#he’s desperate for power so he doesn’t seem weak that’s a pretty big part of the antisocial MO if i understand correctly | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

runninriot · 2 months ago

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Only Me

written for @steddiesmuttyseptember

week 3 prompts: rough, aftercare | rated: E | wc: 2.737 | tags: sub Eddie Munson, mean dom Steve Harrington, restraints, nipple clamps, impact play, mild degradation kink, established relationship | also on ao3

“Please! You promised!”

Eddie’s eyes are wet with unshed tears, wide and pleading and so goddamn pretty. He always is when he’s like that. When he’s all tied up and helpless, squirming and writhing. Uselessly tugging at the restraints keeping his arms above his head, beautifully exposed, defenceless and at Steve's mercy.

It’s a sight Steve will never get sick of, will never not feast on – especially when his eyes catch all the signs of love he left on pale skin, all the marks, the claims, the trails of colour painting his boyfriend’s body.

Lust reflecting back at him from Eddie’s strained neck that’s covered in bruises, angry red lines revealing where Steve dragged his nails a little too rough over sensitive skin, remains of a greedy mouth baring its teeth – Steve’s art scattered all over this bare perfection in front of him.

Eddie is everything he never thought he could have, submissively offering himself to be used in every way he knows they both enjoy when they indulge in this dissolute act of love.

It’s his favourite game.

“Don’t think you’ve earned it, yet,” Steve answers his boyfriend’s feeble attempt to make him relent, to give what he’s so desperate for.

Later, not now. Steve isn’t done playing his wicked games and he knows Eddie can take some more; it would be such a waste to skip this part just because Eddie is a little cock slut, needy for Steve’s dick to stuff him and fill him up.

Eddie jerks when Steve pulls at the clamps biting into his nipples, giving each side a rough tug that must send painful ripples of electric shocks through his body.

“Ow! Oh fuck, Steve! Please, I can’t-“

His voice cracks, words dissolving into an unintelligible sequence of pitiful sounds when Steve grants himself permission to pull again, harder this time.

“Did you say something? Couldn’t hear you over your pathetic whining.”

It’s his second favourite part of the game, to provoke and be mean, to remind Eddie who’s in charge and who isn’t, let the little Devil inside him take the lead.

“Keep complaining and I won’t give you anything,” Steve warns and Eddie tries to comply but seems unable to swallow the needy whimpers that break through his parted lips.

“I’ll give you what you need. I always take care of you, don’t I?”

Eddie nods weakly.

“Use your words, baby.”

Steve’s thumbs and fingers linger on either side of the clamps, not pinching, not pulling, just resting there as a silent threat Eddie understands wordlessly.

“A-always. You always take care of me,” he stammers, voice weak but with certainty in his words because he knows Steve will never not give him what he needs.

It’s wonderful, bad for his already too big ego but a treat nonetheless. To hold such power over someone else makes him feel superior, godlike almost, with the way Eddie bows to him. Perfectly obedient, unless he’s being a brat but even then, Steve never loses the upper hand, knows exactly what to say and do, how to create a scene that fulfills both their needs.

“Exactly. And that’s why you’re going to stop begging like a needy little whore and let me take my time with you.”

Careful, almost gentle compared to his earlier actions, Steve relieves Eddie from the torment, giving the overstimulated nerves in his nipples a moment to relax, letting him shiver through the lingering pain just long enough for him to catch his breath before he continues the teasing torture.

It’s too inviting, the sight of reddened skin and swollen flesh, so he gives into his sadistic nature and lets his thumbs rub in pretend-soothing circles around the sensitive area.

Eddie cries out for Steve to stop but he doesn’t mean it, not really – he knows what to say when he needs Steve to slow down. So, Steve keeps going unfazed, closing his mouth around one of the hardened buds to suck at it, greedy and rough, until Eddie’s moans turn to soft, defeated little whimpers.

“Sorry, baby,” Steve says, not feeling sorry at all.

His lips curl into a wicked grin when he notices the tear streaks on Eddie’s face and it fills him with a twisted sense of pride that he’s the one responsible for making his boyfriend cry.

It’s paradox. Steve loves Eddie with all his heart, would never hurt him, wants nothing more than to see him smile. But this right here is different, those tears are good tears, this is the good kind of pain, the one that makes Eddie beg for more.

And beg he does, insistent and impatient, needs something inside to fill the emptiness, his loose hole clenching around nothing now that the plug they’ve used to open him up lies abandoned on the side of the bed. Steve crawls further up between his thighs, can’t bite down a mean laugh when he sees Eddie’s eyes widen, probably thinking he’s finally getting what he’s been asking for. He doesn’t, is the thing, all he gets is Steve’s hardness brushing his skin, leaving a trail of slickness on its way when he leans over him, untying the rope around his wrists.

Slowly, he brings Eddie’s arms down, thumbs rubbing over the faint redness he caused by pulling too hard, fighting against the restraints he specifically had asked for. Steve kisses each wrist before he drops them on either side of Eddie’s body.

“Kiss me,” he demands, and Eddie complies instantly, lifts his head to capture Steve’s lips with his own.

The kiss is deep but slow, some calm before a storm only Steve knows is coming.

“Turn around,” Steve commands when they part, voice stern and eyes not leaving Eddie’s, who looks at him with a mix of confused frustration and thrilling excitement.

On his hands and knees, Eddie offers a sight that makes Steve’s cock throb, makes it hard to resist the urge to push inside. To take without warning and finally give in to Eddie’s pleas.

Not yet, though. Eddie’s going to have to earn it. And so does Steve.

The thing about playing with Eddie like this, about taunting him by making him wait and beg and then wait some more, is that Steve, too, had to learn patience and how to maintain control over his own body’s reactions. Not wanting to lose himself too early, not wanting to miss out on the reward of falling together.

Steve places both hands on Eddie’s hips, feeling just a little bit bad for making it seem as if he’s aligning himself with his boyfriend’s ass, hole gaping and ready to take him.

“Will you fuck me, please?”

Eddie opens his legs some more, hips swaying in Steve’s hold – he’s getting impatient, desperate to be filled.

“No.” It’s such a small word, two letters that hold so much power because it’s all Steve has to say to make Eddie lose his mind.

Before he can complain, Steve’s hands slide down, grabbing his ass with both hands, fingernails digging into tender flesh and burning skin, digging deep enough to leave marks before letting go completely

Eddie cries out a weak little ‘Oh, fuck!’, voice trembling with anticipation. He knows what’s coming, knows how Steve will make him earn his right to be fucked.

“Are you gonna be my good little whore?” Steve asks and Eddie answers with a nod and a whimper as he braces himself for what’s to come, no doubt already starting to become headless, always getting a little dumb when Steve degrades him with words.

When he calls him a slut. A toy. A stupid, cock-drunk mess.

Baby or whore, it doesn’t really matter what he calls him; Eddie can be both and Steve can say either with love – they’re interchangeable, mean the same thing in the language they share like a secret code.

The first contact of Steve’s palm with Eddie’s ass is barely more than a hard tap, nothing to really cause pain, only to slightly warm up his cheek. So does the second and third, but before Eddie can ask for more, Steve’s hand sinks down again with a loud smack, making rosy colour bloom on pale skin.

“Ah! Yes, yes fuck, more please!”

One, two, three, four, five more slaps, each one harder than the one before, Steve’s hand striking down in the rhythm to Eddie’s cries, every hit drawing out another beautiful sound that goes straight to his own dick.

Steve loses count but the angry red colour in the shape of his hands is spurring him on to keep going until Eddie’s moans turn into sobbing.

“What’s wrong, baby? D’you need me to stop? Or do you want me to go harder? Your choice.” Steve grins, tongue licking over his teeth like a hungry hyena, excitement pulsing in his lower half because he already knows what Eddie’s answer will be.

“H-harder. Please, Steve. Need it.”

Always so polite, his perfect boy.

How could Steve resist when he’s asking so nicely?

Only when Eddie’s arms give up and he falls face-first into the mattress, does Steve stop. He marvels at the art he created on his boyfriend’s skin, red and hot, burning under his fingertips as he lets them trail over soon-to-be bruises he’ll have to tend to later.

He lifts Eddie’s weakened body up, holds him by his hips and then, finally, pushes the swollen, purple tip of his cock into the waiting heat that’s been yearning to be filled for so long.

Eddie’s back arches beautifully when Steve thrusts deeper, doesn’t need to hold back, not when Eddie is so open and willing to let him in.

And then he fucks him. Hips snapping hard against Eddie’s sore ass, pulling cry after moan after pathetic little whimper out of the other man’s throat. They’re both too deep, too far gone already, won’t last long, not after building up all this tension and pressure and overwhelming neediness. Ready to fall and come and burst at the seams, lose themselves to each other.

“You should see yourself. Fuck, baby!” Steve’s eyes are transfixed on the place between his thighs where he watches himself sink deeper, watches Eddie’s body welcome him, swallow him, stretch around him so perfectly. “Taking me so well, so good for me. Ah! So tight! Shit.”

Eddie comes first, cock neglected and untouched, spurts all over himself and the sheets, and the noises he makes are what tips Steve over the edge, spilling his release into the depths of Eddie’s body, shaking apart as he rides out his own orgasm.

He watches the mess he made when he pulls out slowly, watches the trail of his own cum trickling out of Eddie’s sloppy hole, can’t help but to push it back where it belongs, pumping two fingers inside with no resistance where he’d just been buried balls-deep.

Beneath him, Eddie bucks his hips, moaning and panting – Steve knows he’s had enough, knows he would still let him play with him for hours more if Steve insisted.

It’s tempting, his greedy inner Devil already rubbing his hands at the thought. He could plug him, make him keep Steve’s cum inside, could make him suck his spent cock until they’re both hard again.

But there’s always time for that later, tomorrow, the day after – Steve’s not going anywhere and neither is Eddie. They’ve got their whole lives ahead of them, enough years still left to be young and reckless.

Eddie deserves a break, deserves to be loved in a gentler way after being so good, so obedient, so perfect.

Groaning, obviously wrung out and exhausted, sore in all kinds of places, Eddie turns to lie on his back, hissing when his ass hits the sheets.

Steve’s beside him, eyes roaming over his boyfriend’s body, taking in the state of him. Come stains on his belly, a sheen of sweat glistening on his skin, his legs still slightly trembling, and his mind probably floating somewhere far away – Eddie is a mess in every sense of the word and Steve is about to make it worse. Just a little. Just as a treat for himself before he’s actually going to take care of his sweet boy.

He leans down, parted lips hovering over stained skin, hot breath tickling his boyfriend’s abdomen.

“Ste-heeve! Stevie, whatcha doing?” Eddie giggles, sounds high or maybe drunk; drunk on Steve, maybe, wouldn’t that be something?

“Just wanna give back what belongs to you,” he answers vaguely before darting his tongue out.

Eddie squirms, shaking with laughter that turns into a loud moan when Steve’s tongue trails from his pelvis up to his navel, lapping up Eddie’s cum on its way. When he comes back up so he’s face-to-face with the other man, Eddie is already looking at him with wide, curious eyes.

He nods frantically to answer a question Steve didn’t ask and opens his mouth. Steve pushes two fingers over the waiting tongue spilling over his bottom lip, forcing his jaw to open wider before he lets a string of saliva drip from his mouth to Eddie’s, sharing the taste of his own cum with him. It's filthy and beautiful, makes him feel hot all over, regretting the fact that he can't give him more.

“Good boy,” he teases, tapping Eddie’s cheek with his spit-coated fingers as he watches his Adam’s apple bob when he swallows Steve’s gift obediently.

Eddie’s eyelids flutter shut, expression soft, and Steve seals his lips with a kiss.

“God, I can’t believe how perfect you are,” Steve’s heart flips when Eddie opens his eyes again, sparkling, dark, and full of adoration and love.

“So perfect. All for me, only me.”

“Only you,” Eddie agrees, says it like it’s a promise and Steve feels overcome with selfish satisfaction at the thought of being the only one who’ll ever get to see him like this. The only one to touch him like that. To love him this way.

“How are you feeling?”

“Hmm, perfect. Thank you.”

Eddie sounds sleepy, eyelids heavy and hardly staying open. Steve proudly thinks to himself that he must’ve done a real good job tiring him out. But he can’t have Eddie fall asleep like that.

“Let’s get you in the shower, baby.”

-----

The water is warm and comforting, easing the strain in Eddie’s aching body. Steve doesn’t stop kissing him while he gently scrubs him clean, careful not to hurt him where his skin has already started to change colour.

Steve loves this part, the after, when he gets to worship Eddie’s body with care, soft and slow, different than before but just as wonderful.

Intimacy comes in many forms and although Steve really, really enjoys the rougher side of it, loves to give in to the raw and brute kind of his own desires, he can’t deny that this, here, is even better. To hold an exhausted Eddie in his arms like this, close to his own heart, gently caressing the skin he blemished before, taking care of the bruises and scratch marks, the shapes, and colours Steve left on every part of him, fills him with a different kind of satisfaction.

To be the one allowed to put Eddie back together after tearing him to pieces, is an honour, something Steve cherishes a lot.

When they fall into bed together, naked, and soft, and tired, Steve pulls Eddie close to his chest, whispering love confessions into his hair until Eddie’s breathing calms and he can feel his body sink deeper into the embrace, slowly drifting as sleep takes a hold of him.

His own heart matches the rhythm of Eddie’s, a slow but strong beat that sounds like a love song written only for them. Because they belong together. There could never be anyone else for Steve; his heart and soul belong to Eddie and Eddie alone. And for as long as he'll let him, Steve will give Eddie everything he needs, everything he wants, and sometimes even more than that.

Eddie is his to hold. To fuck and tease. To hurt in all the good ways and to love. No one else but Steve is allowed to touch him like that.

“Only me,” he whispers once more, a little selfish and a lot possessive but he knows that’s okay because it’s true. And it makes him smile, content and satisfied, before exhaustion finally pulls him under.

#eddie munson #steve harrington #steddie #steddie fic #steddie smut #steddie smutty september #18+ event

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thisisallthehattersfault · 1 month ago

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Pops has always smelled like peaches. It was the first thing Marco had noticed about the man, way back when he’d been nothing but a panicked pup stowing away on the wrong ship. The crew had been stupid enough to pick a fight with Whitebeard, and Marco had been cowering behind a stack of barrels, hoping the violence would pass him by, when all of a sudden he’d been scooped up and draped over the shoulder of an absolutely massive pirate, and Marco would have probably passed out from the panic if he hadn’t been so completely thrown off-guard by the rich, thick scent of an Omega.

Marco had still had a pup’s nose at the time, so the scent didn’t really register as much more than sweet and fruity and safety, comfort, I have you now. After his first rut, he’d scaled up Pops’s coat and stuck his face in the man’s neck and marveled at the smell of peaches and cream and strong black tea, caramel and cloves. He’d immediately gotten scent-drunk off the warm, rich sweetness of the old man’s affection, and the only reason he didn’t tip back and fall right off his shoulder is because Pops reached up in time to catch him.

Omegas are pretty rare on the seas. Not as much as the World Government tries to make them out to be of course, but there is some truth to the stereotypes; if you run into an Omega traveling with a pirate crew, it’s even odds they’re on that ship against their will. Not that that’s any less true with any other type of criminal, of course. Gangsters on land and pirates at sea and nobles in their feasting halls, it’s always the same — bullies go for the easy target, for the weak and the vulnerable, the young and the desperate and the naive. They fall on the feeble like ants to a corpse, and pick you clean.

It had honestly scared Marco at first, how open Whitebeard was about his sex. The man didn’t take scent-blockers. He didn’t bind his chest. When his heats came — and they came like clockwork every three months, because he wasn’t on suppressants either — he’d bundle himself and most of his small crew away into his nest, and yowl shamelessly for food or cuddles or for someone to start up a song. Part of the reason it took so long for Marco to accept that this was a permanent thing, that Whitebeard was keeping him and Marco didn’t need to keep a bag packed and an eye on the exit, was because he was so, so sure the loud, unruly, shameless Omega would be taught a lesson soon enough.

It had scared him, frustrated him. Made him wary. Nobody is allowed to be that free, he’d wanted to explain to Whitebeard, who for some reason just didn’t seem to get it. Nobody is allowed to be that happy with themselves. You’re too loud. You’re too proud. You’re too comfortable in your own skin. It doesn’t matter that you’re big and strong, they’ll kill you.

They’ll kill you, and I’ll be on my own again.

Eventually, somewhere between the second and the twentieth would-be challenger Whitebeard wiped the floor with, Marco started to realize that the man was more than big and strong, he was powerful. Powerful enough, maybe, to be loud. Powerful enough to be free, without worrying that someone would cage him for it. Marco watched the man who called him son conquer impossible challenges and defeat unbeatable enemies like it was easy, and somewhere along the line he forgot to hold onto his fear. Marco stopped sleeping with his shoes on, he unpacked that bag he’d been hiding in his locker, and then one day when the sun was high and the waters calm and Pop’s scent was syrupy-sweet with happiness, Marco had said “Pops-yoi? Would you bond me?”

And Whitebeard had. It was a little awkward — his fangs are long enough to puncture clear through Marco’s throat — but Whitebeard had been so, so careful, piercing the scent gland in Marco’s neck with the tip of one fang and injecting the venom deep into his blood stream. Then, to Marco’s stunned disbelief, Pops had picked him up and draped him over his shoulder and asked for a bite of his own.

That’s how it starts. An Omega with no pack and a boy with no parents and the peach-sweet summer scent now sunk into the both of them, on a rickety ship that won’t survive the year and with a handful of scavenged crew-mates that will either leave or choose to stay forever before that year is up. Those that choose to stay practically line up when they see the bond wounds on Marco and Pops, clambering for a chance to bite and be bitten. By the time they’re in Water 7 buying a used ship (it will be years still before the Moby is commissioned) Marco is a part of something he can’t remember ever being a part of before.

A pack.

#One Piece #Whitebeard Pirates #marco the phoenix #Edward Newgate #Whitebeard #Whitebeard Crew #Omegaverse #Omegaverse AU #WIP #snippets and teasers #let Omega Whitebeard into your hearts

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soubiapologist · 6 months ago

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they literally have this scene about ritsuka’s mom right beforehand oh my god. i can’t tell if ritsuka is speaking out loud here (i think he is?) but. anyway. i’m now thinking about kids in loveless recreating their parents mistakes and i’ve landed on seimei again, specifically his relationship with mikado, and a bit about that book he loves. seimei is seeking connection but connection is too painful for him so he seeks to destroy it— with yun’s fondness for double meanings it wouldn’t surprise me if that book was both about mikado and misaki. i’ve had this feeling for a while that’s hard to explain but i feel like i’ll mention it here: i dont think that if seimei dies mikado will survive. it think if seimei dies, mikado will die too, it’s just like…. this feeling that i have, like it doesn’t make sense to me for some reason, but it’s hard to articulate why. i think in part because i can see mikado’s plotline going somewhere in the direction of “being obsessed with punitive revenge will not get you what you want”. but i’m also thinking about seimei’s motivations behind the attack on mikado, and, well, children repeating their parents’ mistakes, and i was thinking perhaps seimei was vulnerable with mikado about his father and how he presumably came to be, and since he wanted to kill him, someone at seven voices, and mikado is the designated executioner apparently, perhaps she denied him, maybe thinking he’s not a threat anymore or something, explaining her reasons, but they weren’t enough for seimei, and seimei wanted mikado to suffer the way misaki did in a way, and that’s why the assault on mikado took the form that it did

thinking back to the bloodless fight i think i'm tripling down on my masaki is the body theory because like. hallucination seimei asks ritsuka about WHO he killed not just confronting him with the information that he did kill and like. why would ritsuka know who he killed unless it was someone of relation to ritsuka but ritsuka would've heard if someone he knew was murdered so it must be someone of relation to ritsuka that he doesn't know and his world would be shattered by knowing. and also masaki being seimei's father would give seimei motive to kill him and also i'm thinking of seimei having like crazy person ocd where he's afraid of repeating his trauma on someone else and thus can't be close to anyone thus driving his schizoid development and the only person who could possibly understand the trauma of having masaki as their father is ritsuka which is why he feels he can share his world with ritsuka.

#i’m trying to put together what that might say about nisei and his family life. because of course i am.#maybe that his father was a hired hand in crime #and was maybe more violent at home than we see #though idk about that i think i kind of like a more subtle nisei #like i like that his trauma isn’t as clear-cut as soubi’s i think that’s a huge part of the tragedy of this #and i’m wondering about his mother too like maybe her relation to his father is like the one nisei has to seimei #it’s a power thing maybe because he’s in or was in organized crime or st #like she doesn’t really love him and he doesn’t love her. well duh but like you know #maybe an arranged marriage sort of deal even #and that’s why they were never really in love or whatever and he was just like. a product of societal pressure basically #whatever this ain’t about him for once augh #maybe his father got into crime to pay for drugs if i’m going with my pill problem nisei theory #this is all spitballing i do think it’s kind of more interesting and tragique if nisei just have a really boring neglect backstory #and he just reacted to it nuclear because he’s an extremely sensitive person #but i also think you don’t get That Crazy That Fast if it’s just like frogboiled neglect i def think something more is up #i’m also suspicious bc we don’t see his reaction to literally anything #we heard from chibizero about their trauma in the bloodless scene and nisei was like five feet away and suspiciously missing #we never see his girlfriend which i have Opinions about #we never see his reaction to mimuro abandoning him #literally everything we see him reacting to revolves around seimei #hell we don’t even see much of his actual reaction in the flashback to the shed!!!!! that’s fucking crazy!!!!!#like nisei definitely has a shitload of denial going on #like i think he might be as bad as soubi if not even worse some fucking how #like if he can spin it for attention i think he’d tell people to try and manipulate them but like #i also feel like nisei has a very deep seated fear of being vulnerable esp if he’s anything like soubi. which he is.#he’s desperate for power so he doesn’t seem weak that’s a pretty big part of the antisocial MO if i understand correctly #forgot where i was going with this. anyway whatever

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duhragonball · 2 years ago

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Dragon Ball GT 39

✨GT stands for Grotesque Trot✨

This is it, the final installment of the fight between SSJ4 Goku and Baby. Goku challenged Baby to fight “seriously”, which is pretty rich coming from a guy who’s been phoning it in for the last several episodes. Baby vows to eradicate Goku once and for all this time.

Then they start running down the length of a ravine, shooting ki blasts at each other like dummies. Stay classy, GT.

Baby’s attacks don’t seem to be working on Goku, and it’s starting to look like this “epic” conclusion is just another mismatch. Okay, so here’s why this fight sucks.

✨ “Good” “Ideas”, Poorly Executed✨

As far as I can tell, Toei’s plan for this fight was to have Goku get a new form and take on Baby as a Giant Ape. It sounds good on paper, but we’ve seen it before. Goku fought Vegeta as a Giant Ape in DBZ. It didn’t last very long, but that was probably by design. This Goku/Baby fight seems to be a pretty good illustration of why it’s not a good idea to do a long battle between a big monster and a teeny little human-sized fighter. In Dragon Ball, it usually boils down to the big monster lumbering around, brute forcing his way through the opponents’ attacks, and/or the little guy being an artful dodger until he manages to one-shot the beast or exploit his weak point.

The Goku/Baby fight tries to subvert this formula by having Goku and Baby just slug it out, as if Baby were a normal-sized opponent. And that’s not really out-of-bounds for a fantasy series like this, but it’s hard to visualize. GT really seems to struggle with having both characters in the same shot during a fight. I don’t know if that’s corner-cutting in the animation department, or a stylistic choice with the storyboarding, or what. All I do know is that it sucks. There was one part of the Goku/Rildo fight where they kept doing close-ups of the fighter’s faces as they dodged ki blasts, and it was really hard to follow the action. A better anime might be able to pull it off, but Dragon Ball GT has enough problems as it is. The fights ought to be the show’s saving grace, but instead it’s just one more problem to add to the list.

So you take that flawed approach to fight choreography, and then you apply it to a fight like this, where one guy is literally ten times bigger than the other, and it becomes almost impossible to make it into a five-episode epic. The closest comparison I can think of is DBZ Movie 13, where Goku fought Hirudegarn. Much of the action in that movie was Hirudegarn bullying the Z-Fighters with his superior size. Then Goku turns Super Saiyan 3 and the movie goes into sudden-death rules. Hirudegarn lands a few blows, but Goku takes them just to create an opening so he can land one big move that ends the whole fight. It works because it’s short. GT is trying to do Goku vs. Hirudegarn stretched out to ninety minutes, and it just does not work.

Check it out, here’s Baby getting desperate and using the “Renzoku Super Gallic Gun”. This guy has fired off more Gallic Guns in the last five eisodes than the real Vegeta ever has in his whole life.

When that doesn’t work, he sets up his “finishing strike!” And yes, it’s the Revenge Death Ball. This is like the fourth time he’s used this stupid attack, and it hasn’t succeeded in killing anyone.

This isn’t even the first time he’s used it on Super Saiyan 4 Goku. The last time he tried it, Goku didn’t even defend himself. He just let it hit him and it didn’t do anything at all! So why is Baby using it again? And why is Goku struggling with it this time? He’s supposed to be at full power, so if anything, Goku should be stronger than he was the last time he took one of these.

I guess you can argue that this Revenge Death Ball has more juice because this is the first time Baby’s done it as a Great Ape, but... no? I don’t think that’s how it works. Every other time, the idea was that Baby formed the RDB by gathering the collective hatred of his Tuffleized slaves. In theory, each RDB should be exactly the same, unless he Tuffleized more victims in the last hour and a half.

Also, wouldn’t Baby’s Tuffles be getting weaker each time he tries this. I’ve always assumed the move was inspired by the Spirit Bomb Goku used to kill Kid Buu, where the Earth’s population was exhausted after contributing so much energy to the attack. So you’d think at some point Baby would find the well had run dry.

When I watched this, I thought maybe that’s what they were setting up. The Kais have been preparing to use the Sacred Water to free Baby’s slaves, so it would have been kind of awesome to see Goku in a pinch, and Baby’s charging up a Revenge Death Ball to kill him, but then it fails because there aren’t enough Tuffles left to fuel the attack.

The answer, of course, is that Goku has to struggle to overcome this move, because it’s Baby’s final big attack, and it needs to seem effective in order to build suspense. Then Goku looks cooler when he finally muscles out of it. And that’s fine. That’s storytelling 101. The problem is that there’s no rhyme or reason to it. GT is literally having things happen in this story because they’re supposed to happen, not because they have any internal logic among the characters.

Like, okay, if you’re writing a story where a guy goes to the post office, you have to explain why he’s going to the post office. You may be writing it because the plan is to have him meet the love of his life, who runs a small mail-order business and constantly ships packages. He has to go to the post office, because the rest of the story won’t happen unless he bumps into the love interest while he’s there. And that’s fine, but your character doesn’t know he’s a character in a love story. He doesn’t know he’s going to meet his true love, which means he needs some other reason to go to the post office, a reason that would make sense to him. So you have to write in a line about how he’s going to buy stamps, or check his P.O. Box, or whatever.

This is why they have different techniques and power ups in Dragon Ball. You have these back-and-forth superhero battles, and there has to be a way for characters to gain or lose the upper hand. For the writer, it’s just a matter of shifting the balance of the fight to keep the reader engaged. But for the characters, they’re in a real fight, so it has to make sense within their fictional world. This is what draws the readers into your story. If you do it right, you make the fictional world feel kind of real, and the reader wants to be part of it while you tell your story.

Look at the original Goku/Vegeta battle. Goku uses the Kai-o-ken Times Three and beats up Vegeta. He gets furious, and responds with the Gallick Gun, threatening to destroy Goku at a distance, neutralizing the Kai-o-ken’s close-quarters advantage. Goku has to defend with a Kamehameha, but it’s not strong enough, so he uses the Kai-o-ken Times Four. But Vegeta survives, so he gets frustrated enough to resort to fighting as a Great Ape. Goku is too exhausted to fight back, so he uses a Solar Flare to blind Vegeta, and then tries to set up a Spirit Bomb.

You see how that works? It’s not just that there’s a variety of techniques being used. It certainly helps, but the important thing is that each technique shifts the balance of the battle. The next move is a response to the last one, and each step of the fight builds off of what happened before.

Compare this to the Goku/Baby fight. Revenge Death Ball, Kamehameha, Revenge Death Ball, Kamehameha, Revenge Death Ball, Kamehameha-- enough already!

Baby his Goku with an RBD early into the fight, and it didn’t do anything, not because of any in-story reason, but because the fight had just begun, and the writers wanted Goku to look badass. Later, Goku hit Baby flush with a 10x Kamehameha, and it didn’t seem to do anything... until the next episode. That delayed effect wasn’t a plot point; Toei just wanted to set up a cliffhanger. Baby and Goku knocked each other out, but that doesn’t matter, because they got an instant recharge from their allies, essentially resetting the whole battle. And now Baby’s finally starting to pressure Goku, not because he figured out a better strategy, but because the fight is almost over and Goku needs to look heroic before he turns the tables.

So of course, Goku powers his way out of the Revenge Death Ball, and Baby is astonished, even though this is the second time he’s seen Goku do this. Goku returns fire with (another) Kamehameha, and somehow this one puts Baby down for the count, even though the last dozen or so didn’t bother him much at all.

It finally looks like Baby is defeated, and the good guys realize that this means Vegeta will surely die. Trunks says it’s for the best, since Baby is too great a threat. But instead of killing Baby, Goku cuts off his tail, which causes Vegeta’s body to shrink back to humanoid size.

Wait, why? Vegeta didn’t have a tail to begin with. The whole point of Bulma’s machine was to use higher intensity Blutz radiation to compensate for the lack of the tail. I don’t even get why the tail grew back, so how does cutting it off make any difference?

Also, even if the tail is important, can’t Baby just make Vegeta’s body sprout a new tail? I’m not joking. Baby made that goofy armor, and the big lenses over his eyes. And Vegeta’s body’s been a lot taller while Baby’s been controlling it. If he can do all of those things, you’d think making a new tail would be easy.

Then we cut to inside Vegeta’s body? I guess? We already saw Uub in there before, and this looks nothing like it. It looks more like a microscope slide of a tissue sample. Maybe this is supposed to be metaphorical. Anyway, Baby is in trouble because his own body grew big to control Vegeta as a giant ape. But now that the Oozaru transformation is reversing, Vegeta’s body is shrinking, and Baby can’t fit anymore? What?

So Baby ejects himself from Vegeta’s body, but he looks to be about the size of a tennis ball while doing it. So how was he too big to fit in Vegeta’s body, then?

He returns to his humanoid appearance, which now looks as big and bulky as he did before he went ape, but with the same blue skin and Smurf Hat head he had when he debuted. Honestly, I like this look the best. It’s kind of a shame they only used it here, and in the opening credits of the show. The good guys try to stop him from getting away, but he uses a bright light from his eyes to distract them, kind of a Tuffle knockoff of the Solar Flare. Then he flies to a ship Bulma had standing by, and makes a run for it.

No Bulmas allowed, though. I’ll give Baby this much, he’s a classic heel.

✨Positivity Page✨

Let me pause here to talk about the one bright spot of this whole episode. Now that Baby is separated from Vegeta’s body, we finally get Vegeta back after all this time.

He wakes up in his son’s arms, wonders what just happened, and then he looks over at Goku...

And then he just gives him the most adorable smile ever. You half-expect Goku to smile back and say “Well, good morning, sleepyhead!” I don’t ship Kakavege, but I totally get it.

Back to business. Pan’s like “Grandpa! Baby’s getting away!” and Goku’s like “Oh no he ain’t!” Yeah, it turns out Goku was just letting Baby have some more rope.

First he waits until Baby’s ship is directly under the sun...

Then he fires another Kamehameha.

Baby’s like “How could this have possibly happened?!” Guy, did you forget that he knows that move? What the fuck? Anyway, good riddance, you Tuffle-lovin’, Machine Mutant creatin’, Doltaki hirin’ piece of shit.

Then Goku’s like “There, I shot him into the Sun,” and the others are like “Oh, I get it now! You let him fly off in his spaceship so you could shoot him into the sun!” Is it that complicated? I’m not sure Goku needed to go this far to kill Baby, but given how slippery Baby has been in the past, this was probably the safest way to go about it. Unless the Big Gete Star finds him...

Back at the Lookout, Goku has finally reverted to his normal form, and it turns out that he’s still stuck as a kid. For all Super Saiyan 4 can do, it looks like it can’t reverse the wish that trapped Goku in this child body. Pan is sorry that Chi-Chi didn’t get a chance to see it, but Goku assures her that he can use the transformation at will. This is kind of an awkward conversation, because Pan seems very invested in Goku using SSJ4 in front of Chi-Chi, and I know it’s just because Chi-Chi was so upset about Goku being stuck as a kid, but we’re all sort of dancing around the reason she was so upset about it, a reason Pan’s too young to know about.

Anyway, Goku has to choose his words carefully, but it’s pretty much confirmed that Chi-Chi is going to get a demonstration soon, and she’s gonna get an all-expenses-paid trip to Goku Town when things settle down. Not the Goku Town where you get beat up. I mean the softer side of Goku Town. After dark.

Yeaahhhh.

(They’re gonna have sex, is my point.)

With Baby taken care of, the good guys dispense the Sacred Water to purify the Tuffle-ized Earthlings. One thing I like is how the characters act like they’re being poisoned when this happens. Then they snap out of it and they’re fine.

Except for 18, who just no-sells it. 18 rules.

Happy Pride Month from Dragon Ball GT.

Everything seems to be wrapped up in a neat little package, except for one thing. A bunch of tremors start, even on the Lookout, which really doesn’t make sense. Popo says it’s because the Black Star Dragon Balls were never put in their proper place. Goku said they returned them to the Lookout in Episode 28, but Dende was evil when that happened, and he handed them over to Baby.

This part always used to confuse me, because I assumed that just returning the BS Dragon Balls to Earth was enough to reset the clock. And then Baby used them to make another wish in Episode 30, so I thought Episode 39 here must have taken place a full year later.

But no, that’s not how it works. Apparently, you have to bring the Balls back to the Lookout, where they can be stored in a specific place. And since Dende was too evil to care about that part, he just blew it off. So the clock was still running, and Pan estimates that they only have two more weeks before the Earth explodes. There simply isn’t time to gather the Black Star Dragon Balls again, so what will they do? Well, that’s a problem for next time.

✨Is this episode worse than “The Roaming Lake”?✨

You know, I would have thought that an episode like this could clear the Roaming Lake bar, but it doesn’t. Sure, it’s the finale of a major arc, but it feels so hollow, especially after all the repetition and stalling we’ve seen that led up to it. There’s a lot of nonsense in this episode, from Goku struggling with an attack he’s already shrugged off once before, to Baby’s confusing logistics for controlling Vegeta’s body.

Also, it’s extremely unsatisfying how they went to all the trouble of defeating Baby, only for this Black Star Dragon Ball issue to come back to haunt them. I mean, this part of the episode makes perfect sense, but it just points out how unfocused the whole series has been. They started with the mission to recover the Balls, then got sidetracked into doing this Baby conflict, and now they’re trying to clean up the loose ends, but it just feels very awkward. I’m pretty sure this is why most Dragon Ball arcs only have one bad guy who’s responsible for everything, and when you beat him everything gets solved all at once. And this could have been an interesting opportunity to play with that formula by having two concurrent crises, but Toei didn’t plan for any of this, they just sort of backed into it.

Anyway, “The Roaming Lake” didn’t end with Nam realizing that he still needs to fix his village’s plummeting literacy rates, so that means it’s a better episode than Baby’s swan song. The score is TRL - 39, GT - 0.

✨The Blade Braxton Memorial Haiku*✨

For sale: Baby shoes

Slightly Kamehameha’ed

Straight into the sun.

#dragon ball #dragon ball gt #really sucks #2023dbapocryphaliveblog #goku #baby #pan #trunks #goten #gohan #kibitoshin #dende #mr popo #marron #android 18 #vegeta #bulma #*haiku does not come with crown as illustrated

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prettyboykatsuki · 3 years ago

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is she gonna pop | m.izuku

➳ tags ;; 18+, brat-tamer!deku agenda, unprotected sex, this is heavily focused on shibari and the fact deku is very strong, strength kink, punishment, deku calls u a fleshlight uh... fem!reader

➳ wc ;; 1.2k

➳ a/n ;; not the exact fic i wanted to post for our boyfriend / for @rat-zuki but that shit is taking much much longer than i anticipated and i wanted to post something within a reasonable time frame. consider this a bonus fic ig?

happy late bday dekuuu

➳ plot ;; izuku midoriya likes to let you have your way.

shibari ref but ur hands r behind ur back.

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He lets you.

Sometimes, as it would be, you forget about how he lets you act. It’s something you seem to forget - get accustomed to your sweet, loving Deku. The one who puts up with your attitude and coaxes you out of your bad moods with sweet words. After all, what’s a few out of place comments from his pretty girl. What’s some attitude, some annoyance if it means he gets to be sweet on you.

Deku likes the attitude, that’s another part of it. When you make fun of him and you get that lovely over-confident attitude about what you’ve said. When you poke and pinch and prod at him. He likes the way you prance around with a dopey little grin on your face, so pleased by how he adjusts to you. He does it on purpose because he finds your bratting cute.

He finds you cute and endearing so he lets you. Gives you silent permission to act the way you do and sighs when you misbehave. Lets himself be weak for you, gives you the power you seem to desperately crave so he can dote on you to his hearts content.

He lets you. Deku the hero is too smart and too no bullshit to put up with something he doesn’t like but he likes the way you act with him. He likes your unpleasantries and the way you can’t handle affection - like a misbehaved cat. He’ll love you to the ends of the earth, uncaring.

You’re not too difficult for someone as skillful as him. Someone so patient and kind and loving. Adoring, even.

But..

There are always limits - and he seldom imposes them but they exist. He’s a hero and you’re.. you. They need to exist. When he needs you to behave, he’ll tell you. Before your events, he’ll zip up your dress and help you get everything on - a whisper in your ear. It’s simple and plain.

He’ll say it once and he’ll remind you once, those are the rules. With a hand on the lower part of your spine, he does it without an ounce of light-heartedness. A simple command he expects you to follow.

“Behave,”

It’s easy. Tonight, unlike most nights, you’re expected to be on your best behavior. No teasing, no bratting - just good behavior. It’s one night. He’ll even reward you. It’s so easy. He knows you can do it. You can behave, right?

Of course you can, just one night. You can be good.

Right?

It’s the disappointment that always sends your stomach churning.

You’ve only ever seen him angry a handful at times and none of those times have ever been at you. But you can see he’s angry - jaw tense. It feathers as the rope dips underneath your thighs. The scratchy material makes you squirm. It covers every expanse of skin you’ve got on. You’re bare other than thin, cotton panties that to your dismay, do a good job of displaying how you feel.

You’re turned on but anxious, heart-beating rapidly in your throat as he patiently ties you. With your legs folded up and your arms behind your back - you’re left completely immobile and at his disposal. This alone sends you reeling, the urge to run your mouth and relieve some of your anxiety every present.

His green eyes, normally so affection, feel cold as they look over the knots. A little sob hiccups in your chest. A hand splays on your sternum as he holds you down.

“Don’t move,” ― he commands, voice harsh and icy ― “I don’t have the patience. Move anymore and I’ll strap you down to the bed,”

You go stiff as a board, a hollowness in your body at the way he treats you. It occurs to you briefly that you’re so stubborn. Frustrated, you open your mouth again. The words of a clumsy apology rush out of your mouth. Tears of upset making your vision blurry.

“‘m sorry, sorry! Don’t punish me please.. dont want you to -”

He grabs your face with his hands and sighs, leaning down to kiss you. It’s a sweet relief, kissing him back with such urgency. He gives it to you, that sweetness, only momentarily before pulling away. That warmth is gone, replaced by only what you could describe as sharpness.

“What was my one rule for tonight, baby? Can you repeat it for me?”

You tug your lower lip between your teeth.

“B-behave,”

“And what did you do?” he asks. His grip on your jaw tightens as you pout.

“Misbehave,”

He nods, letting go of you. Wordlessly, he finished tying the rest of the rope around your body. He places a large hand completely over your clothed sex, thumb brushing against the wet-spot.

“You think, after acting like that during our dinner - my birthday dinner, and making a scene in front of everyone, that you shouldn’t be punished,”

You shiver at the sound of his voice. Baritone and exasperated - mean. Nothing like you’re used to.

“But I didn’t mean -”

His hand comes down harsh on your cunt. A loud noise of surprise echoes in the room as he stares at you with a hardened glare. Your clit throbs underneath your panties as you gasp, fat tears pooling at your lashes. He sighs as he tugs your panties to up.

“I didn’t ask for your input,” ― he makes a show of making your panties scrunch up between your folds, before snapping the wet fabric back onto your cunt ― “Fleshlights don’t have mouths to speak, so don’t speak unless spoken too,”

His cock is big, thick and heavy as it rests against your pussy. He lets the head brush against your swollen bundle of nerves but that’s as much pleasure as he lets you have. Without any prep, he spits onto it unceremoniously. He has enough patience to go slow but the stretch of it burns, aches but feels good too. It curves up - drags against your aching walls. He fucks you with a bated breath.

Without letting you get adjust to his size, he’s picking you up like you weigh nothing at all. You let out a gasp with the confidence in which he holds you up. He holds you right where he wants before slamming his hips into you, cock brushing against your cervix. You feel your body go limp from pleasure, blood rushing to your head at the way he treats you.

With his fingers dimpling into your skin, he fucks you without an ounce of concern. The room fills with the noise of his muscled hips, slamming against you. He meant what he said earlier about using you like a flesh-light. The pleasure is erratic, consistent but mean thrusts. It hits you with a bruising force as the rope struggles against your soft skin. The force is enough to make you uneasy - but he holds you like it’s nothing. Fucks you like it’s nothing.

It feels like hours pass, and Deku never loses his stamina. He goes again and again and again - and you feel yourself getting close after endless pounding. Overwhelmed by the strength of your impending orgasm - you choke on your words.

“C-c..umming, f-fuck,”

You wail, loudly, as the pressure slowly falls back to nothing but aching. He shifts the weight of your body so he can spank you. He holds you up as you sob, immobile. Devastated.

“Fleshlights, don’t cum either do they?”

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#deku x reader #bnha x reader #i like how this turned out #izuku x reader #bnha x you #bnha x y/n #deku x you #deku x y/n #formal #prettyboy.thirsts

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clover-the-awesomest · 10 months ago

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Okay, now that I’ve been converted to a Loser Baby lover, I have to agree with what OP is saying here. And I also wanna add onto their original points as well. Reminder here tho that they basically read my mind after I fell in love with Loser Baby and they said everything that I wanted to say too so I’m either gonna be parroting what they said or saying something completely different. So yeah.

So we all know the kind of guy Husker is, right? He’s a drunken sloppy apathetic mess of a man, his powers were ripped away from him due to his own hubris, and he just wants to be left alone to his own devices. He also enjoys gambling. A lot of gambling. It seems as though he always has loved it.

Now let’s look at Angel. He’s usually a drunken, sexual, hypocritical mess of a man, his body ripped away from him due to his own hubris, and he just wants to be free. He doesn’t enjoy sex as much as he makes some believe, yet he’s forced to do lots of it for his work. Seems as though he always has been.

These two aren’t so different when you really look at them, and Husk can see that clear as day. He can see himself in Angel, might I add, and he pities the young man for it. Angel Dust, despite being loud and annoying most of the time, represents a much younger, much more open version of Husk before he was stripped of his power by Alastor. And see this, Husker decides he needs to help Angel.

“I used to be an overlord once.” He says this in a moment of vulnerability, a moment of weakness. Angel just opened up to him, so it’s his turn to open up to Angel. But why does he say this? Why does he reveal such a big secret when the two mutually hated each other just moments before? Because Husk knows that it’s what Angel needs to hear. And he then continues on with his story, telling the tale of how his own mistakes led him to where he is now. Broken. Sad. Alone. He says it was dangerous, being an overlord who commandeered souls on the regular while also being a gambler, and points out he probably gambled souls away just for a quick grab at some cash. And even though he loved gambling, it was pretty easy to tell the man was not good at it at all! He could read people like a book but that doesn’t do anything for his own skills in the game, so. Yeah. Failed miserably and ended up gambling away his own soul in a desperate attempt to win. But he lost, ending up in the chains of the Radio Demon himself.

(Sorry for the long paragraph I forgot to split it up and I never will split it lol)

Now, Husker can’t escape from his new, sad reality. He can’t get out of his chains, but when he sees Angel’s struggle, he knows that the spider can. Husker sees an opportunity to make up for his mistakes by helping Angel through his. Because when he finds Angel in that bar and when he sees him snorting coke and getting high, he sees himself right after his own downfall. So he helps.

Husker cannot get free from Alastor. That’s a depressing and sad truth that unfortunately must be accepted. His chains are too tight, too strong, too much for him to bear. If he fights he will be killed, and now that he has friends he can’t let that happen. But Angel… He still has a chance. And Husk will do whatever it takes to keep that window open, to keep giving Angel more chances to break free from his chains, because that’s all he can do to make up for the mistakes he made in his past. Husk is too far gone. But he can at least do his part to save someone else from the same exact fate.

—

MAN OKAY THAT ENDED UP A LOT LONGER THAN I THOUGHT IT WOULD SORRY BOUT THAT HAHAHAHAHAAHA

OP I love ur writing plz keep talking-

In Response to Criticism of Loser, Baby

According to the yt comments under prime's upload of Loser, Baby, apparently some folks are taking offense to Husker comforting Angel by telling him he's a loser and to get over it and somehow framing this lovely lovely song as victim blaming??

the media literacy bar really is in hell

I do think the song plays out far better in the context of the show, and isn't really made to be a standalone piece of consumable media, though I will be treating it as such in the coming days by endlessly looping the video

anyway, this is a song that brings comfort and hope to both characters thanks to who each character is and what situation each is in. These are vital pieces of context that are important to understanding the message of the song. It's important to realize one method of comfort is not going to work for every situation-- the particular method in Loser, Baby works because of what the characters are looking for in the moment.

Husk confronts Angel on his self-destructive tendencies, to which Angel responds that drugs, sex, and immediate dopamine hits are his escape, and that, even in the worst case, even if he destroys himself, it'd be better than the situation he's currently in (a suicidal, scary thing to say)

In the previous scenes in the show, we've seen that Angel takes an almost comedic level of pride in his work, eager to drag the gang off to sex dungeons and show them his porn tapes. He delights in how uncomfortable his world makes them and constantly does bits, putting on a character that's hypersexual, that seems like he's in control and wants to be doing the sex work he's doing

This is very clearly an attempt at masquerading a level of power over his life that he doesn't actually have; in reality, he has no choice but to be sexually exploited, but if he acts like he chooses it, it almost feels like he owns his life. Or, really, it almost looks to others that he owns his life. It's all about performance and perception with Angel; he hates the idea of looking like someone who needs saving, hates looking like a victim, and hates being seen as powerless, so he tries to act like he's none of those things. Of course, he can't really lie to himself, so he resolves that inner turmoil (suffering that he completely internalizes because he doesn't want to break his facade) through drugs, sex, alcohol, and even pain as distraction.

Which is why "Loser, Baby," is so fucking wonderful! Husk is telling him, over and over, that he's not fooling anyone, that his little character he's sacrificing so much to play isn't worth it, that Angel's a loser and everyone can tell. If you take his words at face value, it's cruel and unkind and could make things worse--- that is, if this wasn't Husk and he wasn't talking to Angel.

It's freeing. Angel is being told that he doesn't need to do his bullshit performance, that he can be a loser, and that everyone at the hotel's a loser too, so no one's gonna judge him. It's a song about accepting where you are in life, about stopping Angel's denial of reality and refusal of vulnerability.

Most of all, it's a very kind gesture on Husk's part. It wouldn't have worked if Husk hadn't also loudly called himself a loser and opened up about his past mistakes. It's a wonderful song about mutual vulnerability and accepting imperfections and mistakes and accepting that you're in a shitty place so you can finally stop self-destructing and start finding solace in other people also in shitty places.

also it's gay soooooo not too much on my beloved huskerdust

#I don’t like the song Loser Baby in the actual episode because of its placing. It was placed very awkwardly.#Doesnt mean the song shouldn’t have been in the episode at all and I’m glad people really like it. Just wasn’t for me at the time.#has been hoe tell

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doctorgerth · 4 years ago

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In the Mood

Part One | Part Two

a/n: I had two ppl request more characters for this and I couldn’t resist 🤧 also added some personal favs; why is Denjiro’s so soft plz help me I love that man

featuring: Mihawk, Shanks, Benn, Doflamingo, Rosinante, Crocodile, Smoker, Denjiro, Luffy, Usopp + gn!reader

summary: signs that the guys are in the mood to schedule you a dick appointment 🍆

warnings: NSFW; more horny men

MIHAWK ➠ His voice softens; speech suddenly slow and sensual. His ravenous gaze paired with his sultry tone easily reveals his desire for you. The cherry on top? Bits of Spanish slips off his tongue, especially endearing names that he only calls you on special occasions. He might even pull you close and whisper in your ear exactly what he wants to do to you. In Spanish of course, because he can’t help but to laugh and be even more turned on by your dumbfounded expression and how urgently you’re pulling him to the bedroom, begging for your next Spanish lesson. No matter how fluent you may be.

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SHANKS ➠ He’s usually easy to read when he’s in the mood because he’s pretty much always dtf. Shanks utilizes all the normal signs like being (extra) handsy or looking at you a certain way, but the biggest giveaway is when he gets super flirty and starts dishing out suggestive jokes/pickup lines. The key is to get you thinking about sex with him, and when his hands are all over you, eyes lingering on your lips, his own curved mischievously like that, it’s hard not to think about boning that man. Also definitely does the eyebrow wiggle, because he’s a big dork. A big horny dork.

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BENN ➠ Opposite of his captain, Benn takes a more subtle approach when letting you know he’s in the mood. Aside from whispering his desires into your ear, he likes to spontaneously give you a massage. It’s sweet; a domestic exchange that hardly ever raises suspicion from those around you. But what they don’t notice is when those sinful hands ghost over sensitive areas, letting you know there’s some other places he has in mind to give special attention to. Benn is secretly a tease, and you squirming under his affections only makes him want you more.

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DOFLAMINGO ➠ Puts that long, sinful tongue to work. Whether he’s licking your neck, the shell of your ear, or even his own lips, you can tell he’s horny by the tongue wag. He’s shameless in the way he states his lustful thoughts, no matter if you two are alone or are around others. Also does not shy away from simply showing you. Man spreads like a slut to put his hard-on on display for you, brows cocked with a devilish grin on his face that challenges you to do something about it. Will pull you into his lap or pin you against the wall and grind himself against you, just so you can feel what you do to him.

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ROSINANTE ➠ Unlike his demon brother, sweet Rosi gets a little embarrassed when he’s particularly needy for you. Will suddenly pull you close and bury his face in your neck in what seems to be an adorable attempt to hide his embarrassment. At first it’s really cute and innocent, but when he starts kissing all your sweet spots, teeth and tongue grazing your soft skin, and muttering weak whimpers of your name, then you know his true intentions. Will use his powers to his advantage if he verbalizes his desires, just to be sure no one overhears his rather explicit declarations of how badly he wants you.

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CROCODILE ➠ He is noticeably, and purposefully, not smoking around you. Thus, his hands and lips get a bit restless. Smoking is good stress relief, and when he’s without, well, he has to put his lips on something to keep him occupied. Because when he’s in the mood, he’d much rather have you between his teeth. He also gets really teasey as he will push your buttons until you’re at your limit and he challenges you with a suggestive, “Make me” or “Well, what are you gonna do about it?” The man is manipulative, but sometimes in the best ways.

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SMOKER ➠ His gaze lingers. When in the mood, he’s at war with his mind as he tries to think of anything else other than taking you right then against the nearest surface. It’s far too evident in the way he stares at you intensely, hardly listening to your words as he’s fixated on the way your lips move, mind clouded with images of you putting those lips to work in intimate ways. Smoker’s eye contact is usually pretty intense, but the way it lingers on your exposed skin, pointed gaze like a compass needle aiming right at the areas of you he wants to give his full attention to, has you ready to bend over his desk for him.

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DENJIRO ➠ Denjiro is known for staying composed, easily suppressing his true thoughts on any matter and putting on a poker face. When it comes to you, however, he doesn’t hold back. Whether he chooses not to or just physically can’t is still undeclared, but when he wants you, boy does he show it. Literally cannot keep his hands off of you as they roam your figure, tugging at your clothes, playing with your hair, fingers toying with your lips - he stares at you dreamily and gets a little pouty as he begs for your touch, lips desperately chasing yours like kissing you for the first time all over again.

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LUFFY ➠ For this captain, it’s all in the way he kisses you. Luffy’s kisses are typically soft - loving pecks to your cheek or forehead here and there and playful kisses with wide smiles between them. Even when alone, he keeps his lips on yours in heavenly motions, taking his time in moving with you, exploring you. But when that slick muscle slips past your teeth, and there’s a sudden urgency in the way his lips move against yours, he doesn’t have to verbalize how much he wants you. You can practically taste it.

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USOPP ➠ Gets super flustered. A blushing, stuttering mess who can’t even look at you because he might pop a boner right in front of everyone. You two have had to develop secret signals for when he needs a little assistance, because he’s sure as hell not going to come up and tell or show you that he is horny when you two are around others. But if you’re already alone, he is a little braver as his strong hands embrace your figure and he whispers something sweet such as an “I need you” then pulls you close to him for a searing kiss.

If you enjoyed this, please be sure to leave a like, comment, and/or reblog. 🌸

#doctorgerth #doc writes #blurbs #ns.fw #established relationship #mihawk x reader #shanks x reader #benn x reader #doflamingo x reader #rosinante x reader #crocodile x reader #smoker x reader #denjiro x reader #luffy x reader #usopp x reader #gn!reader

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trashytummiez · 3 years ago

Text

Anxious Tummy Virus

After @fungusfangs posted a cute sequence featuring Tamaki sick with a stomach virus I had to make this fic ;3

Warning: contains anxiety belly kink burps fluff hiccups indigestion nausea vomiting tummy rubs

Tamaki was always so anxious whenever he and Fatgum went patrolling. He could always feel so many eyes on him. It never failed to twist the poor anxious boys stomach into knots every time.

No villains or criminals could be seen but they always had to be vigilant. Which was why both were constantly eating whenever patrolling. Fatgum stuffed his face with whatever he could get to power up his fat if the situation called for it. And if it didn't then at least he got to enjoy some yummy treats along the way. Tamaki needed the food to power his food-based quirk.

That and his stomach was rumbling loudly behind this pouch-heavy vest. It was loud enough to make poor Tamaki blush and pray that no one could hear it.

But it also made him feel a little sick. His anxiety made his tummy really weak sometimes and it would get gurgly pretty often. But it didn't usually make him feel so oddly nauseous and weak. He couldn't explain why that wasn't the case tonight.

Oblivious to this Fatgum finished munching a bunch of food and handed down something to Tamaki. "Here ya go! Try some crab onigiri!" The fat-based hero suggested as he munched.

"...T-Thanks," Tamaki groaned and slowly took the onigiri whilst trembling slightly. Usually he trembled from anxiety but right now he was trembling from not feeling very well.

Fatgum patted his young sidekick on the back and laughed heartily. "Figured ya must be hungrier than usual today! Yer stomach's growlin' like crazy!"

Tamaki held the onigiri up with both hands and trembled shakily. This time though it was totally embarrassment and anxiety induced.

"...I didn't realize it was loud enough to draw attention..." he whimpered. "...So embarrassing..."

"Don't sweat it kid! Ya need yer energy after all right?" Fatgum assured the pointy-eared boy.

Tamaki nodded like a sad dejected little boy and nibbled on his onigiri whilst still trembling adorably. It tasted great which led to him taking another bigger bite immediately after.

Still his stomach felt oddly sour in a way it didn't usually feel.

Close to forty five minutes passed along with several snack stops along the way of their patrol.

Without warning a big hearty sounding burp erupted from the patrolling pair. Only the source was unexpected.

"Whoa! Nice one kid!" Fatgum snickered and nudged Tamaki who was covering his mouth and blushing furiously. "Ya know usually it's Red Riot lettin' the big ones out like that! Heh musta really needed that huh!"

But before Tamaki could whimper out another word of how badly embarrassed he felt, an especially loud thick sounding gurgle bellowed from Tamaki's belly. It churned so heavily and forcefully that it made Tamaki freeze in place like a petrified statue. Tamaki hiccuped then whimpered as his body trembled anew.

"Oh no..." he uttered quietly and fearfully while his tummy gave another sick groan. He winced and went slightly teary eyed from the discomfort. "No no no no no no no no no..." he repeatedly dreadfully.

"...Uh...Amajiki...?" Fatgum asked. His own big grin turned to a big concerned frown. He was about to ask if Tamaki was okay when suddenly the poor boys stomach hitched aggressively with a thick churning noise.

Tamaki gave another really thick closed mouth burp that ended with him suddenly spewing bile from past his lips. He went wide-eyed and desperately tried to cover his mouth with both hands but it was too late. Tamaki gave a loud gross sounding burp that sent a heaping load of vomit spewing from his mouth and splattering horribly onto the floor.

"Ohhh crap..." Fatgum remarked suddenly in concern. He wasn't at all grossed out at the sight of Tamaki leaning forward and puking heavily. The giant blubbery hero leaned down and very gently rubbed Tamaki's cape concealed back. "S'okay kid. Just let it out..." he assured him.

Not that Tamaki had any other choice.

The poor boy panted heavily then lurched with another stream of puke expelling from his mouth heavily onto the floor. Some passing civilians saw the sight and looked mortified. Others looked concerned as poor Tamaki continued spewing the contents of his stomach disgustingly onto the pavement.

When he finally stopped throwing up Tamaki was standing wearily as bile dripped from his fangs. The poor boy was trembling with tears streaming down his cheeks.

"...m'so sorry..." he slurred groggily but Fatgum gently shushed him and kept rubbing his back.

"S'alright kid. Don't sweat it yeah?"

Fortunately there were a few passing civilians with quirks that were able to make short work of the sick while Tamaki got washed up in a nearby restaurant.

He was so mortified that he tearfully hid his face directly into Fatgum's giant blubbery tummy like a child too scared to go to the dentist.

Fatgum frowned sympathetically as he gently ruffled the top of poor Tamaki's purplish blue hair and held up a soda for him.

"Why didn't ya tell me you were feelin' sick kid?" Fatgum asked then almost guiltily said, "...I had ya eatin' soooo much today too...!"

Tamaki muffled a thick burp in his mouth that was muffled even further by Fatgum's belly fat smothering his face then he sniffled tearfully. "I thought it was just another anxiety stomachache..." he whimpered and hiccuped sharply. He sniffled again and hiccuped again. "Ohhhh-urrrp-unnngh..." he couldn't help but burp in between his groaning both with humiliation and how badly his stomach still hurt.

It gurgled thickly but fortunately not as bad as it had been before he threw up.

But it was still enough to make him tear up some more as he buried his face even deeper into Fatgum's flabby belly and cried out. "I wanna go hooooome...!" Funnily enough his whaling was muffled by thick fatness.

Fatgum frowned anew and gently rubbed Tamaki's back. "Yeaaah you definitely shouldn't be on patrol with a stomach bug kid. Can't let ya risk fightin' bad guys with yer own gut givin' ya grief."

He scooped Tamaki up like a scared puppy and walked him out of sight away from all the people. As he carried him off Fatgum used a few of his fingers and gently placed them atop Tamaki's stomach. They alone were about as large as Tamaki's hand and he used them to gingerly and carefully rub Tamaki's turbulent tummy for him while using his thumb and index finger to hold a can of soda still.

Tamaki groaned at the feeling relaxing in Fatgum's arms. But he still blushed and looked away biting his lip anxiously with a soft whimper.

"...I'm sorry for being so weak all the time," Tamaki said with a sadder sniffle.

But Fatgum scowled and lightly poked the boys chest. "Hey you ain't weak kid. If I were a bettin' man I'd bet the farm on you against any opponent ten billion times outta ten."

"...That number doesn't make sense..."

"It means yer one'uh the strongest heroes in the biz Suneater. Havin' shot nerves don't make ya weak." Fatgum's expression softened and he more gently stoked Tamaki's gurgling belly. "...Ya shouldn't keep puttin' yerself down like that kid. Especially over somethin' that ain't even yer fault."

Tamaki nodded softly and looked down. "...I'm sorry."

Fatgum rolled his eyes but in a good natured way. "...Always friggin' apologizin'. Geez. Anyway..."

He carefully lowered Tamaki to the ground when the two were alone behind a building. The boy groaned softly and hugged his stomach with one hand. Then Fatgum handed him the soda he was still carrying.

"Drink up lil buddy. This oughta help yer guts stop stirrin' as much."

Tamaki frowned as he took the soda. "...B-But soda makes me-"

"-Yeah yeah. Why d'ya think I took ya away from all those people? It's just us kid. Don't worry 'bout it."

Tamaki glanced at the soda then looked around. They really did seem to be alone. But still he looked nervous. However when he looked up and saw an assuring smile from his sensei he sighed and gave in.

He cracked his can open and carefully took a sip. It was nice and crisp going down his throat and the way the soda felt bubbling in his stomach gave him some slight relief from the more acidic churning he was enduring.

So he swigged more soda down starting to chug it a little more feverishly. His throat bobbed as the fizzy liquids poured down his gullet and settled into his bubbling stomach. Tamaki inwardly whimpered knowing what was coming but took in more of the drink anyway while breathing through his nostrils.

After getting a good amount of the can down he pulled it aside and panted with one hand gently rubbing his tummy. A second later Tamaki's hand tightened around the middle of his stomach and then his mouth parted with a huge throaty burp. It was much louder than Tamaki himself ever was and left him panting and whimpering.

Fatgum laughed and patted the boy on the back dislodging another burp in the process that made Tamaki blush even harder. "Good one kid! Startin' to feel a lil better?"

"...Define better..." Tamaki whined. Even alone he trembled anxiously at being so loud and gross if even just around Fatgum. The soda helped to settle his tummy while the carbonation helped work some much needed gas out of his system. But the fact that soda always made him so burpy didn't do anything for his anxiety.

Still if he had to choose between burping obnoxiously and throwing up violently it was a pretty obvious choice.

So he downed more of his beverage all while nursing his tummy. When he pulled the can away again he tried to hold the burps in by giving thick closed mouth burps. But some were so strong that they forced their way past his lips and just ended up even louder.

Poor little Tamaki couldn't catch a break.

If nothing else the soda and pressure release was definitely helping make his stomach feel better. Eager to be done with it Tamaki downed the rest of his beverage and tossed the can into a nearby bin. a second later his hands flew to his stomach and Tamaki released an enormous burp so strong that it sounded like it almost came out of Fatgum.

"Almost" because Fatgum's burps could literally make the ground shake if he got a good one out.

Fatgum whistled and nudged Tamaki in the shoulder. "Damn kid! Yer gettin' some good ones out tonight ain'tcha!"

This was anything but good. But the relief Tamaki was feeling made it worth it.

Tamaki slumped back against a nearby wall and rubbed his belly up and down with both hands until he coaxed out another lengthy burp that dragged on for a few seconds and left him panting. And blushing of course.

"...Hrraaaah...okay...I...I think that's all of it," Tamaki said gently patting his stomach. "...I just wanna go hooOOOOOOoorh-me..." But his pale face soon went red as Red Riot's hair when he accidentally burped the word 'home' out at the end of his last sentence.

Fatgum laughed hysterically making his giant tummy jiggle like a mountain of jello.

"...Yeaaaaah let's getcha home kid. At this point I'm more worried ya might blush yerself t'death before this stomach bug gives ya any more grief."

For as powerful as Tamaki was? If his quirk were powered by embarrassment and anxiety he'd be unstoppable...

#kink fic #tamaki #fatgum #stuffing #tummyache #tummy rub #nausea #emeto #emetophilia #vomiting #burping #hiccups #fluff #anxiety #cute #embarrassment

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whosjunglejim4322 · 4 years ago

Text

Warnings: SMUT, husbandau!, aged up Johnny (by a little, he's around 32), sex without a condom, he fucks you back to sleep

You're usually not one to wake so easily. Well, truthfully, it's just your willpower in allowing yourself to be released from the peace of slumber that's weak. However, your body seems to know exactly what it wants before your mind does.

You're a little vexed to be pulled from your dream by the throbbing between your legs, the content in said dream being the cause for it. You can feel the slight slickness of arousal as you rub your thighs together underneath the comforter.

Instinctually, you reach over your husbands side, only to find an empty space where he'd usually be lying. Mouth agape, hair a messy halo around his peaceful, enchanting face, and all yours to rub up against and hopefully rouse.

You're a little upset, admittedly. Not at him, it's quite the normal occurrence for him to get up in the middle of the night to do some reading when he can't sleep; you just wish that you weren't so needy and desperate to feel the warmth of his palms against your skin. You wish your dream would have let him continue touching you, if waking up to his absence was the ladder.

Even so, not even your dreams can do him justice.

You begrudgingly pull yourself from the warmth of the bed, the floor cold against your bare feet as you walk to the door, and out the room. It's not hard to scout him from the top of the staircase, sat in his usual spot on the far right corner of the couch, a book perched between his long fingers.

He doesn't notice you at first as you descend towards him, too engrossed in his novel, black rimmed glasses perched on the elegant bridge of his nose.

You really are sort of sad for the people who might not ever get to see him like this, bare faced and still heartwrenchingy beautiful in a loose tee shirt and sweats fit for bed. He makes your chest unbearably warm.

"I'm coming to sit on your lap." Your voice is quiet enough to not startle him completely, being any louder would be unnecessary anyways since it's just the two of you.

A warm smile tugs at the corner of his heart shaped lips, his adoring eyes finding yours in the dim light of the livingroom. He corners his page and leans over to place it on the coffee table, before opening his wide arms in a welcoming manner.

"What woke you, sweetheart?" He presses a kiss to the crown of your head as you settle against his sturdy frame, knees locked on either side of his hips, hands warm between the broad plane of his back and the cushions that he's reclined against.

"Mm, a dream." He feels you smile against his neck, and suddenly realizes exactly what type of dream it was, as your lips place a deliberate kiss to the soft skin just under his ear. He'd be able to guess your advances under any circumstances.

Still, he decides to feign obliviousness, the timbre of his voice sending vibrations through your chest as he speaks.

"Oh really? What kind of dream was it," His hands, wide and fever inducing, rub your back, up and down. "was it a nightmare?"

You shake your head, the tip of your nose gliding against the sharp edge of his jaw, absentmindedly admiring his familiar, redolent scent.

"It was a good dream, too good." His resolve to be teasingly indifferent begins to crumble when you wiggle your hips against his crotch like that, your underwear leaving such a thin layer between your pussy, and his dick that sits freely underneath his pajama bottoms; half hard and twitching.

His hands venture lower so he can cup the softness of your bum, a shiver of excitement slithering up your spine and raising the hairs on the back of your neck. Your body and senses alike will never not respond to him.

"Well, tell me what happened baby," You let out a gasp against his throat as he guides your hips to rut against him, spurring you on with a voice that is almost akin to a purr. "I bet it had something to do with us, hmm?"

All you can do is hum, too easily enthralled by the feel of his length and the friction the cloth covering it provides for your clit. It's still an overwhelming thing, knowing he's yours, completely. It's been two years since getting married, and you're almost positive it'll always be this all consuming.

He knows you so well too, content with taking influence over the situation. After all, it's one of his favorite things; to have you in such an intimate way, to love you in all the ways he knows will have you putty in his hands.

"Let's see..." He begins, pushing his hips up against you in a manner that is too slow, and too light for your liking. "did I have my mouth on you? Was I making you feel good with my tongue?"

Heat fills your belly, thighs trembling slightly. Your soft whimper is melodic in his ear, your face nuzzled against his neck. He shivers.

"Or maybe, hmm...maybe I was fucking you," He doesn't give you time to asnwer his questions nor does he speak as if he is demanding one. He's taking his time, working you up.

"I'll bet I was holding you just like this, huh baby? Bet I was making you cry over my cock."

Your body lurches from the surge of arousal that shoots through you like a lighting bolt, piercing all other senses and forcing you to whine out into the quiet room. The rise and fall of his chest accelerates.

"Please, will you fuck me?" Your fingers are grasping the front of his shirt, head moving from the juncture of his neck to his face, the puffs of air from his plush mouth, warm against your lips.

He cups your face, not needing to strain his eyes in the dark room to already know your eyes are pleading. He feels it in the way you quiver against him, too.

"Of course, whatever you want." He smiles into the kiss, expecting it, awaiting it eagerly.

Your arms settle around his neck, fingers carding through the soft hairs at his nape that are a little bit longer than usual since he hasn't been able to get a haircut. You say it makes him look pretty, so he's okay with it.

He senses your urgency when your tongue slips into his mouth. He responds quickly by skimming past it with his own, skillful fingers moving between your bodies to pull his length from his sweats.

He's properly hard now, twitching. It's no surprise, he's always been weak for you. Too weak, he finds it embarrassing, but he wouldn't change a thing. There's no one he'd rather be a fool for.

You suck in a breath when you feel him pulling your panties to the side, your mouths parting for just a moment as your foreheads rest against eachother. He feels your jaw go a little slack in the way it always does when he first slides it in, and he bites down on his lip.

When you sink all the way down, backs of your thighs pressed to the top of his, he lets out a satisfied sigh, clinging onto you tighter with arms that encapsulate you like a boa.

You're thankful he takes care of you, his long legs give him leverage and allowing him to thrust into you from the bottom as you grind down onto him with a shared rythym. Your soft whines in his ear have him groaning.

"O-oh John." Your cheek rests against his shoulder, hands slipping underneath his shirt and settling on his trim waist. His skin is so warm underneath your fingers, muscles bulging from underneath the smooth surface as he works.

"Feels good baby?" His voice falters just for a second, your use of his formal name still sending throbs of warmth through his veins even after several years. Such a simple notion, so powerful when it's passing your lips.

And of course you've taken note of this, expecting the sudden and momentary fervour of his hips as they buck up into you, jolting you both as you cling to him.

You cry out, practically buried in his chest. You can smell the soap from his earlier shower clinging to his skin, the scent of the dryer sheets you used in the laundry on his soft tee shirt. Little things.

"Feels s-so good, your dick is so good." You might be slightly incoherent to anyone else, voice hiccupy through his thrusts as he hits such a sweet spot inside of you, you squeeze around him.

"I know sweetheart, you take it so well, so so well," his tone is a bit rougher now, you can tell by the sloppiness of his thrusts that he's close. But he'd never allow himself to finish first when he knows you need him so badly, woke up just to come find him.

"My sweet sweet girl, want you to cum all over me." He can feel you flutter around him, the sound of your wetness leaving an ache in his belly.

You kiss him, hard, and for a moment all you know is him. The slip of his tongue in your mouth, his nose pressed against yours, eyelashes tickling your cheek. For a moment it is as if your body never got used to being in the arms of someone so incredible.

You rock your hips against him, suckling his kiss bitten bottom lip as his cock throbs inside of you. At this point you'd never be able to wear a condom with him unless absolutely necessary, too used the feeling every vein and ridge of his thick length, the way it pulses when you say his name.

He's perfect for you, hits every spot like he's got you mapped out. His hands, big and warm come to grip your hips to help you fuck him, feeling your fatigue from the pleasure and lack of sleep alike.

"Cum for me baby, come on." He coos, kissing your neck so sweetly, in a way that makes your belly swarm with butterflies. Your clit rubbing against the area just below his navel as you grind on him combined with the warm plushness of his lips against your throat, has you meeting your end.

He holds you tightly, tighter than he has the whole night as you writhe in his inescapable arms, gasping out whines against the crook of his shoulder as you leak onto his cock. He feels the stickiness smeared on his thighs, and knows it's only gonna get messier.

He doesn't mind, not one bit, not when he can picture your expression so vividly in his head; eyebrows pulled together, eyes glossy and lips swollen. You're so beautiful, too beautiful, too overwhelming.

"O-Oh baby, you're so fucking-fuck, I'm close I'm so close." He's lost now, lost in the bliss just like you are. He's pumping into your sopping entrance, the glide effortless with the abundance of your release.

"M'gonna- oh shit I'm cumming I'm cumming."

His voice is cut off by a sound so sweet you feel your lower belly swirling with a fresh wave of arousal despite your fucked out state, panting against him while he throws his head back and groans your name.

You pepper kisses along his smooth skin as he twitches, the base of his throat, over his adams apple and just under his chin. He jerks lightly as he stills inside of you, cum surely to be coating his entire length by the time he pulls out.

You're spent, still you search for his lips, missing and accidentally kissing his soft cheek before he turns his head to meet you halfway.

Your heart soars in your chest, he smiles against you and rubs your thighs soothingly, as you find your rightful place under his chin and tucked against him, your safe place.

He smiles to himself, stroking your skin.

"I love you." He states is earnestly, steadily despite his heart beat that still thunders. You're vaguely aware of the rumble in his chest as he speaks, but you're not sure if you're dreaming or not.

He looks down, and you're already asleep.

"Alright, let's get you to bed."

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odetojeons · 4 years ago

Note

Hi!! Could I ask for your opinion about how seventeen is in bed? If they're doms, subs, switches, or anything like that 😚

OMG OF COURSE YOU CAN!!

okay so,, this is my opinion about it but I actually enjoy them in every way 😼 and I’m gonna try not to pretend like I’m a sucker for sub seventeen

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Seungcheol: Switch. Hmmm I think he would be SO much into daddy kink. There’s something about him that loves taking care of people, so I think he would enjoy being called daddy in bed, even if he’s subbing. Seungcheol would be very flexible about this whole stuff, can dom sometimes, but he has those days in which he likes to sub and be taken care of, especially because he’s always so preoccupied with all the members.

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Jeonghan: HARD DOM. Like 100%. Don’t even try to convince me of the opposite. Yoon Jeonghan would be mean and call you names on bed (yes, dirty names like slut, he would tell you how you’re his little bitch and all that shit) and he’d like to literally see you suffer (in the sexual and pleasurable way, of course). Also I think he’s the member who’s the most into BDSM, would like to tie you up and use fucking machines as he watches you fall apart for him.

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Joshua: Soft Dom!! I can’t see him being too cruel. He’d say you’re the best for him, so beautiful and precious and cute, all in the while he fucks you so hard you think you’re gonna ascend to heaven. He’d be the type to call you cute pet names like sweetheart, love, angel, sunshine and stuff like that. But at the same time I think he would be so much into spanking, not for punishiment though, but rather for seeing his big handprint on your ass.

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Jun: Switch. Please, I can see him as a sub as much as I can see him as a dom. But I think he would be soft no matter which one. Would throw smirks here and there (yes, those damn smirks of him) and tease you sometimes, but overall would be quiet — in the sense of talking, because holy fuck I think this man moans and moans loud. Although I think he’d be the kind of guy to be desperate when he’s having sex, and that’s just so hot.

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Hoshi: SWITCH. Yup, you read that right!! Contrary from what most of the people seem to think, for me Kwon Soonyoung is a total switch. But if he’s domming, he would dom hard. He would wreck you with those dancer hips of his and make you see stars. And if he’s subbing, he would sub hard too. Cannot stop thinking about how much he’d be into pet play. Both for him or his partner, and I can’t take the image of Hoshi with tiger ears and a butt tail plug out of my head.

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Wonwoo: Dom. Can’t really say soft or hard, depends on the day. For some reason I got the unbearable feeling that he has the dirtiest mouth in all of the members. I think he would like to tease you with his words and watch you squirm, all shy and bothered, completely different from his usual timid self. Don’t think he would be too much into the heavy BDSM though, but more into the raw part of sex. Wonwoo would be the type to want to see you fall apart because of him and him alone, by his hands and his words. And omg he’d be so much into putting you in a leash. Yes. A LEASH. And spitting in your mouth, because he likes the feeling of owning you and claiming you in all the ways possible. Ok fuck, I will stop because it’s getting too long, but you can clearly see I’m fucking weak for this man.

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Woozi: Dom. Him too, I can’t decide between soft or hard. He gives me the impression that he would love to fuck you publicly AND I DON’T KNOW WHY. Jihoon would love to watch you try to contain your noises as he fucks you hard, but he would also love to see you moan loud for him. Actually, I think sex with him would be more like a fight than anything else. He’s definitely a brat tamer. Likes the idea of you misbehaving so he could put you in your place and teach you who’s in charge.

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Dokyeom: Sub. He’s such a sub omg, he would be so cute. He’d look at you with those pleading eyes, too shy to ask anything out loud, but you know he wants you to make him cum. Seokmin is overall vanilla, although I think he’d be so much into blindfolding. He’d love the sensation of you touching him everywhere all the while he can’t see anything, only able to take what you’re giving him. Also think he would tell you in a small whiny voice how you’re so beautiful and he just wants to be a good boy.

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Mingyu: SHUT UP EVERYONE BECAUSE MINGYU IS A SWITCH BUT MORE INTO THE SUB PART. YES FAM. Mingyu is totally and irrevocably a puppy. Yup. Total puppy, brat and begger. He’d be so desperate, would end up fucking up into you hard and fast when you’re riding him, unable to control himself as he moans please, please, please. Mingyu is so needy, has the biggest praise kink ever, and would actually melt when you tell him how he is a good boy. Also, I just need to say this, Mingyu and pegging. MINGYU AND PEGGING. Please, he would be so shy to ask but he would love when you do it, although he rathers see you fall apart on his cock, sometimes he would want to feel full. Although I think he has those days in which he doesn’t want to be told what to do, being just too horny to handle it, and he will take whatever he wants. Oof this turned out to be very big but I just needed to get that out of my system.

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Minghao: Switch. Oh yes, and Minghao would have such a dirty mouth too. The way he’s always so sevage makes me think he would tease the hell out of you. I say switch because I think he’d be into two types of teasing; one of them is to be mean, make you come with his words, and the other is to see you snapping. Yes, I think he’d be the type to rile you up until you scream in frustration and tie him up so you can have your way with him.

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Seungkwan: Sub. Of course. He’s such a beautiful sub. I think he’s mostly vanilla, likes soft sex — more like making love than anything else —, but I just know that he would be so into wearing pretty langerie. Yes, I just said that. For me he’d be the type to wear them not only sexually speaking, but just for the pleasure of seeing himself on it. It’s just so cute. He’s cute. I wanna punch myself.

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Vernon: Vanilla. I just— I can’t see him being a sub or a dom, he’s just a chill guy, so into love making, and I’m gonna pretend like I’m not the biggest verkwan shipper of this century. He would praise you sososo much, tell you how beautiful and stunning you are and how he thinks you’re the best. I think he’s into morning sex too, would like to wake up with you and then fuck you lazily as you’re both still sleepy.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

Dino: NEITHER. HE’S NOT DOM NOR SUB NOR VANILLA HE’S LEE CHAN. I don’t know if what I’m gonna say makes sense but hear me out— Lee Chan is not about domming you or subbing to you, he’s about passionate fucking. And may I just add how hard he would jam inside you, with those powerful hips of his. He’d be fucking you like an animal and be smiling sweetly at you and talking casually during it, as if you’re the most endearing thing, and it would feel so natural, so domestic, so right, so home. It’s fucking Lee Chan we’re talking about. The most precious human alive. Yes, I’m having a crisis. I just love him so much, I can’t even handle.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀

AND THAT’S IT!! I hope you enjoyed 😭 tried not to show so much that I have a softer side for some members and a harder side for others, but I think I failed miserably 🤩👍🏼

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weirdochick56 · 4 years ago

Text

The Bodyguard 2- Bucky Barnes AU

Bodyguard!Bucky Barnes x Princess!Reader

Warnings: Explicit language, insults, snark, and sassy!Buckster sexy times (ok, so maybe only slightly sexy)

Disclaimers: I don’t own any MCU plots or Characters mentioned

Word Count: 5, 173 words

Summary: The Reader and Bucky’s hate for eachother is at an all time high; she can’t seem to rid herself of him and he, well he can’t seem to get her to cooperate with him. But as their frustrations grow, a late-night outing might just be what they both need to see other parts of eachother.

A/n: This has been a long time in the making, but I finally felt inspired enough to continue the story. Hope you enjoy it!

~The Bodyguard 1~

***

“You can stop following me now,” you grumble with thorny irritation, rolling your eyes at the tall persistent shadow staying hot on your tail.

It was in vain to ask him to leave, you knew. Agent Brainless was ridiculously adamant about following you around the moment you stepped foot outside of the palace and he was -infuriatingly so- a stubborn man.

How he knew that you were leaving even when you had concocted what you considered a genius plan to evade those infuriatingly pretty grey irises was beyond you.

He sighs at your words, and you can see the annoyance bubbling to the surface of his cold professional exterior, though he tries his hardest to keep a straight face.

“Your highness, I think we both know I won’t do that,” he responds simply. “Now if you would please stop being so stubborn and simply do as I ask and come with me to the car so that this is easier for us both...”

You can tell his patience is wearing thin because, in the past few weeks of having him follow you everywhere you went, you had made it a point to figure out his exact breaking point.

And as you continue making your escape to town like he isn’t even there, you know that so is yours. If there’s anything that can give you that deep burning satisfaction you sought with everything you did, it was pissing Agent Barnes off.

He had patiently asked you to retreat back the way you came so he could “safely” transport you in a castle-owned car, but you refused redundantly because your friend was already waiting for you, but maybe also because you loved the little twitch of his eye every time you refused to listen to his directions.

If you were being completely honest, he really should’ve been asking you to come back to the castle and not go to a club in town at all- as per your father’s orders. But you weren’t fond of said orders and you definitely didn’t want some dark and mysterious shadow following you around during a night of fun with friends.

“No,” is all you say because in the few minutes you’ve spent talking to him you’ve noticed he’s the most infuriated when your responses are curt and nonchalant.

You want to see him snap oh so bad...seeing those steely grays lose their cool? Gold.

“Princess...” he growls in warning, daring you to cut that little thread of control he had left in him with your sharp tongue.

You don’t look back at him even once enjoying the thrill that travels up your spine at his low-timbre words and the way his voice travels straight to your core, tugging at your short black dress lightly.

You wanted to see what he would do should he be pushed over the edge. It was fun.

“I already told you, I’m not listening to you. My friend is already waiting for me. And I’m sorry if you have an issue with- Ahh!” Your words choke back into your throat and morph into a shocked yelp when big rough hands grip your hips, spinning you around and without much of a warning, lifting you with incredible ease.

Before you know it, you’re being carelessly thrown over a broad, strong shoulder.

You let out a small ‘oomph’ when the wind gets knocked out of you and all you see is a firm ass, the blood rushing to your head.

“What the hell do your think you’re doing you absolute buffoon?!” You screech hysterically, wriggling aggressively against his hold on your thighs.

He barely flinches, only wrapping his muscular arm tighter around your legs and adjusting you on his shoulder like it was a mere midnight stroll for him and you weighed no more than what a feather did.

“I’m taking you to the car,” he informs as if it’s obvious, voice full with obnoxious satisfaction.

“Get your filthy hands off me this instant you utter and complete idiot!” You growl, twisting harshly but he doesn’t let go so you start pounding on his firm back with your fists, fighting to free yourself of him. “WHO DO YOU THINK YOU ARE?!”

He just laughs at what seems to be your weak attempts to break away. He laughs.

You gasp at the absolute and complete audacity he has of laughing when he’s treating you, the single heir to the Androvian throne, like a sack of potatoes.

“You ass!” You wriggle around some more, tugging at his hands to try to pry them off your legs but all he does is smack them away as if they were mere pesky flies.

“I may be,” he chokes back a small snort but only barely. “But at least I’m the only ass trying to keep your reckless self in check, princess.”

Indignation, humiliation, and utter vexation all burn deep inside you like a thrumming fire ready to ravage everything in its way when it got the chance to escape your body as you slowly fall limp against him.

Resignation comes hand in hand with the deep desire for revenge and you fist your hands in deep ache to somehow exercise it.

He carries you all the way to the garage of cars in the back part of the castle, walks over to a black SUV out of all the expensive cars to choose from, opens it and all but throws you into the back leather seats like you’re not a fucking human, much less the princess of the land he’s currently stepping in.

You land flat on your back in the smooth leather interior of the luxury SUV with a small thud and instantly sit up to glare at him heatedly. “Do you have any idea who I am? Be gentle, you brute!”

Annoyingly enough, he simply ignores you and leans over your body. His heat floods through your bare skin and feels good for a second and you subtly inhale his musky scent as he tugs on the seatbelt, roughly pulling it over you.

You forget about your hatred for him for a split second and that only makes you angrier when it comes back full force.

You fucking idiot, Y/n.

In a last and desperate attempt of defiance, you try to push his hands away to which he responds by firmly pressing you back by your shoulder into your seat and staring you dead in the eye with blazing grey eyes.

The fire that swirls in them is...something. Not necessarily scary, but intimidating and...something else.

Something that makes your skin flush and your nerves throb to life.

You stare right back, tilting your chin up to show him you weren’t backing down or scared of him and his brute force. He got too under your skin and you knew you got under his which only offered you only a limited amount of comfort.

He clenches his jaw as he clicks the seatbelt into place, never looking away from your challenging gaze. As if to stick another dagger into your burning insides. As if to reassert his power here.

Your labored breaths are all that can be heard for miles to come in the calm night air and he leans close for a second, your heaving chests gently brushing.

Not meaning for it to happen, you feel your nipples harden beneath the flimsy fabric of your black party dress and you wonder if you imagine his hands clenching around your shoulder -his fingers digging into your flesh with suppression- or the sly flick of his eyes from your eyes to your lips.

You wonder if you imagine the look of heat that passes over his eyes when your breaths mix the second time seems to stop and an overwhelming emotion washes over you.

But then it’s gone as soon as it came and hatred burns deep in your belly once more. So deep that it hurts and brings painful tears to your eyes, your nose burning so hard you can’t focus through your blurry vision.

You lean in closer, so close your nose is brushing just barely against his and pause for a second. A second of torture for him, a second of uncertainty, a second where his breath catches and his pupils dilate.

Then you speak, voice trembling with overwhelming anger.

“I have never,” you whisper, licking your lips. “Been treated with such disrespect.” You swallow hard, cheeks red with humiliation.

You see a flash of guilt in his eyes but it’s quickly replaced by his usual look of cool professionalism- not even anger anymore. Not even that.

And he leans right back into you, a wave of heat passing over both of you. “Then learn to listen next time. It’s for your safety.”

And just like that he’s drawing back, slamming the passenger door closed and climbing into the driver’s seat- leaving you cold and angry beyond reason.

A moment of tense silence passes before he releases a tiny sigh and breaks it by turning on the ignition.

“Where are we going?”

BUCKY’S POV

I watch her laugh at something one of her friends says from a dark corner of the club and it’s hard not to stare for reasons other than my duty being just that...to look after her.

The club was a luxurious one, with high ceilings, intricate designs and a VIP section where we were immediately escorted to.

Her Highness’s friends, a blonde guy and girl who had nodded at me in polite acknowledgment were already waiting for her there and I assumed that the few seconds when she had stopped her sulking and taken out her phone from her clutch were the seconds she was texting her friends to meet her there instead.

I would never admit it, but I enjoyed watching her cave. It was like taming a wild horse, even if momentarily.

Princess Y/n was a brat, plain and simple. Selfish, childish, and feisty as hell, I had never met anyone as completely and utterly vexing as her and to say these past few weeks had been hell would be an understatement.

If I wasn’t so good at my job, I would’ve lost her already. She threw me for a loop any chance she got, cutting corners and doing everything she could to avoid my protection.

As I stared at her with that pretty ass smile on her annoyingly beautiful face, it’s hard to imagine that that was the same person pushing every single one of my buttons just a few minutes before.

She actually looked relaxed and...nice?

God, she infuriated me in ways I had no idea I could be infuriated, discovered buttons I didn’t know I had and pushed them to the point I had to throw her over my damn shoulder like a sack of flour.

I was a professional, for God’s sake. Had always been one with every single one of the cases I was assigned, so why was she the one to get under my skin?

...And why did I enjoy having her perfectly round ass so close to my face? Why did I keep thinking about the defiance in those stupidly big eyes over and over like I....craved it?

I wondered to myself as I watched her take down a shot by the bar. She glanced at me over her shoulder, still smiling, but it quickly melted away when our gazes clashed and my own mood soured instantly.

I grimaced when she looked away as if I had burnt her with my eyes and quickly pulled my head out of the gutter.

The fact that she was utterly gorgeous didn’t change how annoying she was. Not to mention I was here on a job.

One I fully intended to complete, no matter how fucking difficult the client was.

The night moves on at a slow pace for me. The princess parties and I watch her like a hawk, making sure not to let her get too wild.

So far I had pried off five guys who were trying their luck with her. From what I’d read on her file and the extensive research I’d done online, her face wasn’t really well known.

She was always kept secret and would be until she was crowned queen of Androvia- some weird old belief or something- so not many people knew what she looked like.

Meaning, these guys probably didn’t know who they were trying to get all handsy with on the dance floor and would only assume was some rich daddy’s girl once my towering form appeared and nicely escorted them away.

For the most part nicely, anyway. Some I had to get a little rougher with.

I make sure to keep my eyes glued on her form, ignoring the way she moved her hips in that tiny black dress. It hugged her alluring curves like a glove and I swallowed hard as she grinded on her female friend, head thrown back and a free smile on her face.

“She is...beautiful, isn’t she?”

I calmly turn towards the voice as it hums out from beside me, turning to see the guy she came with. He takes a sip of his drink, smirking as his eyes remain on the way the princess waves her hands in the air to the beat of the song, sensually shaking her hips as if she was one with the sexy R&B song I had no idea the name of.

I clear my throat, remaining stock still in my bodyguard pose. “Sir, I”m only here to protect her Highness. I really don’t-”

“Oh don’t even try to hide it. She’s easily the most beautiful woman in this whole club.”

He takes my silence as confirmation, it seems, because he proceeds to speak on as if I’ve agreed.

“But it’s not just her physical appearance is it? It’s something else. Something...inside,” he whispers.

When I don’t respond, he continues bitterly. “I’m warning you; don’t fall for her. It’ll only bring you a world of pain, trust me.”

I catch the pain in his voice and stiffen. “I would never fall for one of my subjects, sir,” I assure him.

He laughs sourly. “Sure bud. You keep telling yourself that.”

“I don’t know what you mean,” I insist, swallowing thickly as she laughs, beautiful smile wide and her laughter too melodious to be coming out of such a wretched little urchin.

“Well,” he coughs suddenly, clapping me in the shoulder. “I think I need another drink. Want one?”

I eye his hand which he slowly pries off and shake my head with a slightly clenched jaw.

“I’m on the job, sir,” I remain calm and professional despite the fact that all I wanted to do was break that hand for putting stupid thoughts in my head.

Because for a second there, as the bright club lights shun down on her, I could see what he talked about when he said there was something inside. In that smile, those eyes, that laugh...

But then she made eye contact with me and the feeling turned bitter so quick it’s a miracle I didn’t get whiplash.

She was a brat. Nothing more.

YOUR POV

Sometime late into the night, you had found myself fairly buzzed. Not enough to fall on your face, but enough that walking- well, stumbling over to Agent Asshole only seemed more and more attractive an action.

He glances at you with those eyes and you can’t help the anger the bubbles within you. “Do you plan on staring me down the entire night?”

“It’s my job,” is all he says.

You scowl fiercely at him. “I hate you,” you seethe.

He raises a dark brow but otherwise keeps that stoic expression on his face. “Do you want to leave, your Highness?”

His neutral tone and complete lack of reaction only angers you more and you shake your head furiously. “No, I don’t want to leave. I want you to leave though.”

He presses his lips firmly together. “I’m sorry-“

“No, you’re not.”

“Huh?” He cocks his side slightly to the side and you lean closer to him, craning your neck to look him in the eye.

“I said; you’re not sorry. If you were sorry, you WOULD LEAVE ME THE FUCK ALONE!” You feel your drunken emotions deep in your chest and without much effort, your voice quickly escalates.

He sighs heavily. “Okay, your highness, I think it’s time I take you back to the castle. C’mon,” he waves a hand toward the door.

You laugh at him coldly, shaking your head. “Who do you think you are, ordering me around? Know your place asshole, you are below me- never forget,” you growl snarkily, leaning right into his face.

You feel his breathing quicken against your cheeks the longer you defiantly smirk up at him, his calm eyes darkening.

You realized you enjoyed pushing him to the edge, that you craved this look on his face...

He smirks mockingly down at you, staring you down. “You can come willingly, your highness, or I can throw you over my shoulder like last time.” He leans straight into your ear, whispering hotly. “I’m sure you would rather not go through the embarrassment.”

You swallow thickly, your heart hammering against your chest and you’re not sure it’s from anger anymore. With disgust, you jerk away from him, glaring holes into his head.

“Let’s go.”

“You can go, Agent Obnoxious,” you mumble drunkenly, waving a dismissive hand at him as you stumble into your warm room, practically ripping off your heels.

You throw them somewhere in the corner of the large room, sighing with relief when you feel your bare feet touching the soft carpeted floor.

Your knees shake slightly and buckle and you end up tripping forward.

You land on the ground with a soft grunt and for some reason, laughter bubbles deep in your chest.

“Your Highness!”

A few seconds later, you feel strong warm hands wrapping around your body to heave you up. You place your hands on his strong arms for support and look up at Agent Barnes.

The laughter immediately dies on your lips when you see a beautiful concerned frown of engraved deep in his face. It looks so sincere and his arms are so strong...

Before you know what you’re doing, a small mumble is leaving your lips. “You...” you cut yourself off abruptly when his eyes meet yours.

His hands now rest lightly on your waist, and you’re so close you can smell him. His scent is deep and rich and manly, so unlike the scent of those rich assholes you were forced to mingle with on a daily basis.

And his hands, are strong and resilient. The callouses on them tells you that he’s worked his entire life. Those hands, the ones holding you right now, They’ve probably handled a gun, they’ve probably saved so many lives...

You bite your lip, thinking about the way those hands felt on the skin of your arm and how heavenly it would feel if it traveled all over.

Goosebumps rise on your skin as you crane up your neck to stare up at him.

He stares down at you, and even when your room is dark, the light of the moonlight that filters in from the huge window highlights the heavy tension in his gaze.

You’re both unmoving and you wonder if he enjoys touching you as much as you enjoy his touch.

He inhaled deeply, his eyes flickering to your lips and eyes and then back.

You want to ask him what he’s thinking. You want to tell him to just do it -to just kiss you because you wouldn’t dare push him away- not in this state, not when the alcohol and his scent and eyes were clogging every single sense and reason you had, but you’re afraid to break the spell of whatever this was.

So instead, you wait on abated breath, feeling like you’re both on the verge of something utterly earth-shattering, for him to move.

Finally, he speaks a few seconds later and it’s a quiet murmur. “Let’s get you to bed, princess.”

You ignore the sharp sting of his rejection when you were so clearly begging him to kiss you and step away from his touch as if he’s burnt you.

You turn around so he can’t see the hurt in your eyes. “You can go now Agent Brainless,” you say coldly over your shoulder, but you know it’s a lot softer than the other time.

Another second passes. “Princess..” he whispers.

You ignore his barely audible whisper and angrily begin undressing, tugging at the straps of your dress.

“What in the world do you think you’re doing?” He growls lowly as you begin to pull your dress down to your waist.

With a sarcastic smile, your turn towards him, your top half completely naked aside from your black lacy bra.

His gaze immediately falls on your half-naked chest, but aside from the small flicker in his eyes and gulp he takes, he gives no other indication of shock.

You raise a brow. “Are you going to watch me undress now too, Agent Barnes?” You ask mockingly.

His eyes find yours again and they’re darker than you’ve ever seen them. They send shivers through your whole body and you almost give into the urge to look away, but the anger and frustration within you don’t allow your gaze to waver.

“I’m not leaving until you’re safely in bed,” he husks, clearly trying his best to remain professional and cold as his icy stare bores into your eyes- purposefully looking away from your naked form.

You tilt your head up at him innocently, slowly sauntering closer to him. “Oh? Well in that case, do you mind helping me with the zipper of my dress? It’s stuck.”

You turn your back on him and a smirk blossoms in your face as you hear his breathing strain, your ass slightly brushing against his crotch area.

He blows out a shaky exhale and it blows against your naked back, all hot and angry.

When he makes no move to help you, you look at him over your shoulder. “Well?”

His grave expression doesn’t budge. “I can’t do that,” he says lowly.

But even as he resentfully spits this, he doesn’t budge and his eyes are still tracing over your body, their electric desire leaving goosebumps over wherever they ran over.

You roll your eyes at him. “Then turn around, you idiot.”

He growls, fisting his hands and clenching his jaw tightly but doesn’t try to fight you on it and turns his broad back to you.

You’re intoxicated, so it’s probably because you’re not thinking straight, but as you quickly slip on a silk night gown and stare at his back, you can’t help the deep heavy sadness that sinks into your chest.

Why hadn’t he kissed you just now? You could’ve sworn he wanted to and you sure as hell did...it was there, the moment, the split second when you were willing to risk it all, to overlook any and all boundaries, cross all imposing lines- but you lost it.

Pushing your hair to the side, you convince yourself it was for the best.

“I’m done,” you say softly, climbing into bed.

Agent Barnes nods at you stiffly, turning on his heels to leave as you get under the covers. Blaming this on your intoxication, you suddenly find yourself exclaiming.

“Wait!”

He pauses right before his foot moves outside the doorframe and turns toward you, eyebrows raised. “You need something, Your Highness?”

You stare at him seriously, pressing your head against your pillow. “Don’t...leave, please,” you whisper softly, curling into a ball at the tenderness of your voice.

“I don’t want to be alone,” you admit quietly.

He freezes, staring at you as if he’d never seen you before and you avert your gaze, afraid maybe you let on too much.

“Sorry,” you quickly apologize, but that only flusters you more. “I-I mean not sorry, you asshole. Just- whatever. I’m in bed now, you can go.”

Feeling embarrassed, you quickly flip over and turn your back to him.

Seconds later, you hear the door click close and then nothing. A heavy sigh escapes you and you try to suppress the feeling of disappointment that envelops your whole body.

You didn’t know if it was the drinks or the cold distant dinners you’d been having with your family...but you had never felt more alone. All the clubbing and trying to escape your destiny by trying to pave a life of your own couldn’t fill in that emptiness you couldn’t get rid of no matter how hard you tried.

You didn’t want to feel like that anymore. Not tonight.

So even if it was your bodyguard who you hated with everything in you, you needed someone just to be there. Even if it was just to sit in silence with.

Suddenly, you hear a gentle swish noise and gasp lightly, flipping over. Agent Barnes has thrown his jacket over the chair beside your bed and is loosening his tie and he stares at you. His beautiful gaze sucks you in as you blink up at him in surprise.

He shrugs. “I can’t just....leave you here alone.”

Your chest clenches painfully and warmth travels all over your body like warm gooey honey. The feeling of having someone there for you when you need them most is almost overwhelmingly strong.

“Thank you,” you whisper so quietly, you’re shocked he even hears it.

He tilts his head at you, frowning with that handsome face of his. “For what? It’s my job.”

There he goes detaching himself. With a gentle shrug, you nod and curl into a ball under your covers, trying to covet sleep.

You try this for a few minutes and you’re tired, but you can’t help thinking about Agent Barnes sitting in a hard chair all night. After a while of tossing and turning, you sit up.

“Oh for fuck’s sake,” you breathe with irritation.

“What? What happened?” he sits up instantly, and though you could tell he was on the verge of dozing off, his sharp senses are impressive as he reaches for the gun on his ankle frantically.

You sigh, hating the way your cheeks grow hot and you look away timidly. “Just get into bed,” you say roughly.

“What?”

You bite your lip, looking at him in the eyes. “I said; get into bed with me. That chair is uncomfortable.”

He laughs lightly. “Princess, I was trained by the world’s best assassins. I was taught to sleep on a cold concrete ground if need be.” He gives the chair a firm pat. “This chair is a luxury for a guy like me.”

You stare at him for a few seconds more, wondering more about his past before lightly shaking your head.

“I don’t care. I still feel bad that I made you sleep here on a chair. Just get in already, will you?” You growl at his stubbornness. “The bed is huge, there’ll be enough space for the both of us, if that’s what you’re concerned about,” you add on, softly.

After a few seconds of intense eye contact, he finally relents with a small sigh. “Fine.”

Hesitantly, he cuffs his sleeves and perches himself on the edge of the bed- all stiff and tight. “Good?” He asks, glancing at you with raised brows.

You frown. “You’re kidding.”

“What?”

“You’re not actually planning to sleep like that are you?” You snort.

“I told you-”

“That you were trained by dangerous assassins, yeah yeah. But you’re still a human and a ridiculous one at that,” you scoff before suddenly smirking. “You’re not afraid of lil old me, are you? I’m tiny- I couldn’t possibly hurt you...too much,” you offer him a faux innocent smile, batting your lashes.

He stares at you, a small smirk tugging at his lips. “Oh trust me, I’ve met girls like you before. You definitely don’t bite.”

You raise a brow amusedly. “Girls like me?”

His sexy smirk widens. “Yeah. You’re all bark but no bite,” he replies vaguely.

Feeling partially indignant and partially curious, you decide to probe him for answers. “Oh yeah?”

He can’t resist your subtle challenge and continue speaking. “You’re always in power, constantly being chased after because you’re beautiful and rich and you act like it’s what you want in a guy, but it isn’t, is it?”

Deeply intrigued by his generally accurate analysis, you can’t help but laugh. “Oh?”

“No.” He stares deeply into your eyes and the smile slips off your lips as he says his next words with the intensity of a thousand suns. “You bark out orders and you take on responsibilities like a boss, but what you really want is a man. Not a pushover boy that’ll listen to your every command and constantly try to please you, fall at your feet...But a man that’ll choke slam you on the bed, that’ll make you his, that’ll torture you with the deepest pits of hellish pleasure until he ruins every other man for you. You want to be controlled, brought over the edge so far you won’t ever be able to go there by yourself and then at the last moment get that taken away from you. You want to be used.”

You openly gape at him but he ignores you and slightly scoots closer, still at a safe distance, but close enough where you can feel his body heat radiating off of him.

“Sleep, Princess,” he whispers. “I’ll keep an eye out for you.”

At first, you’re too shocked to react. Your heart is positively hammering against your ribcage and your cheeks are uncharacteristically red. You were flushed. How had he managed to...’you know what?’ You think. ‘No.’

You breathe in deeply. ‘ I’m not going to think about it anymore.’

Because doing so would mean letting him win. And also, never mind the fact that he’s in your bed right now...

Decidedly, you squeeze your eyes shut, begging sleep to come amidst all your stupid, surely drunken thoughts about your stupid bodyguard and kissing him, or simply straddling him right now...

Despite how much you disliked him, you felt safe and protected, like you could let your guard down. And yet...not enough.

Soon, lulled by the steady beating of his heart and the warmth of his body, you curl into a ball and slowly let your heavy lids close, relaxing completely.

“Oh, and Agent Brainless?” you murmur, on the very verge of sleep.

“Yes, princess?” He looks at you.

You manage to send him one last cold smirk before answering.

“Don’t misinterpret this, right now. I’m merely asking you to do your job.”

And then darkness takes over.

Before fully giving into the softness of the darkness of slumber, though, you think you hear him laugh softly and say something like “wouldn’t dream of it, brat.”

****

They’re honestly growing on me. Should I continue?

ALSO YALL SEE TFATWS???? SEBASTIAN LOOKS SO DARN GOOD PLEASEEEEEE

A special thanks to:

@lilypalmer1987

@jessikared97

@sammykb1994

@mogaruke

@mo-onstarrs

@loveofmychips @juliesland

#Bucky Barnes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky #bucky barnes masterlist #james bucky barnes #marvel #avengers #Winter Soldier #winter soldier x reader #Bodyguard!Bucky #bodyguard!bucky x reader #James Buchanan Barnes #Steve Rogers #steve rogers x reader #captain america x reader #captain america

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not-me-simping-for-blasty · 4 years ago

Text

Wrong Number, Asshole - A Bakugou Katsuki Soulmate AU

All Parts

Part 20:

As it turns out, finally finding out the identity of your soulmate was not an easy piece of information to sleep on.

Bakugou had hung up hours ago, hopefully to listen to your advice, and since then you’d done nothing but search up his name. Obsessively. Since apparently that’s who you were now when it came to him.

You scoffed as you read another shitty headline.

Pro Dynamite saves the day but recklessly endangers 17 innocents in Hosu - Where is the line between hero and villain?

What follows is another biased recap of events that happened over a year ago: Bakugou had stopped an entire group of high-powered villains but was only able to do so by exploding the entire top floor of the building they were hiding out in. He successfully wounded, incapacitated, and captured all of the targeted criminals, but blast debris and smoke inhalation harmed civilians that had chosen not to evacuate.

You rolled your eyes, hardly able to understand why it seemed every news outlet was blaming the injuries on him. From videos and news coverage it seemed like there was no other option Bakugou could have taken, and he’d nearly sacrificed his own life with the blast. You wanted to scream.

They should be fucking thanking him! You thought.

At least- you did. Until you saw the clip.

Further in the article was a link- a simple, deceptively innocent link that led to a horrifying video.

It was taken on a hand-held camera, the lens pointed at the floor as the recorder enters an alley slowly. They duck behind a garbage bin and tilt the camera up, just minutely, and it falls on Bakugou who’s leaning against the alley wall. He was clearly tired, deep-seated bags rooted under his eyes, with one arm in a sling and the other holding his phone. The person recording held the camera still, bated breath, and kept themselves hidden. Whoever it was, they obviously didn’t want Bakugou to see them recording him.

“No- fucking- I know, Shitty Hair, Jesus!” Bakugou roars, and then his face screws up, and he rubs at his chest. “You think I don’t fucking know? I fucked up! I did! I know, but I just- I couldn’t stop!”

There’s silence again and Bakugou rolls his eyes at whoever is on the other side of the phone.

“You don’t- don’t fucking say that! Of course it fuckin’ matters! I shouldn’t of fucking let them fire me up like that!” Bakugou coughs, voice hoarse as he continues yelling. “They just kept runnin’ their fuckin’ mouths about me being a villain and I was so fuckin’ angry I couldn’t stop- I knew there were people still in there and I didn’t care! I didn’t fucking care!”

It’s quiet again, the only sound is Bakugou’s ragged breaths. Suddenly his face screws up again, this time not in pain but in anger. Rolling, hot, boiling anger that sets his jaw back and pulls his eyebrows in and darkens his expression into something terrifying. His eyes are voids, shadowed by the dim light of the alley, swirling like vacuous black holes set into his face. He looks murderous- nearly vibrating with rage as he shakes his head so violently you’re surprised he doesn’t snap his neck. Bakugou slams a hand against the alley’s bricks, leaving a steaming indent in the shape of a fist.

“I should’ve killed them.” Bakugou seethes, voice deep and dark like solid steel boiled down. “ Every last fucking one of them. “

Then he hangs up, violently, and explodes the phone in his grip. The recorder startles, knocking loudly into the garbage can in front of them.

“Who in the fuck-” Bakugou screams, voice rolling thunder as he launches himself toward the bin.

All you see is Bakugou’s snarling face, a flash of blinding orange light, the sound of a scream, and then a black screen as the recording cuts.

With a sick fascination, you rewind the video, just a few seconds, pausing on the still shot of Bakugou’s face as it nears the camera. He looks senseless and demonic; mouth curled around too-sharp teeth, his jaw shadowed and angular- but it’s his eyes. It’s his eyes that scare you the most.

Where they were black holes before, dark and empty and void, they’re raging fires now. Red, and dark, and angry like an infected wound, something volcanic and uncontainable rolling viscous and thick just beneath the surface. You’ve never seen anyone else with eyes like his- have never seen anything so hellish in your life. In that moment Bakugou doesn’t look human. He looks evil- like a vengeful war god slowly being consumed by his own bloodlust.

You shiver.

There’s-there’s nothing good about that video. It’s scary and frightening and you’ve never heard his voice sound like that. So angry and full of malice and hard around the edges- like every word is a pointed knife stabbing at you. The Bakugou in that video, his anger scares you more than any explosion of his ever could.

You want to text him, want to beg him to explain, to say something that will make the sick in your stomach stop festering like a poison. You don’t though. He’s injured again. Recovering again, just like in the video- and no matter how many questions are rattling around in your head, they’re nowhere near as important to you as his health.

The diseased ill in your stomach didn’t let up though. No matter what you tried, you couldn’t get the look of his eyes out of your head. He looked soulless. Dark and unreachable and so very angry that it scared you. Terrified you. You’d dreamed your whole life of a happy future with a gentle soulmate, but you couldn’t seem to find Bakugou in that picture anymore. You didn’t know who he was anymore.

You closed your laptop, rubbing at eyes that were still puffy from earlier. Your heart was ripped raw, mind rattling in your skull, as your eyes burned. You laid back on your pillow, shutting your eyes and trying to forget the image of your soulmate eyes, untethered and feral as he attacked.

--/--

Morning came and you didn’t feel any better. You still felt weightless, disconnected and confused by everything around you.

You stalled through your morning routine, taking an extra long shower, sipping slowly at coffee you would have normally inhaled. It was a Saturday, and usually those were relaxing, but it didn’t feel that way this time. You were still unsettled by that video- that scream and the sound of it abruptly ending as an explosion drowned it out. It was like a horror movie, and you seemed to be caught in the middle of it.

You understood now- why Bakugou didn’t want to tell you who he was. That video was pretty easy to happen across, even if you just did a little big of digging into Bakugou. It was a stain on his record and you supposed he was right, after all- everything did change the second he told you he that he was a hero. That he was Dynamite.

You sighed, rubbing at your aching eyes. You knew that you had to call him, you just wish it didn’t have to be this complicated.

Bakugou was calling you before you even set your phone back down.

“Hey.” He said, voice still weak and uncharacteristically quiet.

“Hi.”

“Don’t- fuck, don’t sound like that.” Bakugou sighs a shaking breath, barely masked frustration lacing his tone. “I- you fuckin’ saw it didn’t you?”

“Yes.”

“That’s-” He starts, and he sounds so desperate it nearly tears your heart in two. “I never wanted you to fuckin’ see that! That’s not- I wasn’t- that’s not me!”

“It was you, though!” You raise your voice. “In the video! Bakugou- you said you wanted to kill people, multiple people, and then you attacked someone! Without even taking a second to think about it! You were just so angry, so fucking furious and mad and y-you didn’t even sound like you! That kind of anger- it’s fucking terrifying, you know that?”

He’s quiet, and you think you can still hear the beeping of the machine from last night.

“That- it wasn’t- I didn’t,” He struggles, voice cracking. “The camera. Not the person- I- fuck- I didn’t attack the person! Just smashed the fuckin’ camera!”

“You still jumped at them! You know how scary that must have been?” Your fingers shake as you grip your phone. “It’s- they shouldn’t have been there, fine, whatever, but it’s a fuckin’ civillian! It’s your job- as the ridiculously over-powered hero, from what I’ve seen- to protect them! Not attack them!”

Bakugou says nothing. Minutes pass and you think you hear a poorly-masked sniffle.

“You’re mad at me.” He says, simple and desolate like he’s already convinced himself of it. “Shoulda known you would be.”

“No it’s- I am. I am mad- but I don’t,” You pause, trying to find your words. “I just- I feel like I don’t know you any more! I thought I did? At least a little bit- but now it’s- you were so angry, and I know that must’ve been a bad day from the looks of it but- your eyes. It was your eyes! That kind of anger- that hate- it doesn’t just happen in a fuckin’ day, Bakugou!”

You hear a choked sound, something tiny and small and caught in the back of his throat, and the grinding of Bakugou’s teeth.

“I-I can’t. I know- I fuckin’ know, okay?” He bites out. “I- just. Stay. Please- it was- you were supposed to be fuckin’ different! It’s not- I would never- you weren’t supposed to know.”

Something in his voice sounds broken. He’s screaming, tearing his throat just like he always did, but it didn’t feel the same. Bakugou had never asked you for anything before- he’d let you call the shots, let you talk his ear off and bother him, but he’d never, not once, in the entire time you’d known him, asked you for something.

Your answer was simple- it never really was a choice after all. You would’ve never left, didn’t even think you could at this point; but something had to change. You had to make sure he understood.

“Bakugou- I- I would’ve never left. Not over this. Not over anything, probably.” You swallow thickly, blinking away tears. “But I can’t- I won’t accept the way things were before. When I ask you something, you need to answer me. Honestly and completely, from now on. No more secrets. Ever.”

He just agrees, something deep and raspy and desperate as it filters through the phone.

“So I need you to answer me, now,” You begin, taking a shaky breath and steeling your nerves. “How long are you going to be in the hospital for?”

“I-what?”

“Just answer.”

“It’s-I’m- two days, alright. Two more fuckin’ days on watch and then I’m out.”

“Okay.’ You nodded. “Where are you staying- what hospital?”

“Why?”

“I’m coming to visit. We-we need to talk more and I can’t do it over the phone- I won’t do it over the phone.” You tried to make your voice stronger than you felt. “So, if you feel up to it, I’ll visit. If not, don’t text me until you are. T-that’s- that’s the way we fix this. The only way.”

Bakugou was quiet again, breathing in silence until a cough ripped through his chest.

“I’m- Jaku City. That’s where I am.” He finally says, voice smaller than anything you were used to. “I’ll text you the address.”

“Okay.” You say, still trying to catch your breath. “I- I think I need some time. I’ll call you when I’m almost there, okay?”

“Yeah. Yeah, okay.”

You hang up, fingers shaking as they hit the end call button.

The conversation was short- so short, and hardly even covered anything, but you just couldn’t take it any longer. When all you knew was the sound of his voice, it was a lot easier to get a read on him and what he was feeling. But it wasn’t that way anymore. You knew his face and his smile and his eyes from those clips and pictures and videos you’d seen all night.

Hearing his voice wasn’t enough to tell you who he was anymore. You wouldn’t be able to read him- not without seeing those angry red eyes.

///-////

whewwwww angstY ;)))

#bnha bakugou #bnha bakugo katsuki #bakugou katsuki x you #bakugou katsuki #bakugou katuski x reader #bakugou x you #bakugou x reader #bakugou soulmate au #bakugou soulmate textfic #bnha fic #mha fic #bakugou fic #bakugou imagine #bakugou headcanons #bnha soulmate au #bakugou series

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milkacchan · 4 years ago

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Request for anon: Hi! Could you write hcs for poly bakusquad with a quirkless reader who has a serious independent streak but has recently been a target for villain attacks and got injured, but refuses to rely on anyone and tries to ignore their pain and take care of everyone else, please?

This is gonna be a little angsty

• First- it annoyed bakugou that you, someone /quirkless/ made it into the hero class

• On pure fucking spite and anger alone

• You didn't even particularly want to get in to UA

• It was just something you chose to prove someone wrong about

• and it fucking aggravated him- more than aggravated him

• Inspired Deku though, he hated that even more

• and he isn't surebhow- but he ended up talking to you and suddenly you're part of his friend group and he's /okay/ with that

• that irks him too.

• and a lot of things are uncovered when y'all are friendly w eachother

• and they learn pretty fucking fast about your independent streak

• and when you all started dating (crazy how they managed that) they thought it might go away- only it didn't.

• You never asked for help, regardless of what it was- you'd handle it on your own.

• You got hurt during training? Don't worry about it, I'm fine.

• Failed a test? You'd disappear for a few days to study and retake it.

• Didn't know what you were doing in a particular subject? You'd teach it to yourself.

• Aizawa had heard the words 'help' ONCE and he was limited to the help you'd allow him to give you .

• You trained your ass off everyday, you worked hard in school, you took no shit- it was obvious you felt like you had something to prove.

• Bakugou felt like he was a partial reason for that and it made him feel like shit.

• He wasn't exactly the kindest to you when classes started in first year.

• But he was concerned.

• They were all concerned.

• recently, you'd been stressed out. They could tell, even if you weren't giving them signs.

• On top of that, you'd become a big target for villains and no one knew why.

• it seemed like both you and midoryia were a magnet for assholes in masks

• And they tried talking to you about it, they do.

• Denki brings it up, he's holding your hand, Kirishima is threading his fingers through your hair and Seros behind you, holding your waist. Mina is in between your legs, resting her head on your chest and bakugou is at the end of the bed.

• And Denki asks if you need help- whether its coping with it- or dealing with it while its happening- or trying to figure out /why/ they're attacking you

• and you blow him off "it doesn't matter, i'll deal with it if it happens again."

"It's not a matter of if, it's a matter of when." Bakugou glares.

"Okay, then when it happens again, I'll deal with it."

"That's fucking stupid," he growls.

Kami squeezes your hand gently. "Maybe we should have a plan-" he glares at Bakugou.

"I was fine last time. Don't do this."

"Do what? Offer fucking help?" Bakugou snaps and Mina cringes. She grips your shirt. She knows what's going to happen, she knows you're going to stomp off to think- it could be a few hours or it could be days. Sometimes, if she held something on you, you'd stay. She hoped this was the case.

"Your fucking pity." You seeth. "I don't need it. I can take care of myself."

"Baby we didn't-" kiri starts but you're already sliding off the bed.

"Babe," Sero looks at you. "please come talk about it,"

You say nothing, and let the door close behind you.

"Fuck." Mina sighs

• Its 2 days.

• 2 days before you resurface, calm and collected, like nothing happened.

• but you're busy- you're training harder. Much harder, you're pushing yourself past your limits and its obvious

• they were already impressed. Theg already knew you could take care of yourself. Why couldn't you see that?

• you push and push and push

• and they don't see as much of you

• when they do see you at the end of the night, you always look exhausted

• and you put on the same fucking front each time

• you smile and laugh and kiss them goodnight but they can see you're in pain

• they don't even get a chance to talk about it with you

• because the next thing they know

• theyre in another attack and youre in the center of it

• You're fighting and you're holding him off but you aren't going to last much longer

• You were tired from the day before- you hadn't gotten proper sleep- and he was strong

• It's all kind of a blur, really, you're thrown a lot, youre bleeding

• he had you by the neck at the end, you were clawing at his hands and he was laughing

• your mates weren't exactly in the best shape either- after all, the attack had happened in the middle of the night

• A strong kick to the center of his nose seemed to do the trick. There was a sickening crack and his hand loosened and he fell back.

• When you regained youre senses you froze- he wasn't breathing.

• you /killed/ him.

• Your stomach churned and suddenly all the pain you felt increased ten fold.

• You scrambled to stand up, Mina was the first one you saw and you fell to your knees in front of her, cupping her cheeks. "Baby? Baby you okay?"

"M fine, but you're not, that's a lot of blood." She looked up at you her eyes wide. "Baby that's a lot-"

"I'm okay, I promise."

• She wanted to yell and scream and you, she wanted to hit you and telling to just accept help but you'd already stood up, moving to look around for the others.

• Denki was next, you met him with a hug and a short but desperate kiss. "You okay?" You whisper, brushing your thumb over his bruised cheek. Mina was behind you now, gently brushing her fingers through the blondes hair, but she stepped away when she saw Kiri and Bakugou.

"I'm okay, I'm okay," he smiked softly.

"Eiji? Katsu?" You mumbled.

"They're okay, they're fine. You don't look so good though."

"M- M okay.." you mutter. Youre tired now. Standing here is nice. You're dizzy- Ashido was right. That was a lot of blood.

Your eyes close and your weight falls.

"Hey- Hey- Jesus! Guys! Katsuki! I don't- I can't tell if she's breathing-"

• You wake up in the hospital 2 days later.

• Mina's in the bed with you, hand thrown gently over your thighs. Sero and Denki are on the left side, heads down, eye's closed and arms over your shin.

• Kiris got your left hand in his, another hand in Minas hip.

• Bakugous on the right side, arms crossed and head down.

• and youre confused because why the fuck are you here?

• what happened?

• you miss Katsukis voice next to you when it all comes back

• and you can't help but scramble to sit up and suddenly you can't breathe

• youre not sure how long you zoned out, but when you finally get back, there's two nurses

• ones replacing and IV bag

• and the other is checking your tempature, you think.

• theres another needle stick in your arm but you can't pay mind to it right now.

• the warmth around you was gone and you desperately wanted it back.

• they weren't in the room anymore

• and when the nurses cleared the room, the tears spilled over.

• your brought your hands to cover your face and your head fell back.

• five minutes? 10 minures? Later there was a gentle tap on your shoulder

• it was ashido

• your arms were around in her seconds

• "You okay?" She whispered as the others took their spots around the bed.

"No," you shook your head. "I killed him- and and I could've gotten you guys hurt because I didn't listen," your breathing had started to get faster again.

"Hey, it's okay. Just breathe," she soothes, thumbs stroking your cheeks.

"I can't- I- fuck /help me/-" you gasp out

• It takes awhile, but they managed to calm you down.

• Ashido just holds you, she lets you cry, and Kiri reminds you that you're okay

• they do most of the comforting usually

• when you're breath has finally started to even out, and you can feel the pain again, you know you'll be asleep soon from the pain meds.

"How bad was it?" You whisper, hands still gripling Minas shirt.

"Bad." Katsuki spoke. "You stopped breathing when we got you here."

Sero rubbed his face. "You needed a blood transfusion. They weren't entirely sure how it was going to end."

"You were...you were just standing in my arms and then you weren't moving. And then you weren't answering-" denki breathed. "There was blood everywhere."

"What about you guys?"

"Can you just stop?" Katsuki groaned. "Can you just let us worry about /you/? Let us help. Don't ask about us. You almost /died/ and your only fucking thought is us. Why?" He was crying, head down, hands gripping his pants.

"He's got a point. It's okay to ask for help," kirishima whispers. "So why don't you?"

• you're quiet for a few moments.

• do you go into detail.

• or do you dodge the question.

• ultimately, the fear of losing them outweighed any shame you would have felt

• "its hard not having a quirk." You mumble, eyes down. "Quirks are practically currency. And power is highly valued. I don't have that. I don't have any of that. I'm in a constant risk of being replaced and if I ask for help, they know I'm weak. I can't ask for help."

• And they all feel their hearts shatter a little bit.

• Bakugou had poked fun at you for quite some time in first year for not having a quirk.

• and Denki wasn't much better- neither was Sero. They'd make jokes about how fast you'd drop out.

• Bakugou would break a little bit, reminding you that you weren't weak. You still being alive was proof of that.

• and slowly

• slowly you get accustomed to ask for help.

• its not necessarily with words- sometimes they ask and you just nod

• or you ask in your own way.

• youre independent streak remains- but its not as bad.

#bakugou katsuki #bakugou x reader #katsuki bakugo x reader #my hero academia #poly bakusquad #bakusquad #poly bakusquad x reader #mina ashido #mina x reader #sero hanta #sero #sero x reader #denki kaminari #kaminari denki #denki x reader #kirishima x reader #kirishima eijirou #eijirou kirishima

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wesimpforxiao · 4 years ago

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Say My Name and I’ll Be There: 6.2

Il Dottore entered your cell early the next morning and was followed by Childe. "Rise! It is the beginning of your contribution to Snezhnayan society!" His entire demeanor reeked with a vivid excitement despite the bland atmosphere that sat within the cell.

But you, on the other hand, just looked blankly at him. After all the crying you did yesterday, your determination and perseverance had renewed somewhat. The bags under your eyes were still puffy and blotched with red. Your skin felt dry and chapped long after the tears dried.

Your lack of enthusiasm seemed to upset the man, and he frowned. He pulled an abnormally large syringe out of his coat pocket. "I had a feeling you'll resist, so we'll make do with mild paralysis, yes?" Your gaze slid to the tool that had to be as long as his own forearm.

Childe reacted when you shifted your attention to him. "I believe this is the last we'll see each other, ojou-chan," he spoke as Dottore approached you. "It's a shame we'll have to part ways like this, but have comfort in knowing our banters and battles were entertaining while they lasted."

"Stop." You flinched as Dotorre grabbed your chained arm. "I-I won't resist." That needle was large. Did it have to be that big? Was it really necessary? And the amount of liquid inside it--simply terrifying to look at. "I won't resist." You even made a point to hold still, but to no avail. He wasn't going to stop.

"Remember what I said, ojou-chan. I gave you a way out of this rough treatment." The needle jabbed into your forearm, making you wince in pain as your eyes pleaded for Childe's help.

Panic had begun to set in. "Get off of me!" You pushed at Il Dottore. The force in your hands did nothing, and you quickly realized in complete horror that you were already losing feeling in your limbs. What quick reflexes you had were now achingly slow and uncoordinated. The harbinger stood and proceeded to carelessly toss the empty syringe onto the other end of the cell.

"Go ahead and escort her," Dottore called out for two Fatui agents in the hall. They lifted your heavy body and began to drag you out of the cell.

"Wait! You can't do this! Tartaglia, please!" Your screams echoed once you were pulled into the hallway. The useless kicks of protest were weak against gravity. "Stop this!"

"This is goodbye, ojou-chan." Something humane and hesitant flickered in his eyes, but he saw you off with an ominous grin.

..........................................................

Despite Diluc's apparent dislike towards Kaeya, Aether invited him on their mission anyway. Things got heated pretty quickly, but Paimon managed to cool them down by insulting both of them whenever they got too heated.

It was day two of their caravan journey disguised as simple merchants. Diluc manned the wagon while Kaeya walked along its left side, Xiao on the right, and Aether in the back. Zhongli was scouting ahead, but stated he would not intervene once the group reached Snezhnaya. They had barely managed to cross Fontaine's border without being detected by border patrol. The weather here was more humid than that of Liyue or Mondstat.

"To think I would get such a humble request from the Hero of Mondstat," Kaeya spoke loud enough to get on Diluc's nerves. "I never would have thought such a strong individual would need a Knight of Favonius. Must be desperate times." Diluc grumbled something under his breath, but kept his focus on the dirt path. His hands were holding onto the reins a little too tight.

"We thought you'd be able to help us with diplomatic stuff since you're a Knight," Paimon admitted. "You might be able to get us into the palace, right?"

"It's possible, but I wouldn't count on it," the knight shrugged carelessly.

"We wouldn't dream of it," Diluc scoffed.

"Oh? And is that because I'm associated with the Knights, or," Kaeya tested, "because you feel threatened by my presence?"

"You're as unreliable as them," Diluc retorted with a frown, finally facing his adopted brother. "You fit right in with that group of--"

"NGH!" Xiao doubled over from an unforeseen searing pain that tore through his chest. He knelt to the ground and clutched at his sternum.

"Xiao!" Paimon and Aether ran toward him. Zhongli, who was returning from his position to report back to the team, heard the shouts and came running. Diluc stopped the caravan, and he and Kaeya joined the duo next to the yaksha.

"Haah...hah..." Xiao heaved, sweat beading at the top of his forehead. "Tch." The pain had just begun to subside when another one replaced it, this time in his shoulders. Then his legs. Then his back. He was practically seeing spots by the time Zhongli reached him. "Don't touch me!" He swatted the air around him similar to that of a wounded animal. "Urk..."

"What's hurting you?" Zhongli observed the yaksha's behavior carefully. He suffers from chronic pains, but I have yet to see him react so harshly. "Do I need to get your medication?"

"I-I'm fine," he assured even though it was obvious the opposite was true. His labored breathing brought concerned looks to everyone.

"You should rest in the wagon," Diluc spoke. Then he turned to Aether. "Is he well enough to accompany us?"

"Your eyes," Zhongli knelt before Xiao, "are glowing." Like hers.

"So?" I don't need useless observations of my pain. Ugh... It doesn't compare to my past injuries, but it's enough to upset my stomach. What is this? His eyes frantically flit around the group's surroundings only to find nothing out of the ordinary. Was I poisoned somewhere along the way? I did not consume human food. There was that merchant awhile back--

"Xiao," Zhongli snapped him out of his thoughts. Once he regained the yaksha's attention, he repeated his words. "When was the last time you took your pain killers?"

"This morning," he groaned. "This doesn't happen." The sun's cool rays suddenly acted like they were burning him alive.

"Have you heard anything from her?"

"Not in the past two days." The pain is subsiding. Xiao's shoulders slowly began to relax as he continued to try and steady his breathing.

"Do you hear anything now? Perhaps recall random memories, or visions?" This is the second newest side effect in the past three days...what could they possibly be doing to trigger this reaction in the two of them? First, an emotional mirroring, and now with pain? What are they tormenting her with?

"No. It's just pain."

"I see."

"It's gone now," Xiao stood abruptly, ignoring the swaying earth beneath his feet. Kaeya was about to grab his shoulder to steady him when Xiao's vision was obscured by red and yellow splotches. His legs gave way from under him.

..........................................................

"A nerve agent seems to react well with your eyes," Dottore chuckled, and he set the remaining syringe on the top of a stand to his left.

You couldn't really talk anymore, but your illuminated irises and the tears that streamed down your cheeks said plenty about the situation. Your arms and legs were tied down with leather restraints, and your convulsing body lay atop a metal operating bench. From what you could make out, this place was some type of arena, but Dottore didn't make you fight monsters of the abyss like you initially thought he would.

You would've preferred it if that were the case.

"Now I'll ask again," Dottore grinned manically and moved his face close to yours. "How much do you know about your condition?" His hair swayed as if to portray his sick enthusiasm.

"Nothing," you sobbed quietly. Finally, the immense pain jolting through your bones was subsiding. Relief washed over your twitching limbs similar to that of the tide.

"Childe told me you knew about our plans. What did you think those were?"

When he began to reach for another syringe, you stopped him. "Just that you want whatever's in my blood."

"Do you know the powers you possess?" You shook your head. "Haah..." Dottore sighed. "Another lie." He picked a new syringe up and tapped the excess liquid that spewed out of it. "We are not fully aware of each aspect to your predicament; if we had the two of you here, we wouldn't need to pull the information out of you. This would be much easier if you told me the truth of what you know. That way, we wouldn't have a reason to test every substance on you, yes?"

"I don't know anything."

"Round three it is, then."

................................................

"ALATUSSS!" You screamed, now delirious from the never-ending onslaught of pain that you've been through for the past several hours. Il Dottore paused his sadistic torture as if a light bulb had gone off in his head.

"Now that is a name you haven't yelled before," a slow smile crept upon his face as he watched your chest heave from exhaustion. "Who is this 'Alatus?'"

"P-please," you whimpered. You were drenched in sweat and tears now.

"How does round ten sound to you?"

"No," you whimpered helplessly, what's left of your fighting spirit finally shattering to pieces.

"Now now, Dottore," a woman's voice rang through the arena. "We don't want her dying on us. She's our only shot at this." Signora came into view, and she eyed you like a piece of meat. "Oh dear, you look tired." Another tear dripped in response to her mocking tone. Tension rose in your body yet again when she came to your side and examined you with cold eyes.

"She's not under your jurisdiction, Signora," Dottore shrugged. "If she had just given me the answers I was looking for, we would skip this step entirely. But if she insists, I have no problem with torture."

"Oh?" Signora narrowed her eyes at you. "So then, who is Alatus, little one? All this suffering would be over if you answer our questions." She gently swiped the hair out of your face, a gesture that heavily contradicted the predatory expression on her face.

More tears rolled down the sides of your face as you stared back at her. It hurts...everything hurts so bad, Xiao. I can't fight... You choked down a sob and looked away from the harbingers. I'm so tired...

"Resume your interrogation tomorrow. She's drained."

Dottore grumbled something under his breath as he set aside his next syringe. "Guards! Hurry up and untie her already!" His subordinates immediately did as they were told, fearful of not moving fast enough to the harbinger's liking. They dragged your limp body back to your cell.

You were too exhausted to resist.

.........................

Coming Up Next: An unexpected reunion.

#xiao genshin impact #genshin impact #genshin impact xiao #xiao x reader #xiao fanfiction #genshin one shots

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stubbychaos · 4 years ago

Text

A Dishonest Woman

Chapter 9 of Saviin’ika

Masterlist Pairing: Paz Vizsla x Nurse!Reader

Summary: Paz is determined to have the one that has caused you so much pain to kneel for you, though you’re surprised to find another begging for forgiveness at your feet after all is said and done and blood has been shed.

Rating: M

Word Count: 12,700

Warnings: There’s some pretty intense injuries and mentions of having to pop bones back into place, as well as blood and stitches. There’s also brief mentions of the aftermath of the sexual assault attempt.

Just a quick mention as well: I wanted to thank @lackofhonor for giving me the inspiration for a cute little idea for this chapter about the other Mandos being mischievous :) Also thank you to @datmando for always letting me scream at you about all my chaotic ideas <3

Author’s note will be at the end, but one last thank you to @coredrive for blessing all of us with that beautiful gifset of Paz!!

You nearly cry the second you see Paz inch the bounty hunter’s helmet upwards to the point where the tip of a scruffy tan chin is revealed.

Horror fills your heart and soul at the thought of watching a Mandalorian’s helmet be removed.

You jolt forward, but Ima is quick to wrap her arms around your waist, effectively stopping you from accidentally getting hurt and even though you feel a pain shoot up your side from your cauterized wound, it doesn’t stop you from screaming out right before the helmet is just below his bottom lip.

“Paz!”

Immediately, the room is cast in silence and even though you should feel terrified at the fact that dozens of t-shaped visors are now pointed in your direction, you can only focus on the way Paz lets go of the bounty hunter, not even realizing you had been watching the entire fight. Immediately, the unconscious man slips to the ground with a loud ringing noise that has you cringing as you try to wriggle desperately against Ima’s tight hold. Everyone’s visor watches you struggle feebly against the young warrior and she hisses at you desperately to stop--that it is dishonorable to interrupt such a battle.

You gasp when Paz easily flips the bounty hunter over onto his back, pressing his boot harshly against his cuirass and you panic as you listen to the hunter’s gurgling noises from underneath where the lip of his helmet is still miraculously resting on his chin.

“Tell her you’re sorry, Djarin!” Paz roars, circling around him like a predator taunting its prey and your shoulders hunch up a little, “Maybe I’ll give her your helmet when I’m finished with you--bet she could sell that for a lot more than five hundred credits. How much is that shiny Beskar worth? Probably far more than the pathetic price put on her head.”

When he doesn’t respond, Paz sends a mighty kick to the hunter’s ribs--one similar to what he had dealt to your father--and you let out a small whimper and turn your head up to colorful Mandalorian, emphasizing the contempt in your voice as much as you possibly can.

“If you don’t let me go, I won’t ever look at you or Paz the same again.”

Ima doesn’t say anything and you seize up when you watch Paz produce a vibroblade.

The blade that had been taken from you the night before after slaying the trandoshan.

“Do you realize what you made her do with this?”

The bounty hunter remains lifeless as Ima stares down at you and fear grips your heart so tightly when you hear the young Mandalorian groaning from the intense pain. He doesn’t even attempt to choke out pathetic little apologies and you’re certain he must be unconscious underneath that scorching hot helmet.

“Please,” You beg her, a tear trickling down your cheek as you think of someone having their life ruined just because of you, “I am supposed to help those who are hurt, not watch them suffer.”

Angrily, Paz tosses the blade onto the floor, seeming to prefer to use his hands to inflict pain and it makes everything seem far more personal, considering weapons were supposed to be a part of his religion.

“What?” Paz grabs him by his cowl to bring him to his knees, though he’s slumped forward in a weak position; you squeeze your eyes shut and recoil when your warrior all but picks him up and slams him into the slim steel bars on the side of the forge, “Can’t handle a little pain, vod’ika? She seemed to handle it just fine when you were delivering her to her death! Managed to even fight back against the one you sold her to, you fucking coward--you’re not even going to try to fight me?”

The bounty hunter is lifelessly propped up against the forge.

Finally, Ima lets out a deep sigh and reluctantly lets go of you.

Immediately you surge forward, not caring there’s a possibility that you can get hurt in the intense altercation.

You cry out Paz’s name again when he sends a harsh blow to the side of the bounty hunter’s helmet with a powerful swing of his huge, heavy gauntlet and you are quick to stop him in his attempt to further hurt the bounty hunter.

He pulls his arm to the side and back, ready to deliver another heavy hit to the bounty hunter’s helmet and you quickly latch onto the big yellow gauntlet, careful not to press any buttons so you don’t incinerate yourself or anyone else with his flamethrower. You feel the way he instantly stops himself from swinging his huge appendage forward, perhaps out of fear of hurting you and his helmet quickly snaps to the side to look at your teary eyes that barely poke over his bicep.

He could easily shove you out of the way, and even though you just watched the damage he inflicted on one of his own, you still trust him not to hurt you.

But you will not let him do this--you refuse.

“What are you--?”

“I would not let you put him through anymore,” You plead in a desperate, hushed whisper, trying to keep your conversation private from the others, though you’re certain they all hear it, “I would not let you put him through the same pain that I have gone through--of losing his family.”

Paz doesn’t even move an inch or say a word, but he allows you to put yourself between him and the bounty hunter and simply stares at you; you’re certain if you were anyone else, you would have been dead the second you challenged him.

You’re not just anyone though and you finally understand that.

You’re the one he had confessed his love to only the night before and had trusted enough to bring to his tribe; you were the one that he had taken his helmet off for, even if it was in the darkness of a safe place. While you understood that his anger came from a place of intense pain from nearly losing the one he loved, you could not just stand by and watch while he made that sort of decision for you, not when you couldn’t mentally handle watching someone have their life taken from them so soon after the Trandoshan incident.

No, even though Paz so desperately wanted his revenge, it suddenly did not feel like his duty to seek vengeance for you when you were still alive.

“Please Paz,” You crouch down next to the bounty hunter, pressing your fingers to his neck to check for a pulse point to make sure he’s not actually dead, “I think he has endured enough punishment, don’t you?”

“No, I fucking don’t think he’s learned his lesson! What he did to you was unforgivable!” Paz seethes and you let out a little sigh of relief when you finally detect a steady pulse, though Paz’s thunderous voice has you on edge, “You’re really going to let this go so easily?!”

He’s never raised his voice with you and even though you can tell it’s most likely from the adrenaline, you feel your worry slowly give way to anger.

“Please, do not yell at me,” You whip your head to give him an incredulous glare over your shoulder and you hear some of the others murmur to one another as Paz takes a small step back, though he is quick to compose himself, “I did not say I forgive him, but I do not wish to see any more bloodshed because of me, Mandalorian. I know what he did--I was there.”

“Then why won’t you let me make him apologize to you?” He hisses in a low voice, watching as you inspect his dislocated shoulder with great tenderness, “He doesn’t deserve your help when he showed you no such courtesy.”

“Because I am a nurse and it is my job to help others, Paz. He is your family and even if you or I do not like him right now, I do not wish for one of your own to die when I could have saved them,” You turn to face him once again, your brows pinched together in frustration you’ve never felt towards your blue warrior and you hate the fact that you’re even arguing with him over the bounty hunter in the first place, “If he is to apologize to me, I want it to be because he truly feels sorry for what he did, not because you beat him within an inch of his life. Now please, would you help me take him to… wherever it is the wounded are treated here?”

Paz is frozen to his spot and it feels like you’re staring each other down for eternity, everyone else watching the silent interaction with what you’re sure is curiosity and shock that their heavy-infantry warrior is letting his little nurse talk to him in such a way. You realize suddenly how stubborn this man can be--even towards you--and for some reason that only makes your irritation grow as you think of how soft and easy-going he had been with you the previous night when it had just been the two of you.

Is he doing this because he’s afraid of looking like a pushover in front of his tribe?

“He didn’t even want you here,” Paz eventually sneers, pointing his thumb and index finger in the unconscious man’s direction, choosing to argue even more with you and you feel your heart sink to the pit of your stomach, “He is the reason why I was fighting so hard for you to be a part of the tribe in the first place! You think the one who was so insistent on not having you here is suddenly worthy of being tended to by you? While you were suffering, he was planning your death and I was begging for your place in the tribe.”

“I’ve been suffering my whole life, Paz,” You remind him with an angry lilt in your voice, lightly tapping the bounty hunter’s helmet in an attempt to wake him, though he simply offers you a garbled noise in response, “This is no different than anything else I’ve been through, okay? Just let me take care of his injuries and then the three of us can talk it out and--”

Then he says your name in the most contemptuous tone you’ve ever heard from him and ice pumps through your veins at his next words.

“Sometimes, I think you are too fucking soft for your own good.”

You immediately freeze, staring up at him in shock as you register the warrior’s bitter tone and you don’t even know what to say or how to process the intense pain and sadness that threatens to overwhelm you like a raging tidal wave.

You think of what he had said upon admitting his love for you the first time, how he had spoken sweet words of the way he admired how compassionate and soft you were--how utterly devoted he had sounded--and you begin to doubt yourself.

“And what would you do when he grows tired of you?”

You remember your father’s cruel words and tears instantly fill your eyes at the fact that you’re letting him get to you in a place where Paz had promised you’d be safe from him and you hear the other Mandalorians murmurs grow more tense. They must be admonishing you for talking back to such a powerful member of their tribe, but you suddenly don’t care what they think and hastily wipe away a tear that slips down your cheek, shaking off Paz’s unusually bitter words.

But you can’t shake it off, you realize, as your bottom lip quivers as his words hang over your heart heavier than what his Beskar must weigh down on his own shoulders.

Paz immediately seems to forget his anger towards the bounty hunter, his shoulders falling a little as he hears yours sniffles when you turn back towards the unconscious man at your feet, your hands now shaking.

Anger and confusion swells deep within you as you keep thinking of your estranged father’s words, leaning lower to grab the bounty hunter’s uninjured arm to tug it around your shoulders; you want to cry harder as you try to stand up and support his weight, though he is far too heavy for you to lift. You hear Paz step forward, but then you also hear Imalia’s hushed, angry voice, followed by hasty little footsteps making their way over to you.

“Go cool down somewhere else, I’ll take care of this, di’kut,” Ima says in a firm voice, crouching down next to you as she wraps her arms around the bounty hunter’s waist and helps you haul him to his feet. You’re too angry and upset to admire the physical strength this teenage girl has and a part of you is half tempted to ask if she can knock some sense into your blue warrior.

Paz is staring right at you as you risk a glance up in his direction as you and Imalia guide the unconscious bounty hunter to the tribe’s infirmary and you hate that he’s refusing to say anything to you, so for once, you speak up first.

“You are not a cruel man,” You whisper fiercely to him, clenching your jaw a little when you notice his tight fists unfurl as he sees your tears burning your eyes like lit coals, “And I do not believe you to be one, but I do not like seeing this side of you and I pray I did not make a mistake coming here if this is how I am to be treated by you in front of your sisters and brothers.”

“Saviin’ika, I shouldn’t have--”

“Do not call me that, right now!” You snap with a shaky cry, earning a few more murmurs from his armored family, and you watch as Paz recoils from how upset and raw you suddenly sound, “I am not some sort of punching bag or target used for practice, Mandalorian, and I am sick and tired of being used as one. I would not let you tear someone away from their family--the ones he loves--because of me!” You argue fiercely, hating that you have to force yourself not to flinch upon hearing the bounty hunter’s pained groans as his scorching helmet slips to the side and onto your shoulder, “I may love you, but I refuse to watch you ruin this man’s life because he made a foolish mistake. Shouldn’t this be my choice?”

“But--”

“Are you even listening to what she’s trying to say?” Imalia is quick to snap at him as well, not holding back nearly as much as you did, “This isn’t your fight to fight, okay?! Saviin is right, if he’s going to apologize to her, he should do it because he genuinely means it.”

“And how do you know he will apologize in the first place?”

Everyone stares at you, but you’re still focused on Paz and how tense he is as he listens to Ima’s insistent voice, “Because, Saviin is the reason why he still has his helmet and his family, despite the fact that he nearly took everything from her; only a demagolka would not say sorry to her. Trust me, he will apologize upon hearing that she protected him from losing so much. Please, just go cool down Uncle, you’re not thinking right.”

Then Ima lowers her tone a little, sounding softer when she realizes you still have tears in your eyes, “Mirdir be pehea gar kelir sirbur Ni ceta at kaysh.”

Even though he’s tried to keep his composure in front of his people, you instantly see the way his shoulders slump completely and his helmet drops at the soft bite in the young Mandalorian’s hushed words as you and her continue forward, the Beskar sea of huge Mandalorians parting to let the three of you through. The bounty hunter mumbles incoherent statements as Imalia tells you which way to turn your body and you think that he’s most certainly concussed by the way he slurs his sentences.

You pray that they have bacta.

“I’m sure it is not as fancy or professional as what you’re used to, but this is our little infirmary. It hasn’t been used in a long time, but I’m sure you could spruce it up a little,” Ima sighs and grunts as she gracelessly flops the Mandalorian onto a creaky cot upon entering a little alcove, though you find it not too terribly different than your own tiny office at the village infirmary except for the fact that everything is covered in a thick layer of dust, “I am not sure if you are able to help him too much or if you even want to, but--”

“Can you find me whatever medical supplies your tribe may have?” You cut off her sheepish ranting, not hesitating to remove the Mandalorian’s pauldrons, utility belt, and cuirass as you inspect the severity of his dislocated shoulder and a deep gash that Paz had managed to inflict upon his lower abdomen, “Tools for sutures, bacta patches or shots, disinfectant--things like that? Soapy rags and perhaps a bowl of warm water?”

Ima immediately grows silent and you’re surprised by the teenager’s willingness to help you as you turn away to wash any germs from your hands with hot water, not allowing your blue warrior’s harsh words to get the best of your nerves. Immediately, you’re pulling drawers open, gathering whatever antibiotics and disinfectants you can find, thinking that this Mandalorian probably needs whatever he can get after taking such a beating from Paz.

“Goodness,” You sigh, shoulders falling as you inspect the deep gash that is just stretched along his left hip and you shake your head a little as you think of the wound he’d forced you to cauterize as Ima hastily approaches you with what looks to be an unused suture kit.

“Your name… it’s Din Djarin, right?” You question quietly, not even sure if he’s fully conscious or if he’s completely gone as Imalia approaches you with a metal tray with several supplies lying on top; immediately, you perk up when you see a tiny bottle filled with bacta and a syringe. She watches in silence as you are hasty and efficient to fill the syringe with the miracle substance, stabbing the long needle somewhere underneath his helmet, near the base of his skull to hopefully help with whatever brain trauma he’s experiencing.

“You--” The bounty hunter is slurring his words as he attempts to sit up on the little cot, though Ima is quick to force him back down with a steady hand against his chest while you get to work on untucking his dark tunics from his pants so you can get a better look at the damage, “Y-You’re helping me?”

You don’t say anything as Ima hands you a warm wet rag to clean the blood away from his skin and you lean in a little closer to make sure there’s no debris in the wound or that it doesn’t already look infected. You gracefully begin the process of stitching his severe wound at his tanned abdomen, earning small grunts and groans from the young bounty hunter who is clearly uncomfortable in his current position, though he seems more coherent and aware of his surroundings. Ima remains behind you and a part of you wonders why, if she’s worried the bounty hunter is going to try something with you or if she’s simply fascinated by simple medical procedures.

“Are you bleeding under there?” You ask the injured man quietly, referring to his shiny helmet that you think must still be scorching hot; he continues to stare up at the ceiling and you hope he hasn’t passed out again, fearing what kind of damage Paz might have caused to his brain. He could be on the verge of death and you wouldn’t even know, you realize with disdain, not liking that you can’t properly treat your patient.

“Even if I was, I wouldn’t let you take my helmet off, outsider.”

You scoff and shake your head, though Ima is diligent and hasty to admonish the hunter, “I do not think you are in any position to be giving our nurse any attitude, not after she stood up for you in front of nearly the whole tribe.”

Finally, he rolls his helmet to the side to peer down at your hunched over form as you take your time to stitch the deep wound, “Stood up for me?”

“Yeah, di’kut,” Ima huffs and you hear her shift around behind you, “Uncle Paz was about to take your stupid helmet off and saviin’ika stopped him right before he could, even defended what little honor you still possess; she even got in a fight with uncle over you. I don’t think you really deserved her mercy since you didn’t even want her here in the first place--since you sold her for five hundred credits.”

Your cheeks flare up and you shake your head a little, trying to think of your life being worth more than a pouch of credits.

He’s quiet for a few thoughtful moments and he lets out with a pained grunt as you eventually finish stitching the wound, “Why?”

You swallow the lump in your throat and let out with a sad sigh as you clean the blood away from the bruised skin around the sutures, shaking your head a little, “I know what would happen if he would have removed your helmet, Mandalorian. You would have lost everything and everyone you love--those you call family--and I would not wish that upon my worst enemy.”

“But I--”

“I know what you did to me,” You scowl, plastering a large bandage to the stitches to protect it from any debris, “Trust me, I know, but I’ve also felt the loss and grief that comes from losing your loved ones. I lost my mother and… and someone so very dear to me when I was a little girl and that kind of pain is one that you never recover from.”

“I…” The bounty hunter seems to be at a loss for words and you think he must not know how to express his feelings with words nearly as well as Paz, “Thank you.”

You huff a little and urge him to lay down flat on his back so you can properly treat his dislocated shoulder, “Just because I understand your pain does not mean I would ever forget what you’ve done. I would only tolerate you for your family.”

You hear him groan a little as you place your hand just underneath his armpit and use the other to grab his wrist, lightly guiding his arm to the side and closer to you, “What are you doing?”

“I am popping your shoulder back into place,” You frown when he reaches out towards you with his uninjured arm, but he is quick to drop it upon seeing you flinch and Ima tensing up.

“I can do it myself,” He says stubbornly, though you simply keep your hands in place, your brows furrowing when he begins to undermine you, “That requires a lot of force to put it back into place and you don’t look like you can--”

With as much strength you can muster, you yank his arm harshly towards you until you hear the sickening pop of the head of his humerus slipping beyond the lip of his shoulder cup and you hate that you feel a little inkling of satisfaction when you hear his pained groans and erratic wheezing. You think of the several times you’ve had to pop your own shoulder back into place after taking a rough beating, and how excruciating the first time had been--how you had nearly passed out--and you wonder if this is the first time he has experienced such pain.

"I know how to do my job, Mandalorian," Your cheeks burning fiercely with irritation towards the man you stood up for, “I can’t say the same for you.”

Ima snorts her amusement from behind you as you fashion a sling using his cape, all while dealing with the fussy bounty hunter who you’re certain is struggling to not give you a piece of his mind.

“You could have at least done it slower so it wouldn’t be as painful.”

“I would say I am sorry and that I feel bad, but I am not a dishonest woman.”

You hear Ima wheezing behind you, struggling to contain her giggles, though she eventually loses the battle and lets out loud guffaws that have you shaking your own head with amusement.

Eventually, Imalia takes her leave when another Mandalorian enters the room to inform her that the armorer requires the teen’s presence, the larger warrior eyeing the way you’re hovering over the young bounty hunter with an irritated expression on your face before leaving the two of you alone. You’re in the process of stitching yet another smaller cut on the inside of his elbow that you had somehow missed during your lengthy inspection and you wonder just how long Paz had been fighting the bounty hunter before you showed up.

“I’m…” You barely tilt your head up at the sound of his raspy voice before turning back to your handiwork, thinking he’s going to say something rude or snarky, “I am sorry, for what it’s worth--for all the pain I’ve caused you and Paz.”

Your brows quirk up in response to the shock his words cast on you, though you shake it off and glance up at his visor for a quick second, “I don’t know if I can forgive you knowing that you knew what the Trandoshan wanted to do with me, but I appreciate the apology.”

He seems to relax a little and lets out with a crackly sigh as he continues to stare at your concentrated facial expression, “You mentioned your dress when I was taking you back in the speeder,” Instantly, you freeze at the way he speaks so nonchalantly about something that will haunt you forever, “Did he…?”

“N-No,” You murmur weakly, suddenly feeling nauseous as you struggle to not think of the harsh pressure of the Trandoshan’s hand groping you, “He uh--I s-stopped him before I… Paz’s blade.”

Even though you can barely string together a coherent sentence, the Mandalorian still manages to understand, “Does Paz know?”

“No,” You say a little more firmly, finishing up with tending to the minor wound and giving him a cursory glance, “And I plan to keep it that way.”

You find a bacta patch on the tray of items that Ima had left for you on the bedside table and carefully take it out of its plastic wrapper, placing it tenderly along the area on his ribs where Paz had kicked him.

He’s quiet as you help him fix his tunics and put his armor back in place, sheepishly holding out the pauldron that you advise for him to not wear on his bruised, swollen shoulder for at least a week, though you doubt the stubborn man will listen to you. You half expect him to get up and leave the room the moment you stand up and wash your hands in the little sink, though he simply lets out with another crackly sigh as he continues to lay on the cot that is much bigger than the one from your old office.

“He would not think of you any differently if you told him of the criminal’s intentions with you, if that’s why you’re afraid to tell him.”

You sigh, thinking of the words Paz had spewed at you earlier and you slowly plop back down on the chair as you reluctantly keep the bounty hunter company, crossing your arms over your chest, “Let’s not talk about this anymore, okay? Besides, it’s not like it matters, not when I got into a fight with him and yelled at him in front of his tribe. I disrespected him and I’ll probably be out of here by the end of the day.”

“You won’t--I’m sure of it,” He rasps in that cool tone, though there’s still a twinge of pain laced in his filtered voice as he lets out another deep sigh, “I know how he is, how he never really thinks with his head.”

“The same could be said for you as well,” You huff, earning an annoyed sigh from the bounty hunter, “Are you two actually brothers by blood?”

“No, and he made that clear the day I was brought into the tribe,” You tuck your cold hands between your thighs and tilt your head a little at the implications of his amused words, though one sticks out to you the most.

“You were a foundling.”

“Yes,” He grunts, almost seeming awkward and unknowing of how to hold a conversation with someone, “Paz was one of the first ones to talk to me--pretty much told me to stay out of his way. He was never kind to me, but he always made sure none of the others hurt me. He was an angry child, but eventually grew out of it. Still hotheaded like no other though.”

You smile a little at that, remembering the first time you had met him and how you had thought the exact same thing, “I was scared of him when I first met him too.”

“I know--he came back to the covert and was beating himself up for making a bad first impression,” The bounty hunter scoffs, only continuing when you tuck a lock of hair behind your warm ear, “He always wanted to be the strongest in tribe and all he cared about was being the most powerful, but then one day he came back talking about the village nurse.”

You wonder why this bounty hunter is telling you all of this and before you can ask, he speaks calmly.

“I’ve never seen him more passionate about anything or anyone more than he is about you,” He grunts, almost sounding exasperated as he shakes his helmet a little, “Paz could talk about you for the longest time and I’m pretty sure he has with all the kids when the rest of us get tired of listening to him. He would not get rid of you and is probably kicking himself in the back of his helmet for whatever he said.”

Your face feels like it’s on fire as you think of your usually grouchy warrior going to the covert after spending time with you, only to ramble to his family about you.

“How did you know that he was the one in the wrong? I thought you were unconscious.”

“I know Paz,” Din repeats, sounding utterly unamused as he shakes his helmet and stares up at the ceiling in a thoughtful silence for a few seconds, “I know how he gets when he’s mad and how he doesn’t think straight.”

You clench your jaw a little, still thinking of the pain lingering in your chest because of what your blue warrior had said to you in a fit of rage that had been a result of the bounty hunter.

“It still gave him no right,” You surmise, earning a small hum from Din, “And if he expects me to apologize so I can keep my place here, I refuse.”

You think over his words carefully for a few, the two of you growing silent and you think out of all the Mandalorians you’ve met, he must be the quietest out of all of them, most likely used to living a life of solitude because of his job. Then you think of the time Paz had told you the loneliness he felt during his own travels and you wonder if this Mandalorian feels the same, though you still find it difficult to pity him and you stare thoughtlessly at his shiny helmet. Your eyes burn as you think of this bounty hunter hearing the Trandoshan and all of his plans for you and your chest heaves as you think of the bounty hunter simply not caring.

“I need to know and please be honest,” You plead in a shaky whisper after a few minutes of awkward silence, earning his unwavering attention as his visor moves to stare at you, “Do you actually regret what you did? Or is it just because of me knowing Paz?”

“I…” He sounds conflicted as he shifts around in an uncomfortable manner, watching the way your eyes fill with tears at the thought of him so easily giving you away to someone so cruel, “I know I am a cruel man--much crueler than Paz--but you are the first quarry I’ve ever felt guilt for.”

Tears still burn your eyes and you are quick to rub them away before they can actually fall as you listen to the young bounty hunter try to collect his thoughts.

“I kept hearing your screams, that’s why I came back. I thought he would just leave your body after killing you, but then I saw you and you were just staring at Paz’s blade,” He admits with a frustrated sigh and you think this must be incredibly difficult for him to talk about, especially when he seems so out of tune and defiant towards feeling any emotion, only focused on his next paycheck with no regards for the lives and families he’s ruining.

“I knew right away who you were and…” He cuts himself off before he can reveal too much, turning his helmet to stare back up at the ceiling, “Paz talks a lot about you, but he always spoke of how you did not deserve to live a life in the village--that you were too kind. Most of my bounties are criminals, people who deserve to be imprisoned.”

For some reason, knowing that he came back because he felt bad, rather than suspecting you were associated with Paz eases the ache in your heart, though you find your nails curling painfully into the fabric covering your knees. You don’t trust him and he knows it, judging by the way he keeps his movements slow and his visor pointed away from your face, and you’re grateful when he doesn’t try to offer you comfort because you know it would not come from his heart.

“Paz was right--you were an easy target and that’s why I accepted the job,” The bounty hunter informs you and it only makes you feel worse, knowing that you’re constantly being targeted because others believe you to be so weak, “I’m sorry.”

“I won’t ever be the same because of you.”

He doesn’t say anything and you wonder if he even feels the slightest inclination or twinge of guilt.

Then you wonder where Paz is, if he’s calmed down enough to talk to you about what’s going on in his mind and dread fills you at the thought of him still being upset with you; what if standing up for Din had ruined everything between you and the blue warrior?

Had this all really been worth it?

“I want to see Paz, but I don’t know this place,” You inform the bounty hunter weakly and you hate how badly your heart is currently aching and you hate that you still long to see the blue warrior after the way he spoke to you, though you think most of it was caused by adrenaline and anger towards his brother, “Do you know where he would be? I need to talk to him.”

You need a proper explanation and an apology.

The bounty hunter lets out with a loud, dramatic grunt as he forces himself up into a sitting position before giving you a sharp nod, “Follow me.”

Your eyes widen as he heaves himself off of the medical cot with a pained groan, though he holds a hand out when you step forward to help him, silently explaining that he does not require your help. Even though you can tell he’s in severe pain, he doesn’t say a word as he hobbles out of the little infirmary and straightens his posture, as though he’s determined to not look weak in front of you or anyone else. You’re nearly tempted to reach out and hold onto his elbow simply out of instinct after spending so much time with the blue Mandalorian, though you force yourself not to as he silently guides you down the small staircase that Paz had helped you down the previous night. He now leads you in a completely different direction and your eyes widen when the atmosphere around you somehow grows warmer and a little lighter.

“Where are you taking me?”

“To the nursery,” The bounty hunter answers and it fills you with both excitement and fear, “That’s usually where he goes when he’s upset--likes spending time with the kids.”

Your brows furrow, wondering why your big blue warrior finds solace in an environment surrounded by little ones who probably enjoy screaming his ears off whenever they have the chance, though you don’t argue and follow closely behind the bounty hunter. You feel eager to meet the little ones in the tribe and you curiously wonder how many there are and how young or old they must be--do they all wear helmets? Or just some?

As soon as you hear the familiar sound of angry little squeaks in the distance, you immediately perk up and grin as you breakaway from the Mandalorian and rush forward to turn a sharp corner. Instantly, you hear the sound of rocks clanking against stone walls and you let out a loud giggle when you spot a tiny, crimson-eyed creature yipping furiously at you.

“Oh, my little one!” You exclaim with a soft little cry, scooping her up into your awaiting arms the moment she makes her way to you in an awkward hobble, her front leg still trapped between the splint you dutifully gave her two nights ago, “Oh, I am so sorry for what I did to you! I did not want to throw you like that, I swear it. It was all the bounty hunter’s fault.”

She's a wriggly little thing as she alternates between nuzzling her wet snout against your cheek and letting out with excited little squeaks and you laugh at her eagerness to see you again. Somewhere behind you, the bounty hunter sighs and you are quick to soothe the vulptex when she peers over your shoulder to give him the fiercest growl she can muster, though it’s more of a high-pitched whine. A content sigh leaves you as you pet her white, rocky head tenderly, admiring the way the dim lighting seems to reflect off of her opalescent coat; your hands seem to calm her and you watch as she turns her head to slowly blink up at you with contentment.

Din shakes his head as he continues to guide you through the covert, watching you as you comfort and soothe your little companion to the point where she’s nearly falling asleep, her head lightly bobbing as she tries to battle her exhaustion. Eventually, she gives up and rests her little head against your stomach as the bounty hunter takes you through a small entrance and into an alcove that is far warmer than the rest of the enclave.

“This whole mess for just a little runt.”

You furrow your brows, though it’s not anger and spite you feel towards his heartless words, but rather confusion and curiosity.

“What if it was a youngling you had been sent to kill or retrieve rather than a vulptex?”

“It’s not the same,” He answers without hesitation, turning his head to stare straight ahead.

“In a way, it kind of is though,” You stubbornly argue with him, your frown deepening as you tilt your head to the side and try to get a better sense of this man’s enigmatic mind, “Is she not an innocent, breathing creature that feels fear and pain? Sure, she may not be able to speak, but that shouldn’t lessen her worth. So tell me, bounty hunter, what if one of your quarries was a child--perhaps one too young to speak their fears aloud? Would the reward on their head matter more than your ability to not let it haunt you when you can’t sleep at night?”

He doesn’t say anything for a few moments and you feel your heart drop as you gaze down at your sleeping vulptex, pondering how anyone could possibly harm a child, let alone deliver them to their death. Suddenly, you wonder if you had made a mistake in not letting Paz take the bounty hunter’s helmet off, thinking him to not be honorable in the slightest.

“I would not hurt a child.”

“That was not the question I asked you,” You scoff at him, feeling your heart thrum angrily in your chest, “And your hesitation told me all I need to know about you. I am glad I did not accept your apology.”

He doesn’t say anything, choosing to remain silent as he glances down at your slumbering vulptex with a slight tilt to his shiny helmet; you pray to the Maker that you’ve hurt his pride today, what with having to stop Paz from making him lose everything.

You wonder how he feels now that the outsider he had so vehemently denied having in the tribe was the one that had saved his place in the covert.

The rest of your journey is spent in a tense silence.

You perk up a little upon hearing loud giggles and little voices as the two of you approach a concealed entrance, though it is suddenly replaced with silence as you step inside the warmer alcove. Instantly, you are face to face with at least a dozen--probably more--little ones who are all staring up at you, most likely not used to seeing an adult without a helmet on their head, though some of them wear helmets themselves. You’re so focused and caught off guard by how many younglings reside in the covert that you’re not even aware of Paz emerging from another room that’s attached to the nursery, or the way the bounty hunter makes haste to leave before being spotted.

“Saviin’ika?” He sounds surprised as he utters the name that everyone at the covert seems to know you by, and your eyes widen when all the younglings instantly crowd around you, their little faces stretched with happy smiles as though you are no stranger to them. Some of them are showing you their little toys and stuffed animals, while others are babbling excited, incoherent words and...

Maker, what have you gotten yourself into?

You thought the bounty hunter was exaggerating when he spoke of how much Paz talks about you to the little ones, but as numerous grubby little hands reach up for you, you realize just how honest he was being.

You realize why Paz comes here to seek out comfort though, and you smile fondly when a little boy--no older than five--hugs your knee tightly and stares up at you with wonder and sadness shimmering brightly in his eyes. Some of them are more focused on the vulptex cub who had been startled awake amidst all the adorable chaos, but most of them throw random questions and comments at you faster than what you imagine a ship’s hyperspeed to be and you suddenly feel a little overwhelmed.

Paz must sense it because he steps in immediately and somehow manages to shoo away all the reluctant little ones, though the little boy remains attached to your leg and you can’t stop yourself from reaching down to gently stroke the back of his head in a comforting manner. The gesture earns you a shy smile from him, his wide eyes glimmering up at you and you think something must have previously caused him some sort of despair, what with the dried tear tracks on his flushed cheeks, so you find yourself crouching down to make him feel less small. After placing your disgruntled vulptex on the floor, who immediately finds enjoyment in the presence of one of the excited younglings, you hold a hand out for the little one to take and he instantly latches onto it with both of his.

Even though you’re still upset and hurt from Paz’s words and you’re certain he must still be irritated with you, the two of you don’t acknowledge it out of respect for the little one’s already intense emotions.

“Why are you so sad, little one?”

He simply stares at you and your chest aches when he doesn’t say anything, though Paz steps in once again and crouches down next to the two of you, carefully cupping the back of his head, “He is the tribe’s newest foundling.”

It takes you a second to understand, but when you do, Maker, it breaks your heart to think of a child so young and fragile losing everyone he loves and your eyes instantly burn with tears, though you force yourself not to let them fall.

“Well, everything is going to be okay--you want to know why?” You keep your voice steady for the little one who must feel so afraid and alone, but you give his hand a reassuring squeeze when he eagerly nods, “You are surrounded by the bravest, strongest warriors in the entire galaxy and they won’t let anything happen to you, because you are loved by them.”

Immediately, the boy launches himself towards you and wraps his tiny arms around your neck, and when you look up at Paz, his visor staring intently at your sad eyes, you finally let a tear fall for the little boy and all the other ones that are here because they weren’t born into the tribe; instantly, he wipes it away, most likely not wanting the little boy to see it and upset him even more. Gently, you comfort the boy until he pulls away and gives you a shy little smile and a nod when you ask him if he feels a little better, carefully wiping the fresh tears from his cheeks and the mucus from his nose with the sleeve of your sweater.

In the tiniest little voice, he speaks and you didn’t think it was possible for your chest to ache any worse, but his sad tone completely shatters you; you’re too focused on the boy that you don’t even notice the way Paz jolts upon hearing the distraught child speak.

“I miss my family.”

And you hate that you think of a ten year old you, just as heartbroken and lost in the world, so you fully sink to your knees and hold his tiny hands a little more firmly, wishing you had something more to give him than just your words.

“I know it hurts,” You murmur in a soothing voice, brushing his curls away from his forehead as he hiccups and you let him hug you again, your hand immediately coming up to cup the back of his head, “I lost the ones I considered to be family when I was around your age too, and I know all too well of what you are feeling right now. I promise the sadness won’t always hurt you this badly and you have so many strong people here that are going to help you feel better and take care of you, okay?”

Then you think of Paz’s words from the other night when he had found you in such despair and in a deep state of despair

“You are not alone or unloved.”

He pulls away and nods, and thinking the distraught child could use all the comfort in the galaxy you press a tender kiss to the top of his curls for good measure, immediately earning you a slightly bigger smile as he continues to fiercely rub his eyes and wipe his runny nose. Eventually, he reluctantly wanders away and you watch as he timidly sits in the corner, next to another shy girl that offers him a kind smile; warmth blooms deeply in your heart when he smiles back at her.

“Cyare, we should talk about what happened--the things I said to you and what I did.”

You look up, realizing that Paz is now standing tall above you and holding a hand out to help you up; reminding yourself why you had wanted to see him in the first place, you grab his hand and let him easily tug you to your feet. You let go of him as he cocks his helmet in the direction of the entrance, gesturing for you to follow him and as he silently walks you to a part of the covert you haven’t explored, your fears get the better of you as you think of all the happy moments you’re probably going to lose before really experiencing them.

“Am I going to have to leave the covert?”

He freezes instantly, turning to face you and he’s deathly silent for a few tense moments as he collects his thoughts, “W-What?”

“I disrespected you in front of your family when I yelled at you,” You remind him, confusion swirling around in your mind, though you still don’t think you regret what you said to him, “Do you not… want me here anymore? I understand if that is the case, but if you expect me to apologize, I am not sorry for what I did and said to you.”

His shoulders drop as he watches you nervously tuck a lock of hair behind your ear, trying your hardest to stand your ground, and your heart freezes over in your chest as he almost immediately drops to a knee right in front of you. His breathing pattern looks frantic, what with the way his cuirass is rising and falling so rapidly and he’s mumbling something to himself in his native tongue, but it’s too low to make out any of the syllables or the tone he speaks in.

Immediately, your anger and fears give way to worry as you realize you did not witness the whole fight and there’s a chance he could be injured, “Paz, are you hurt?!”

“Ni ceta, sweet nurse,” He traps one of your hands between both of his and peers up at your worried gaze, “I am not injured, but I am sorry for the way I yelled at you. I didn’t mean to hurt you and I--Maker, why do I keep fucking everything up and letting you get hurt? This isn’t… I’m not supposed to hurt you and make you cry and I--”

He sounds so frustrated with himself and you intervene when you realize how erratically he’s breathing, “Hey, just breathe a little slower, okay? Let’s just talk this out.”

“I’m sorry,” He listens to your advice and his incoherent ramblings give way to something clearer, “You didn’t deserve any of that and I understand that me being blinded by rage is no excuse for speaking like that to you in front of everyone.”

You blink owlishly at him, realizing this is the second time today you’ve had a Mandalorian apologize to you and you want to forgive him, but your brain is screaming at you to tell him how you really feel. Even though you have no problem baring your emotions to him, for some reason you find it more difficult to actually elaborate on how you’re feeling and you think it must be from being alone for so long.

If you truly want this to work out between you and him, you realize you have to work on speaking your thoughts, rather than letting them build up in your head.

“I didn’t like the way you yelled at me,” You inform him in a shaky whisper, ignoring your fears as you crouch down in front of him so you can be eye-level with his shiny visor, though you continue to keep your hand in his, “And I did not like the way it made me feel when you told me I was too soft for my own good because I already know this. I experienced it everyday of my life--people making fun of me or targeting me because they know I am not a warrior like you. I never listened to them though, because my mother would always tell me that there is immense strength in being soft and selfless and I must believe that, even if you and the others in the tribe don’t.”

“I don’t… I don’t know why I said that to you--why I said any of that to you. I didn’t mean it and I would never want you to change yourself for anyone, especially me. I love you for your soft, compassionate heart, cyare,” He pleads in a pained tone and you can tell he’s being sincere, so you nod for him to continue with his explanation.

“I was so mad--so fucking pissed off--when he told me how much he traded your life away for,” He shakes his helmet, perhaps in a weak attempt to shake away his anger and sadness, “I knew the only reason he took the job was because he thought you’d be a quick and easy target and that you wouldn’t even try to fight back against him or the Trandoshan. I wanted to hurt him in the worst way possible and when you stopped me… I was not thinking properly--I wasn’t thinking at all. I still hate him, but you were just trying to be rational and didn’t deserve any of what I said.”

Your lip trembles a little and he frantically shakes his helmet when you drop your head to gaze down at the leather fingers are desperately clutching yours, “You’ve never raised your voice at me like that. It... it caught me off guard and it made me angry that you wouldn’t really listen to me and--”

You feel yourself choke on your words, tears burning hot in your eyes and you absolutely loathe that he’s able to soak in every one of your emotions when you barely have the ability to understand what he’s feeling. One of his hands moves up to your forearm and you watch as he gently rubs the crook of your elbow with his thumb; you know it’s a feeble attempt to comfort you and it barely does anything as you try to process your conflicted emotions.

“Would you really strip someone of everyone and everything they love that easily?” You inquire desperately, your lips trembling as you stare at the chin of his visor and you hate that your voice cracks so horribly as you speak, “You almost took his helmet off, Paz.”

“I am sorry for the pain I caused you, cyare, but he almost took the only one I--” You tilt your head a little when you think you hear his filtered voice growing more crackly than usual and you shake your head when he grows quiet and more withdrawn.

You cannot let people continue to walk all over you and though you understand that is not Paz’s intention, you can tell he’s not expressing his emotions like you’ve been trying to and you find yourself sinking to your knees completely, staring up at him with an expression of sadness and curiosity.

“I am trying my hardest to tell you how much you hurt me, okay? You don’t get to hide your heart from me when I am giving you everything I am feeling for the first time in such a long, long amount of time,” You swallow the lump in your throat, nostrils flaring as you heave in a deep sigh and muster up as much courage as possible to continue this conversation without breaking, “What is going on in your head, Paz?”

He lowers his helmet until his forehead is just inches away from his thigh and you carefully grab the hollows of his blue cheeks, realizing there’s something he’s not telling you and he lets out a little groan, as though he thought he could get his way out of this.

“I... I have never loved anyone the way I love you, ner cyare,” he confesses in a quiet voice, “And my own brother tried to take you away from me--trade you in like you weren’t the most precious thing in my life. I do not know how to process my emotions right now. I am angry and hurt and sad that one of my own could do this to you.”

“Hey, I am here and I am alive,” Your remind him, urging his helmet up a little so he can look at you, “He didn’t know who I was, okay? He made a foolish mistake and yes, it did almost cost me my life, but I am here with you. Isn’t that all that matters?”

“I... yes,” He breathes, giving your hand a firm squeeze, “I know that words mean nothing to you, but I promise I will never embarrass you like that in front of the tribe ever again.

“I…” You remind yourself that you need to speak your concerns and fears out loud for him to understand how you’re feeling and breathe out a deep sigh, “I thought that perhaps you were embarrassed that I was speaking to you like that in front of your people, that was why I thought you were going to make me leave. I thought I had made you mad.”

“No, cyare, I could never--” He heaves a deep breath and you hear the defeat in his filtered baritone as he struggles to reassure you that he didn’t mean to hurt you, “I want you here with me for as long as you wish to stay, but I need you to know that I could never be ashamed of you, okay? If I wasn’t such a fucking idiot, I would have gotten down on my knees in front of the entire tribe and apologized to you as soon as I raised my voice at you.”

You raise your brows in surprise at his words, though you’re not sure why you’re shocked when he’s been respectful towards you from the moment he offered to walk you home and give you his blade. Briefly, a part of you wonders what your life would be like right now had he not felt the need to walk you home that night, though you think it best to not ponder such terrifying thoughts.

“I’m sure the others would have loved to see their heavy-infantry warrior on his knees asking for forgiveness.”

“They already gave me a hard time about me being an asshole as soon as you were gone,” He admits with a small groan, though the image of him being hounded by his tribe makes you smile a little, “I normally don’t let them, but I felt like I deserved it in that moment.”

You sigh, squeezing his hand so tightly that you fear you’ll break one of his fingers, though you think he must be unbreakable, “Everybody makes mistakes, that’s how we learn and grow.”

“Then I will learn from the mistake I have made today,” He drops his helmet in what you think is shame, though you remove your hand from between his to place it on the blue hollow of his cheek and you smile sadly when he looks at you, “I wish you could see my face so you know how sorry I am for hurting your feelings and making you feel lesser of yourself.”

“You wishing that I could see your face is enough proof of your sincerity, Paz,” You bring your other hand to cradle his scuffed up helmet, though you wish you could feel the warmth of his scruffy cheeks again, “I forgive you, but if you ever leave me alone in your bed to go try to kill one of your own again, I think I would throw you in the forge myself and not show you any mercy.”

“That’s my saviin’ika,” He huffs out a small, relieved chuckle as you slowly stand up and offer him a helping hand up, smiling when you hear him grunt as his knees crack a little as he stands to his full height, “I think Ima would not mind helping you with that; you may forgive me, but the kid can really hold a grudge.”

Though you’ve spent such a small amount of time with the tenacious teenager, you don’t doubt that she can be just as stubborn and fierce as any of the adults. You grow quiet and curious when Paz begins to tug you in the direction he had initially been leading you towards before you voiced your concerns. A soft sigh leaves you as you think of how you haven’t been awake for probably more than two hours, and you’ve already had a long, strange day, though not necessarily terrible now that you and Paz have made up and you won't have to leave.

“Your mother was wise when she said that being kind and soft makes you no less stronger than a warrior,” Paz abruptly speaks, gazing down at your surprised expression as he wraps his massive arm around your waist, all while continuing to guide you down the corridor, “I know what kind of reputation I have and even though I do not wish to harm people who don’t deserve it, I know people jump to conclusions and think the worst of me--of Mandalorians in general. Then there’s you, cyare.”

Your eyes widen as you stare up at him, waiting patiently for him to explain with a frantic heart that threatens to leap out of your chest.

“People see you and they immediately trust you because you look so sweet and kind,” Paz sighs, a dreamy noise that causes his modulator to crackle a little bit, “That little boy from earlier has been here for two weeks and hasn’t spoken a word or stopped crying, yet you got him to talk after five seconds and you even made him smile. That is true strength, being able to give someone hope and comfort, and I was a fool to say otherwise.”

“You are kind and compassionate too, Paz.”

“Only because you taught me how,” He shakes his helmet as you try to shake off the incredibly sweet words, “And I am still learning because I have not always been a good man and I’ve never felt shame for it until I met you--until I saw your smile and how you care for others so intensely, even though you’ve seen just as much pain and suffering that I have, if not more. I’ve never seen any of it faze you so badly until I found you at the infirmary when you went into shock the last night. I knew one more day spent in that hell would destroy you and I could not live with myself if I left you at the infirmary, all alone.”

Your face feels so intensely hot as you struggle to think of a proper reply--something just as beautiful as what your Mandalorian is currently telling you--though you find it hard to form a coherent response. You think of the quiet bounty hunter and how he had chosen you because you were an easy target to him, but then you think of the way you had clung to your will to survive and how even though taking a life is something that will haunt you forever, it had also led to you having a better life.

You’re here because Paz had deemed you worthy of being part of his family of warriors and because you had fought at the mere chance of a future filled with happy moments with the one you love.

You find it uplifting that though you had been the one to teach him how to be softer, he had given you the confidence to stand up for yourself and be stronger.

Though you don’t have the words to properly express yourself, you smile and murmur a small, ‘thank you, Paz’.

“Always thinking so hard about everything and never talking,” Paz muses, though it sounds like he might be smiling underneath that helmet, “One day I will find out what goes on in that pretty little head, sweetheart.”

“Well, I just figured you do enough talking for the both of us, ori kebiin,” You tease, grinning when you hear a sweet bark of a filtered laugh and you’re grateful that nothing has severely changed between you two after everything that happened with the bounty hunter.

“Remind me to keep you away from Ima so she won’t teach you any other nicknames that the tribe has for me,” Paz lets out a dramatic sigh that instantly amuses you, “Same with all the others. Anyone tries to teach you Mando’a, don’t listen to them, okay?”

“Would it be disrespectful for an outsider to learn the language?”

“No, it’s just--” He makes a funny noise from the back of his throat, something you’ve learned he does when you say something that makes him feel flustered, “Some of the guys are just… playful, and I would not put it past them to teach you something you would not normally intend to say.”

You must look confused because he immediately lets out with another groan, almost sounding like he’s struggling as he speaks in a hasty tone, “They would teach you how to say something dirty as a way of messing around with you. They may protect you as their little sister, but it also means they would pick on you like one as well.”

Your cheeks feel so intensely hot at the thought of being pranked in such a way and you’re suddenly very much aware of Paz’s arm around your waist as you two slowly stroll through the enclave, his fingers twitching just a few inches below your cauterized wound. Then you think of the way he had held you on top of him the previous night, all while letting you kiss him and you’re certain that your ears are burning from the inside out at the images that you allow your mind to conjure.

“I think I know how Djarin felt when I was holding his helmet up to the forge, cyare,” Paz drawls in a teasing manner, making you grow weak in the knees as he drops his helmet a little, “I can feel the heat from your cheeks and ears through all this Beskar.”

You give him an annoyed scowl, though it only seems to spur him on even more and you suddenly hate how easy it is for you to grow flustered when he makes these flirty little comments, “Maybe you should listen to what they teach you--I do not think I would mind hearing my language in that pretty mouth of yours.”

You chew viciously on your bottom lip and shake your head as you change the topic, deciding you’ve had enough torment for one day, “Where are you taking me, Paz?”

He simply grunts and you roll your eyes at the fact that your usually mouthy warrior has decided to grow quiet and you simply let him guide you to whatever destination he has in mind. Curiosity gets the better of you when you feel him tense up a little against your side, his spine straightening as he leads you even deeper underground and down another staircase and you’re in absolute awe of the size of the enclave. Even when you stumble a little, he keeps you grounded with his arm around your waist and you are simultaneously grateful for both his diligence to keep you from falling as well as the body heat from the cracks of his armor.

“I know this place is not what you’re used to and even though you are safe, I thought you might miss the sunlight and your pretty flowers, cyare,” Paz begins to ramble as he guides you down the dimly lit tunnel and your curiosity grows hundred fold when you are able to make out the nervous pitch of his filtered voice as he brings you towards a small entrance covered by black drapes, “I just… I thought you might like having a place to yourself because I know how quiet you are and how loud we can be sometimes. I just want you to feel as comfortable as possible.”

He curls his fingers into the heavy drapes and you tilt your head to the side when he pulls them to the side, urging you into the little alcove with a sharp nod of his helmet and you think he must feel nervous for you to see what’s in the room. You bow your head low as you duck into the small room, biting back a small giggle when you hear the loud clatter of a helmet meeting stone, followed by a few curse words that you’re used to hearing from him; his enclave is so big that he must have forgotten that a smaller alcove existed within it.

“It seems like you are the clumsy one now,” You giggle, turning back to face him as he readjusts his helmet a little, “You are not allowed to make fun of me anymore.”

He snorts a little, “That’s not how it works.”

As soon as you turn forward to take in your surroundings, whatever smart comment that nearly rolls off the tip of your tongue diminishes and your huge grin drops into a severe expression of shock.

The room is little, but adorned with several clay pots filled with your usual violets that you typically wear in your hair, as well as flowers from the hot springs he had taken you to months and vibrant flora you’ve never seen on Nevarro.

“Ima helped me with most of it since I kept accidentally killing a bunch of your flowers.”

Immediately, tears fill your eyes when you realize all he’s done for you--collecting flowers and rehoming them in an environment where it is difficult for them to flourish, though there’s plenty of artificial lighting beating down on them, just as you had previously advised. You spot a large cup of water on the long desk that most of the plants reside on and wonder if he had come down here every single day just to water them and your heart feels like it’s about to burst from all the overwhelming emotions you are currently feeling. You step forward upon noticing the wooden cabinets above the desk and open them slowly, smiling warmly upon seeing the numerous glass jars and other tools that one would use to concoct salves and ointments.

“I know some of the flowers are dying and you could do a much better job, but I know how much they mean to you and I didn’t want you to lose this part of--” He stops rambling the second you turn to him with tear-filled eyes.

“You did all of this for me? Just so I would be more comfortable here?”

“I would not want you to be without your flowers, cyare,” His shoulders slump forward a little at the shock in your quiet voice and you watch with warmth in your cheeks as he slowly makes his way towards the long desk that houses all the beautiful flowers, “I know how much you cherish them and what they mean to you--how they remind you of a happier time that you are still far too hurt over to talk to me about. In a way, I suppose they are as precious to you as our helmets are to us.”

You watch as his leather-clad fingers carefully pluck one of those beautiful blue flowers that you had seen at the hot springs and your heart soars the moment he slowly makes his way back to you, all while staring at the beautiful, luminescent petals. Your feet feel glued to the floor as he reaches out to tuck the flower somewhere in your hair and your grin is so large that you feel it hurting your cheeks as he tucks the beautiful blue flower behind the shell of your warm ear.

Feeling the familiar tickle of a tiny stem grazing the shell of your ear, you smile up at him warmly and wish to tell him the words you are not able to conjure into a coherent statement. Instead, you stand up on the tips of your toes to press a sweet kiss into the fabric covering his neck before moving up to the hollow cheek of his helmet. You hear him grunt and groan as his hands carefully cup your waist to keep you close to him and you wonder if he’s imagining how your lips would feel against skin. Suddenly, you’re grateful that he had decided to leave his heavier equipment in his quarters, making it easier to reach up and kiss the thick, warm fabric that covers his shoulders.

“Gar ganar ner kar'ta ratiin, cyare.”

“What does that mean?”

He tilts his helmet downwards when you reluctantly pull away to gaze up at him.

“It is my promise to you.”

You grow warm as you think of what he could possibly be promising to you, though you decide not to ask as you explore all the little dents of his pauldron and helmet with a feathery light touch

“Then I will make the same promise to you as well.”

You’re slightly startled as you watch him manage to rip off his gloves that are tucked underneath his huge gauntlets before he’s cradling your cheeks and gently backing you up against the desk he’s deemed worthy of housing your precious flowers.

“Maker, you are so fucking so beautiful, I really don’t deserve you, do I? Always so kind to me and I--” He grunts and you smile softly upon hearing the adoration laced within his filtered voice as he carefully nudges his helmet against your bare forehead, "I want to kiss you so badly right now.”

"But your--"

"Close your eyes, please, close your eyes--"

Your breath hitches at the desperation in his filtered voice, "You trust me this much?"

He huffs as his thumb tenderly grazes your bottom lip, “I would trust you with a blaster to my chest, cyare.”

“I think your Beskar would hold up just fine.”

He snorts--a distorted sound that his modulator barely picks up--and as soon as your eyes slip shut, he rips his helmet off and has his lips pressed against yours in a kiss that is something more passionate than all the ones you shared the previous night.

You jump a little upon the foreign feeling of his tongue grazing your bottom lip and curiously open your mouth for him to explore, earning a deep groan from him; your heart is beating wildly as he tenderly cups the back of your head to keep you close, his other arm slung across your lower back and you feel part of his helmet barely digging into your waist.

A shiver rips through your body when he pulls away with a small gasp and immediately teases the underside of your jaw with his teeth and wet tongue, his helmet dropping to the floor with a loud clang that you two barely notice as a whimper leaves you at the pleasant sensation his lips bring you.

“Paz,” Your voice leaves your mouth in a way you’ve never heard from yourself, all breathy and more of a little whine as he gives you what you think is the only kind of mark he’d ever leave on your body.

“Everything you do just makes me--” He cuts himself off with a soft sigh as he skims his mouth along your jawline, ultimately ending up at your earlobe and you shudder again when he presses a tender kiss to the hot skin there, “Can’t believe you thought I’d make you leave the covert--you’re an angel, I’m sure of it.”

And you’ve never heard someone call you such a thing--an angel--but as he continues to mumble sweet praises and compliments against the column of your neck, you hear the sincerity in his raw voice and you feel his love deep in your soul. As your hands cup his scruffy jaw to guide him back to your lips, you wonder if there’s some sort of invisible wire that connects two people and their souls together and if you and Paz had somehow been connected as soon as he walked into the infirmary. You think of all the bad luck you’ve had in your life and how you’ve lost the only ones who have ever loved you, leaving you with a cruel father that felt no shame in beating you down countless times.

But then you think of Paz.

You think of the man that had walked you home and had been so determined to show you that not everything on this planet was awful, and now, pressed up against the desk with his lips, teeth, and tongue all teasing at your skin, you grin a little.

You finally feel as though you have found your home within his heart.

The thought of soulmates and fate immediately disappears as he eventually pulls away and gently nudges your forehead with his, instantly making your heart bloom like a wildflower when you think of all the times he’s rested his Beskar helmet against your forehead. A tear trickles down your cheek, though you think it is a happy one as Paz lifts his head to kiss your forehead, letting out a deep sigh that fans across your already warm skin.

You’re surprised when you hear him clear his throat before he speaks, “I am glad you accepted my apology, but I don’t think I’ll ever forgive myself for raising my voice at you.”

You hear how his voice is thick with emotion and you realize this is something he is not going to let go any time soon; he drops his head against the curve of your neck as you speak, “Then let it serve as a reminder to never do it again, Paz. Like I said, everyone makes mistakes--it’s how we learn and grow--and if it happens again, it will only show me that you have not grown.”

“And what about him--Djarin--did he apologize when you were fixing him up, cyare?” Paz questions against your shoulder, his voice slightly muffled, “Because if he didn’t I can--”

“You Mandalorians,” You huff a small laugh, grinning a little when he squeezes you to him tighter, but making sure to remain mindful of crushing you against his armor, “Always so scornful, even towards your own kind. The bounty hunter did apologize to me and he seemed to genuinely regret what he did.”

“I understand that you do not wish to see him lose his place with the tribe or see him suffer, but I still don’t think he deserves your forgiveness,” Paz sighs again, moving to place tender little kisses against your shoulder and the side of your neck; he chuckles a little when you find yourself slowly tilting your head to the side.

“I accepted his apology but did not forgive him,” You inform Paz quietly, finding it harder and harder to keep your eyes shut for him, though you persist for the sake of his honor, “I could not because it would have made me a dishonest woman.”

You feel him smile against your jaw as he tends to the sensitive skin with plush lips, “And you are not a dishonest woman, ner cyare.”

You grin, remembering how you had spoken out against the bounty hunter earlier when you had been resetting his shoulder and a part of you is tempted to tell the Mandalorian, thinking that he would gain some sort of satisfaction just as you had. You think of the bounty hunter’s story of how Paz had protected him when he’d first come to the covert and your heart melts at the thought of a young blue warrior protecting a small foundling who must have been just as afraid as the little one you comforted earlier.

“No, I am not.”

Before he can say anything, a loud female voice from outside the alcove startles Paz nearly right out of his skin and you raise your brows as he hastily retrieves his helmet and gloves from the ground.

“Ori kebiin di’kut!” Ima’s voice is practically screaming at him and you grin when Paz gives you the okay to open your eyes; something about his exasperated sigh makes you think this isn’t the first time she’s done this to him, “Khai pushed Vhan down the stairs again and could probably use some medical attention. Think you can manage to be away from your riduur for more than five minutes?”

You raise your brows as you follow him out of the alcove, coming face to face with Ima, who you’re certain must be smug as she cocks her helmet at the sight of you. She then reaches out to skim a finger along your jawline and your eyes widen at how tender the skin there feels, your cheeks instantly feeling like a raging wildfire that spreads to your ears; there must be a small mark he left there with his teeth.

“Looks like you two already made up,” Ima snorts, glancing up at Paz who is shaking his helmet at her, and you remember what he had told you about being picked on like a sister, though you think it makes you feel more like part of the tribe, “C’mon saviin’ika, you have a long day ahead of you.”

She grabs your hand and happily urges you to follow her, all while still teasing you.

As you leave a flustered Paz behind, you think Ima is the first person you’ve trusted completely since meeting your warrior and a fond smile stretches along your lips as she nosily asks you if he had gotten on his knee to apologize to you.

You had forgotten what it felt like to have a family, but perhaps with enough time, you can learn again.

Translations:

Vod’ika=Little brother/sister

Di’kut=Idiot, useless individual, waste of space (Lit: someone who forgets to put their pants on)

Mirdir be pehea gar kelir sirbur Ni ceta at kaysh=Think of how you will say sorry to her

Gar ganar ner kar'ta ratiin, cyare=You have my heart always, beloved

Saviin’ika=Little violet

Ner=Mine/My

Cyare=Beloved

Ori Kebiin=Big blue

Riduur=Partner, spouse, husband/wife

A/N: As always, thank you all so much for all the support and sweet words!! It makes me so happy that you guys are enjoying this story as much as I love writing it, because I really do always have such a lovely time writing these two soft lovebirds :) I love you all and adore hearing all your thoughts and ideas because they always inspire me so much!

I love you guys and please have a wonderful day! I hope you enjoy this chapter :)<3

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#paz vizla x reader #paz vizsla x reader #paz vizla x you #Paz vizsla x you #my writing #mandalorian x reader #mandalorian x you #the mandalorian fanfiction #THIS IS A ROLLERCOASTER IM SO SORRY YALL LOL #ALSO TUMBLR BETTER NOT FUCK UP MY TAGS AGAIN

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