a chance against his five-year-old daughter, who looked so much like you yet had the wrath and fury to make even hell freeze over?

It’s Yuna’s first day of kindergarten, and you and your husband have already been called to the school because of your girl's… behavioral issues.

"Thank you for meeting with me, Mr. and Mrs. Sukuna. I, uh… as you’ve heard, Yuna has been acting disruptively in school today. We’ll have to send her home due to her actions, but I sincerely hope this doesn’t happen again."

Underneath the table, your hand finds your husband's reassuringly, squeezing it to let him know you'd handle this.

"I apologize for any inconvenience, sir... but may I know the details of what happened first?" you ask politely, maintaining a calm facade. And if the two of you weren’t talking to your daughter's school principal, Sukuna would’ve kissed you right then and there—because the moment he opened his mouth, he’d probably have a restraining order filed against him in every country.

Despite your calm demeanor, though, you were practically seething.

You knew your daughter. Yes, she had quite a temper, but to act up in such a way that caused a scene? That didn’t sound like her. And if she really had, then something serious must've happened.

The principal nods, sighing bitterly. "Apparently, there was a squabble between your daughter and another boy on the playground… He ended up with a tooth knocked out in the end."

You blink, taken aback, frowning.

Your daughter, though prone to getting angry, would never resort to violence. You and your husband raised her better than that.

Your blood simmers slightly as you take in the principal’s disdainful expression and condescending tone. You want to punch it off his face—but you don’t, much to your own chagrin.

Your husband is squeezing your hand so hard it feels like your bones might snap, but you still rub your thumb comfortingly against his knuckles.

"May I speak to my daughter? Though this behavior is unacceptable, this doesn’t sound like her at all," you say, and the principal sighs, nodding.

"Yes, but please make it quick."

You nod, mentally flipping the man off, before exiting the room with your furious husband in tow.

There, just outside, sits your daughter—wide red eyes filled with tears.

"I-I’m sorry, Mommy..." she whimpers softly, and something inside you breaks as you rush forward to envelop her in your arms.

It takes everything in you not to hunt down the people who reduced your loving daughter to this mess. And you're sure your husband isn’t doing any better—years and years of therapy doing everything it can to keep his rage at bay.

"H-He said my eyes m-made me look l-like a m-m-monster, and t-then he pushed me, and so I just pushed him back, and then he tripped over his shoelaces and his t-tooth fell out—"

Yuna is full-on sobbing now, and you freeze, holding her tightly.

Wordlessly, you pick up the small five-year-old and hand her to your husband, a glint in your eye. Sukuna stiffens, swallowing hard. His grip on Yuna tightens slightly as he watches you storm inside.

He’s only seen you mad maybe four times in your ten years of marriage—if Yuna could freeze hell over when she was angry, then you were the devil incarnate herself.

You reenter the principal’s office, slamming the door behind you. Sukuna decides to be a smart dad and take his daughter down the hall, avoiding what is definitely about to be verbal homicide.

When you finally exit the room, there's an eerily peaceful look on your face. Casually, you dust off your shirt, approaching your husband and daughter with a warm smile.

Sukuna and Yuna exchange uneasy glances.

"So~ who wants ice cream?"

Yuna’s not uneasy anymore.

Sukuna sighs.

He loves his two girls more than anything in the world—he never, ever would have pictured himself being the calmer one in the relationship, but you never ceased to prove him wrong.

That’s what he loved about you, though.

A/N: i love when beefy men are down bad for me (this has never happened)

[bettys-redwinesupernova]

BLOCK ME OUT

rafe cameron x fem!reader

SUMMARY: haunted by her ex’s cruel words, y/n wishes she could block herself out. but rafe sees her differently—like she hung the stars in the sky.

based on this ask !! thank you for this anon, apologies that it’s taken so long, but i hope it’s what you asked for and you enjoy it :) <3

(check out my other rafe cameron & drew starkey works here !!)

WARNINGS: appearance insecurities, angsty with a soft ending, soft!rafe, rafe thinking violent thoughts (nothing unusual😝), past emotionally/verbally abusive relationship (reader’s ex), crying, cursing, allusions to sex. (lmk if i missed anything !!)

WORD COUNT: 2k

THIRD PERSON +

Y/N stared at her reflection in the bathroom mirror, eyes tracing the features she had long since memorised yet never quite accepted. The fluorescent light above cast harsh shadows, making every perceived flaw stand out even more—the uneven texture of her skin, the way her cheeks seemed too full in certain angles but too hollow in others, the faint blemishes she could never quite cover no matter how much makeup she wore. Her fingers ghosted over her jawline, then moved to her lips, hesitating as if debating whether they were too thin or too full.

She sighed, dropping her hand and looking away. It didn’t matter. It never did.

“Y/N?”

Rafe’s voice echoed from the hallway, warm and familiar. He must have noticed how long she had been in here. She took a breath and composed herself before stepping out, her lips pulling into a small, forced smile.

“Hey,” she said casually.

He was sitting on the edge of the bed, watching her with that soft yet unreadable expression he sometimes had when he thought she wasn’t looking. His blue eyes flickered over her face, taking in every detail as if memorising it. She knew he was about to say something—probably a compliment, because he always did. And just like always, she prepared to ignore it.

“You look beautiful,” Rafe murmured, almost absentmindedly, as if it were the most obvious fact in the world.

Y/N scoffed quietly, shaking her head as she crossed the room. “No, I don’t.”

Rafe frowned slightly, his brows drawing together in concern, but he didn’t argue. He never did. Instead, he just watched as she climbed into bed beside him, her body curling up instinctively, as if trying to take up less space. He noticed that too.

It had started small, the little deflections. The way she would dismiss any compliment he gave her with a wave of her hand or a disbelieving laugh. At first, he assumed she was just being humble, but the more time he spent with her, the more he realized it was something else.

Something deeper.

A wound that hadn’t healed.

Rafe didn’t push. He didn’t ask. But he noticed.

Like the way her smile always faltered for just a second when someone called her pretty, as if the word physically pained her. Or how she always changed the subject when he told her she was beautiful, shifting the conversation so quickly it was almost seamless. If he wasn’t paying such close attention, he might’ve missed it.

But he was always paying attention.

Y/N knew she should appreciate Rafe’s compliments, knew that he wasn’t just saying them to be nice. But she couldn’t make herself believe them. Not after everything.

Not after him.

Her ex’s voice still lingered in the back of her mind like a ghost, whispering cruel words she could never quite erase.

“You really think you’re all that? God, Y/N, you’re so damn insecure it’s pathetic.”

“I don’t know why you even bother with makeup—it doesn’t help.”

“No one’s looking at you the way you think they are. You’re just… average.”

She had spent so much time believing those words, internalising them, letting them take root deep inside her until they became an unshakable truth. And now, even though he was gone, even though she had someone like Rafe in her life—someone who looked at her like she was the most breathtaking thing he’d ever seen—she still couldn’t silence that voice.

Rafe had never once made her feel anything less than wanted. He never criticised, never made offhanded comments that chipped away at her self-worth. But that didn’t mean she knew how to accept kindness when it was given to her.

She felt his fingers brush lightly against her arm, snapping her out of her thoughts.

“You tired?” he asked, voice low and gentle.

She nodded, grateful for the easy out. “Yeah. Just a long day.”

Rafe didn’t question it. He just reached over and pulled the blanket up over her, as if shielding her from whatever weight she was carrying. And maybe in his own way, he was.

She turned onto her side, facing away from him, but she could still feel his gaze on her, feel the warmth of his presence beside her.

For a moment, she let herself pretend that it was enough.

—

The night had started out perfectly.

Dinner was casual, nothing extravagant—just the two of them at his place, sitting across from each other, laughing between bites of food. It had been easy. Light. Y/N had almost felt normal, like the weight of her insecurities wasn’t pressing so hard against her ribs.

Rafe had been extra touchy that evening—his fingers brushing hers when he handed her a glass of wine, his palm resting at the small of her back as they moved through the house. Small touches, each one sending a shiver down her spine.

And now, here they were.

Y/N lay beneath him, the world shrinking to just the two of them, just the warmth of his body and the way his lips moved against hers like he couldn’t get enough. His hands skimmed her sides, slow and teasing, as if memorising every inch of her.

The air in the room had thickened, charged with something electric.

She should’ve been lost in it.

But she wasn’t.

Because the moment his fingers hooked under the hem of her shirt, inching it up over her ribs, that voice came creeping back.

“You think he really wants to see you?”

“You think he won’t notice how bad you look from this angle?”

“God, Y/N, you’re so damn insecure, it’s pathetic.”

She tensed.

Rafe noticed immediately.

His lips paused against her neck, and she felt his breath, felt the slight hesitation in his movements. “You okay?” he murmured, voice laced with concern.

Y/N forced a nod, forcing herself to push through it. Don’t ruin this. Don’t overthink it. Just let him love you.

But then his hands moved again, slipping beneath the fabric, and panic surged through her like a tidal wave.

Suddenly, she wasn’t here anymore. She was back in that old apartment, standing under fluorescent lighting as her ex tilted his head and examined her with a critical gaze.

“Your stomach isn’t as flat as you think.”

“I mean, yeah, you look good from the right angle, but not always.”

“Don’t get mad. I’m just being honest.”

Her breath hitched. The room felt smaller. Her chest ached.

She didn’t even realise she was shaking until Rafe pulled back, brows furrowed in confusion.

“Y/N?” His voice was softer now, laced with something she couldn’t place. “Talk to me, baby.”

But she couldn’t.

Because she was already spiralling.

She shoved at his chest lightly, needing space, needing air. And Rafe—sweet, perceptive Rafe—moved immediately, sitting back on his heels, giving her exactly what she needed. But even with the distance, she couldn’t breathe right.

“I—I can’t do this,” she choked out, her throat tightening. “I just—I don’t—”

Tears burned at the corners of her eyes, blurring her vision. She felt pathetic, completely unravelling in front of him over something so stupid.

But Rafe didn’t move, didn’t rush her. He just watched her, eyes scanning her face like he was trying to piece together what had broken.

She ran a shaky hand through her hair, her breaths coming faster. “I just—” Her voice cracked, and she squeezed her eyes shut. “I don’t feel good enough for you.”

The confession slipped out before she could stop it, and suddenly, the dam broke.

Tears spilled down her cheeks, and she covered her face with her hands, ashamed of how easily she was falling apart.

“Y/N…”

She felt the mattress dip as Rafe moved closer, but he didn’t touch her. He just waited.

Waited for her to speak.

Waited for her to let him in.

She sniffled, wiping at her tears, but more came. “I—I don’t get how you could look at me like you do,” she whispered. “I don’t get how you could actually—” She sucked in a shaky breath. “How you could actually want this.”

Rafe’s brows furrowed, confusion and pain flashing across his face. “What are you talking about?”

She let out a wet, bitter laugh. “I see myself, Rafe. I see what I look like from different angles. I know what people see.”

Rafe was shaking his head before she even finished speaking. “You don’t know what I see.”

She swallowed hard. “I just—” Her voice trembled. “I worry that… that you’re not actually attracted to me. That you just think you are.”

The silence stretched between them, heavy and thick.

And then, softly, carefully, Rafe asked, “Why do you think that?”

She exhaled shakily, dropping her gaze.

She didn’t want to tell him. She didn’t want to open that box. But he deserved to know.

“My ex,” she finally whispered. “He… he made sure I knew what was wrong with me. All the time.”

Rafe went rigid.

She saw it—the way his jaw clenched, the way his hands curled into fists at his sides. He inhaled sharply through his nose, forcing himself to stay calm, but she could see the fire behind his eyes.

“Y/N,” he said, voice low and steady, like he was trying to keep himself from falling apart. “Tell me what he said to you.”

Her throat felt tight, but she forced the words out. “He told me I wasn’t as pretty as I thought. That my body wasn’t as nice as I thought. That I only looked good from certain angles.” Her voice cracked. “And I believed him.”

Rafe exhaled sharply, looking away, his hands gripping the sheets like he was barely holding himself together. She could see the anger simmering beneath his skin, the way he wanted to break something, to scream, to hurt the person who had done this to her.

But he didn’t.

Instead, he turned back to her, and when he spoke again, his voice was full of something even stronger than rage.

Love.

“Y/N,” he said, his tone soft but firm. “I need you to listen to me.”

She swallowed hard, nodding weakly.

He cupped her face gently, his thumbs brushing away her tears. “You are the most beautiful person I’ve ever seen. And not just from certain angles. Always.”

She tried to look away, but he didn’t let her.

“You think I don’t notice the way you brush off my compliments? The way you never believe me when I tell you how fucking perfect you are?” His voice wavered slightly, but he kept going. “It kills me, Y/N. It kills me that someone made you feel like this. That someone convinced you that you weren’t enough.”

More tears welled in her eyes. “Rafe…”

“No.” His voice was raw now, his emotions spilling over. “You are everything to me. Everything. And I don’t just want you—I crave you. Every part of you. Every inch of you. I don’t care what angle, what lighting, what bullshit insecurity you think you have—I love all of it. Because it’s you.”

Her lip trembled. “But what if—”

“No what-ifs,” he interrupted, shaking his head. “You are enough. You are more than enough.”

She broke.

Sobs wracked her body, and Rafe pulled her into his arms, holding her like he would never let go. He whispered into her hair, his voice soothing and warm, telling her over and over again how perfect she was, how much he loved her, how much she meant to him.

And for the first time in a long time, she wanted to believe him.

Because when Rafe Cameron looked at her, he didn’t see flaws. He didn’t see imperfections.

He saw the stars.

And maybe, just maybe, she could learn to see them too.

(divider by @kodaswrld !!)

betty’s notes ౨ৎ ⋆｡˚

this was such a cute and emotional one :’) i had this written up before i went away but finally got to editing it, just spending eh next couple days editing and posting the requests in my drafts !!

i hope this is what you asked for anon !! and as always, likes, comments and reblogs are always appreciated :) don’t hesitate to request <3

[rubywithecat]

-How you turn them on(JJK men)-

Minors do not interact as it contains mature usages and ideas.

Gojo Satoru

(Small moans)

- You knocked on his office room door. “Love, I’m so busy. Can I talk to you later?” He said, still focusing on his paperwork, not even looking at you. You felt sad. You understand his work is important but he can’t just keep ignoring you, so u decided to make him pay. “Well… isn’t it so hot here? Ah…” he took a glance at you, so it’s working. You smiled. “Satoru, is your AC broken or smth?” You said innocently as you sat on the couch near his desk, crossing your leg, reveling slightly skin of your tigh from your skirt, undoing some top buttons from your shirt, making soft moan, enough for him to hear. He seems to be irritated by it so he adjusted himself at seat. You smirked, taking a look at him. “Ah…, Satoru… “ you continued. “What!” He replied raising his voice. “Can we grab some coffee later then” you replied quickly and casually. He can’t remain calm anymore. “Well, u wanna play games. I’m up to it” He said as removed himself from his seat and came to u. You raised your left brows. “Don’t u have works to do?” You teased. “How can I focus on it” he said, kissing you as he zipped off your skirt.

Geto Suguru

(Jealousy)

- U had a huge fight with him before coming here, “Y/N, ur so drunk. We should return home.” He said as he pushed away the cup from your hand and trying to get u up from ur seat. You resisted him and u can see his expression serious and frustrated. “I don’t wanna leave! If u want, u can by urself. The door is right there” you said as u took another shot, cheered with ur classmate. “Ur so fun, (classmate name). And ur cute too” You flirted, touching his face. “Another shot?” Classmate offered and smiled. Geto harshly grabbed the cup from him and put it aside, then he pulled u with all force he can use and made it to his car. U were both silent during the drive. Actually, u were mad at him. “I know ur mad at me” He said as he parked. U tried to open the door without talking to him but it was locked. He leaned near u and u looked away. He smirked and pulled u closer then, passionately kiss u. It was so good that u moaned. “So, do it up at home or right here?” He asked. U know u can’t resist him even tho ur still mad at him. “I want u right here” u replied as u felt betrayed by ur body.

Toji Fushiguro

(Touching him innocently)

- His mood is bad tdy as he got to talk with his son Megumi. “He is ur son. He doesn’t mean anything he said” U comforted him, patting his shoulder. He shirked. “I’m not in the mood!” he yelled which made u flinched, “I… didn’t do anything…” u replied as u backed off. “I’m sorry, (ur name). I just… never mind, come here” he opened his arms. U sat down on his tigh as u hugged his neck with both of ur hands. U looked at him face to face. U were about to say smth but he stopped u by kissing u. Then, he lied u down on the bed as he undo his belt.

Sukuna Ryomen

(Dirty talking)

- U have to verbally say it. “If u want it, u beg it” he had said before with a huge ego. But u would never make him get his way. He should be the one coming to u. So, u decided to turn him on in a way that he could never resist. “Sukuna, please… more!” U said, as u simply made him to add more blueberry in ur yogurt. He looked at u and frowned. “R u trying to turn me on by saying these things?” He asked as he put ur hair strands behind ur ear, "I told u before, u beg for it if u want it." U shrugged. “Maybe not. Anyway I hope these blueberry should be huge banana cuz I’m good at sucking it” u winked as u took a sip of yogurt and licked a bite from ur ring finger seducingly. "Stop resisting me, baby. I'm urs if u say it" he said, his armed crossed. "U should be the one who say it" U replied. "Don't u like my taste? U says what... oh, it tastes like... hmm..." u teased. He can't do it anymore. He grabbed ur waist and bent u against kitchen counter. "U started this first. Don't tell me to stop" he hissed to ur ear.

(Hii! I hope u enjoy this! Please like, comment and share if u love this <3 Thanks!)

____

[nanamineedstherapy]

Your jjk caveman crack fics are literally the best thing ever 😂 do you think we could get a part 3???

Thank you for the ask, I was already gonna post this. Happy Valentine's Day!!!

Ooga Booga Sukuna gets Reverse Bonked

Previous Chapter 2: Ooga Booga Gojo tries to Court you (Tumblr/Ao3)

Summary: Prehistoric, period-accurate Neanderthal JJK daddies courting you with grunts, rocks, & zero verbal communication. Just prehistoric buffoonery.

A/N: Listen. I don’t know how we got here. I don’t know what’s wrong with me. I just know that prehistoric Sukuna is going through it, and honestly? Good for him. This chapter is dedicated to all the idiots in love who have the combined IQ of a rock & the tension of two angry stray cats fighting over a single chicken bone. As usual, => This is a different reader, but the same Sukuna—unfortunately for you. => Some bits are suggestive (in regards of mating), but nothing in detail, only in comedy. => This is Sukuna’s chapter, but don’t worry—the other guys are also getting their solo stories, with guest appearances in each other’s on a regular. So I recommend reading all of them, but I can’t force you to make good life choices. Now, let’s begin.

Sukuna, the undisputed apex predator of the prehistoric world, wakes up.

This is already unacceptable.

Sukuna does not wake up confused.

Sukuna does not wake up with a headache the size of a mammoth's behind.

Sukuna does not wake up in a cave that is not his.

Yet here he is.

His nose twitches—this place smells wrong. The fire is too small. The air lacks the familiar stench of victory. And worst of all, the pile of furs beneath him? Not his.

Then, he sees you.

The audacity.

The sheer, reckless audacity of you.

Sitting there, cross-legged, casually sharpening a rock, as if you didn’t just bonk the most dangerous being alive on the head and drag him here like a sack of mammoth dung.

Sukuna moves to sit up—except he doesn’t.

His brain short-circuits.

His wrists and ankles are tied.

Him. Sukuna. The strongest. Bound like a common prey animal.

His first instinct? Murder.

His second? Murder, but angrier.

You glance up. See him glaring. Raise a smug eyebrow.

Then, with the infuriating calm of someone who does not fear death, you reach out and pat his head.

Oh.

You will pay for this.

He—a god among men, the most dangerous being alive—has been bonked and dragged to a cave like a defenseless animal.

By you.

But Sukuna is smort so he will find a way to escape.

He gets an idea immediately.

Sukuna is also stronk. These flimsy ropes should be nothing.

He flexes. Twists. Yanks.

He will be free in mere seconds—

The rope does not budge.

You observe him silently.

Your expressions unreadable.

Then you slowly grab a stick from beside you—

AND BONK HIM ON THE FOREHEAD!!!

His entire being vibrates with rage.

This—this has never happened before.

A second bonk follows.

His eye twitches.

Fine. You want a fight? Sukuna will not even need his hands.

He leans forward, bares his teeth, flexes every muscle he owns. His glare alone has sent cavemen running.

He exudes menace.

You yawn.

Then. Without hesitation.

You reach out and grab his chin.

He stops breathing.

Your grip is firm, but what’s worse—you squeeze his cheeks.

…Like he is an adorable little animal.

Rage. Shame. Disbelief.

You boop his nose.

HUMILIATION!!!

He will try again. NOT BECAUSE THIS FEELS NICE, but because he’s exhausted.

---

The next morning, you leave the cave.

Sukuna, apex predator, descends into rabid, frantic gnawing.

His teeth work overtime. His dignity is irrelevant.

He is almost free—

Then.

You return.

Carrying food.

His stomach betrays him.

Loudly.

You know. You heard.

You smirk.

Then you feed him.

Not throw the food at him. Not let him grab it himself. No. You hold it up to his mouth.

You expect him to take a bite.

Like some helpless captive wife.

He contemplates death.

Then. With slow, soul-crushing defeat—

He takes a bite.

Disgraceful.

---

Now that you have secured the beast, you begin the ritual.

Sukuna, still bound, watches with narrowed, suspicious eyes as you approach—arms full of rocks.

You drop them in front of him like a sacrificial offering.

Not just any rocks.

Sharp ones. Deadly ones. The kind that could easily pierce flesh, shatter bone, and end lives. (Unlike a certain white-haired idiot who collects useless shiny ones.)

Sukuna blinks.

Stares at the pile.

Then at you.

What is this? A challenge? An insult? An attempt at trickery?

He grunts. (What is this nonsense?)

You grunt back. (Good rocks. Kill things. Useful.)

His fingers twitch. Even bound, he is a warrior. And a warrior recognizes quality weaponry when he sees it.

This is… acceptable.

You nod, satisfied.

Then, just because you can, you pat his head.

Sukuna’s entire body stiffens.

You leave again and return moments later, dragging an actual, freshly hunted animal carcass.

Bigger than you.

Not stolen. (Unlike certain white-haired idiot. Maybe you learned what-not-to-do by watching him.)

Not leftovers scavenged from some beast’s kill.

This is primal.

Earned.

Dominant.

Sukuna sniffs the air.

His instincts kick in.

This is real food. Warrior’s food.

You tear a chunk of meat, toss it into a flame, let it sizzle and cook—the rich aroma fills the cave.

His stomach makes that sound again.

You hear it.

He knows you hear it.

You smirk and bring some cooked bits to his mouth.

Sukuna scowls, looking anywhere but at you.

His entire existence is suffering.

Then, with murderous reluctance, he eats.

It is good.

Too good.

Too competent.

He hates it.

---

It is time.

Sukuna does not know it is time. But it is.

You grab him by the scruff like a misbehaving cave bear cub and drag him to the river.

He thrashes.

Snarls.

He is Sukuna. Apex predator. The most dangerous being alive. He does not need cleaning.

You grunt. (You stink.)

Sukuna snaps his teeth at you. (I will kill you for this insult.)

You dunk him in the river.

It is instant chaos.

He thrashes like a drowning bison.

Water explodes in all directions.

A fish gets yeeted into the sky.

Birds evacuate the trees.

Somewhere, in the distance, an elder caveman sees the commotion and rethinks his entire existence. (It was just Yaga.)

But Sukuna is still tied.

So, in the end, it is just dramatic splashing.

His pride? Destroyed.

His dignity? Evaporated.

His hair? Now suspiciously soft.

You grunt approvingly. (Worthy mate.)

Sukuna glares death.

You pat his head.

He roars in betrayal.

---

The moment of truth.

You drag him back to the cave.

The fire flickers. The air is thick with something tense.

You crouch down.

And, without hesitation—

You untie him.

Sukuna freezes.

Oh.

Oh no.

He is free.

He should run.

He should crush you, burn this place down, reclaim his pride, and remind the world why he is the strongest.

But…

He does not move.

Instead, he stares.

At you.

At the organized cave.

At the good food.

At the comfort.

At the competence.

His stomach does a weird thing.

Not hunger.

Something else.

…Oh.

OH.

He has been courted.

By you.

A woman smaller than him?

The realization is devastating.

You smirk.

And, one more time…

You pat his head.

Sukuna growls.

But he does not leave.

---

Sukuna is suffering.

It has been days.

He should be fine.

He should be thriving.

He has good food, a strong cave, sharp rocks, and the privilege of not being bonked daily. (Progress…?)

But there is a problem.

He wants you.

Physically.

Desperately.

Like a fever in his bones.

Like an itch behind his ribs that he can’t reach.

Like an unrelenting cave mosquito bite, but worse because it is YOU, and mosquitoes die easily, but you refuse to perish.

You glare at him across the fire.

He glares back.

The air is thick. Heavy. Crackling with something primal.

But there is one fatal flaw.

Neither of you know what you’re doing.

You move first.

Sukuna tenses as you grab his chin again, your grip rough, firm—like you’re inspecting game.

His stomach does that thing again.

He does not like this.

He likes this too much.

You shove him down.

His brain shatters.

He snarls, trying to flip you over—to dominate. To win. But your grip on his wrists tightens, and suddenly,

HE. IS. PINNED.

His vision goes red.

THE AUDACITY.

THE. AUDACITY. Again for emphasis.

But then…

You do nothing.

You just stare at him.

Waiting.

Sukuna stares back.

…Now what?

Sukuna, desperate to reclaim dominance, growls.

Flips you over.

You flip him back.

He flips you again.

You reverse.

This goes on for ten minutes.

At this point, it is not romantic.

It is not primal.

It looks like two prehistoric idiots trying to invent wrestling.

Somewhere outside, an elder caveman hears the commotion, shakes his head, and decides to write cave poetry instead of mating this year. (It’s Ijichi and he’s not an elder, just looks like one.)

Inside the cave, the match continues.

Grunts.

Snarls.

Dirt flying everywhere.

At some point, you both just stop.

Panting. Staring. Confused.

Sukuna frowns. (This should be instinctual. Why is it not happening?)

You squint. (Maybe… different approach?)

He grabs your toes.

You instinctively kick him.

He growls.

You growl louder.

The problem is, neither of you know where to put things.

Hands? Everywhere.

Mouth? Nowhere near the right spots.

At one point, Sukuna headbutts you by accident.

You elbow him in retaliation.

Then he chokes on his own spit.

This is not going very well.

You pull back.

Stare at each other.

Both of you look deeply disappointed in the other.

Sukuna exhales sharply and grunts. (What now?)

You grunt back. (We… thonk.)

A silent, wordless truce is reached.

For now.

But the tension remains.

You glare.

Sukuna glares back.

This is not over.

Sukuna is determined.

You are determined.

Neither of you will be defeated.

---

So, the next night, you and Sukuna do what any couple of prehistoric idiots would do.

You watch Nanami.

For research.

This is a flawless plan.

A foolproof plan.

A brilliant plan.

It is not.

You and Sukuna are in the bushes.

Close.

Too close.

Way too close.

You are practically inside Nanami’s cave.

Sukuna’s arm brushes against yours. His breath is hot against your neck.

The scent of raw violence and bad decisions lingers in the air.

Neither of you acknowledge it.

You are professionals.

Well.

You are Neanderthals.

Same thing.

The fire inside Nanami’s cave casts perfect shadows on the walls.

A masterclass performance.

A step-by-step tutorial.

A once-in-a-lifetime learning opportunity.

Your tiny prehistoric brains absorb the data.

You both squint.

Sukuna nudges you and grunts. (That look right?)

You tilt your head. (Maybe…?)

You lean in.

Then Sukuna leans in.

Then you lean in more.

Then Sukuna leans in more.

You are practically between Nanami’s legs.

And then—

Nanami notices.

Nanami stops mid-....

Turns his head.

Narrows his dead, exhausted, so-done-with-life eyes.

Sukuna freezes.

You freeze.

There is a moment of tense silence.

A life-defining moment.

A moment where you both reconsider your entire existence.

Then.

Nanami picks up a rock.

A very big rock.

You both start to back away.

Slowly.

Carefully.

Retreat.

Disengage.

Escape.

Nanami does not care.

He hurls the rock.

Hard.

(Because unlike you two and a certain white-haired tribe fool, Nanami has a concept of privacy. And money does not exist yet, so no, he will not be starting an adult site. No. Thank. You.)

The rock sails through the air.

The trajectory is perfect.

The angle is flawless.

The impact should be devastating.

It should crush one of you on sight.

But instead—

It misses.

And instead—

It hits Gojo.

Who was minding his own business.

(Also watching Nanami with his woman for research.)

Gojo collapses instantly.

Directly onto his woman’s chest.

His woman looks down.

Pauses.

Then just shrugs and drags his lanky ass back into their cave.

Like this happens often.

Like she is used to this.

Like she has accepted her fate.

Meanwhile, you and Sukuna, still recovering from near-death-by-rock, decide that maybe this particular research method is flawed.

And with whatever dignity you have left,

You. Retreat.

Nanami’s woman yanks his hair back.

Nanami sighs.

Shakes his head.

Goes back to it.

As if this is normal.

As if he is unbothered, unfazed, and entirely too used to it by now because Gojo exists.

But now, you both have studied.

The blueprint has been acquired.

The forbidden knowledge is yours.

It is time.

Back in your cave, you and Sukuna recreate the motions.

At first, it is awkward.

Very awkward.

There is fumbling.

Some miscalculations.

At one point, Sukuna forgets what legs do.

He just stands there, confused.

You overcorrect.

And by overcorrect, you mean you accidentally knee him in the stomach.

Hard.

He folds in half like a poorly constructed shrubbery tent.

This is not going well.

Then—

Something clicks.

Sukuna growls.

Pins you down.

His grip is tight.

His eyes are dark.

His muscles flex.

He grunts. (Submit.)

You flip him over.

Your grip is tighter around his throat.

Your eyes deadlier.

Your muscles flex harder.

You grunt back. (No, you submit.)

Silence.

Sukuna pauses.

Then—

He lets you.

His pupils dilate.

His breath hitches.

Oh.

OH.

He likes this.

You smirk.

Something clicks (aka Evolution in Real-Time).

Then finally, it happens.

It is violent.

It is chaotic.

It is not historically accurate.

But it works.

Afterwards, Sukuna.exe has crashed.

He is a mess.

Sprawled out.

Chest heaving.

Staring at the ceiling like he just witnessed the invention of the calendar.

His brain is fried.

His life has changed.

Meanwhile, you stretch.

Feeling accomplished.

Victorious.

Like a goddess.

Sukuna, however, is still processing his entire existence.

He has been tamed.

Fully.

You pat his head.

He glares.

Weakly.

Then you crawl onto his chest and fall asleep like a starfish.

He just sighs.

This is his life now.

A/N: Well. That happened. I don’t know whether to feel proud, concerned, or vaguely threatened. Sukuna has officially entered his “I don’t know what just happened but I liked it” era, & frankly? He deserves to suffer.

Vote wisely. Or don’t. Nothing is wise in this story. 💀

Next chapter will be out soon :)

All Works Masterlist

[junabuggy]

hello!! i saw you wanted requests and I was wondering if you would be willing to write some platonic headcanons for the Hazbin Hotel crew with a reader who has chronic pain. (i totally get if you don't want to) thank you so much and I'm excited to see what you write in the future 😺

Hazbin Hotel Crew x Chronic pain having! GN! Reader

A/n: tysm for the request !! This is my first time writing something like this so I hope it’s okay :3 (if there’s anything I got wrong, please correct me)

Warnings: Mentions of chronic pain and disability (but like.. that’s pretty obvious lol)

Fluff✔️ Comfort✔️ Angst❌ Smut❌

‧₊˚✧ Alastor ✧˚₊‧

📻𖤐 After a while of Alastor observing you, as he does with most, he’d notice your body language and think the way you acted was a bit odd…

📻𖤐 Not in a bad way, he just didn’t understand at first why you sometimes visibly look like you were in pain or even just hobbling around to get somewhere

📻𖤐 it definitely raised his brow…

📻𖤐 Before actually approaching you and asking you about it, I’d like to think he made one of the egg boiz spy on you like he did in that one episode 😭😭

📻𖤐 I don’t know what he was expecting though. The only somewhat valuable piece of information he gathered from what the little talking egg had told him was that it saw you taking pain medication. Which did not narrow it down at all and not much of his curiosity had been quenched quite yet..

📻𖤐 So, one peaceful and early morning in the hotel, he decided it’d be best to just ask you about it.

📻𖤐 “My dear, are you feeling alright? You look to be quite discomforted…?” He’d ask casually as he took a sip from his coffee mug, one brow raised and his eyes fixed on yours, pretending like he hadn’t noticed this before today.

📻𖤐 After a chat, he was informed you had something called “chronic pain”. He asked a few questions, nodding when he got the answers and once he was satisfied, he walked off back to his quarters in the hotel.

📻𖤐 After all, he had so much research to do.

📻𖤐 Adding onto that last once I do feel as though Alastor would do more research on it when you decided to tell him about your condition.

📻𖤐 Mostly for his own benefit of learning something new since he hadn’t heard of this before… but it came in handy if you ever needed a bit of a helping hand.

📻𖤐 Like, if you happened to have a flare up or just a particularly bad day he’d sit with you and made sure you rested up.

📻𖤐 He wouldn’t verbally express it but he did take pity on you. How unfortunate you were in constant agony.

📻𖤐 He is a sadistic little fuck though so he’d probably find it mildly entertaining or at the very least fascinating to see what’d make you tick or was a challenge for you

📻𖤐 Although he’d try to be careful not to push you too much.

‧₊˚✧ Angel Dust ✧˚₊‧

🕸️ᥫ᭡ We all know Angel Dust doesn’t have much of a filter so it wouldn’t take him long to ask you why you could barely stand upright for too long or look like you’re genuinely struggling all the time.

🕸️ᥫ᭡ In fact, he’s more perceptive than people would like to think he is. He noticed it shortly after you two had met.

🕸️ᥫ᭡ He’d probably come off a bit strong, saying something along the lines of “toots? Ya alright over there? Ya don’t look so uhhh.. you don’t look too hot.” As he gave you a one over.

🕸️ᥫ᭡ You could tell he wasn’t trying to be insulting to you though, he was just concerned and wanted to know what was troubling you. It showed ever so slightly on the spiders face.

🕸️ᥫ᭡ Once you explained to Angel your condition he felt bad. Like, huh? Whatdoya mean you sometimes have trouble even getting outta bed in the morning because of how much pain you’re in?? Sometimes you neglect your own basic needs because you’re in constant pain?

🕸️ᥫ᭡ As he tired to wrap his head around the thought, he’d ask if there’s anything he could do to help. Of course though, there wasn’t much he could do.

🕸️ᥫ᭡ From that day on, Angel would try to make things at least a little easier for you. You had earned the title of his friend, after all. Why would he let his friend suffer alone?

🕸️ᥫ᭡ He loves to cook and is pretty good at it so expect a few homemade meals on him at least a few times <3

🕸️ᥫ᭡ If you ever had a flare up you better fucking believe he’d sit there with you and just talk. He rambles like an old man lol

🕸️ᥫ᭡ Also 100% has movie nights with you with both of you guys’ favourite snacks.

🕸️ᥫ᭡ Oh and of course his pig Fat Nuggets would be joining you two

🕸️ᥫ᭡ And thankfully the little guy adores you. Which gains some points with Angel

🕸️ᥫ᭡ The piggy would crawl into your lap if you were up for it. He’s pretty light and his oinks and squeals are bound to make you crack a smile

🕸️ᥫ᭡ Angel is no stranger to feeling pain, so he knows how much it sucks.

🕸️ᥫ᭡ That’s why I believe he’d be one of the best people to tell. You’re his friend and wants to make sure you’re okay as possible.

‧₊˚✧ Husker ✧˚₊‧

🍺🃁 Husker, much like Angel, would notice almost immediately that something was up with you…

🍺🃁 At first Husk couldn’t place it. He just knew that he didn’t often see you standing up straight for long periods of time and that you looked like you were constantly unwell.

🍺🃁 Was it just bad migraines? He’s never really seen you drunk before so it’s not like it could be really bad hangovers.

🍺🃁 Plus, this has been going on since you arrived here so that seemed highly unlikely.

🍺🃁 Husk was the type of guy to keep it to himself though. If it didn’t concern him, why bother saying anything about it?

🍺🃁 One day though, you sat yourself down at the bar and asked for some water. This time however, you looked worse than usual, practically doubled over as you stared down at the bar.

🍺🃁 Even though Husk usually kept his mouth shut.. he couldn’t help but ask if you had a headache or something and if you needed some migraine medication.

🍺🃁 He wasn’t heartless.

🍺🃁 When you shook your head no slowly and told him you were just having a “flare up” he asked what you meant to which you gave a brief explanation of the condition you have.

🍺🃁 Suddenly, it all made sense. That’s why you looked like you were constantly in pain. It’s because you were.

🍺🃁 He slid you the ice cold water gently and observed you for a few moments before going back to wiping the glasses as he spoke to you.

🍺🃁 “If you need something don’t be afraid to ask for it.” He’d say, his deep voice trying to be as comforting as it can while also maintaining somewhat of a nonchalant tone.

🍺🃁 Then, after that, it became routine for you to sit at the bar with him.

🍺🃁 He definitely wasn’t complaining. It was nice getting to know you and since you had a place to just sit and rest, he got to see you more often.

🍺🃁 you swiftly became good friends with him and he was pretty helpful when it came to your condition.

🍺🃁 he’d do his best to check up on you often :)

‧₊˚✧ Vaggie ✧˚₊‧

🗡️☪︎ Vaggie heard about your chronic pain from Charlie so there wouldn’t be a need to tell her about it lol

🗡️☪︎ I have a feeling she’d be a little awkward with attempting to help you out…

🗡️☪︎ Like it’s not like she can really make you feel better so it’s a bit of a struggle for her..

🗡️☪︎ But she does try her best though because she cares about you. You’re her friend.

🗡️☪︎ After a few motivational words from Charlie she’s good to go, attempting to comfort you.

🗡️☪︎ I have a feeling she’d try to help by grabbing you stuff you wanted or needed and chatting with you.

🗡️☪︎ She’s actually quite fun to converse with, she’s pretty sweet when she wants to be and can hold good conversations :))

🗡️☪︎ She’s a good listener so if you wanted to vent or just had something on your mind, she’d listen.

🗡️☪︎ During flareups, Vaggie would just stay by your side and wait it out with you, if you needed anything, she’d be on it and would be back pretty fucking quickly too 💀

🗡️☪︎ Would put a random show on if you wanted a distraction and might let you rest your head on her shoulder if you so desired

🗡️☪︎ I can’t think of much else for her other than the fact she’d try her best. Maybe mess up a few times but ultimately she means well and tries to be as understanding as she possibly can be <33

‧₊˚✧ Charlie ✧˚₊‧

⭐️☀︎ The first thing you did when you arrived at the hotel was inform the very excited daughter of Lucifer that you had chronic pains so you might have to take it a bit slow when showing you around the Hazbin Hotel..

⭐️☀︎ And of course, Charlie being who she was, was very understanding and accepting of that fact.

⭐️☀︎ She’d heard about your condition before so making accommodations for you wouldn’t be an issue

⭐️☀︎ She’s a sweetheart so quite literally your biggest supporter

⭐️☀︎ Like, oh? You need something??Ohmygodwhydidntyoutellmesoonerhereitis :33

⭐️☀︎ Much like Vaggie, she’d sit and talk with you during your flareups

⭐️☀︎ Maybe make you a tea and discuss future plans and such for the hotel to get your mind off of things. Works sometimes surprisingly enough.

⭐️☀︎ She’s nice to talk to, very comforting vibes

⭐️☀︎ But it may get a bit annoying how many times she asks if you’re sure there’s nothing she can do to make your pain go away somehow lol

⭐️☀︎ Or even just how many times she asks if you need something. “Do you need anything? No? Are you sure? Okay…. But are you really sure?”

⭐️☀︎ Might stress herself out on occasion over it tbh😭🙏

⭐️☀︎ But she only means well, you know that.

⭐️☀︎ Her cat Keekee I’m sure would love to cuddle, the cute cyclopean kitty pushing its forehead against your hand for pets (only if you’re up to it, of course.)

⭐️☀︎ Asides from Angel, Charlie would definitely be the best person to tell in the hotel because like… genuinely she just wants to help In any way she can lol

‧₊˚✧ Niffty ✧˚₊‧

🧼𐙚 Niffty is quite blunt as well, very out there and doesn’t really think before she speaks half of the time it just kinda comes out 😭

🧼𐙚 So.. she’d probably take one look at you, and ask why you’re in pain.

🧼𐙚 To which you’d explain to the little one eyed maid your condition, she’d think about it for a moment before asking a shitload of questions about it to which you answer :))

🧼𐙚 Other than that I don’t think Niffty would like… really do much?

🧼𐙚 Maybe clean for you

🧼𐙚 But there’s not much else she would do, realistically, she might forget about it and then ask again. Once you remind her she remembers tho lol

🧼𐙚 During your flareups I do believe like the others she’d sit with you for a while…

🧼𐙚 Before spotting a roach and scurrying off to go take care of the pest. Once done, she’d come back and the cycle repeats.

𝐏𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐞 𝐝𝐨 𝐧𝐨𝐭 ��𝐥𝐚𝐠𝐚𝐫𝐢𝐳𝐞, 𝐫𝐞𝐩𝐨𝐬𝐭 𝐨𝐫 𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐧𝐬𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐞 𝐚𝐧𝐲 𝐨𝐟 𝐦𝐲 𝐰𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐦𝐢𝐬𝐬𝐢𝐨𝐧 ◟( ˃̶͈◡ ˂̶͈ )◞

ᯓ★ 𝐣𝐮𝐧𝐚𝐛𝐮𝐠𝐠𝐲

[trueebeauty]

could you do dating hcs for Gun with sfw + nsfw too, pleaseee (●'◡'●)

SFW - soft, casual

Gun is not one to openly express his emotions. In a relationship, he's the silent observer, always keeping a close eye on your needs and feelings, even if he doesn’t always verbalize it.

He notices the little things about you—how you take your coffee, your favorite way to unwind, and what makes you smile.

Gun’s protective instincts are heightened in a relationship. He ensures your safety and comfort at all times, whether it’s walking you home or stepping in if someone bothers you.

Given his intimidating aura, his presence is often enough to deter any potential threats.

Instead of over-the-top romantic stunts, Gun shows his love through acts of service. He's the kinda guy who'll fix things around your place, handle difficult situations for you, or bring you food when you’re too busy or tired to cook.

He's a man of few words, but Gun cherishes the quieter moments you share, content to bask in comfortable silence without needing constant conversation to fill the air.

Once you have Gun’s trust and affection, his loyalty is unwavering. He’s someone who stands by his partner through thick and thin, offering a strong and dependable presence in your life.

Betrayal is one of the few things that could sever that bond, so honesty and loyalty are non-negotiable in his eyes.

Given his background and expertise, Gun often takes on a mentor-like role in the relationship, especially if you share any of his interests or pursuits. He’s willing to teach and train you, but don’t expect him to go easy on you.

Gun’s expressions of affection are subtle yet deeply meaningful. A gentle touch on your back as you walk together, a rare but sincere smile when you’re alone, or a steadying hand in a crowd.

He might not be outwardly affectionate in public, but in private, his actions speak volumes about his feelings for you.

Gun is physically imposing, and he uses this to his advantage in your relationship. He loves the way you fit against him, whether it's during a comforting hug or while you're both just lounging around.

NSFW - mdni

Gun thrives on being in control and doing things with precision - he loves dominating you and having you at his mercy.

He's an attentive lover who gets a thrill out of exploring what really makes you tick. Every little touch, kiss, or whispered dirty talk that makes you shiver? He lives for that.

While he might not be vocal during intimate moments, his body language speaks volumes. The way he watches you with a dark, intense gaze, the firm grip of his hands on your hips, and the subtle shift in his breathing all express his desires.

He lets his actions do the talking, making each caress and thrust better than the last. With Gun, it's pure passion in motion.

Gun has an incredible sense of stamina and endurance. He can keep up a relentless pace, pushing you both to your physical limits before allowing any release.

Pushing your limits gets him going, but he's always tuned into your responses. He'll take you right to the edge, but knows just how far he can go.

Claiming you as his own is a big turn-on for Gun. Whether it's biting, gripping, or leaving other marks, he can't get enough of those visible reminders that you're his.

It's not just about control though - there's a primal, possessive need driving Gun to mark you as his territory in the most intimate way.

He has no issue taking you against a wall, over a surface, or anywhere that allows him complete access and control over your body.

Once the heat has died down, you get a glimpse of Gun's shockingly gentle side. Underneath that rugged exterior, he's an attentive, caring lover who makes sure you're completely comfortable and satisfied when it's all over.

“Tell me what you want,” he commands softly, his voice low and deep. “I want to hear you say it.”

“Does this feel good?” he murmurs against your neck, “Or should I keep going until you can’t take it anymore?”

He lets out a soft, guttural sound of approval as you arch against him. “Just like that,” he mutters, his hands gripping your waist firmly, guiding your movements.

[lincolndjarin]

Best Kept Secret

chapter nine : shuk'la rules (RE-UPLOAD)

ao3 link ✿ series masterlist ✩ main masterlist ✧

pairing : bodyguard!Din Djarin x afab!princess!reader

rating : 18+ mdni

word count : 5.6k

summary : you spend some time in the library with the mandalorian

warnings, etc. : language, p in v sex, fingering, sort of a glove kink situation that is not verbally expressed but is def there, slapping, def like dom/sub vibes but also not spoken on, sort of a dumbification situation, degradation and also praise

A/N : i had to change accounts so this is a re-upload of my ongoing fic bks!!

You need sex.

Normally you would be satisfied for quite some time after getting off but for some reason with Mando it was different. But it’s only been two days and you need more. 

Instead of taming the beast it’s like he let it out of its cage and now it’s running rampant. 

But you had to have your stupid rules.

Maybe you could just get rid of the second one. 

You pick up the book, flipping to the back cover, staring at those damned words.

This is Purely Stress Relief. 

What an idiot, in your stupid quest to make sure things stayed casual you were somehow denying yourself casual sex. Maybe you could just fake stress, or start a fight with him. No, he’d see right through that. You’re in a genuinely good mood after yesterday, you’ve got no reason to start shit with him.

But you need sex. 

And he’s sooo good at it. Annoyingly so. 

And you can’t just ask for it, because he’ll tease you about it. (Which probably wouldn’t be all that bad now that you think of it.) But you need him, terribly. You’re lying here in your closet bed, doing everything in your power to will away the ache between your thighs because you don’t have the time to deal with it yourself, Elaine and Lysa will be here at any minute. So you stuff your face in a pillow, and let yourself have a good long groan as you hear your bedroom doors open outside the closet. 

The closet doors fly open and Elaine steps in, grinning down at you. 

“Good morning ma’am, is everything alright? You’re normally awake by now, you must have had a long day yesterday.” She’s raising an eyebrow as you groan again. Bringing another pillow up to smash against your face. 

“I’m fine. Just tired.” You mumble into the cushion. She reaches down to tear the pillow from your hands, picking you up under your arms and lifting you to your feet. “Maker, you’re strong…” 

“I have to be to take care of you ma’am. Now, up. Time to dress.” She steps out and you follow her to the mirror as Lysa goes to find you a dress. 

“Something green.” You yell over your shoulder, maybe he’ll fuck you if you wear another green dress. Gods, you hope so. 

Okay, pull yourself together. You can’t be acting like this around him, he’ll use it to his advantage and you can’t let him get the upper hand on you, not when you’re in this state. Who knows what you’ll do or say to get him to touch you. 

    You zone out as they go through the usual routine of dressing you, the jade dress hugging your torso making you smile, maybe this will work. Once you’re all done up you take Elaine’s hand in yours.

“Thank you… seriously, you’re a miracle worker. You and Lysa have taken such good care of me.” You give her a warm smile and you're taken aback by the way she squints at you before returning the smile. 

“Thank you ma’am.”

That’s all she says as she steps back, looking you over once before nodding and taking Lysa’s hand before leaving. 

Weird.

You put it aside in your mind though because when they open the door you catch a glint of silver. You need to think fast, how are you going to seduce him? Gods, you're pathetic. Whatever. Just get out there, maybe actually seeing him will make this easier, the moment he starts being a jackass you’ll be able to resist him.

✩

It doesn’t work. 

He’s nice today. Uncharacteristically so, it’s actually off-putting. He had greeted you with a compliment on your dress, had walked you to the library with no complaints, no teasing, and no resistance. And had so kindly handed you the book you’d left off on last time, he had even opened it to the page you’d left off on before he sat across from the nook and opened his own book. 

What’s his angle here? You’re having a hard time focusing on your reading because now you’ve got to figure out what he’s plotting. 

Stern, protective, annoying, persistent, nice? The Mandalorian is a lot of things but he isn’t necessarily nice. 

He isn’t cruel by any means but it’s off putting to have him acting like this. Sadly it doesn’t make him any less attractive to you at this moment because you’re still imagining all the different ways you could lure him back to your chambers. Your thoughts are interrupted by the low hum of static that always comes before he speaks. 

“You seem distracted.” When you look up the helmet is staring at you and his book is closed. Kriff. 

“Nothing, just a little…” 

Horny?

“Bored.” 

“Mmm. Want to play that game? Might help alleviate some of the boredom?” He sets his book aside as he leans forward, elbows resting on his knees. You’re about to blow him off with some lame excuse so you can keep plotting on how to bed him but you’re struck with an idea. 

“Sure. What does the winner get?” 

“Is there anything in particular you want?” Predictable, you knew he wouldn’t pick one himself.

“Hmm… how about the winner gets to break one of the rules?” He leans back in the chair as he’s seemingly considering the offer.

“Which rule did you have in mind?” 

“None of the important ones, just the second one. The stress relief one. Winner gets to break it once, at a time of their choosing.” He doesn’t need to know that you plan on cashing it in immediately when you win.

“Sounds fair enough, same rules as last time? Pass three times and you lose?” There’s a much stronger hint of amusement in his voice this time around and suddenly you’re nervous he might actually try to win. “You can go first again if you’d like.” 

Might as well start with an almost guaranteed pass. 

“Last time we played you said you needed the credits from this job, why?” 

You sit and try to hold back a smug smile as you wait to hear his response but it never comes. He just sits there thinking. 

“And you can’t lie.” You eventually add, in case he was trying to come up with an answer. 

“I need a ship. I know someone on a different planet that I’d like to go see.” He says each word slowly and carefully like he’s trying to phrase it a certain way. It makes you furrow your brow. You don’t have time to ponder it for long though because he’s already moving on. “What did you buy from that woman yesterday?” Shit, you had wanted that to be a surprise for him. You could always just use a pass on this, you’d still have two more, you aren’t really all that private he’s just managed to pick out a very specific thing you don’t want to answer. 

“Pass. Did you eat the food I gave you?” You should probably be focusing on more hard hitting questions if you want to win but you are genuinely curious.

“Yes. I had half last night and half this morning.” He sounds almost sheepish when he says it, like he’s admitting defeat. You want to laugh but you’re worried if you do he won’t take food in the future. “Why do you wear those horrific dresses on the fifth day of each week?” 

Jerk. 

He is right though, they are horrific. And it’s a huge relief that he’s seemingly done putting on the creepy over the top polite act he had going on. 

“Blue is Kodo’s favorite color. They dress me in it on days where I see him.” He lets out a huff at your response. 

“That’s a stupid reason.” 

“Do you often take note of what colors I’m wearing?”

“Is that your question?”

“Yes.”

“Then yes, I do. Especially when it’s green. Did you wear that for me?” He nods at the jade gown you’re currently wearing.

“Is that your question?”

“Yes.” You silently wish he was sitting closer. 

“Yes. Do you like it?” 

“Is that your question?” He sounds like he’s grinning. 

“No. I just want to know.” 

“...Yes.” He takes a moment to just stare at you and that stupid heat is back in the library. “What’s your actual question?”

“Has anyone seen your face before?” You probably shouldn’t ask, it seems way too personal for how the game has been going so far but you’re in this to win it. 

“Yes.” 

Huh. You hadn’t expected an answer. And you definitely hadn’t expected that answer. 

“What do you think I look like?” 

You hadn’t expected that question either. 

“It’s a little arrogant of you to assume I ever think about you in my spare time.”

Or all the time, constantly, and in your dreams. 

“So you’ve never thought about it?”

All the time, constantly, sometimes in your dreams. 

“I have.”

“Then what do you think I look like?” 

Of course you’d thought about it, it’s hard to not wonder what the best sex of your life looks like under his helmet. You didn’t want him to actually take it off of course, you understand how important it is to him but your mind is allowed to wander. And you can’t help but hope that he at least takes it off to use that stupid mouth of his at some point, even if you can’t look. 

“Well… I always assumed brunette, even before getting confirmation. I don’t know, sharp features? Clipped short hair, unruly facial hair? I can never figure out your eyes though, I just can’t picture them.” 

He sits on it for a moment. 

“They’re brown.” 

That suits him. He seems like he would have soft, warm eyes that could turn cold and deadly in an instant. 

“That doesn’t count as my question by the way.” You snap at him, trying to relieve the intimate tension that’s suddenly settled between you. 

“Of course not.”

“How many bounties have you caught?” 

“I don’t keep track.”

“That’s not an answer.” You huff at him as you roll your eyes. 

“Fine.” He takes a moment as he thinks about it before you hear the familiar crackle of the modulator. “All of them.” 

Okay he’s got to be doing that on purpose. That low voice where he acts all serious, you want to call him out for it but it goes straight to your pussy and if you say something somehow he’ll end up finding out so why bother. 

“What’s your favorite color?” He sounds so genuinely interested when he asks you things like this. It breaks your heart every time because no one else ever seemed to care so much.

“I don’t have one.”

“We’re really on a hot streak of not answering the questions princess.” He tilts his head to the side.

“It used to be blue. Now I don’t have one.”

His helmet straightens up and he’s silent for a beat. You have to pray he isn’t giving you a look of pity under there. 

“How about for now it’s green. We can share a favorite color until you get a new one.”

It’s hard to remember that you’re just friends when he says things like that.

You should say no. Say it’s purple now, or orange, or anything else. 

But green is growing on you. 

Why is this dumb game so much more serious this time around? 

“Why is your favorite color green?” Your voice has lost its teasing edge, only sincerity remains. 

He’s silent again. 

“I knew a kid a while back who liked green.”

There’s something new. 

You can’t place the tone he has now.

It’s almost… sad . It makes you want to stand up and walk over to him, take his helmet in your hands and tell him he’s okay. Only for a second though because of course he has to ask a question that completely pulls you from the moment. 

“When did you know you wanted me?”

Presumptuous. Either he really wants to change the subject or he really wants to win. 

He’s leaning forward again and it makes you want to slap the stupid helmet. You decide against it, you’d only end up hurting yourself in that situation. 

“I’m not sure.” You puff out your chest slightly as you say it. 

“So you pass?” 

“No.” Shit, okay, do you even know the answer? “Maybe… the last time we played the game? I’m not sure.” 

“Good enough for me.” It’s annoying how satisfied with himself he sounds. 

“Was I your first time?” You don’t know why you ask it, you’re almost certain you weren’t because he shouldn’t have been that good his first time. Maybe you just want to knock him down a peg. It makes him scoff.

“Was I not up to your standard?” 

“It’s not your turn.” You try to sound indifferent when you say it. 

“Is this really how you want to play this game princess? Because I can make this a lot harder on you if it is.” His voice somehow manages to get lower, Maker, he’s the worst.

“Are you passing?” Is all you say as you straighten up in your little nook. He seems to almost mirror you as he sits up in his chair.

“No. You were not my first.” This time when you don’t bother trying to hide your smug smile at his response, it’s nice to for once feel like you’ve got the upper hand on him.

“Was I the best you’ve ever had?” 

Well it was nice to have the upper hand for fifteen seconds. 

“You know no one wants to ever hear the answer to that question.” 

“I do.” 

Of course you do.

“Pass.” You really shouldn’t but it’s best to not give him the satisfaction of the truth.

“You know that’s basically an answer in itself. I’m willing to let you un-pass this one if you say it.” Gods you’re gonna kill him, after you win and fuck his brains out. Then you’re gonna kill him.

“I said pass.” 

“Okay princess.”

Why is he still so hot? He’s too nice and he’s hot, he’s an over confident dick and he’s hot. He should be studied at this point. You can’t help but ask a question for your own personal imagination of him now that he’s got you all riled up. 

“How old are you?” 

“I’m not sure. I stopped keeping track when I took the creed, somewhere in my late thirties probably.”

“You don’t know your own birthday?” 

“No.”

That shouldn’t make you as sad as it does. You get over it pretty quickly though when he asks his next question. 

“Do you think about me when you touch yourself?”

You could kill him. You didn’t think you’d be back to the point of plotting his untimely death so soon but you could kill him. You could also lie but you have to remind yourself that that would be a hollow win, it would always loom over you. No sense in putting it off. 

“Yes.” Might as well use his own question against him, even if it ends up embarrassing you if he says no. “Do you? Ever think about me?” You would give anything to sound less timid at that moment. 

“Often.”

Maker, is this your punishment for cheating on your husband? The agonizing temptation of the man before you?

“Do you ever think about Kodo?” Oh he’s sick. But right, his tone indicates that he already knows the answer to his question.

“No.” It’s barely above a whisper. “Why were you acting so weird this morning?” You’ve all but given up your little plot at this point, you’re pretty sure you’ll be able to convince him with or without the win at some point later. 

“Weird?” 

“You were being all cordial and polite. It was weird.” You’re still whispering as he scoffs.

“Pass.”

“Oh come on.” You didn’t often beg for a follow up during this game but you were desperate to know, especially if he didn’t want you to know. 

“I’ll tell you if you let me win.”

Hmm. That’s not an easy choice but you’re losing so why not just let him have it, maybe tonight you could try inviting him in again. 

“Fine. You win, now tell me. Why were you acting off?” You cross your arms as you glare at him.

“For the same reason you chose to play the game.”

“What?”

Oh. 

Oh.

He was trying to seduce you.

He’s good. It’s infuriating how good he continues to be at this. He keeps winning at this whole sexual chess game you’ve been playing. You don’t have time to mock him for being so theatrical about this whole thing because he’s standing and in the blink of an eye he’s in front of you, leaning down and grabbing the bottom of your skirt, lifting it up to your seat.

“I win.” His voice is low and husky and it doesn’t even seem like he’s basking in his victory all that much because he’s too busy collecting the layers of your dress and holding them in place up at your hips. You don’t have a lot of time to process what’s going on as one of his hands is gripping your jaw. “Is it okay if I cash in my prize now?” He’s asking for permission and honestly all you can do is dumbly nod as he grabs your hips and roughly pulls you by the waist of your dress so your ass is barely hanging off the edge of the reading nook, one of his hands comes up to your mouth and he’s tapping his pointer and middle finger on your bottom lip. “Open.” 

You should be snippier with him. 

You want to be. You want desperately for him to not be in charge all the time. (Of course you do want him to be in charge some of the time but that’s besides the point.)

And you’re getting what you want so what’s the point of fighting now. You open your mouth and he slides his fingers past your teeth, not far enough to make you gag but enough to fill your mouth with the material. 

Metal, gunpowder, leather. 

It’s not all that unpleasant, especially since he’s slotting himself between your legs now. 

“Bite down.” You furrow your brows but gently bite and he pulls his hand free, keeping his glove between your teeth. “Keep that there, okay sarad? Nod if you understand.” 

What a prick. Talking down to you like that, if it didn’t make you so wet you’d spit his glove back in his face. 

Instead you nod, because afterall you’re only human and you have needs. 

“Good girl.” His condescending tone is infuriating and if you weren’t so horribly turned on by it you’d kick him where it hurts but his ungloved hand is unzipping his flight suit at the crotch so you decide to let this one slide. “Hold your skirt up for me, cyar’ika.” He mutters out as he manages to free his cock from his pants, already standing at attention, fully erect. 

It’s enough to have you tragically drooling at the sight of a man who wants you so badly he needs no time to prepare himself. 

To the best of your ability you grip the edges of your skirt up for him as his still gloved hand reaches under all of the tulle, fishing around for a moment until he finds the hem of your panties, shoving them down to your ankles as you let out a small groan into his glove. His still gloved hand is spreading your thighs as he slowly strokes himself with his other hand, once you’re seemingly exactly how he wants you you can faintly hear a sharp inhale as he takes in the sight of you staring up at him. 

“Cyare…” He mumbles as he switches his hands, bringing his bare hand between your legs. 

You shouldn’t whine the way you do. You wish you could have held it back but you’re already a mess just in anticipation of him and you just pray to the gods that the glove muffles the majority of it. Of course it doesn’t. Because he lets out a gravely laugh. 

“What’s wrong sarad?” His tone is not unkind but it is sarcastic as you feel his fingernails lightly scraping at your inner thigh. You can nearly see his confused look through the Beskar as he takes a moment to contemplate before he brings his gloved hand back between your legs as you nod pathetically. “Is this what you wanted? I thought you thought my gloves were stupid princess?” 

The tough leather on his fingertips is ever so slightly dragging through your seam as you let your head fall back. He hums in approval as he brings his bare hand back to his cock, jerking himself off gradually as he sinks a finger into your dripping cunt. 

No sense in maintaining any of your pride because the sensation forces an obscene groan out of you, accompanied by the lewd squelching sound as he withdrawals the single digit before sliding it back in. 

His fingers had already filled you so exquisitely, with the added thickness of the gloves you were pretty sure you died and went to heaven. He doesn’t wait long before he adds a second finger and honestly you’re pretty sure you can’t physically take a third as he slams them in and out of you brutally, he doesn’t give you anytime to catch your breath as he pulls them out almost entirely before sliding them home, down to the knuckle. 

You’re not sure where to look, there’s a lot going on right now and yes you had wanted this terribly but you didn’t think he’d give it to you so suddenly and you’re feeling a lot of things right now. 

You settle your eyes on his length. That perfect pretty cock of his. He’s matching the rhythm of his strokes to the rhythm of his other hand. Maker, you don’t deserve the show he’s putting on for you as he lets out quiet grunts, staring down at you. You let out a particularly loud whine as you feel his fingers curl ever so slightly.

“I love those pretty little noises you make but you have to be quiet mesh’la.” His hand briefly comes up to your mouth to shove more of the glove past your teeth as you whine softly. “If you can’t be quiet I’ll have to stop, do you understand?” 

He pulls his fingers from you, wiping his glove on the inside of your dress as you let out a small cry at the loss of contact, it makes him click his tongue. 

“Be a good girl okay? I know this is what you wanted, is that why you wore this? So I’d fuck you like the slut you are? All you had to do was ask, I don’t care all that much about your rules. But we can’t have anyone walking in so I need you to quiet down.” He’s lining the weeping pink tip of his cock up at your entrance so you swallow the moan threatening to burst from your throat.

You still aren’t used to how talkative he is during sex. Sure he talks to you but never like this. Most of the time he only ever says what he needs to to get under your skin and then he’s done. But when you’re like this, it’s like he can’t stop the words that fall past the modulator. 

He’s slower this time. The first time, he had fucked you like he would never get a chance to touch you again. Animalistic and mercilessly. Now it’s like he’s taking the time to savor you entirely. 

You want to spit the glove out and beg him to just fuck you without caution but you’re certain he would just go slower if you did that. Or worse, stop entirely. So you bite down on the glove and grit your teeth as he continues at his agonizingly slow pace, lazily shoving himself into your tight hole, inch by inch. He takes his time, dragging it out, he’s barely halfway in and he’s panting, his hand squeezing the still fresh bruises under your dress. 

Before you can stop him he starts pulling out again, you’re unable to fend off the meek whine that happens as he starts shallowly slow fucking you, never pushing himself more than a few inches in. It’s got you thrashing as he pins you down in place, your cunt milking the head of his cock. Your hands abandoning your skirt to hold onto his forearms for support .

His gloved hand came down with a smack on your inner thigh that has you keening as he starts massaging the red mark, spreading your legs a little wider. His thumb began rubbing rough circles against your clit. Just fast enough to make you squirm but not fast enough to push you over the edge. You can tell by the hoarse laughter that comes between his grunts that he’s doing this on purpose. Not fucking you deep enough to hit the spot that he know’s you’re hopelessly trying to push it against.

“Man-ooh” You spit out past the glove. You point your toes to try and get some traction on the ground. Struggling to drive him deeper into you, he responds with a harsh slap to your clit that has you jolting backwards against the window. 

“Ah ah, I thought I told you to be good. Good girls stay quiet.” He pushes his thumb down against your bud, applying pressure but holding it torturously still. 

“Pleath-” Is all you can manage to mumble out past the leather, tears pricking at the corners of your eyes, as you try to writhe under his grip, anything to get him deeper inside you but he holds you in place as he impales you on his length.

“Please? Good girls don’t beg until they’re told to sarad.” He rocks his hips forward as he continues to mock you. 

It’s a real shame he knows how to work you up so easily. You’d love to slap that stupid tone out of his voice and tell him to fuck you proper but there’s something about the pure domination that he exudes the moment he decides he wants you. It’s intoxicating. You’re drunk on him when he gets like this, the primal needs to submit to him in the moment is overwhelming. He delivers another slap to your clit to get your attention that has you letting out a muffled yelp.

“Are you paying attention, mesh’la?” His voice is so low and condescending and it makes you tighten around him earning you a growl from the Mandalorian. “You like it when I treat you like this huh?” He gives you another snap of his hips, just enough to kiss that spot with his cockhead. 

You can feel a moan bubbling in your throat but bite it back, trying to stay silent, opting for a nod instead. 

“Good girl. Now say you’re sorry princess.” One of his hands is splayed out on your thigh, holding you spread open for him as the other hungrily gropes at your chest over your bodice. 

You close your eyes as your head leans back to avoid letting him see the crimson that is creeping up your face. You’ve come this far, why draw the line here.

“Thowwy” You should probably feel more shame. You’re the princess of a very important planet yet you’re here, in the library, being fucked sensless by a man who is notably not your husband, mumbling apologies through a gag. It’s easy to forget all that though because your pathetic sorry earns you a patronizing pat on the head, which subsequently results in a rush of heat between your legs. 

You might be a bad person for getting off on this.

Maybe think about that later, right now you’re too busy servicing the bodyguard your husband hired. 

“See, that’s better.” He brings his thumb up to swipe at your bottom lip, taking in the beads of drool before bringing it back to your clit. “Good girls get rewarded.” He snaps his hips forward, pushing just a little deeper. Finally letting the blunt head of his cock rest against that sensitive spot inside of you. 

It’s like he knows your body better than you do. It’s a little aggravating but it’s hard to be mad when he starts deliberately slamming himself against that spot. Matching his ministrations on your clit to his thrusts which has your entire body tensing as that wire in your core threatens to snap.  

You have autonomy. And he’s just a self-righteous asshole who is devastatingly good at sex. He likes to remind you of the fact that you don’t technically have the authority to dismiss him but you’re pretty sure you’re still his boss.

So why are you staring up at him now with pleading eyes as he fucks you, your eyes darting between him and the leather sticking out from your lips. You could spit it out, but instead you wait until his thrusts slow ever so slightly as he pulls the now soaked glove from your mouth, a line of drool going from it to your lips. 

“What is it, copikla?” He says it so derisively that you don’t need a translation to tell you he’s teasing you. 

Okay.

Normally you wouldn’t do this. Not unless a guy explicitly asked for it and it was your only option. But you know that if you ask for permission he’ll probably just let you and you woke up pent up and then there was all the teasing and the heat is going to your head so you can’t stop the babbles that spill from your lips. 

“Can I cum Mando? Please let me cum I’m so close please.” Hearing yourself say those words is a little humiliating, (for an unrelated reason you’re sure you get wetter as you say them) but it seems to work because he picks up his pace as he plunges himself into you. There’s no hesitation as you plead with him.

“Elek olaror sarad’ika. Cum for me.” His voice is a low growl as he holds your hips, pulling you down against him to push himself deeper into you as his thumb rolls over your clit just so. Everything combined with the Mando’a he seemingly can’t stop speaking has your eyes rolling back as you feel your walls clamping down on him, strangling his cock as you climax, your vision going a sharp white for a moment, his hand comes up just fast enough to muffle the cry that escapes your throat. Simultaneously he slips out of you, shooting his load onto your swollen soaked pussy.

You’re both just panting for a moment as you come down from your respective orgasms. He recovers first as he shoves himself back into his pants before kneeling down in front of you, pulling your panties up, keeping his cum on your skin. 

It’s filthy. The thought of spending the rest of the day with his seed between your legs is hot enough to hopefully keep you satisfied for a few more days than last time. 

Your head is still tilted back, resting against the window as your chest heaves. You barely even register the hiss of air, or the gentle kiss that’s placed against your inner thigh. 

Soft. His lips are soft, not chapped like you’d thought they’d be, with just a little bit of stubble. 

By the time you look down at him his helmet is back in place and you aren’t even sure it really happened. He straightens the layers on your skirt and stands up, his still ungloved hand brushes your hair back as he caresses your face.

“Are you okay? Do you need anything?” He’s back to that soft tone he uses only for you and you scowl at him.

“You’re mean during sex.” 

It’s nice to hear him laugh in earnest. He tucks a loose strand behind your ear.

“I think you like it.”

“Maybe.”

“Can I get you anything princess?” There it is again. That tone where he makes it sound like an endearment.

You don’t really need anything but you do have something you need to do so you give him a distraction.

“Could I convince you to get me some water?” 

“There isn’t a lot you couldn’t convince me of.” 

It’s things like that that make it hard to remember this is a platonic arrangement. But he’s already walking to the door so you rush to find some stationary and you write out everything you need before stepping out into the hall. No sign of Mando so you whisper-yell Leodall’s name. It’s like he appears out of thin air, you should figure out how he does that at some point if you’re gonna keep having secret sexual relations. That isn’t your mission right now though so you hand him the paper and dismiss him before hurrying back into the library. Patiently awaiting Mando’s return. 

As you sit back in the nook you rest your head on the adjacent book shelf. 

Two days. 

You’ve had your rules for two days. So far you’ve broken a rule every day you’ve had them. 

Everyone makes mistakes.

You just won’t break any more rules from this point forward. 

“…All you had to do was ask, I don’t care all that much about your rules.”

That’s what he had said.

This is Purely Stress Relief. 

Maybe you can keep breaking one rule. 

I am no longer doing taglists so follow @lincolndjarinnotifs and turn on notifications to be notified when new chapters are posted !!

[castoricehq]

✘ Inconvenient Solutions.

Krux had left you both to do the dishes, turning into a pointless debate about who should do it. Guess who gave up?

#TAGS: Pure fluff, No trigger warnings, Your pronounce isn't specified as a 'she' so it can be kept as gender neutral, Potentially OOC, Romantic or Platonic you decide.

A/N: DAMN I DIDN'T REALIZED THAT I DISSAPEARED FOR LIKE A MONTH?? I really need to get my mental health checked out. 🥶

⪼ 𝐓𝐇𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐃 ࿐ཽ༵☆

ᨏᨐ———【𖥸】———ᨐᨏ

Krux had barely left the room when the responsibility fell squarely on you and Acronix. The sink was full of dirty dishes, remnants of meals and snacks that had been happily consumed without a second thought about the aftermath. With Krux off attending to some whatever task he has, he’d passed the burden onto the two of you—a decision he would undoubtedly regret if he returned to find the task still unresolved.

“Alright,” Acronix began, rolling up his sleeves and leaning casually against the counter. “You heard the old man. Let’s get these dishes done.”

You crossed your arms, raising an eyebrow. “We? You mean you get the dishes done. I’m not touching those.”

“Oh, please,” he scoffed, smirking. “You’re just as responsible for this mess as I am. Why don’t you start?”

And thus, the great debate began.

For what felt like hours, the two of you went back and forth, each refusing to budge. Every argument was countered with a sharper one, every excuse met with an equal bet.

“I cooked dinner yesterday!” you argued, pointing an accusatory finger at him.

“Yeah? Well, I cleaned the table afterward!” he shot back, crossing his arms.

“That doesn’t count! You just wiped it down with one of those lazy hand wipes and called it a day!”

“Details, details,” he said, waving you off. “Look, the point is, I’ve done my part. It’s your turn.”

At some point, the verbal sparring wasn’t enough, so the two of you resorted to a tried-and-true method of conflict of: rock-paper-scissors.

“Ready?” you said, holding out your fist.

“Always,” Acronix replied, smirking with confidence.

“Rock… paper… scissors… SHOOT!”

You both threw scissors.

“Again,” you muttered, narrowing your eyes.

“Rock… paper… scissors… SHOOT!”

Scissors. Again.

This went on for an absurd number of rounds, each one ending in a tie. It wasn’t just frustrating—it was eerie how perfectly in sync the two of you were, neither willing to back down either.

“This is ridiculous!” you exclaimed, throwing your hands up. “We’ll be here all night at this rate!”

“Hey, don’t blame me for your lack of originality,” Acronix quipped, clearly enjoying the standoff.

You glared at him, but eventually, exhaustion got the better of you. With a dramatic sigh, you threw in the towel. “Fine. I’ll do the stupid dishes. I guess I’m just born to be a housewife or something.”

You didn’t think much of the comment as you turned toward the sink, but Acronix froze. “Housewife?” he repeated, his voice rising slightly.

You glanced over your shoulder at him, confused. “What? Yeah, housewife. You know, someone who gets stuck doing all the chores while everyone else gets to slack off. Sound familiar? ”

But Acronix wasn’t listening anymore. His expression had shifted into one of pure disbelief, striked with something you couldn’t quite place. “Housewife?” he muttered again, almost to himself. “No. No way. I’m not having you call yourself that.”

Before you could process what was happening, he marched over to the sink, elbowing you gently out of the way. “Step aside,” he said firmly.

“Wait, what??” you asked, baffled.

“I’m doing the dishes,” he declared, grabbing the sponge and turning on the water. “If anyone’s going to be stuck with house chores, it’s me. I’ll show you what a real husband does. You’re not taking on that role, not on my watch.”

You blinked, stunned into silence as Acronix dove into the task with an intensity you’d never seen before. He scrubbed, rinsed, and stacked dishes like a man on a mission, muttering something about “fairness” and “proper roles” under his breath.

“Uh… Acronix?” you finally managed to say.

“What?” he snapped, though not unkindly.

“You do realize this whole argument was about both of us being too lazy to do the dishes, right? Now you’re acting like you’re competing for ‘Husband of the Year’ or something.”

“Exactly,” he said, not missing a beat. “If you think for one second I’m going to let you call yourself a housewife, you’ve got another thing coming. I’m perfectly capable of handling this.”

You couldn’t help but laugh, a mix of amusement and disbelief bubbling up inside you. “Okay, Mr. Perfect Husband. Let’s see if you can keep this up when Krux asks who cleaned the dishes.”

“Oh, don’t you worry,” he said, flashing you a grin over his shoulder. “By the time I’m done, these dishes will be so spotless even Krux will be impressed. And you? You can relax. You’ve earned it.”

Shaking your head with a chuckle, you leaned back against the counter, watching as Acronix continued his self-imposed mission. It was ridiculous, and entirely unnecessary—but also strangely....endearing?

“Fine,” you said, a small smile tugging at your lips. “But don’t expect me to call you my hero or anything.”

“Too late,” he teased, winking at you. “I already know I am.”

©leftalpacavoid 2024

[luckbealincoln]

Best Kept Secret

chapter nine : shuk'la rules

THIS SERIES HAS BEEN MOVED AND RE-UPLOADED TO ANOTHER ACCOUNT. WHICH CAN BE FOUND HERE. THIS POST STILL EXISTS AS AN ARCHIVE BUT THIS ACCOUNT IS NO LONGER ACTIVE!!

pairing : bodyguard!Din Djarin x afab!princess!reader

rating : 18+ mdni

word count : 5.6k

summary : you spend some time in the library with the mandalorian

warnings, etc. : language, p in v sex, fingering, sort of a glove kink situation that is not verbally expressed but is def there, slapping, def like dom/sub vibes but also not spoken on, sort of a dumbification situation, degradation and also praise

You need sex.

Normally you would be satisfied for quite some time after getting off but for some reason with Mando it was different. But it’s only been two days and you need more. 

Instead of taming the beast it’s like he let it out of its cage and now it’s running rampant. 

But you had to have your stupid rules.

Maybe you could just get rid of the second one. 

You pick up the book, flipping to the back cover, staring at those damned words.

This is Purely Stress Relief. 

What an idiot, in your stupid quest to make sure things stayed casual you were somehow denying yourself casual sex. Maybe you could just fake stress, or start a fight with him. No, he’d see right through that. You’re in a genuinely good mood after yesterday, you’ve got no reason to start shit with him.

But you need sex. 

And he’s sooo good at it. Annoyingly so. 

And you can’t just ask for it, because he’ll tease you about it. (Which probably wouldn’t be all that bad now that you think of it.) But you need him, terribly. You’re lying here in your closet bed, doing everything in your power to will away the ache between your thighs because you don’t have the time to deal with it yourself, Elaine and Lysa will be here at any minute. So you stuff your face in a pillow, and let yourself have a good long groan as you hear your bedroom doors open outside the closet. 

The closet doors fly open and Elaine steps in, grinning down at you. 

“Good morning ma’am, is everything alright? You’re normally awake by now, you must have had a long day yesterday.” She’s raising an eyebrow as you groan again. Bringing another pillow up to smash against your face. 

“I’m fine. Just tired.” You mumble into the cushion. She reaches down to tear the pillow from your hands, picking you up under your arms and lifting you to your feet. “Maker, you’re strong…” 

“I have to be to take care of you ma’am. Now, up. Time to dress.” She steps out and you follow her to the mirror as Lysa goes to find you a dress. 

“Something green.” You yell over your shoulder, maybe he’ll fuck you if you wear another green dress. Gods, you hope so. 

Okay, pull yourself together. You can’t be acting like this around him, he’ll use it to his advantage and you can’t let him get the upper hand on you, not when you’re in this state. Who knows what you’ll do or say to get him to touch you. 

    You zone out as they go through the usual routine of dressing you, the jade dress hugging your torso making you smile, maybe this will work. Once you’re all done up you take Elaine’s hand in yours.

“Thank you… seriously, you’re a miracle worker. You and Lysa have taken such good care of me.” You give her a warm smile and you're taken aback by the way she squints at you before returning the smile. 

“Thank you ma’am.”

That’s all she says as she steps back, looking you over once before nodding and taking Lysa’s hand before leaving. 

Weird.

You put it aside in your mind though because when they open the door you catch a glint of silver. You need to think fast, how are you going to seduce him? Gods, you're pathetic. Whatever. Just get out there, maybe actually seeing him will make this easier, the moment he starts being a jackass you’ll be able to resist him.

✩

It doesn’t work. 

He’s nice today. Uncharacteristically so, it’s actually off-putting. He had greeted you with a compliment on your dress, had walked you to the library with no complaints, no teasing, and no resistance. And had so kindly handed you the book you’d left off on last time, he had even opened it to the page you’d left off on before he sat across from the nook and opened his own book. 

What’s his angle here? You’re having a hard time focusing on your reading because now you’ve got to figure out what he’s plotting. 

Stern, protective, annoying, persistent, nice? The Mandalorian is a lot of things but he isn’t necessarily nice. 

He isn’t cruel by any means but it’s off putting to have him acting like this. Sadly it doesn’t make him any less attractive to you at this moment because you’re still imagining all the different ways you could lure him back to your chambers. Your thoughts are interrupted by the low hum of static that always comes before he speaks. 

“You seem distracted.” When you look up the helmet is staring at you and his book is closed. Kriff. 

“Nothing, just a little…” 

Horny?

“Bored.” 

“Mmm. Want to play that game? Might help alleviate some of the boredom?” He sets his book aside as he leans forward, elbows resting on his knees. You’re about to blow him off with some lame excuse so you can keep plotting on how to bed him but you’re struck with an idea. 

“Sure. What does the winner get?” 

“Is there anything in particular you want?” Predictable, you knew he wouldn’t pick one himself.

“Hmm… how about the winner gets to break one of the rules?” He leans back in the chair as he’s seemingly considering the offer.

“Which rule did you have in mind?” 

“None of the important ones, just the second one. The stress relief one. Winner gets to break it once, at a time of their choosing.” He doesn’t need to know that you plan on cashing it in immediately when you win.

“Sounds fair enough, same rules as last time? Pass three times and you lose?” There’s a much stronger hint of amusement in his voice this time around and suddenly you’re nervous he might actually try to win. “You can go first again if you’d like.” 

Might as well start with an almost guaranteed pass. 

“Last time we played you said you needed the credits from this job, why?” 

You sit and try to hold back a smug smile as you wait to hear his response but it never comes. He just sits there thinking. 

“And you can’t lie.” You eventually add, in case he was trying to come up with an answer. 

“I need a ship. I know someone on a different planet that I’d like to go see.” He says each word slowly and carefully like he’s trying to phrase it a certain way. It makes you furrow your brow. You don’t have time to ponder it for long though because he’s already moving on. “What did you buy from that woman yesterday?” Shit, you had wanted that to be a surprise for him. You could always just use a pass on this, you’d still have two more, you aren’t really all that private he’s just managed to pick out a very specific thing you don’t want to answer. 

“Pass. Did you eat the food I gave you?” You should probably be focusing on more hard hitting questions if you want to win but you are genuinely curious.

“Yes. I had half last night and half this morning.” He sounds almost sheepish when he says it, like he’s admitting defeat. You want to laugh but you’re worried if you do he won’t take food in the future. “Why do you wear those horrific dresses on the fifth day of each week?” 

Jerk. 

He is right though, they are horrific. And it’s a huge relief that he’s seemingly done putting on the creepy over the top polite act he had going on. 

“Blue is Kodo’s favorite color. They dress me in it on days where I see him.” He lets out a huff at your response. 

“That’s a stupid reason.” 

“Do you often take note of what colors I’m wearing?”

“Is that your question?”

“Yes.”

“Then yes, I do. Especially when it’s green. Did you wear that for me?” He nods at the jade gown you’re currently wearing.

“Is that your question?”

“Yes.” You silently wish he was sitting closer. 

“Yes. Do you like it?” 

“Is that your question?” He sounds like he’s grinning. 

“No. I just want to know.” 

“...Yes.” He takes a moment to just stare at you and that stupid heat is back in the library. “What’s your actual question?”

“Has anyone seen your face before?” You probably shouldn’t ask, it seems way too personal for how the game has been going so far but you’re in this to win it. 

“Yes.” 

Huh. You hadn’t expected an answer. And you definitely hadn’t expected that answer. 

“What do you think I look like?” 

You hadn’t expected that question either. 

“It’s a little arrogant of you to assume I ever think about you in my spare time.”

Or all the time, constantly, and in your dreams. 

“So you’ve never thought about it?”

All the time, constantly, sometimes in your dreams. 

“I have.”

“Then what do you think I look like?” 

Of course you’d thought about it, it’s hard to not wonder what the best sex of your life looks like under his helmet. You didn’t want him to actually take it off of course, you understand how important it is to him but your mind is allowed to wander. And you can’t help but hope that he at least takes it off to use that stupid mouth of his at some point, even if you can’t look. 

“Well… I always assumed brunette, even before getting confirmation. I don’t know, sharp features? Clipped short hair, unruly facial hair? I can never figure out your eyes though, I just can’t picture them.” 

He sits on it for a moment. 

“They’re brown.” 

That suits him. He seems like he would have soft, warm eyes that could turn cold and deadly in an instant. 

“That doesn’t count as my question by the way.” You snap at him, trying to relieve the intimate tension that’s suddenly settled between you. 

“Of course not.”

“How many bounties have you caught?” 

“I don’t keep track.”

“That’s not an answer.” You huff at him as you roll your eyes. 

“Fine.” He takes a moment as he thinks about it before you hear the familiar crackle of the modulator. “All of them.” 

Okay he’s got to be doing that on purpose. That low voice where he acts all serious, you want to call him out for it but it goes straight to your pussy and if you say something somehow he’ll end up finding out so why bother. 

“What’s your favorite color?” He sounds so genuinely interested when he asks you things like this. It breaks your heart every time because no one else ever seemed to care so much.

“I don’t have one.”

“We’re really on a hot streak of not answering the questions princess.” He tilts his head to the side.

“It used to be blue. Now I don’t have one.”

His helmet straightens up and he’s silent for a beat. You have to pray he isn’t giving you a look of pity under there. 

“How about for now it’s green. We can share a favorite color until you get a new one.”

It’s hard to remember that you’re just friends when he says things like that.

You should say no. Say it’s purple now, or orange, or anything else. 

But green is growing on you. 

Why is this dumb game so much more serious this time around? 

“Why is your favorite color green?” Your voice has lost its teasing edge, only sincerity remains. 

He’s silent again. 

“I knew a kid a while back who liked green.”

There’s something new. 

You can’t place the tone he has now.

It’s almost… sad . It makes you want to stand up and walk over to him, take his helmet in your hands and tell him he’s okay. Only for a second though because of course he has to ask a question that completely pulls you from the moment. 

“When did you know you wanted me?”

Presumptuous. Either he really wants to change the subject or he really wants to win. 

He’s leaning forward again and it makes you want to slap the stupid helmet. You decide against it, you’d only end up hurting yourself in that situation. 

“I’m not sure.” You puff out your chest slightly as you say it. 

“So you pass?” 

“No.” Shit, okay, do you even know the answer? “Maybe… the last time we played the game? I’m not sure.” 

“Good enough for me.” It’s annoying how satisfied with himself he sounds. 

“Was I your first time?” You don’t know why you ask it, you’re almost certain you weren’t because he shouldn’t have been that good his first time. Maybe you just want to knock him down a peg. It makes him scoff.

“Was I not up to your standard?” 

“It’s not your turn.” You try to sound indifferent when you say it. 

“Is this really how you want to play this game princess? Because I can make this a lot harder on you if it is.” His voice somehow manages to get lower, Maker, he’s the worst.

“Are you passing?” Is all you say as you straighten up in your little nook. He seems to almost mirror you as he sits up in his chair.

“No. You were not my first.” This time when you don’t bother trying to hide your smug smile at his response, it’s nice to for once feel like you’ve got the upper hand on him.

“Was I the best you’ve ever had?” 

Well it was nice to have the upper hand for fifteen seconds. 

“You know no one wants to ever hear the answer to that question.” 

“I do.” 

Of course you do.

“Pass.” You really shouldn’t but it’s best to not give him the satisfaction of the truth.

“You know that’s basically an answer in itself. I’m willing to let you un-pass this one if you say it.” Gods you’re gonna kill him, after you win and fuck his brains out. Then you’re gonna kill him.

“I said pass.” 

“Okay princess.”

Why is he still so hot? He’s too nice and he’s hot, he’s an over confident dick and he’s hot. He should be studied at this point. You can’t help but ask a question for your own personal imagination of him now that he’s got you all riled up. 

“How old are you?” 

“I’m not sure. I stopped keeping track when I took the creed, somewhere in my late thirties probably.”

“You don’t know your own birthday?” 

“No.”

That shouldn’t make you as sad as it does. You get over it pretty quickly though when he asks his next question. 

“Do you think about me when you touch yourself?”

You could kill him. You didn’t think you’d be back to the point of plotting his untimely death so soon but you could kill him. You could also lie but you have to remind yourself that that would be a hollow win, it would always loom over you. No sense in putting it off. 

“Yes.” Might as well use his own question against him, even if it ends up embarrassing you if he says no. “Do you? Ever think about me?” You would give anything to sound less timid at that moment. 

“Often.”

Maker, is this your punishment for cheating on your husband? The agonizing temptation of the man before you?

“Do you ever think about Kodo?” Oh he’s sick. But right, his tone indicates that he already knows the answer to his question.

“No.” It’s barely above a whisper. “Why were you acting so weird this morning?” You’ve all but given up your little plot at this point, you’re pretty sure you’ll be able to convince him with or without the win at some point later. 

“Weird?” 

“You were being all cordial and polite. It was weird.” You’re still whispering as he scoffs.

“Pass.”

“Oh come on.” You didn’t often beg for a follow up during this game but you were desperate to know, especially if he didn’t want you to know. 

“I’ll tell you if you let me win.”

Hmm. That’s not an easy choice but you’re losing so why not just let him have it, maybe tonight you could try inviting him in again. 

“Fine. You win, now tell me. Why were you acting off?” You cross your arms as you glare at him.

“For the same reason you chose to play the game.”

“What?”

Oh. 

Oh.

He was trying to seduce you.

He’s good. It’s infuriating how good he continues to be at this. He keeps winning at this whole sexual chess game you’ve been playing. You don’t have time to mock him for being so theatrical about this whole thing because he’s standing and in the blink of an eye he’s in front of you, leaning down and grabbing the bottom of your skirt, lifting it up to your seat.

“I win.” His voice is low and husky and it doesn’t even seem like he’s basking in his victory all that much because he’s too busy collecting the layers of your dress and holding them in place up at your hips. You don’t have a lot of time to process what’s going on as one of his hands is gripping your jaw. “Is it okay if I cash in my prize now?” He’s asking for permission and honestly all you can do is dumbly nod as he grabs your hips and roughly pulls you by the waist of your dress so your ass is barely hanging off the edge of the reading nook, one of his hands comes up to your mouth and he’s tapping his pointer and middle finger on your bottom lip. “Open.” 

You should be snippier with him. 

You want to be. You want desperately for him to not be in charge all the time. (Of course you do want him to be in charge some of the time but that’s besides the point.)

And you’re getting what you want so what’s the point of fighting now. You open your mouth and he slides his fingers past your teeth, not far enough to make you gag but enough to fill your mouth with the material. 

Metal, gunpowder, leather. 

It’s not all that unpleasant, especially since he’s slotting himself between your legs now. 

“Bite down.” You furrow your brows but gently bite and he pulls his hand free, keeping his glove between your teeth. “Keep that there, okay sarad? Nod if you understand.” 

What a prick. Talking down to you like that, if it didn’t make you so wet you’d spit his glove back in his face. 

Instead you nod, because afterall you’re only human and you have needs. 

“Good girl.” His condescending tone is infuriating and if you weren’t so horribly turned on by it you’d kick him where it hurts but his ungloved hand is unzipping his flight suit at the crotch so you decide to let this one slide. “Hold your skirt up for me, cyar’ika.” He mutters out as he manages to free his cock from his pants, already standing at attention, fully erect. 

It’s enough to have you tragically drooling at the sight of a man who wants you so badly he needs no time to prepare himself. 

To the best of your ability you grip the edges of your skirt up for him as his still gloved hand reaches under all of the tulle, fishing around for a moment until he finds the hem of your panties, shoving them down to your ankles as you let out a small groan into his glove. His still gloved hand is spreading your thighs as he slowly strokes himself with his other hand, once you’re seemingly exactly how he wants you you can faintly hear a sharp inhale as he takes in the sight of you staring up at him. 

“Cyare…” He mumbles as he switches his hands, bringing his bare hand between your legs. 

You shouldn’t whine the way you do. You wish you could have held it back but you’re already a mess just in anticipation of him and you just pray to the gods that the glove muffles the majority of it. Of course it doesn’t. Because he lets out a gravely laugh. 

“What’s wrong sarad?” His tone is not unkind but it is sarcastic as you feel his fingernails lightly scraping at your inner thigh. You can nearly see his confused look through the Beskar as he takes a moment to contemplate before he brings his gloved hand back between your legs as you nod pathetically. “Is this what you wanted? I thought you thought my gloves were stupid princess?” 

The tough leather on his fingertips is ever so slightly dragging through your seam as you let your head fall back. He hums in approval as he brings his bare hand back to his cock, jerking himself off gradually as he sinks a finger into your dripping cunt. 

No sense in maintaining any of your pride because the sensation forces an obscene groan out of you, accompanied by the lewd squelching sound as he withdrawals the single digit before sliding it back in. 

His fingers had already filled you so exquisitely, with the added thickness of the gloves you were pretty sure you died and went to heaven. He doesn’t wait long before he adds a second finger and honestly you’re pretty sure you can’t physically take a third as he slams them in and out of you brutally, he doesn’t give you anytime to catch your breath as he pulls them out almost entirely before sliding them home, down to the knuckle. 

You’re not sure where to look, there’s a lot going on right now and yes you had wanted this terribly but you didn’t think he’d give it to you so suddenly and you’re feeling a lot of things right now. 

You settle your eyes on his length. That perfect pretty cock of his. He’s matching the rhythm of his strokes to the rhythm of his other hand. Maker, you don’t deserve the show he’s putting on for you as he lets out quiet grunts, staring down at you. You let out a particularly loud whine as you feel his fingers curl ever so slightly.

“I love those pretty little noises you make but you have to be quiet mesh’la.” His hand briefly comes up to your mouth to shove more of the glove past your teeth as you whine softly. “If you can’t be quiet I’ll have to stop, do you understand?” 

He pulls his fingers from you, wiping his glove on the inside of your dress as you let out a small cry at the loss of contact, it makes him click his tongue. 

“Be a good girl okay? I know this is what you wanted, is that why you wore this? So I’d fuck you like the slut you are? All you had to do was ask, I don’t care all that much about your rules. But we can’t have anyone walking in so I need you to quiet down.” He’s lining the weeping pink tip of his cock up at your entrance so you swallow the moan threatening to burst from your throat.

You still aren’t used to how talkative he is during sex. Sure he talks to you but never like this. Most of the time he only ever says what he needs to to get under your skin and then he’s done. But when you’re like this, it’s like he can’t stop the words that fall past the modulator. 

He’s slower this time. The first time, he had fucked you like he would never get a chance to touch you again. Animalistic and mercilessly. Now it’s like he’s taking the time to savor you entirely. 

You want to spit the glove out and beg him to just fuck you without caution but you’re certain he would just go slower if you did that. Or worse, stop entirely. So you bite down on the glove and grit your teeth as he continues at his agonizingly slow pace, lazily shoving himself into your tight hole, inch by inch. He takes his time, dragging it out, he’s barely halfway in and he’s panting, his hand squeezing the still fresh bruises under your dress. 

Before you can stop him he starts pulling out again, you’re unable to fend off the meek whine that happens as he starts shallowly slow fucking you, never pushing himself more than a few inches in. It’s got you thrashing as he pins you down in place, your cunt milking the head of his cock. Your hands abandoning your skirt to hold onto his forearms for support .

His gloved hand came down with a smack on your inner thigh that has you keening as he starts massaging the red mark, spreading your legs a little wider. His thumb began rubbing rough circles against your clit. Just fast enough to make you squirm but not fast enough to push you over the edge. You can tell by the hoarse laughter that comes between his grunts that he’s doing this on purpose. Not fucking you deep enough to hit the spot that he know’s you’re hopelessly trying to push it against.

“Man-ooh” You spit out past the glove. You point your toes to try and get some traction on the ground. Struggling to drive him deeper into you, he responds with a harsh slap to your clit that has you jolting backwards against the window. 

“Ah ah, I thought I told you to be good. Good girls stay quiet.” He pushes his thumb down against your bud, applying pressure but holding it torturously still. 

“Pleath-” Is all you can manage to mumble out past the leather, tears pricking at the corners of your eyes, as you try to writhe under his grip, anything to get him deeper inside you but he holds you in place as he impales you on his length.

“Please? Good girls don’t beg until they’re told to sarad.” He rocks his hips forward as he continues to mock you. 

It’s a real shame he knows how to work you up so easily. You’d love to slap that stupid tone out of his voice and tell him to fuck you proper but there’s something about the pure domination that he exudes the moment he decides he wants you. It’s intoxicating. You’re drunk on him when he gets like this, the primal needs to submit to him in the moment is overwhelming. He delivers another slap to your clit to get your attention that has you letting out a muffled yelp.

“Are you paying attention, mesh’la?” His voice is so low and condescending and it makes you tighten around him earning you a growl from the Mandalorian. “You like it when I treat you like this huh?” He gives you another snap of his hips, just enough to kiss that spot with his cockhead. 

You can feel a moan bubbling in your throat but bite it back, trying to stay silent, opting for a nod instead. 

“Good girl. Now say you’re sorry princess.” One of his hands is splayed out on your thigh, holding you spread open for him as the other hungrily gropes at your chest over your bodice. 

You close your eyes as your head leans back to avoid letting him see the crimson that is creeping up your face. You’ve come this far, why draw the line here.

“Thowwy” You should probably feel more shame. You’re the princess of a very important planet yet you’re here, in the library, being fucked sensless by a man who is notably not your husband, mumbling apologies through a gag. It’s easy to forget all that though because your pathetic sorry earns you a patronizing pat on the head, which subsequently results in a rush of heat between your legs. 

You might be a bad person for getting off on this.

Maybe think about that later, right now you’re too busy servicing the bodyguard your husband hired. 

“See, that’s better.” He brings his thumb up to swipe at your bottom lip, taking in the beads of drool before bringing it back to your clit. “Good girls get rewarded.” He snaps his hips forward, pushing just a little deeper. Finally letting the blunt head of his cock rest against that sensitive spot inside of you. 

It’s like he knows your body better than you do. It’s a little aggravating but it’s hard to be mad when he starts deliberately slamming himself against that spot. Matching his ministrations on your clit to his thrusts which has your entire body tensing as that wire in your core threatens to snap.  

You have autonomy. And he’s just a self-righteous asshole who is devastatingly good at sex. He likes to remind you of the fact that you don’t technically have the authority to dismiss him but you’re pretty sure you’re still his boss.

So why are you staring up at him now with pleading eyes as he fucks you, your eyes darting between him and the leather sticking out from your lips. You could spit it out, but instead you wait until his thrusts slow ever so slightly as he pulls the now soaked glove from your mouth, a line of drool going from it to your lips. 

“What is it, copikla?” He says it so derisively that you don’t need a translation to tell you he’s teasing you. 

Okay.

Normally you wouldn’t do this. Not unless a guy explicitly asked for it and it was your only option. But you know that if you ask for permission he’ll probably just let you and you woke up pent up and then there was all the teasing and the heat is going to your head so you can’t stop the babbles that spill from your lips. 

“Can I cum Mando? Please let me cum I’m so close please.” Hearing yourself say those words is a little humiliating, (for an unrelated reason you’re sure you get wetter as you say them) but it seems to work because he picks up his pace as he plunges himself into you. There’s no hesitation as you plead with him.

“Elek olaror sarad’ika. Cum for me.” His voice is a low growl as he holds your hips, pulling you down against him to push himself deeper into you as his thumb rolls over your clit just so. Everything combined with the Mando’a he seemingly can’t stop speaking has your eyes rolling back as you feel your walls clamping down on him, strangling his cock as you climax, your vision going a sharp white for a moment, his hand comes up just fast enough to muffle the cry that escapes your throat. Simultaneously he slips out of you, shooting his load onto your swollen soaked pussy.

You’re both just panting for a moment as you come down from your respective orgasms. He recovers first as he shoves himself back into his pants before kneeling down in front of you, pulling your panties up, keeping his cum on your skin. 

It’s filthy. The thought of spending the rest of the day with his seed between your legs is hot enough to hopefully keep you satisfied for a few more days than last time. 

Your head is still tilted back, resting against the window as your chest heaves. You barely even register the hiss of air, or the gentle kiss that’s placed against your inner thigh. 

Soft. His lips are soft, not chapped like you’d thought they’d be, with just a little bit of stubble. 

By the time you look down at him his helmet is back in place and you aren’t even sure it really happened. He straightens the layers on your skirt and stands up, his still ungloved hand brushes your hair back as he caresses your face.

“Are you okay? Do you need anything?” He’s back to that soft tone he uses only for you and you scowl at him.

“You’re mean during sex.” 

It’s nice to hear him laugh in earnest. He tucks a loose strand behind your ear.

“I think you like it.”

“Maybe.”

“Can I get you anything princess?” There it is again. That tone where he makes it sound like an endearment.

You don’t really need anything but you do have something you need to do so you give him a distraction.

“Could I convince you to get me some water?” 

“There isn’t a lot you couldn’t convince me of.” 

It’s things like that that make it hard to remember this is a platonic arrangement. But he’s already walking to the door so you rush to find some stationary and you write out everything you need before stepping out into the hall. No sign of Mando so you whisper-yell Leodall’s name. It’s like he appears out of thin air, you should figure out how he does that at some point if you’re gonna keep having secret sexual relations. That isn’t your mission right now though so you hand him the paper and dismiss him before hurrying back into the library. Patiently awaiting Mando’s return. 

As you sit back in the nook you rest your head on the adjacent book shelf. 

Two days. 

You’ve had your rules for two days. So far you’ve broken a rule every day you’ve had them. 

Everyone makes mistakes.

You just won’t break any more rules from this point forward. 

“…All you had to do was ask, I don’t care all that much about your rules.”

That’s what he had said.

This is Purely Stress Relief. 

Maybe you can keep breaking one rule. 

[luffyvace]

can i request romantic hairo x male reader hcs about how hairo would show affection publicly and privately to the reader, and his love languages?

LOVING!! 🙌🙌 The hairo requests!! Idk why but I just have so many ideas when writing for him??

💪💖

Showing affection in public is as casual as walking around to him

even if your both guys

like literally, he doesn’t even realize he’s doing it

walking somewhere together? He’s got an arm around your shoulder!

standing there talking to someone? His hand’s resting on your head :3 (in a affectionate way)

watching a movie/anime/show? His arms’ wrapped around your waist, pulling you closer

you go from walking to trudging and he notices your slowing down? He’ll pick you up!

If you don’t mind you probably won’t say anything

and he’ll probably be forgetful as to remembering to ask if you are okay with it

But that’s only because he’s been doing it subconsciously for so long

when he does realize how often he touches you, he’ll go:

”oh!- umm, do you mind me touching you?..like you know? Hugging you and stuff in public? 😅……I forgot to ask..whoops haha 😀”

he doesn’t think twice about how others view it despite gender

your his boyfriend! Why wouldn’t he be able to snuggle up to you wherever as long as you don’t mind??

although I will say some girls at your school (Airua, Teruhashi and chiyo specifically-) think your interactions are adorable ☺️

let’s not act like the whole world hates you folks, because your certainly do have shippers 😂🥰

hairo has been canonly asked out in the past so some girls might go “ohhh he didn’t reject me because I wasn’t enough!- he was gay the whole time!”

LOL

he never really came out right and said his sexuality after you two started dating

but he obviously loves you

Conclusion? He’s never beating the gay allegations

HAHAH

like?? He could be pan? bi?

No. Gay.

- The girls he rejected

anyhow back on topic! Stay with me!

if you do mind when he initiates pda

like I’ve said in previous headcanons he won’t notice at first

you’ll either have to say it verbally or physically express your uncomfortable with it

like yknow? Flashing a quick frown

Smth that’ll send the message of “not here 😬” and he’ll get it

he apologizes in private later on and you two talk out boundaries

he might do it a few more times but do be patient dear, he’s not trying to tick you off! he didn’t realize!

by the way tdlsk seems pretty modern but If any boys think it’s awkward that you two show pda (in the case that it doesn’t bother you) he will lectures them

about how it’s normal/natural to want to display affection to your lover and there’s really nothing to laugh about

again tho the show seems modern so I’m sure you won’t have to go through this unless someone’s immature or smth 🗿

anywho

instead of physical affection you find other ways he can show his love to you to compromise ♥︎

showing affection in private becomes less casual and more intentional

of course he’ll probably do all this in public if you don’t mention being upset about it but like I said he does it subconsciously in public

so stuff like

kissing (anywhere—mainly on the lips)

cuddling (also anywhere—mainly in one of your rooms)

massages (your probably sore from all the sports and working out he makes you join in on—so yeah you get massages)

holding hands (also common in public)

head pats (he often does this when your watching something together)

His mom walking in occasionally happens too 😅💗

she supports, and him and his mom is really close so it’s not awkward! ❤️‍🩹

hairo’s love languages are physical touch, acts of service and quality time

ngl physical touch is pretty explanatory, if you don’t get how he displays this by now go back and read the headcanons because I’ve been talking about that the entire time 🥰(😂)

no but fr tho!! It’s pretty much him just being all over you in wholesome way :)

as for acts of service—ask him to do anything and he will come running

LITERALLY.

because 1) you called him! and he sure is at your beck and call! and 2) exercise 😄

that dude HAND CHOPPED a tree for a school project….why wouldn’t he do 100x more for you..?

so yeah lol basically anything you need he’s got it

definition of a provider mindset 😍

need something physically? He’ll go get it for you.

need something mentally? He’s your shoulder to lean on! 💪

need something emotionally? He’s got some tissues and has ordered ticks to a theme park! 👍

just!- anything! Really! Call out something random and he’ll go get it for you

(insert Haido as the “let me do it for youuu” dog here) LOLL IF YOU KNOW THE MEME YOU KNOW THE MEME SEARCH IT! ITS HILARIOUS

Quality time :)

really he just invites you to every little thing/outing he has

and he’s always texting to see what your up to if he’s not there

(not in a toxic/clingy way my guy a green flag 🗣🗣)

HIS 👏 MOMMA👏 RAISED 👏 HIM 👏RIGHT. 👏

oh your going to the store? What store? he’ll be there! shoppings’ more fun together :)

your going on a walk? He loves exercise!

he’s got tennis practice! You’ll be in the stands right? 💗

he’s going to visit his grandparents wanna come?

he’s got popcorn and movies!!

even just doing nothing!- doing nothing together is wayyy better! He can come over right?

sports is a way of affection.

and that is a fact.

If your in a sport you have no other bigger fan then him

if you run track he’ll run alongside you at this point 😂

Same with being a swimmer

he might as well be in two clubs at once!

you also support him! Maybe not as intense as he does you..(or maybe you do! Idk!)

either way there’s no escaping with sports with him

ngl same with working out

it kinda goes hand in hand so it’s inevitable

he’s a real good motivator tho!

always pushes you to do your best and better!

which isn’t a bad thing!

you could always tell him to play it cool and he’ll tone it down

he will automatically if he sees your in a rough mood 💞

Summary? he wants you to at least work out/play sports with him once or twice a week

especially since he cares about you and exercise keeps you healthy

negotiable right?

im sure it is with how much you love this guy

Hairo>>> I never knew how much I liked this guy til you started requesting for him 😋👍

[stephantom]

I’d need to watch it again to confirm this, but I’m pretty sure that Thomas Becket is the only character who independently initiates touch with Henry?

There are plenty of people whom Henry touches, and it’s almost always possessive or threatening: the villager woman in the first flashback scene, the Saxon peasant girl (and possibly the old man? I think he prods at both of them with his riding crop), Gwendolen (holding her shoulders/neck), the French prostitute (kissing, leaning over, sitting on, slapping her butt), his sons (pushing and kicking them), the bishop (strangling), his barons (clutching onto one, tapping one’s head to indicate his vapidness), and Thomas too—(clasping his shoulders when he realizes Thomas is hurt, holding his hand to put on the chancellor ring).

Interestingly, I don’t think we ever see Henry touch or be touched by his mother or his wife. There’s the moment when he grabs/kicks their needlework, and later on he knocks all the plates off the table, possibly vaguely in their direction—so there are two physical interactions which are violent but still sort of… distant? And still the direction is just Henry to them (in terms of physicality, anyway—verbally, they do initiate conversations/fights with him).

Does anyone touch Henry? There are the monks who whip him in the end, but Henry has ordered them to do it. Likewise, there’s the servant/valet/page who begins to wipe him dry in the bath scene, but again, that’s someone performing a duty. Thomas Becket though, cuts in and takes over the drying, and the dialogue tells us explicitly that he’s not expected to do this, and doesn’t have to (“You’re a nobleman—why do you play at being my valet?”) but Becket seemingly wants to do it, and he knows Henry likes how he does it: enthusiastically, confidently, warmly, and freely (“No one does it like you, Thomas”). He towels Henry’s head, helps Henry put on his boots, and then casually uses Henry’s legs to push himself up to stand.

There’s the scene in Henry’s tent, after the French prostitute has left and the two of them are sitting on the bed: Becket sort of leans in and briefly clasps Henry’s arm where it’s lying in his lap, casually and warmly.

There’s also the getaway horse ride, where Becket is holding onto Henry, arms wrapped around him, and they’re both laughing and smiling. Henry’s shirt actually falls open a little and Becket’s hand winds up on his bare torso.

And then there are the thwarted attempts at touch, after the split: the two scenes where Henry accuses Becket of not loving him. Both times, Becket moves toward Henry and reaches out to touch him, and both times, Henry moves away and tells him to keep his distance.

They’re quick little things, but if they are actually the only instances of anyone touching Henry affectionately (or even of their own volition) that we see over the course of the movie, it does support an impression of Henry as fundamentally isolated—maybe there is truth to his claim that Becket is the only person who’s ever loved him.

What’s tragic is that 1) Henry doesn’t really know how to express love himself (see: Henry expressing nothing but violence and entitlement to everyone else around him, and even to Becket for the most part), and 2) Becket’s love, albeit huge in Henry’s world, is conflicted and unfulfilling—for both of them.

Becket might be the only person who’s dared to reach out to Henry and meet him on something close to a human level, and Henry loves him for it, but why does Becket do it? Part of it may just be an instinct of Becket’s to fulfill a need where he sees one, if he can, and if it benefits him. I think it’s so interesting that Henry seems obsessed with the question of whether Thomas really loves him, when it seems the truth might be that Thomas actually doesn’t know; maybe it’s an unanswerable, even nonsensical question to him. Like, what else could he do? I don’t know. “Insofar as I was capable of love, yes I did [love you].” But the fact that his last words, unwitnessed and private, are, “Poor Henry.” Fuck me up.

Ok, that last paragraph got away from me and now I can’t stop. Tempted to draw comparisons to “Beauty and the Beast” (this is a sad version where no magical transformation happens… unless you take a particular Catholic stance and consider that both of them maybe took real solace and meaning in Thomas being made a saint and that Henry maybe found real absolution through his penance).

I also want to compare all of this to “The Lion in Winter”, where it feels like, rather than a story about one lonely monster in a castle full of people he sees as objects, it’s a whole microcosm of traumatized and power-hungry people, reaching out for power and security and love and stabbing each other in the back, over and over. (Like, of course his mother and wife and kids have complex feelings for him—some of which involve love!) I think that depiction is better and less myopic, more true to life and probably a more accurate portrait of the historical figures involved (even when it comes to Henry and Becket—Becket was of that world too, after all), but I think I’ve rambled enough about all of this, so I’m going to end this post now. I’ll just say that there’s something nevertheless appealing about the boiled-down fairytale melodrama of “no one else ever loved me but you!”

[thephantomtheory]

Moonlight | Levi Ackerman x OC

notes: this is just a very mid blurb with my oc, so ik this prolly won't do well but i hope some of you peeps will enjoy it nonetheless. anyway... oc introduction... kinda??

cw: n/a

-

A light guides Levi out from the darkest trenches of his mind. 

“C’mon,” a voice drifts delicately down from somewhere above him. “You’ll get lonely sitting down there like that.” 

A hand reaches down towards him. His eyes are slow to adjust, his ears even slower. 

“Hm?” 

“I said you’ll get dirty sitting down there like that.” 

Levi’s eyes follow the length of her fingertips towards the lines of her palm, guiding his gaze up her arms, over the curves of her shoulders and neck, and at the end finds her soft expression, the full moon just behind her, the glow forming a halo around her head. 

Behind him, three voices echo through the street about their dreams, and while he sits within a shadow of ache, in front of him, a hand offers to pull him out of it. 

He reaches and takes it. 

-

When she first joined the Scouts, Levi couldn’t quite pinpoint what she reminded him of. The first few times he saw her during brief, fleeting moments, the frustration of this plight lingered on the tip of his tongue for hours afterward. 

When he saw her in the hallway, paths crossing. 

On his way into Erwin’s office and her way out. 

In the canteen, while she boiled water and he stuttered through his terse explanation of how to make the perfect cup of tea. 

The more Levi saw of her the worse it got. He couldn’t understand it, couldn’t help his intrigue when she walked into the room, her white hair falling casually over her shoulders. 

He learned to ignore the feeling as her presence around him grew. A small assignment into town together. A late-night conversation when sleep evaded them both. An invitation to his squad. An errand run. Another late-night conversation turned to another, and another, and then another. A larger assignment to the Underground, a return to the place where they both grew up and a mission: get the children out. A meager breakfast in the early hours of the morning. A stack of paperwork she helps narrow down. 

A comfortable silence here. A lingering look there. 

Her, everywhere. 

-

Levi takes her hand, and she helps pull him up from his spot on the ground. She doesn’t need to ask what he was doing there. It’s the night before the mission to retake Wall Maria, and no one knows what will happen once the sun rises. 

She begins to walk ahead of him, out of the alley, and he falls into step beside her. He’s grateful for their unspoken connection. There’s no need for words, just quiet comprehending. 

They walk in tandem with one another, through the neighborhood and back towards headquarters, the moon a pearly orb above them.  

They stop at the steps leading inside. 

Perhaps they believed that out here they could will the hours to pass slower – that stepping inside would send time catapulting forward, deeper into the unknown. Or perhaps neither of them wanted to leave the other's presence. Perhaps they loved each other and didn’t know it yet. 

Whatever the reason, they sit here without verbalizing their decision and watch the moon’s effortless path across the night sky. 

He looks at her watching the moon. He can’t help it, his gaze somehow inevitably pulled towards her like a magnet. The milky blue light washes over her features. Her nose. The curve of her lips. The point of her chin. 

It catches on her lashes and over her hair, silver strands glinting, glowing – 

Oh. 

The moment Levi realizes it, it hits him all at once. His eyes widen. Then, as if in a trance, he reaches out to run his fingers through her hair. Noticing, she turns to look at him, slightly surprised and suddenly breathless. 

He doesn’t know how to stop the word from tumbling out of his mouth, like a rock that had been sitting in his throat and now rolls off his tongue without warning.

“Gekkō,” he mutters aloud. 

Moonlight. 

-

Years later, his children will ask him why he calls their mother by this name. 

He’ll be walking them home one evening, the moon rising into the sky, his daughter in one hand and a cane in the other, his son leading the way, and his sweet girl will glance up at the moon rising into the sky and ask, “Papa, why do you call mama Moonlight?” 

His son, always trying to be the knowledgeable big brother, will turn and playfully squeeze her cheek.

“Duh,” he says. “Her hair’s white as the moon, silly.”

And Levi will explain to his children how it is much more than that. Walking back to their home where she waits patiently, he’ll explain how she is the light guiding him through the darkness.

©2023 thephantomtheory | do not repost my work anywhere, and do not plagiarize

[rxnefairs]

I GOTCHU, BESTIE. @backjustforberena (WITH MY OWN shit quality GIFS HEHEHEHEHE)

RHAENYS AND VISERYS:

Based on their actions/dialogues in the show, it’s very clear that there’s a lot of history between Rhaenys, Viserys and Daemon. With Rhaenys and Viserys, it’s a bit easier to establish their dynamic when you take in their physicality and affection (verbal or otherwise). They’re familiar and far beyond cordial, they’re fond of each other and it’s something I think is demonstrated quite well in the show, considering their interactions with each other are limited. Rhaenys has never blamed Viserys for being King, and despite Corlys’ protests, she doesn’t want to blame him, either.

EXHIBIT A:

He calls her his favorite cousin in this scene and chooses to acknowledge his relationship with Rhaenys before addressing her as her King. | It bothers me that we don’t see their hands in this shot but whateverrrrr.

EXHIBIT B:

She’s so HAPPY to see her cousin and her immediate reaction is to smile and go straight for him | Look me in the eye and tell me there’s bad blood between them, I DARE YOUUUUU.

EXHIBIT C:

The way her expression immediately changes to one of worry when Viserys makes his discomfort known and she’s quick to ask if he’s okay. | Concerned Cousin Rhaenys has entered the building.

The bottom line is, with Rhaenys and Viserys, they care deeply for one another and it’s something that had stayed constant up until Viserys’ death.

RHAENYS AND DAEMON:

With Rhaenys and Daemon, however, everything is a bit more muddled. They’ve never had a formal scene with one another and have spoken about six lines to each other over the course of a ten-episode series. There’s so much (for lack of a better term)… stuff between them that goes unspoken and what’s so unique about their (somewhat nonexistent) dynamic in the show is that they know of each other so well (i.e. “Daemon only does what is best for Daemon” and “she [Rhaenys] is not cruel or stupid enough to do that”). They even share a few similar physical mannerisms (i.e. the infamous nail checks done out of disinterest or that head tilt when they hear something they don’t agree with). They’re so alike and that likeness only aids in driving them apart.

EXHIBIT A:

Daemon’s contempt is already so painfully obvious in his demeanor, but the fact that his nails hold his attention more than the Queen does speaks VOLUMES. | This man could not give a single flying fuck about what Alicent has to say.

EXHIBIT B:

Contempt isn’t really the right word for Rhaenys here, but the fact that she’s so casually checking her nails whilst the Westerosi equivalent of the Gladiator Games in unfolding before just shows how little she cares. | In the words of Taylor Swift, MOTHER IS MOTHERING.

The dynamic between these two is like outgrowing your favorite shirt. You remember the texture, every stitch, every hole, every tear. You remember what it felt like to wear it, but you know that it’s never going to fit the same way again.

MY TEARS RICOCHET: A BREAKDOWN

And I could go anywhere I want / Anywhere I want, just not home | Both Targaryens have dragons, they have the privilege any other man could only dream of. Having Caraxes and Meleys gave them control, the dragons give them a choice and a way out from societal expectations. However, ever since Viserys became King, both Daemon and Rhaenys had been driven away from the Red Keep (albeit for very different reasons), the place they had known as home for the longest time.

And you can aim for my heart, go for blood / But you would still miss me in your bones | When Daemon raises an army for Viserys against Laenor’s (and let’s be real, Rhaenys’) claim, sure it’s to be expected, but it could be (probably is) one of the bigger factors that lead to the damaged relationship we see between Rhaenys and Daemon in HOTD. And there’s some part of Daemon, I think, that mourns what his relationship with Rhaenys had been once. In canon, the children of Aemon and Baelon had grown up together and there haven’t been many disputes about that particular detail, which goes back to that odd dynamic of them knowing each other enough, but never completely to understand the full picture.

I didn’t have it in myself to go with grace / And so the battleships will sink beneath the waves | This part is definitely better suited to Rhaenys and Corlys’ crumbling marriage in episode 7 (their marriage being the sinking battleship) but so much of their disagreement stems from Daemon’s decision to keep Laena in Pentos despite her wishes to go back to Driftmark. Rhaenys essentially blames Daemon for what happened to Laena and Corlys is insisting that no matter what Daemon chose to do, if the gods seek to take Laena, then they shall take her no matter where her labors are. Their disagreement over Daemon’s choices only opens up a bigger can of worms between them, the talk of succession, which ultimately leads up to Corlys pulling his hand away from Rhaenys’ and effectively removing himself from her and their marriage (for the six years they’re separated). In a way, Daemon’s actions (or lack thereof) helped hammer the final nail into the coffin of the Velaryons’ separation, no matter how indirect it may seem.

Look at how my tears ricochet | Rhaenys and Daemon are two sides of the same coin. They have so much history between them and have gone through so much side by side, but they’ve never gravitated to each other for comfort. Both are too stubborn to fix the cracks and tears in their relationship and it only draws them further and further from each other.

IN CONCLUSION, the relationship between Rhaenys and Daemon is the quietest of tragedies.

my tears ricochet is so rhaenys and daemon coded it isn’t even FUNNY.

yell at me and i might elaborate.

[soupbabe]

hello so i know there’s one for the crusaders and the duwang gang but i was wondering if i can request a chubby s/o with bruno’s gang? please and thank you!!

Bucci Gang w a Chubby! S/O

I love writing chubby/plus size readers sm !!😌 y'all deserve the world. Also I think I might've gone a tad bit overboard w this?? Not sure lol

Bruno Bucciarati

Bruno would love you regardless of your body! He's never been one to heavily judge someone's appearance

Going clothes shopping with him is a win and lose kind of thing

On one hand, you have your boyfriend to hypr you up when you try on clothes

On the other hand,,you could wear a potato sack and he'd still be like "You look radiant, tesoro"

"Bruno, you have to say more than 'you look great' after I show you a new outfit. " "Well, you know better than anyone, I'm not the kind of guy to lie or brush you off. I'm being genuine in every statement"

I just can't see him finding a favorite part of you

Like he adores the way your chubby cheeks are just on display when you're smiling, he thinks it makes your smile seem way brighter

And he also just adores your soft thighs, a perfect resting place for his head when he gets stressed out from work

Bruno is just smitten by you

Leone Abbacchio

I imagine that you'd have to have pretty tough skin upon meeting Abbachio

It's very easy to think that he'd make a few snide comments upon meeting and working with you

It's not a lot and he says very little, but they can be the kind of quick comments to get under someone's skin easily

But I promise you it'd stop once you two get to know each other and work alongside each other more

He has such a soft spot for you now omg-

If he's ever having a bad day he just likes to wrap his arms around your soft waist and rest his head on your shoulder

Maybe give it a couple of little kisses if your shoulders are exposed

That action is literally his favorite thing to do in domestic settings

I hc that all of the bucci gang have their own separate places instead of living to together, so Abbacchio has his own privacy to let his walls down and be more outwardly loving

He loves going up behind you while you're cookie dinner and ask what you're making, hiding his smirk in your shoulder when he feels your face heat up

I think his favorite part of you might be your wife waist/hips

It's the first thing he gravitates to and clings to when you too fall asleep together

Abbachio could be facing away from you when he falls asleep and wake up with your back pressed against his chest, his arms around you

Giorno Giovanna

Giorno has a preference for plus size bodies it's canon because I said so

To him your plush body just makes him think that you were taken care of in your life

Having some meat on your bones is something Giorno just appreciates in an s/o, you know?

I don't think he'd be the best at expressing how much he loves you through touch or verbal affection, so he likes to buy you stuff

It could be from something as simple as flowers to clothes you eyed at one time, but you decided to not buy

If he wants to buy you something special and it's not in your size it's no problem for him

His mafia connections give him easy access to a lot of businesses in Italy and he could afford to get something custom made just for you

I can see his favorite body part of yours being your eyes

Giorno just loves how much emotion they hold and how much they silently tell him how you're feeling

And they especially help him take notice if you're having one of those off days you know? It helps him understand so he can be there for you

Pannacotta Fugo

He's not that judgemental when it comes to an s/o

But he did think you were very attractive and did develop a small crush on you when he first met you

He can be easily flustered and it's so easy for someone like Mista or Narancia to tease him about his chubby crush

"Hey Fugo, I saw you staring at Y/N's shorts. Saw somethin' you like?" "S-shut the fuck up Mista! I wasn't staring at them!"

Lies

He loves your personality as well, I don't think Fugo has ever had a crush before and is struggling to remain subtle at times

Once you two are in a relationship, he's so happy

I do imagine that it'd take Fugo awhile to be used to physical affection from an s/o regardless, but once he felt a hug from you?? He wants you to hug him all the time

Was he missing out this entire time?? You're so soft and warm?? He loves it so much omg

I think his favorite body part of yours is your hands

Since he'd rather keep things professional in the gang, holding your hand is as far as he'd go for pda

When he's feeling stressed out, he likes to hold onto your hand for reassurance

Sometimes he likes to squeeze your soft palm if his anger issues is testing him or just to get your attention discreetly when you two are around the gang

Narancia Ghirga

Another gang member to adore and prefer chubby s/os!!

He just finds them comforting tbh

He's also very clingy, finding a way to have his arms around you at all times

If you feel uncomfortable with it and tell him, he'll pout but (reluctantly) keep his hands to himself

It doesn't matter how odd it might look, he will sit on your lap

He just likes snuggling up with you and having your big arms wrapped around him

He loves to share his food with you!!

Lunch breaks from his lessons are commonly when you can casually spend time with your boyfriend and give him the encouragement he needs to make it through the second half of his school day

Typically during this time he'd cut an orange in half, give one half to you, and he plays with the other half to make you laugh

One time during his orange smile act, he almost choked because he was distracted by how nice your laugh is-

He's also very protective of you

Seriously he's not above pulling a knife on a stranger who made a rude comment about you-

I fully believe that his favorite body part of yours is your tummy!

He loves laying on it so much that sometimes you feel like his personal pillow instead of s/o

Add in you running your hands through his hair?? You can already hear his soft snores

Guido Mista

I think he really didn't pay any mind to plus size folks, until he saw you

You were just in shorts and a crop top/tank top(/whatever makes you comfortable) to combat the Italian heat and his mind made that awooga awooga sound

I just know he brought out his old flirting tricks onto you

This man could be in the category of "annoyingly persistent, but not yet boarder line harrassment" regardless of your response to being hit on

He is your personal hypeman omg

While everyone has their off days, it's really hard to feel insecure when Mista is around

Just like Narancia, he's so protective of you

Even if you are 100% capable of handling the situation himself, he will yell and bark at the rude stranger

"Get your fucking boyfriend bitch-" "he don't bite :)" "yES HE DO"

Please sit on this man's lap, he would be so happy

Think you're too heavy? Mista would take that as a challenge and drag you onto his lap anyways

He would secure his arms around your large frame and give a teasing kiss on the cheek, "Haha, you can't escape now babe!"

His favorite body part of yours might be your thighs

Once he met you, he was a true believer of "thick thighs save lives"

Mista would constantly beg you to wear shorts all the time, using the hot weather as an excuse

"The weather is at a record high! It's best for you to wear shorts, Y/N." "Mista you're literally wearing a sweater." "So!? I'm worried about you, this conversation isn't about me!"