#maybe if I start crying I can collect enough tears to use for water

[tojilvrs]

this is the most stressful day of work i’ve ever had

[i-cant-sing]

Platonic Yandere Gojo with sister reader is also plaguing my mind. Just the absolute control he has over her life because he is the most powerful being in the universe, so everyone must listen to him if they want to live. If Gojo tells his clan to lock you in your room, they do. They don't even ask questions, don't bat an eye when you cry and beg to be let out. No, they stand outside and wait for their next command. If Gojo tells them to get rid of so and so person because they looked at you for a second too long, the clan does it with efficiency. If Gojo tells them to make sure you drink enough water, it doesn't matter if you're hydrated, the clan will make sure to hold you down and unintentionally waterboard you as they make sure you drink.

No one is allowed to talk to you, interact with you, not even smile at you unless Gojo tells them. Its all a part of his plan- to isolate you in every way possible until you start becoming insecure and feel like an alien, and then when dear old brother Gojo comes to visit you, you all but wrap yourself around him and practically beg for his attention.

You have an s/o? Maybe he's some poor servant of the clan who fell in love with you and starts dating you secretly. Boy, he was dead meat the moment he had thought of you romantically. But this time, Gojo brings you out to the backyard with him to see how he tortures your s/o to death, holding you tightly when you struggle against him. He knows its cruel, far too gore for your pure mind to see, but he must force you to watch if he wants the lesson to stick.

Never go against ni-chaan's orders.

Big brother Gojo who forbids you from leaving the estate unless he permits you to leave with his most trusted servants or with him. He just wants to keep you safe and allow you to have fun under his watchful gaze. Big brother Gojo who has strictly told you to never use your cursed energy, especially not without him? He says its because he doesnt want you or anyone else to get hurt, but its really because he doesnt want you to be able to leave him.

You try to run away from him, try to leave to country? Hell, Gojo has you on a no flight list, and he even has people at the airport holding you in a room as they wait for Gojo to come and collect you. You can go along with him crying and screaming as he drags you out and make a fool of yourself or you can go quietly as he brings you to his chest, thanking the officers for keeping you safe. Either way, no one will come to your rescue.

The sooner you realise that there is no escaping from him, that he is your only knight in shining armour, your captor and your protector, the only one worthy of your attention, the only person who will give you his attention and love, the only one who will hug you and wipe away the tears (even if he was the who made them spill), the better it will be for your sake (and everyone else's). He may have locked you in your room, chained you up and yes, he will be a jerk to you as most brothers usually are, but once you give up and apologise (you dont know what for, but u apologise), Gojo will free you and let you cling to his arms, shushing you as he allows you to stain his clothes with tears and snot, telling you that he's oh so proud of you for finally coming to your senses and realising your mistake.

"Y/n, shh its okay now. Stop crying, cmon. You know I'm not mad at you. No, you're my little sister. I only have your best interests in mind. I'm the only one who loves you, Y/n."

But while the idea of Gojo not allowing you to date is delicious, what is more intriguing than Gojo trying to set you up with Megumi, a child who he raised/groomed and sweet boy Megumi also has yandere tendencies for you. So, Gojo brings you to Jujutsu High with him so that you can fall in love with his protege Megumi.

You however must be blind because you fall for himbo boy Yuji instead and honestly, a little bit for Sukuna too.

Gojo is just trying not combust into flames, even if he's smiling as he beckons you to come with him (abd away from Yuji). Megumi is just trying not have a meltdown and kill his bff Yuji in jealousy but he forgets all about that when you ask if he'll join you and Gojo for lunch?

Oomph imagine Gojo's reaction when he sees you kiss Yuji for the first time, and you and Yuji remain unaware of Sukuna sticking his tongue out from Yuji's cheek and mocking Gojo. Like unhinged Gojo appears way earlier than he was supposed to, ripping Yuji off you and blasting him off while dragging you to your room to lock you away and its actually more for your safety than his because Gojo is trying very hard to not actually harm you. He needs to blow off steam and what better way than to make Yuji allow Sukuna to take over his body and fight him. And now its upto Megumi to hold back Gojo and stop him from killing his best friend, but perhaps... Megumi could hold that off for a bit so that he could console you. I mean, he needs to be there physically to wipe your tears away. He could always wipe off the blood later... if Yuji's still alive.

Yeah, Gojo wont kill him. Maybe.

[ninthcircle-skz]

🐰♥️Knife Play w. Lee Minho♥️🐰

Pairing: Lee Know x Reader(f)

Rating: 18+ explicit, smut

Trigger Warnings: Sadist Minho, knife play, possible self harm relation, non-negotiated kink, actual physical danger (just don’t try this at home folks), crying reader

Lee Know has a collection of knives.

You’re laying on his bed mindlessly scrolling your phone, in your lane, when your FWB walks in and loudly unfurls a rolled up pouch of knives and drops it on the bed next to you. Your eyes lock onto his and silently communicate sir this is a Wendy’s. He gives a devious smile without breaking the eye contact and purrs out, “Let me show you how I like to play.”

The knives vary wildly in size and shape, but they all have two things in common: they look beautiful and they look dangerous. Kinda like him. You question your sanity for about the hundredth time since you two started playing around, but then you end up giving in to him, because of course you do.

He picks up one of the smaller knives and holds it sideways in his teeth while crawling on top of you. He slides his knee in between your legs to open them up a bit while looking down at you, scanning your clothed body with a hunger in his eyes you’ve never seen him show before. He takes the knife out of his mouth and holds it carefully a half arm’s distance away. “You’re going to have to hold very still, do you understand? No matter how scared you are. You need to trust that I have control of this. Can you do that?” Your heart races and a pit builds in your stomach, but also, to your confusion, you are immediately so wet. Your brain goes a little fuzzy.

“Mhmm,” you dry swallow. Then in the span of about 3 seconds he flips the knife around in his hand, pulls your tshirt up by the collar, and rips down the length of it with a shockingly loud tearing sound. You want to yell WHAT THE FUCK MINHO but your brain short circuits as fight or flight hits you like a brick wall, and all you remember is “hold still”.

He leans down and kisses you hard while peeling your “shirt” open, hands exploring all over your bare torso. It’s his for the taking now. But his tongue is assaulting your mouth and his thigh is grinding in between your legs, and you are all adrenaline and lust and lost in the moment. Until the cool edge of the knife meets your side, and you break your mouth away from his. He’s unphased and just stares at you. The full length of the blade grazes your skin up and down, and it’s actually incredibly soft. He’s not using any pressure, just.. petting you?? Testing your response?

“Close your eyes and just relax into it,” he directs, and you do just that, reminding yourself that you do actually trust him. He adds just enough pressure so that the blade, laying horizontally across your skin, makes a soft sheering sound as he slowly grazes it along the full length of your side. It doesn’t hurt exactly, but it does start to tug a little. Unbeknownst to you with your eyes closed, your sensitive skin is burning red beneath the blade, and it’s making him crazy.

—-

It’s been so long since he’s been able to do this with someone. He’s riding the high of having you as his plaything, still and vulnerable beneath him, short of breath, under his full control. After all, one wrong move on your part could send you to the hospital. Maybe it should concern him (and you), but he’s burning with the power he has over you. What he wouldn’t give to push you further, press in just enough to break skin, see your eyes shoot open with fear, maybe water up a little… then watch them close tightly again when he cuts a little deeper, listen to you yelp out in pain… all under his hand. He’s capable of more, but you’re not ready… yet. He regains his focus.

—-

He picks the knife up and directs it at the soft curves of your cleavage. This time it’s not the whole blade you feel, but the sharp tip instead, though still softly. And his other hand trails slowly down your sternum.. your stomach… and into your pants. You’re reminded how wet you are and how desperately you’d love his fingers inside of you. You moan and open your eyes finally, giving him a pitifully needy look.

Thank god, because he gives you what you want, sliding one finger in deep. And then it’s his turn to moan because he’s never felt you this aroused this quickly. “Fuck you are so perfect for me,” he breathes out with a desperate look on his own face. He fucks his finger in and out, painfully slowly, while shifting focus to his other hand. The one with the knife.

Time to close your eyes again. Time to hold still, when all you wanna do is press your hips closer to him. He ever so slightly presses the tip of the blade into your soft skin and gracefully drags it a few inches, leaving an inflamed line trailing behind it. Okay… this hurts. Well, stings. Burns. But he distracts you with a second finger and you’re lost.

This continues for awhile, Minho just barely cutting you… all over your chest and sides and stomach and hips. Never enough to really bleed, maybe a drop here and there, but mostly just scratches. But you are so sensitive, and it hurts. Yet every time you whine or whimper it seems to make him press harder, drag faster, get lost in his own head. And all the while his fingers are fucking you and building what is sure to be a long, overwhelming orgasm.

You are a puddle beneath him, brain completely numbed out, brought into the present moment under his blade and the sting and his fingers and before you can stop it, tears are trickling out of your eyes and you start crying loudly, losing full composure. But then your crying is mixed with pleasure because it’s triggered him to force your orgasm. He turns up the pace and pressure of his fingers and angles just so until you cum on him so hard you shake.

He rides it out with you for a minute, letting you recover slowly but surely and at your own pace. He puts the knife down and comes up to cradle you in a comforting cuddle. You’re still crying and covering your face with your arms in absolute embarrassment, but he pulls them apart to give you soft kisses all over your face. You turn to bury your face into his chest instead, still hiding. He brushes his fingers through your hair and rubs your back… until everything finally subsides.

You look up at him, and he looks down at you, and all either of you can think is “oh no, are we really just friends?”

[writing-sideblog-behind-books]

part 1

izuku had thought maybe it meant something. that, maybe just maybe, the message had been a hint that he hadn't been misunderstanding the tension between them and that maybe it would snap soon. instead, it turns out that it had all been in his head one day when kacchan loudly announces that "he and icy hot are dating now, he will not be taking any questions, and any complains will be met with an explosion to the face." before stomping towards the elevator and dissapearing to his room, after they return from their remedial class that day. its iida that rescues todoroki from the swarm of questions, izuku too frozen to do more than watch. together they get to the privacy of todoroki's room and as casual as he can he asks "you and kacchan are dating now?" a soft, pretty pink fills todoroki's face and the air around izuku gets several degrees warmer, while uraraka - sitting on the other side - starts shivering. a tiny nod and a small smile, "we are." izuku wishes he weren't so heartbroken right now so he could properly appreciate how cute todoroki looks. how soft and happy. "i can get over you dating, but bakugo?" uraraka tears the atterntion away from izuku and his watering eyes and as iida scolds her for being rude he collects himself enough to be affronted. dating kacchan is the highest of honors and as much as he loves todoroki he is so jealous of him he could throw up. he is saved from this embarrassing revalation by todoroki answering the question himself, "it was pointed out to us by a friend at the remedial lessons that we, apparently, have great chemistry," the word is said unsure, as if only recently having learnd about its meaning in this context "so we talked and came to the conclusion we have several things in common," his eyes meet izuku's and he's sure all his shamefull thoughts are on full display, "and are attracted to eachother in a physical and possibly emotional way, so we decided to attempt a romantic relationship." izuku remembers kacchan coming to him to talk, pressing him into the ground in defeat, sending him the message that he's unsure about something, training with him to improve his quirk. him. not todoroki. but apparently they have chemistry and are attracted to eachother. izuku wants to scream that kacchan is his, wants to cry at being left behind again, wants to rage at the unfairness. but todoroki is one of his best friends and sometimes he thinks if there hadn't been kacchan he could have loved him. he smiles at todoroki, "i'm really happy for you and kacchan. i think you two can fit really good together." the worst part is that he actually means it. he loves that kacchan and todoroki are happy. he can see them being a power couple. it just hurts not being a part of that. of loosing the potential he thought they had.

[iwanttoleavethisblankbuticant]

little collection of my brain tangles, relating to my OCs that I previously abandoned… part 2

Wow, I wrote again. Who would have thunk it. Just an fyi these posts aren’t connected beyond they have my oc’s in them. This is just my one shots for my oc’s basically. Anyways on with the fic. Hopefully this one won’t be neglected like part 1…. Hopefully.

TW: swearing, gay, sickness, coughing, brief mention of parental induced mental trauma and neglect, one sneeze (I’m sorry, my brain isn’t braining on the sneeze stuff idk why it just wants to write fluff and angst…)

———————————————————————

Knox woke up with scratchy throat. Nothing to horrible. It could be put to ease with sips of water though out his day. It wasn’t an inconvenience, it wasn’t a problem. He didn’t pay much mind to it. That was then. Now it’s now. And his throat hurts. It takes up all of his focus, he coughing constantly and he can feel the beginnings of an itch in his sinuses. Least to say, Knox was not having a good time. He didn’t particularly want to go to the doctors, it took a long time, most the time nothing was really wrong with him, it was a long drive, sitting in the germ infested lobby probably would only give him more illness. But he would go if he needed to. With that in mind, he wondered out into the living room. There he spotted Mackie.

“Ma-” he immediately starts to cough and hack, doing so into the cuff of his sleeve.

“Mackie” he finishes, his voice so scratchy Mackie could hear his pain. Between the hacking coughs and the pitiful state of his roommate, Knox had all his attention.

“Yeah?” Mackie questions.

“Can you look at my tonsils?” Knox’s chokes out.

“Sure, come’er” Mackie says, using his soft voice that is reserved for vulnerable matters alone.

Knox nodes and stumbles up to the couch where Mackie’s sitting. Tiredly he sits down beside him. 

“Come on, lay your head down bub.” Mackie coos gently, patting his lap. 

Knox hums in response and lays down on the couch, head resting on Mackie’s lap. 

“Say ‘ahhh’” Mackie whispers fondly, looking down at him with a soft smile.

Knox’s starts too. Then his breath hitches and he turns his head to the left so he’s facing away from Mackie. He hitches for about a minute, Mackie waiting patiently. But the sneeze never comes. After a minute or so, Knox tentatively moves his head so he’s facing upwards once again. Then he opens his mouth for Mackie to take a look.

Mackie, not saying a word but understanding, leans over Knox and looks down his throat. Sure enough, his tonsils are swollen and inflamed. 

“Poor thing…” Mackie coos, stroking his head.

“You ought to go to the doctor.” Mackie adds, a certain gentleness in his voice. 

Knox turns his head to look at Mackie

“Yeah-” Knox starts but the once forgotten sneeze rears it’s head all of a sudden. 

“Hurrshchu!” Knox snaps forward with a sneeze, right into Mackie’s uncovered belly, having been wearing only his binder.

“Shit. Sorry.” Knox mumbles, sounding disappointed in himself.

“I didn’t mean too-” but he’s cut off.

“Aww, it’s alright. Your sick, it’s to be expected. I just want you feeling better.” Mackie interrupts.

“Now, how about I call you in a doctors appointment. Then I’ll drive you there. That sound good?” 

All Knox could do is nod his head as tears well up in his eyes. He hadn’t ever been taken care of like this. From the time he turned 10 Knox had been expected to do things for himself because he’s a man. 

Maybe it was the fever, maybe it was just a freak occurrence. But Knox let a few tears slip as Mackie called and made an appointment for him. 

The soonest he could go was tomorrow morning, so Knox began to get up and go to his room. Mackie had other plans.  He looped his arm around Knox waist and pulled him back down.

“Where do you think you’re going? You can’t just cry then expect me not to cuddle you.” Mackie says with a grin.

Knox wanted to say so many words of thanks but his throat wouldn’t allow it. So he just nods and sinks back into Mackie.

 Not long later Asher and Vex get home from their separate work places. 

“Wha??? Cuddles without me? How dare. Move your feet, I’m joining.” Asher announces. 

“I’m sick” Knox’s warns.

“That doesn’t mean you can pick your feet up for two seconds so I can sit down.” Asher say with a smile. Knox giggles lightly, the giggles quickly turning into coughs. Once he’s done coughing and laughing, he picks his feet up and Asher slips under him. Now Knox is laying on top of the both of them, feet in Asher’s lap where he teasingly tickles him, head in Mackie’s lap where he plays with his hair. And where’s Vex in all this? He’s in the kitchen, scrolling through Walmarts app and preemptively buying soups for when they all inevitably get sick.

[luminousvision]

Rainmaker

“I guess we’re eating a lot of pumpkin this week,” Sue said after a long silence.

Zander shuffled through the bookshelf. “Let me find the pumpkin recipes. We have pie crust. We can make pumpkin pie, your favorite.”

Sue sighed, still looking out the window on the edge of the garden. The pumpkins, happy and orange just seconds ago, were now replaced with a gaping hole in the earth. Some of the pumpkins were merely scratched, but others had shattered into small pieces strewn about the whole garden. The sun shone through scattered clouds in the sky.

“Such a shame. They were so close to fully ripening.”

Zander flipped through the pages. “I never knew there were so many different kinds of pumpkin soup. Look, Sue.”

Sue did not look at Zander. She was busy watching a wayward missile fly towards their house. It curved to the left. Seeing that it was not going to hit their garden or their cottage, she did not call for her brother. The missile exploded on the hillside next to theirs, launching a column of earth into the air.

The once peaceful verdant hills were now scorched, burnt, and pockmarked with craters, bullets, and other scars from war. Zander and Sue took shelter in their one-room cottage built on no-man’s land. They spent their time growing produce in their garden.

“You know, we haven’t baked with pumpkins in awhile. What do you think about muffins or pumpkin bread?” Zander asked.

“Let’s start with the soup today. We can bake later in the week,” Sue said.

An artillery shell whistled overhead. It landed with a deafening explosion that shook the cottage.

“We will need more cream soon. But we can have soup tonight. I’ll start the chicken stock. Do you want to collect some pumpkin?”

Sue nodded. She grabbed a large bowl from the kitchen and slipped out the back door and into the garden. In seconds, she brought back two halves of an injured pumpkin.

“This is probably enough for soup.”

“What about the bowl? Did you just leave it outside?”

“Yeah, I’ll go get it once they stop fighting.”

Sue cleaned the seeds out of the pumpkin halves and began to peel them. She placed chunks of pumpkin into the blender. Zander chopped onions and minced garlic. He put in some chicken bones into the boiling water.

“It’s so hard to get all the shrapnel out,” Sue picked out a small fragment of metal with her fingernails.

“At least you can get it out. Can’t get rid of the taste of explosives.”

The cottage shook lightly again. They cut and chopped.

“They’re going to hurt us one day,” Zander said.

“They wouldn’t ever do that,” Sue replied.

Zander washed his cutting board. “No, they wouldn’t.”

They put all the ingredients together into a pot. Zander stirred it slowly on a low heat. A violent explosion nearly knocked them both off their feet.

“Zander, this is worse than usual. Could you make it rain?”

“Maybe. I can’t make rain that often. Actually, why don’t you do it for once?”

“I don’t know how to.”

“But it’s so easy. You just have to ask the sky nicely, cry a bit, and hope the gods listen.”

“I don’t know how you cry on demand.”

“Growing up like this? I don’t know how you can’t.”

Zander handed the stirring spoon to Sue, who tasted the soup and added some salt. The cottage quaked twice more.

“Ok, fine. I’ll be right back.”

Zander stepped out through the front door. He got down on his knees, put his hands together in prayer, and cried to the clouds: “Please, let there be rain!” 

Tears welled in his eyes and streamed down his cheeks. They fell to the ground and sank into the earth.

Within seconds, the white puffy clouds inflated, expanded across the sky and darkened. The sun weakened and vanished. A drizzle soon strengthened into a downpour. Zander, relieved but unsmiling, walked back into the cottage.

Sue nodded to him. “That was very brave of you, Zander. How long do you think this rain will last?”

Zander’s tears had dried and his eyes were no longer red. “Certainly not long enough.”

“Well, at least they won’t fight while it’s raining. It’ll be good for the garden.”

The rain lasted through the night and part of the next day. That afternoon, the rain paused and the clouds cleared. Sue went out to fill the crater where the pumpkin patch had been. She also brought some injured pumpkins inside to clean them for their next recipe. They heard another artillery shell whistling, followed by two screaming fighter jets.

Zander entered the cottage and locked the door. “Shame the rain didn’t last long. Seems they’re back at it again.”

Sue ate a spoonful of pumpkin soup. She gestured to the other bowl she had prepared for Zander. “It’s really good soup.”

Zander sipped at the soup. “You’re right, it’s quite excellent. I’m very lucky to have you Sue.”

“Me too. I don’t know where I’d be without you,” she replied.

They ate their soup in silence. The cottage shook lightly from a distant explosion.

“What do you want to make next?” Zander asked.

“How about that pumpkin pie?”

“Good idea. That’ll use up a lot of the pumpkins I brought in this morning.”

The phone in the kitchen rang. Sue walked over to answer it. “Hello?”

“Hi, is this Sue?”

“Alice?”

“Hey! I thought to invite you and your brother to my birthday party next Saturday. I was thinking we could all go to Disneyland together! Can you ask your parents if you can come?”

A bomb exploded among the tomato plants, splattering some on the window. It sent shockwaves through the cottage.

“They’re a little busy right now,” Sue said.

The line went quiet.

“Oh I see,” Alice said. “I’ll call another time then.”

[atozphantomsquadron]

Chapter Eight: Separation

April 3rd

     I think I have this time dilation down.  Even though Gabe believes the folks at the Ranch are safe, I still worry.  Maybe it’s just my nature to worry about people I care about.

     Gabe’s lesson was fairly short, simply a basic overview of what to expect in Hell and how to navigate.  I hope the guides he’s set up are going to know enough not to mistake me for a soul, though.  What matters more to me right now, though, is that the lesson is over and this allows me and William to continue about our business, which in this case means our postponed swim in Avalon’s crystal-clear lake.

     We find it’s really hard to get started with our plans.  For starters, the lake is beautiful.  Wildlife and plants ring it in a constant swath of natural beauty, enhanced just a touch by the natural magic of the place.  The sunlight, forming into what’s going to be a dazzling sunset, shimmers along the surface of the water, glowing and bathing us in its light.  It’s very hard to violate this stillness.

     Another thing that’s not helping is that right now we can’t seem to let each other go.  We’ve become very clingy … desperately so.  It’s hard to separate myself from William, from his warmth, his embrace, his scent.  It’s all very comforting, in a way that’s hard to quantify.

     I feel like I’m about to cry, just from how much I’ll miss him.  William notices this, and turns my face up to meet his.

     What do you say to one of the most important people in your life before taking a trip into danger?

     William finds the words for me.  “Don’t worry, Alanna.  We’ll be all right.  While you’re down there, you focus on your dad, focus on finding him and bringing him home.”

     I clutch tighter to William.  “I’m scared.”

     He buries his face in my hair.  “I am, too.  Scared for you.  Scared for everyone.”

     I reach a hand up to his cheek while turning my face up to see his.  “If this succeeds, though … if I can find him, if I can get him out of there, then there’s absolutely nothing we can’t do.  And that includes taking the country back.”

     It’s always a little awkward to do because he’s so tall, but I jump up, wrapping my arms around his shoulders, and bring my face up to his.  “Thank you for believing in me … and for caring.”  The words are followed by a loving kiss.  His arms tighten around my waist, and mine tighten around his shoulders.

     This is the eternity I want.

     I slide back down to the ground and smile up at him.  “Come on, let’s swim.”  I prevent any protest on his end by quickly stripping to my underwear and running into the clear lake, letting my wings out to help me stroke away from the shoreline.  I hear a loud splash behind me, which tells me he’s in the water as well, and slow down to allow him to catch up.  When he does, we resume our embrace from on dry land, simply reveling in each other’s company.

     After a few minutes, though, I’m aware of us being watched.  My eyes reluctantly tear away from William to scan the shore, only to find no one there.  My glance shifts to the center of the lake, and that’s when I’m startled by the appearance of the top of someone’s head.

     Only it’s huge … and very feminine.

     The eyes glow with a pale blue light.  The flesh seems almost like water itself.  Both of us splash away quickly from the figure as the head begins lifting itself out of the water, revealing a very large woman’s head wearing a crown of ice, staring right at us.

     She smiles and her mouth opens to speak.  “Please, do not let me interrupt.  Continue.”

     I’m lucky not to have skittered back to the shore, collected my clothes, and gone running, but something about this woman tells me that’s unnecessary.  A response would probably be polite, though.  “If it’s all the same, we probably shouldn’t.  Are we disturbing you?”

     She laughs and continues to rise out of the water.  Once she’s waist-high out of the water, it’s difficult to stay in her presence just because of the appearance of her, this giant woman who would be about nine of William, formed from water apparently …

     … and also very obviously naked.  William’s blushing and doing his best to turn away from the sight.  It’s kind of cute, actually.

     “I never mind this sort of disturbance.” She focuses her eyes on me.  “You are Alanna Sharpe, am I right?”

     I nod.  “Please forgive us, this lake is just so perfect …”

     “Oh please, I have no trouble with you being here.  If I did, you would certainly know.”  She’s laughing again, a very gentle chuckle.  I realize she’s laughing at William’s desperate attempt to turn away.  “You must be William White Bear.  Please, there is no need for that.  This is my only form of presence.  Everyone else is used to it.”

     William turns back around, and I can still clearly see his discomfort.  Now I can’t help but laugh.  She’s laughing too.

     “I apologize, I am being rude.  Here I know your names, and you know not mine.” The lady bows deeply, still smiling.  “I am known by many names throughout history, but you may know me as the Lady.”

     Okay, a giant lady �� is standing in a lake.  Way too Arthurian, but then again I’m in Avalon, so what did I expect?  “How do you know us?”

     “Gabe asked me to come fetch you, but before then I knew of you.  You see, you know my son.” The Lady motions to the shoreline.  We turn around to notice that a familiar figure is appearing in the dying light of the afternoon.

     Uncle Cyrus waves to us.  “Alanna!  William!  We’re getting dinner in a second.”

     The Lady melts into the lake quickly.  In a flash, a smaller version of her is rising up along the shore, embracing Uncle Cyrus.  William leads the way as we swim back over, arising on the shore and reclaiming our clothes.

     Uncle Cyrus releases the hug the Lady is giving him.  “I see you guys met Mom.”  He smiles widely.  As we stand and watch, it looks like he’s actually growing a little bit.  “She’s going to help you tomorrow when you leave, Alanna, so Gabe figured you should get used to her.”

     The Lady turns to me and smiles like Uncle Cyrus … I see where he got his face from.  At the normal size of a human being, the Lady has a very slender build, ageless face, and not a single sign of imperfection.  She’s the perfect woman, rendered as an ice sculpture.  “I live through the waterways around the world, so most entrances and exits from this place pass through me.”

     I think I can handle that, at least.  “Will you be coming to dinner?”

     She sighs with a slightly wan expression on her face, and that’s when I notice that her body is incomplete, and one leg is still in the water.  “Sadly, I may only be present in Avalon’s bodies of water.  Were I to go up on land, I would surely perish, and with me would die Avalon.”

     That makes me sad for some reason.  “I understand.  We’ll be ready in the morning.”

     She smiles and retreats back into the lake, melting into the shimmering sunset reflection.  I’m just pulling my shirt back on when I hear William’s question.  “The Lady of the Lake is your mom?”

     Uncle Cyrus nods.  “Deep secret.  Don’t let anyone else know about it, I just want the others to think of me as a regular guy.”

     I smirk.  “Not sure that’s possible.  Are we going to find out your dad’s Merlin, too?’

     “Now that you mention it …”

     Our laughter kills this conversation, as we make our way to where the others wait for us, the steaming aromas of Aunt Kitty’s cooking beckoning us closer.

May 20th

     Last night was tough.  The dinner was wonderful, as I’ve come to expect from Aunt Kitty’s cooking, but it was just the raw emotions that made it difficult.

     My friends are all worried about me, worried that I won’t return from this mission.  Not that I can blame them, but I’d really appreciate some positive thinking, especially from those who are closest to me.  I sit here now, as the sunrise is barely above the horizon, and look at these friends I’ll be leaving behind, and it only makes this task that much more difficult.

     Michi was a wreck.  It made me just as bad, since we’re more like sisters than best friends, but I have to be strong for her.  She lies next to the barely glowing embers of our magical fire, huddled close to Fahaian, who has an arm lightly draped over her in slumber.  Although I’m slightly jealous that Fahaian has her attention, I’m really happy for the two of them.  I want them to be happy, to be together.

     Not far from those two, I spot Uncle Cyrus and Aunt Kitty, in much the same position.  I put a cheek idly on my hand as I observe my sleeping friends.

     Two couples, born to be together.

     The reverie brings my attention to William, curled up next to me.  He’s still asleep, his face showing more peace than he ever shows when he’s awake.  His hand reaches idly for my hip, as he’s obviously dreaming.  I pick up his hand slowly and bring it to my lips, this strong hand of a man who I’ve come to love dearly, even more than I could have ever imagined.

     Last night, he insisted on accompanying me to the entry point of Hell.  I’m glad for this.  I’ll need his strength to walk through the gate.

     There’s hours to go before we’re to meet Gabe at the lake, so I decide to take some exercise.  I stand up, stretch my back, and unfurl my wings.  Gently, so that I don’t disturb the others, I walk out of our little circle, flap my wings, and take to the air.

     The atmosphere of Avalon embraces me like a loving parent.  The air is crisp and clear, the weather perfect, as very few clouds are crossing through the newborn sunlight.  I flap my wings to drive myself higher.  The sky seems so infinite when I’m up this high, calling to me, beckoning me to fly even higher, to touch the sun.  The temptation of Icarus overcomes me, and I reach out to the bright orb in the sky.

     “Are you sure you want to do that?”

     A voice?  This high up?  I heard that, it wasn’t in my brain.  Who could be up here?

     “Others before you have tried to touch the sun, with bad things happening for their effort.”

     I need to know who this is.  The voice sounds like it’s behind me, so I turn in a gentle corkscrew.  I finally spot the speaker, an older man with large, feathery wings spread behind him, flapping in pace with my own.  I raise an eyebrow.  “Am I to assume you’ve tried before?”

     “Every once in a while.  I like to challenge myself.”  He smiles playfully.  “I heard you were here, and I had to come see you.  Let’s talk on the ground.”

     I’d agree to that … a conversation’s a little difficult to conduct while flying.  I follow my elderly companion to an unoccupied meadow, where we alight and land in sync.  My wings curl up into my body; his, though, remain behind him, folded like a bird’s wings.  He’s approaching me now, with his hand extended in a friendly gesture.

     “Hi, pleasure to meet you, I’m Carlos del Aire.  I’ve been here a few days.”  He extends his hand to me.  “I’ve wanted to meet you since I heard about your actions in Chicago.”

     I can feel my face reddening … I really didn’t want a reminder of last year.  “Thanks … I guess?”  I shake his hand firmly.  “Right now, I just want to stretch my wings, get some peace …”

     Carlos narrows his eyes playfully.  “You’re avoiding things, Ms. Sharpe.”

     I wrap my arms around myself.  “Avoiding what?  Nobody else volunteered to go into Hell.  Nobody else was pushing me aside to rescue Dad.”

     He smiles and raises a finger.  “Ah yes, you have stepped forward for this … but now that you have, you don’t want to go.”

     Am I that transparent?  My heart aches right now.  “Yeah … I guess that sounds right.  I’m starting to realize what it is I’ve chosen to do, I guess.  It’s starting to feel like it’s too much for me.”

     Carlos looks playfully confused … does this man take anything seriously?  “But if it’s too much, why choose to do it?”

     I sigh.  “It’s my duty.  I’m the Guardsman, it’s up to me to do this.  No one else needs to take the risk, only me.  It’s my family, after all.”

     “Yes, but …”

     “Is that all you say, things that start with either ‘yes’ or ‘but?’”

     He chuckles.  “Not always.  Sometimes I start sentences with ‘you.’  As in, you need to realize that others see your father as family, as well.  As well as you yourself.”

     That’s the truth … why else would they have come for me at Traverse City last year?  Michi said I needed to figure out that they love me.  I think I know that, but it’s only just now starting to sink in, only now that I’m about to dive into the most dangerous adventure of my life.

     Tears are starting to fall, and Carlos realizes this.  He places a hand … and a wing … on my shoulder.  “Your friends care, Alanna, just as much as you do.  It’s your duty, yes, but you also need to come to terms with your feelings for them, and their feelings for you.  Remember who you do this for.”

     I sniffle and look up at the old man, feeling his feathers tickling my shoulder.  “Dad?  Mom?”

     “Them too, yes, but you also do it for your friends.  You do this for everyone you love.”

     My smile comes gently, as what he’s said sinks in.  I do this for everyone.  Not just myself, not just for my family, but for everyone.  My voice is soft.  “Are you an angel, Carlos?”

     He laughs.  “Oh my no, Alanna, I’m merely an old man from New Mexico.  Real angels are far more subtle than me …” His eyes rise away from me.  I follow where their gaze points and find Gabe, approaching slowly.  I slide out gently from under Carlos’s wing and approach the agent.

     “Everyone’s wondering where you are, Alanna.”  He turns his eyes up.  “Carlos, I’m sorry about this.”

     “Not at all, Mr. Francis, we’ve been having a good discussion.”  He turns toward me.  “Remember what we talked about when you go down, young lady.”

     I smile wider now.  “Don’t worry, I will.  Thank you.”  Gabe puts his arm around my shoulders and leads me away as Carlos flaps his wings and takes to the air once more.

     “Interesting discussion?”  Gabe sounds nosy, but I know he only cares.

     “Quite.  I think I’m ready to go.”

     He smiles.  “Smart girl.”

     Gabe leads me back to the campsite, where everyone else is awake now.  He has a hand on my shoulder as we approach, and he raises his voice to gain everyone’s attention.

     “Folks, this is it.  Where we’re going now very few have ventured before, but not all of you can come with us.”  He squeezes my shoulder as William comes to my other side.  “Alanna, it’s time.”

     There’s a small creek bend near the campsite, and as Gabe speaks I watch the Lady rise out of the water, shimmering in the light of the day.  I take a deep breath.

     This is it.

     My farewell path starts with Uncle Cyrus and Aunt Kitty.  “I want you guys to know, you’ve been wonderful to me since I came to be at the Ranch last year.  I’m so glad to have you in my life.”

     They both hug me, Aunt Kitty at my shoulders and Uncle Cyrus at my waist.  I think Aunt Kitty might actually be crying … I’ve never seen her cry before.  When she speaks, her voice shakes.  “You stay safe down there, girl, and find your dad.”

     My heart is throbbing.  This might be too much emotion, but once the Salems have let me go, I move over to where Julian stands, smiling weakly.  His voice is quiet this morning.  “Does it have to be you?”

     I take a resigned deep breath and nod.  “Absolutely, Julian.  He called to me, and …” I wipe a tear away from my eye.  “… and I’m the only one who can find him, who can save him.”

     He nods, and then wraps his thin arms around me, pulling me tightly to him.  “Find him, Alanna.  Bring him home, so we can get my daughter back.”

     I hug my grandfather as tight as I feel safe doing, clutching to his shirt shakily.  “I will, Grandfather.”

     He’s surrendering to emotion himself.  I release him and gently kiss his cheek, then move over to the last ones I have to see before we leave, Fahaian and Michi.  The prince extends his hand to me.  “Good luck in your quest, Alanna.  May Aten and Zoroaster smile on you as you journey into peril.”

     I’m not satisfied with a handshake.  Instead, I embrace Fahaian, if only to give him a quietly whispered message.  “Be courageous, and take care of Michi.  She’s going to need you.”

     He whispers back, “I will.”

     I release Fahaian and turn to Michi, who I’ve purposely saved for last.  She looks inconsolable … I think she’s been crying the whole time.  I playfully poke her shoulder.  “Don’t be such a baby, Michi … you’d think you were going to school or something.”

     I wink at her.  She giggles gently, though she’s still emotional.  “Come home soon, okay?  We’ll keep your room open for you.”  Even though I know it’s coming, it still knocks me off-balance when she glomps me.  “You take care and find your dad.  We’ll be okay.”

     Now my tears are falling.  I clutch her tightly.  “Michi, if it comes down to it … remember that you’re the best friend any girl could ever have.”

     After what feels like a sad eternity in each other’s arms, I feel the gentle pressure of William’s hand on my shoulder, signaling that it’s time to go.  I release Michi from my grip and back away from the group.

     Something doesn’t feel right here.  I need to say something.

     I clear my throat, but my voice is still a little bit of a hoarse croak.  “Hold strong for me while I’m gone.  Resist.  Fight them to the end.  This isn’t over until the New Empire’s gone.”

     I hold my hand up to wave at them.  They return the wave, and at this point I need to turn away from them and approach the Lady, with Gabe and William flanking me.  A shadow passes over us, and I look up to see Carlos del Aire flying overhead.

     An air tribute.

     I can’t help but smile now.  My attention is now focused on the Lady, who stands with her arms open, kind of expectantly.  “It is time, my friends.  Step into the water.”

     The three of us approach the Lady, stepping gently into the creek bend.  The water penetrates my shoes, but it feels right for some reason, probably because of the Lady’s influence.  We continue to wade until we’re all waist-deep in the creek bend.

     The Lady raises her arms.  “I can only take you as far as the waters will allow.  You will be on your own to reach your destination once you leave my world.”

     “I understand,” I reply.  “Let’s go.”

     The Lady smiles at me, even as her arms cease their human appearance and take on the form of a crashing wave, approaching us.  Engulfing us.  Still, the water doesn’t feel wrong, even though I should fear drowning.  It feels more like comfort … like an unexplainable state of relaxation that washes over me.

     Like floating in the womb.

[thelittlethings66]

After

'Don't look, don't look'. Daryl says to Carol as we stay sitting on the floor, she pushes Daryl off then runs off. I look over at Hershel and his family, all standing there crying over their family. Beth then runs over to her mum laying on the floor. 'Mum, mum'. It then starts moving. We all run over and try to pull Beth off her mum on the floor until Andrea stabs her in head and kills her. 'We've been out. Combing these woods looking for her and she was in there all along!' Shane starts. 'You knew didn't you?' 'Just stop it'. Maggie says. 'Shane, just stop man'. Rick says. 'I didn't know...' 'That's bullshit'. 'Why was she there then?. 'Otis... he put those people in the barn. Maybe he found her and put her in there before he was killed'. Hershel explains. 'You expect me to believe that!'. I stand at the back listening in. 'Oh come on do I look like an idiot'. 'Get him off my land!'. Shane steps towards Hershel and Maggie steps forward and slaps Shane in the face. 'Hey, don't touch him! Haven't you done enough?'. The Greene family head inside and Glenn follows after. 'You just can't help yourself can you?'. I say to Shane. 'What?'. 'Getting involved, look what you did to them. To Beth, seeing her mum like that. You have some serious anger management problems'. 'We had to do it! Those things would have killed us!'. 'Yeah or you will'. I mumble to myself as I walk away.

I go and find Carol who is sitting in the RV with Daryl neither of them saying anything. So I join them sitting at the table. I hold her hand. After sitting there a while Lori walks in 'They're ready. Come on'. 'Why?'. She asks. 'Cause that's your little girl'. Daryl replies. 'That's not my little girl, that's some other... thing. My Sophia was alone in the woods. All this time I thought....she didn't cry herself to sleep. She didn't go hungry. She didn't try to find her way back. Sophia died a long time ago'. She speaks looking out the window. Lori and Daryl both leave but I stay with her.

We bury Sophia. I stand beside her holding her hand once more. We then start to collect all the other bodies to burn them. As I am carrying a body with T I start to feel dizzy and lightheaded. 'You alright?' I hear him ask. 'Ash?' 'Hmmm..'. 'Get her in her tent'. Dale says. 'No, I need to help'. 'We can do it, you have a head injury'. He replies.

I wake up in my tent. Cold flannel on my forehead. Water bottle next to me. Feeling sick. 'Ow..happened again..'. I say to myself. I slowly sit up and drink the water. As I walk out the tent I walk over to Dale. 'Your awake'. 'What happened? Did I faint again?'. 'Yes you did'. Looking around I notice there aren't many people around. 'Where is everyone?' 'Well. Rick and Glenn have gone off to find Hershel, he disappeared into town. And Beth also fainted out of shock we think'. 'Holy shit'. I then notice Lori walking over looking pissed. 'Are you ok?' 'I'm fine'. She carries on walking past me. 'So much drama'. Dale scoffs. 'I'm gonna go and check on Beth'.

I walk off into the house. I find Maggie sitting on the bed next to her sister who is laying there still on the bed. 'Hey, how is she? She doesn't say anything  just starts crying so I pull a chair over and sit next to her. 'She'll be ok. She's stronger than she thinks'. 'Yeah I know, we just need daddy back'. ' Rick and Glenn will bring him back'. She smiles through the tears. 'Glenn told me you know...about us'. 'Yeah I figured it out'. 'He'll be back'. 'I know. It's just before they left I told him I loved him'. I smile. 'I know it's quick but. It's just how I feel'. 'He is cute'. I say. 'Yeah'. She smiles back. 'What did he say back?'. 'Nothing. He just walked off'. 'Oh my god what an idiot. I'm sure he feels the same way, you just I don't know, surprised him. He'll get some advice from Rick, he will sort him out'. 'Hope so. Thankyou Ashley'. 'That's ok. Do you need anything? 'No thank you I'm ok'.  I leave the sisters alone and walk back outside. In the distance I see flames. They have started to burn the bodies.

Later that evening we all go into the house for dinner. 'They should've been back by now'. Andrea says as she walks in. 'Yeah. They just got holed up somewhere'. Shane replies as he sits down at the table. 'We'll head out first thing in the morning'. 'Lori'. Carol calls after her. 'She's not in there'. Maggie replies. 'Carl, when's the last time you saw your mom?'. 'This afternoon'. 'She was worried about Rick, asked me to look in on Carl'. Andrea replies. ' I saw her earlier, looked angry walked straight passed me to her tent'. I say. 'She went after them, nobody panic she gotta be around somewhere'. Shane says. Me and Carol go outside to find Daryl on his own next to a fire. 'We can't find Lori, and the others aren't back yet'. Carol says to him. 'Yeah, that dumb bitch must've gone off looking for 'em. 'What? 'She asked me to go, told her I was done being an errand boy'. 'She asked you cause your the best out there'. He scoffs at me. 'Why didn't you say anything?' Carol asks. 'Don't do this please. I've already lost my girl'. 'That wasn't my problem neither'. He gets up and walks off. 'She asked Daryl to go into town'. Carol says as we get back to the other. 'Must've gone herself'. Carl starts panicking so I give him a hug. 'She'll be ok sweetheart'. Shane walks over to the car and speeds off looking for her.

Shane and Lori eventually make it back. 'Oh my god, are you alright? What happened? Andrea asks as they get out of the car. 'I was in an accident. I'm fine. I'm fine. Where's Rick? There not back? We all stand there quietly. 'Where are they? 'Look I had to get you back here.' Shane says. 'You asshole. He's my husband'. ' Lori, I will go after him'. I gotta make sure your alright, gotta make sure the baby's alright, okay? We all stare at other. 'You're having a baby? Carl asks. 'Why didn't you tell me? ' I...I...' 'Come on lets make sure your alright'. Dale says.

The next morning I wake up and can already hear the guys outside getting ready to go and find Rick, Glenn and Hershel. But as they are about to leave a car is driving up the road towards us. We all run over as the car pulls up. Carl and Lori hug Rick. Maggie runs up to Glenn. Missing her dad. 'Patricia prepare the shed for surgery'. Hershel says as he walks into the house. 'Who the hell is that?' 'T-Dog asks as he points to the car. 'That's Randall'. Glenn replies.

[violetsandfluff]

Concept: You've moved to LA with Charlie but you don't have the means to dress like the girls in his peer group

They make fun of you and Charlie finds out

So he picks some pretty little outfits for you

I'd love to imagine what he'd choose

cewt. you give the best concepts ���😌 but sorry this took a little bit 😬 tw: crying, being upset in general, nudity (not graphic), a bit of smut at the end, and spiders. 😖

“Baby, I wanna go home.”

Your words thudded like bricks into your unsuspecting boyfriend’s ears.

“Why do you want to go home, love?” he asked, eyebrows furrowed in concern. “What happened?”

He had just emerged from the bathroom and been bombed with your request, catching him a little off guard.

“I don’t wanna talk about it,” you answered carefully, feeling tears creep into your eyes.

“Are you sick?”

“No, Char. I just wanna go home.”

Though confused, Charlie agreed and called an Uber to pick you both up and bring you home. After he’d done that, he walked in the room to say goodbye to the friends that had invited him there.

You insisted on staying outside and waiting for the car to come, but in truth you’d just rather be anywhere else.

You stood outside, leaning against the metal railing, staring blankly at the ground until you felt yourself slipping easily into Charlie’s arms.

He burrowed his face in your hair before asking, “What happened in there, sweet girl?”

You didn’t turn around to face him. You couldn’t. You simply stared ahead before saying, “Nothing. I’m just tired. And maybe I don’t feel well.” This wasn’t a lie, of course. The comments had made you sick to your stomach, frankly.

Charlie didn’t push it. He just stood there, silently holding you, until the Uber arrived.

He helped you in before climbing in himself, and the Uber began driving you home in silence.

You spent the ride playing with your hands, picking at your grown-out nails, trying not to bite them while Charlie sat silently beside you.

He didn’t say anything until you got home, but you knew it was coming.

“If you’re sick, baby girl, you can go lie down for a few minutes. I’ll start a bath for us.”

You knew you weren’t sick in the sense he was expecting, but you did as he said anyway. You didn’t bother pulling back the covers, laying on top of them was enough. They were so soft and they smelled like Charlie.

Charlie rustled around in the bathroom as he made the water nice and warm for you. You could almost hear him adding your favorite bubbles to the water to cheer you up.

He called you, but you pretended to be fast asleep so that he would carry you into the water instead, but your plan nearly backfired.

He poked his head into the room from the connected bathroom to see you curled up in the middle of the expansive bed. “Baby, if you’re sleeping, I’m gonna tuck you in and take a bath without you.”

Moments later, you found yourself scurrying to his side, begging for him to pick you up and carry you into the water.

He just gave you a soft smile and pulled you into the bathroom, where he undressed you and sat you down on the toilet so he could undress.

You watched him in awe, feeling more than usual. Usually, you felt lust upon seeing him, and pride that he was yours, but right now you felt unworthy. And it stung.

“What’s that, darling?”

“What’s what?”

“On your face.”

“What’s wrong with my face?” Your hand reaches up to touch your face. Was your makeup smudged? Was there a spider?

“You look sad, princess,” he explained as he scooped you up and lowered you into the water. “Can you please tell me what’s wrong?”

You repeated every word that had been spoken to you while he had ducked into the bathroom for a couple of minutes, and you felt him growing tense beneath you.

“Who said that?”

You repeated the names tearfully, not wanting to upset him further because he was already boiling under the surface.

“Y/N, I can’t believe it. Well, I believe you, but…” he trailed off for a moment to collect himself before restarting. “I—why wouldn’t you tell me? I could have taken them aside and”

“That’s the problem, Char,” you said, your voice giving away your emotional state. “You’re too confrontational sometimes. I just want you to… I don’t know.”

“Babyyyy,” Charlie drawled. “Tell me, please? I want to make it better.”

“I just want you, assuming you even still want me. I don’t want drama. I just want my Charlie.”

“I only want my Y/N,” Charlie said, willing himself not to cry. The tears falling down her cheeks mad him just as emotional. “Fuck all of them. If they don’t want to accept my baby, they don’t accept me either. Easy as that.”

- - -

“Turn around for me, baby. Wanna see that pretty little ass. Make sure it’s covered and perfectly modest, you know.”

“Charlie, since when have you ever wanted me to be modest?” you asked, tipping your head to the side a bit. “Thought you liked seeing my ass.”

“Attention whore,” Charlie cursed. “Turn around, lemme see.”

You turned around, making sure to dance a little bit in front of him. You were wearing a red bikini that he had selected just for you. It fit perfectly. It covered your boobs in all the right places and lifted them up**. Your entire middle was bare, showing off the skin Charlie loved so dearly. On the bottom you wore a matching red piece that didn’t cover anything in the back. Good thing you were going to an adults-only beach.

“Sexy girl,” Charlie murmured as he pressed his finger to his bottom lip. “Try the coverup on.”

You slipped into your sheer black coverup and Charlie gave a satisfied smirk. “That’s my girl.” He watched as you disappeared back into the bathroom to put on another outfit.

He was planning on taking a beach trip with you, and only you, and he had gifted you some outfits to bring along.

They were cute and trendy, but above all sexy, just for him.

The outfit that you were putting on was what you’d wear on the ride and checking into the hotel. It was comfortable and light, but also… sexy. (It was Charlie, what do you expect?)

You emerged wearing a tight white crop top that hugged your chest perfectly, and a pair of patterned pants that accentuated your butt perfectly**.

Charlie broke into a fond smile upon seeing you. “It’s perfect,” he said as he ran a finger across his lips. “Just how I imagined it looking on you. But I have one last thing.” He handed you a small package which he had wrapped in a plastic bag. “Go try it on for me? Please?”

You gave him a confused look, but returned obediently to the bathroom where you opened it in awe. Inside was the most beautiful lingerie set you’d ever laid your eyes on**. You almost didn’t want to put it on, but you did.

Charlie was too big a temptation.

A sheer white fabric covered a thicker bra and panties, and lacy coral trim bordered the seams. There were lacy hearts strewn around the fabric, and your breath caught when you looked at yourself in the mirror. Your first thought was, “I look so sexy.”

Your second thought was, “Charlie’s about to go insane.”

Taglist: @wayfcharlie @fishingirl12

[xxbangchansidedishxx]

Pillow princess Mingi.

Warnings: Smut, forced Feminization, degrading, nipple play, size difference, Bottom Mingi, Top San, name calling, dirty talk, rough sex, creampie, cum eating, pet names, dacryphelia, teasing, butt plugs, cockslut.

-

This is just a Drabble I posted to Twitter and decided to post here.

-Twitter: CherryCh4nnie

-Ao3: PuppyBoyChan

“Do you want it hm?”

Mingi Looked up at the elder with glassy eyes and his face blushed.

A soft whimper leaving his lips when San slipped his lubed up cock between his cheeks, letting it rub against his hole making it twitch and clench around nothing.

“I said do you want it princess?”

The rapper burned up at the pet name feeling his cock twitch. He didn’t trust his voice to speak but he couldn’t take the teasing anymore.

Defeated he squeaked out

“P-please Sannie, want it so bad.”

San just chuckled stopping his movements and instead gliding his hands up the youngers buff body to toy with his perked up nipples.

“You have such pretty tits Darling.”

He would tease squeezing the soft muscle and pressing them together to create cleavage.

The boy below him was squirming and protesting.

He shouldn’t be getting so turned on by this, they weren’t tits he was a man.

But the way Sxn was speaking to him and touching him expertly made heat coil up in his stomach even if he was ashamed to admit it.

“You love it really don’t you princess?I bet you could cum just by me playing with your nipples, maybe next time we can dress you up in a pretty bralette and I can fuck your pretty tits hm?

Would you like that ?”

The thought made Mingi Whimper out loud and his body arched.

He desperately needed to be fucked.

It was cruel for San to tease him like this really but can you blame him?

The sight of the tall buff man falling apart for him was mouth watering.

The way his face flushed, messy hair stuck to his forehead with sweat and plump pink lips hung open as he let out the most sinful deep moans and occasionally whimpers.

The way his body squirmed with need and tears started to fall down his cheeks as he begged and begged to be filled up.

“S-Sannie please I nngh need it s-so bad.”

His voice came out as a desperate plead.

He’d been so good really, so who was San to deny him?

He’d push his cock into the rappers hole agonisingly slowly, feeling the tight warmth suck him in he’d growl low in his throat.

They looked a sight with Mingi’s long legs thrown over the shorter mans shoulders as veiny hands were tightly gripping his waist, definitely enough to bruise to hold him in place.

San would begin to thrust rough and deep, making Mingi Cry out.

He sounded positively wrecked.

Debauched moans and sobs leaving his lips with every thrust.

“Doing so good for me hm? God it was like you were made to take my cock. My perfect little fuck toy. I wonder what people would say if they saw you completely ruined for me?”

San’s voice was low and the lewd words dripped off his tongue.

“Mmh am your good boy S-Sannie, f-fuck feels so good.”

Encouraged, San picked up his pace, now wrapping one hand around the others red leaking cock and jacking him off fast making his back arch and causing him to yell out.

“You’ve got such a huge cock it’s pathetic you could never fucking use it.

I bet you wouldn’t even be able to fuck me if you tried.

Instead you’ll have to make do with me filling you up.

You love having your slutty hole stuffed so much don’t you princess? Bet you never want it to end.”

The dirty words were the last straw for Mingi,with a broken moan his body convulsed as he shot ribbons of cum all over his abs.

Still thrusting into him San would collect some of the cum on his fingers, bringing them up to the panting overstimulated boys soft lips and rubbing them making them all messy before demanding him to suck.

He’d swirl his tongue around the digits, lapping his cum up like it was the best thing he’d ever tasted.

The image was so sinful that with a final thrust San would cum deep inside him, slowly thrusting a few more times to fuck his cum back into him before slipping his cock out, the rapper whimpering at the empty feeling.

“S-Sannie.” He’d pant

“Wanna keep your cum inside.”

God this boy was going to be the death of him.

San would reach in the bedroom draw for

Mingi’s blue jewel plug, rubbing it on his rim teasingly before stuffing it in his hole before any more of his cum leaked out.

The boy would sigh contently, holding his arms out gesturing for San to come and lay his head on his pillowy chest to which the blonde happily complied.

Although they were both sticky and sweaty they were content.

“You did so well for me darling.”

San would say, his voice soft as he props himself up to place a gentle kiss to the others lips, the salty taste of cum still present making his head slightly dizzy.

He’d place his head back on Mingis chest snuggling closer to him, wrapped in his embrace.

With heavy eyes and sleep taking over his body the younger would breathe out a slurred

“Thank you Sannie”

Before the two drifted to sleep.

[father-time-and-baby-new-year]

Hey bestie can u make a eren x reader one shot where eren just won’t let the reader move on🙃

thank u anon for this lovely idea

scumbag!eren x crybaby!fem!reader

WARNINGS: dubcon/noncon, past toxic relationship, slut-shaming, possessive behavior, yandere tendencies,

WC: 1.8k

He pins your wrists against the dingy bathroom tiles with an unrelenting grip, and you swear you've never felt more claustrophobic in your life.

The dark-haired boy eyes the glitter on your cheekbones, the neon-colored eyeliner, the rogue on your lips, and the black satin of your mini dress exposing a substantial amount of plush thighs. He's never seen you like this-never allowed you like this before.

You almost feel like uncharted territory but nothing escapes his observant nature. From the tremble of your lips, and the water starting to collect in your lower lash lines, Eren knows this you. Maybe not who you were pretending to be in the strappy heels, low neckline, and the party-girl masquerade you put on in front of your shallow ditzy friends, but he knows who you really are. Vulnerable. Scared of your own shadow.

"E-eren,' You stammer, "Please let me go." You try not to think about the voice cracks, trying to sound as assertive as you could without meeting his eyes. Eren, of course, thinks you look like a baby mouse. Hopeless and trapped.

"Don’t you miss me?" He mummers into the nape of your neck. You have an explosive No prepared in the roof of your mouth, ready to sound out the single syllable, until his hand, adorned with chunky silver rings, covers your mouth, muffling your whimpers. You could taste the metal.

“It’s a rhetorical question.” He’s smirking, green eyes lit up dangerously under the too-white bright lights, “Let me talk okay? I just want you to listen.”

All you’ve ever been doing is letting him walk and talk over you. And then when you finally got the nerve to stand up for yourself-

“I haven’t seen you the past three months” his low voice interrupts your contemplation, “It’s like you’ve been ignoring me.” He finishes flatly, his thin lips stretched into a line. His multitude of ear piercings catches the light, glinting sharply.

It’s too overpowering, his close proximity after going cold turkey. His presence is like a drag of a cigarette after not smoking for months. Hurts your lungs but the remnants of what you used to feel with the sudden rush of nicotine bubbling up again. Because when all is said and done, you’re still deliriously attracted to him. And you hate yourself for it.

You try to focus on the other sensations, sensations that aren’t busy on the feel of his warm breath or his hands holding yours down. You can still hear the song playing from the club.

All my bitches feel like I dodged the county

Fucking with you feel like jail n——-

Yeah, it really did.

Changing tactics, he holds you by your neck instead, giving your aching wrists sweet relief but that relief is nothing compared to the panic of having his beefy hand on your thrumming pulse.

His grasp wasn’t tight. You could breathe, but it was the kind of tight that let you know he would go tighter if you didn’t listen properly. React properly.

“You’re fucking ignoring me again” he’s practically growling the words out, baring all teeth, “I know I’m pretty difficult to tune out, so I would like to know what the fuck you’re thinking about.”

His hand leaves your delicate throat- his knee between your thighs keeps you in place- to roam down the satin of your dress, the fabric clinging to every curve. You hate how scrutinizing his viridian eyes are, feeling a wave of insecurity wash over the previous hot-girl-summer confidence.

He hated how good you looked on the dance floor, laughing with your stupid friends like you had lost all your inhibitions. Hated that you looked so good, everyone could see it. Hated how you didn't notice his eyes boring holes into you. Do you remember the time how you used to be hyper-focused around him? Aware of every movement, aware of every tonal shift?

And now you didn't even look at him.

"Are you thinking of other guys? I saw you grinding on those men like a slut." He presses his body deeper, "Have you fucked any other guys since we broke up? You must have. I know how slutty your pussy is"

You bite down on his hand. Hard.

You're counting on his reflexes, for him to retract his hand and give you an opportunity to run to the door. But Eren has been fighting for years and predicts your maneuver. With a calculated sidestep, Eren lets go of his hand, before promptly slamming you against the bathroom wall again but this time front-first.

Clouds dance in your vision, and you're sure you would have fallen by now if not for him holding you up. Eren uses this newfound position to his advantage by groping your ass, rutting his dick against your backside.

Deciding to be petty, you let the spite-coated venom escape your pretty lips, "Yeah. I fucked so many boys, and they were so much better than y-"

Anger blinded him. Roughly, he turned you around to face him once more, forcing you to look up at the green-eyed monster. He flipped your dress up, nearly ripping it during the process, shoved your lacy panty aside, and plunged his fingers inside. He felt a visceral sense of validation course through him at finding wetness coating his slender fingers to your utter mortification.

"Liar. I know you haven't been fucking anyone else." His smile is all teeth, pearly white and sharp,

You gulp, feeling sweat beading down your neck and arousal pooling at the bottom of your stomach. Damn yourself.

"You don't know that."

He looks almost feral, green eyes in slits and hair all mussed up, falling out of his usual bun. The top few buttons of his black button-up are left unfastened giving you a gracious view of his smooth muscular chest, and the dangling silver cross-chain.

"No, I do. See a little birdie told me all you've been doing the past few months is crying yourself to sleep, and eating frozen meals. This is the first time you've been out since I broke up with you, huh?" Condescension drips with every word.

He thumbs away the tear falling down your cheek with a mocking kindness and adds, "There, there. Don't cry. Good thing I happened to be here tonight, right?"

You're full-blown crying now, too upset to care if you're smudging your make-up. This is the real you. This is how Eren remembers you.

"Awe, my precious little crybaby, don't worry. You came here tonight looking for dick? I'll give it to you. It's okay," He coos, breath tickling the shell of your sensitive ears. Well, every part of you felt sensitive right now.

You're rubbing your eyes, sniffling, "E-exactly. You b-broke up with me, so why are you here? Why can't you just let me be?"

The dark-haired boy sighs, and with an uncharacteristic softness, leans his head down to press his forehead against yours, and intertwines his hand with yours, noses almost touching.

"To be honest, it was just to teach you a lesson." A soft exhale, "I didn't think you'd actually stay broken up with me." He's crushing your fingers now, "Didn't think we'd be broken up with for real."

Your eyes flash with indignation, feeling your body surge with an emotion you couldn't qualify, "I don't care. Yeah, I was sad but god, you were a terrible boyfriend! I'm so much better off without you. All those lonely nights are still better than any night I've ever had with you!"

You're breathless by the time you're done.

"Done with your little monologue?"*

You can feel your shoulders shaking, and you almost want to laugh from the indecorousness of it all. How could he not care? Was this how little you mattered to him?

"I know you're lying because" Without any preamble, he shoves his fingers inside of you again, finding that spongy spot that made your knees weak, eliciting a soft moan from your downturned mouth, "You're wet. And you want me."

"In fact," an edge of excitement colors his voice, "I bet your insides are still molded to fit my dick."

It's hard to talk when one thumb is violently brushing over your clit, and his tongue is forced into your mouth, drowning any whines of protests. You close your eyes, focusing and unfocusing. A hand snakes up your dress to fondle your tits and tease your perky nipples.

It's just one sensation over another, and your sex-deprived body was welcoming all these feelings with open arms. Eren knows your body like it came with an instruction manual and that manual advised him to bite your earlobe, which was especially sensitive. He knew where on your collarbone you liked to be marked, how hard you wanted your nipples pinched, and how you could ride his face with complete abandon.

But right now, he didn't want to pleasure you. He's coaxed enough orgasms out of you throughout your relationship.

He unbuckles his belt and frees his long slender cock, the head a flushed angry red, dribbling with precum. He lines his full-mast cock to your entrance. Fully alert as to what was about to happen, pretty pleas of "no Eren, please don't, no" are falling out of your mouth, wide starlit eyes dotted with pearlescent tears. He kisses the top of your head like the way he always used to.

And then he thrusts himself inside. You give up so easily, he thinks. Do you even realize how you're swinging your hips on your own accord? How you're wrapping your lush legs around his waist to pull him deeper?

His pace is ruthless, making your head bob up and down. Moans and grunts drown out the music from the club. You're begging him to slow down.

"You're mine. Always mine. Always were. Can't fucking believe you really thought-" He doesn't even finish his thought because a violent shudder rips throughout his body.

Your nails are digging into his back, so sharp it could have been clawed. You could feel yourself right on the edge-

The door shakes to reveal a tall young man with slicked-back blond hair with a frat-boy laugh.

"Holy shit! Eren?!"

fuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuckcufkcufkcufckfuckfuckfuckfuc

Shame burns your face. You have no choice but to cover yourself behind Eren's broad frame. You're just hoping to every god he'll go away, and keep this to himself.

Your dark-haired ex-boyfriend turns around to face the blond, "A little busy here, Porco. Shut the door. I'm uh, getting reacquainted with someone."

"Goddamn. Is that ___" You don't even have to look at Porco to recognize how impressed he was.

"Get out Porco." Eren growls.

The door closes with a loud thud.

You're borderline hysterical at this point begging Eren to get out of you, but his grip on your hips is iron-tight.

Outside you hear stunned gasps, but one phrase stands out to your straining ears: "Yeah, I guess they're back together."

Eren kisses the top of your head once more, "After I fuck you, we'll go home together girlfriend."

----------

* {A/N}: This line "Done with your little monologue?" is inspired by this delicious fic by @hotwings0203.

[finelinevogue]

What if a security guard wouldn’t let you back in the arena if you went out to get something. And they didn’t believe that you were harrys gf and just thought you were a crazy fan

oooh it’s been done before but here’s my version!! ;

You were running late.

It was already 7pm and you were only getting out of your car in the car park. Harry was due to be on stage in an hour and you hadn’t even seen him yet. The traffic around Dallas today has been awful. Chocker block. You’d been with Harry all day, up until 3 hours ago when he had to leave the hotel to come to the stadium for rehearsals. Normally you’d go with him, but you were so tired that you wanted a little nap before coming. The problem here was you overslept.

There were no Ubers available and a taxi would be far too expensive at this time, so you drive in Harrys car instead. You’d been following Harry on tour in his car, so when you get to different destinations you can go out on ball day trips if you want to without the obscenity of a huge tour bus or paying for Ubers everywhere. It was the main reason you were so tired though, travelling across country and into different time zones. It would be so much easier if this was the UK.

You grabbed your purse and your jacket, locking the car as you got out and started running for the backstage entrance. It was easy to make it there and you noticed security guards already standing there.

“Hi!” You smiled, slightly short of breathe. You were about to move past them when one of them shoved your shoulder back, making you stumble back unbalanced. “Wha—”

“ID and backstage pass to get through here.” One of them said, looking you up and down as if you were nothing.

If anything, you were quite shocked on how they just treated and continued to treat you. Normally, Harry would show a picture of you to these backstage security guards to make sure you’d be able to get in no problem, but it seemed like today Harry might’ve forgotten to show that photo. This was going to be a problem for you, because you’d forgotten to bring your backstage pass.

“I normally just go through? I’m Harry’s girlfriend.” You tried talking your way around the situation, not appreciating behind held up so close to show-time.

“Oh you’re Harry’s girlfriend? You must be the 7th one we’ve met tonight.” The security guy laughed and so did his friend, making your blood boil with how annoying they were being. Harry would be so pissed if he heard the way they were treating you.

“No but I actually am.”

“Then, ID and backstage passes.” One of then held out his hand whilst the other crossed his arms over his chest to make him look intimidating. Dickheads.

“I have ID just not the backstage passes.” You answered honestly, holding out your ID for them to check. They collected it and asked you questions on it, you answering them all perfectly.

“Well you definitely know you, but you have no proof you’re supposed to be where you claim to be.” They handed you back your ID and you huffed in stress.

“Well what can I show you? Photos of me and Harry together? Text messages?” You waved your arms around, getting really pissed off that this was actually happening. You’d probably miss Jenny’s whole set because of this and then 15 minutes before show-time Harry gets transported under the stage. So you only really would have half and hour with him, and that’s just not enough time. You wanted a safe and warm hug off him. You wanted a kiss. You just wanted him.

“Everyone knows they can be photoshopped.” One of the guys scoffs at your notion.

“Listen. You either show us your backstage pass or we’ll escort you off site.” The other one says a lot more firmer this time. It made you quite anxious for what you’d do if they did that - or maybe when they did that.

“Well I don’t have the backstage passes.” You sighed, rolling your eyes at the way this was going to end.

“Then let’s go.” One of them pointed to where you came from and to the car park, stepping forwards as he did so.

“I’m not leaving until you let me through those doors. My boyfriend is waiting for me.” You answered, taking a step back in stress of what they might do.

“Harry ain’t your boyfriend. Now let’s go!” They stepped forwards again and reached for you.

You swung your bag at one of them, hitting him in his side and he grunted because of the impact of your water bottle with his chest. The other one grabbed your arm and you couldn’t shake him, since you were not trained in any way for situations like this at all. His fingers dig into your skin and it made you scream out a cry, trying to kick him in any way to escape. The other one recovered ever ordered the guy holding you to escort you away whilst he stayed and guarded the door. The one holding you tugged your arms behind your body and held them tight there, it really fucking hurting. He didn’t care though and continued to walk you, asking you where your car was so he could get you out of here.

Once you reached your car he let you go and you wrapped your arms around you as he walked away again, not verbally saying anything but his eyes saying enough. Stay away. You shakily got your keys out of your bags and unlocked your door, climbing in and just sitting there. You could feel your hands really shaky and achy. Looking down with tear clouded eyes, you saw the red marks over your arms and slight bruising already. Your arms and shoulders hurt from being bent in an uncomfortable position.

You cared less about the pain though and how much of a disappointment of a girlfriend you were going to be to Harry. He was going to think either the worst for you or the worst of you. You reached in your bag on your lap for your phone, throwing your bag on the seat next to you afterwards. You wiped your eyes with the sleeve of your t-shirt and unlocked your phone to text messages, sending Harry a quick text.

To Harry: Are you free to call? x

No response. You sat there for a few minutes in silence, still shook up and teary. That had been a really awful situation to be in and you hated that you were nowhere near Harry to fix it. Your phone vibrated 3 minutes later, finding a text message from Harry. You sighed and felt safe when you saw his icon light up your notifications, knowing he was in contact with you.

From Harry: Of course, you okay? xx

You didn’t open your phone because you didn’t know how to respond. How do you tell him you’re not okay, only 20 minutes before he’s meant to be ready to go on stage? You didn’t want to worry him, but you also didn’t want him thinking you were a terrible girlfriend either.

Another vibration.

From Harry: Lovie? xx

Your eyes watered at that simple word, meaning so much more to you than five letters. It made you feel so much comfort, you only wished you could get that hug and a kiss now.

Again.

From Harry: Love, you’re worrying me now.

From Harry: Let me face-time you, hang on.

His icon lit up the screen; Incoming…

You shakily accepted, wiping your eyes quickly before. When he answered you could tell he was still in his dressing room, sat on the sofa that you wish you were also sat on with him. He looked so beautiful. His hair was perfectly styled and he was wearing a pearl coloured silk shirt and you knew he was wearing white silk pants to co-ordinate. You thought he looked ethereal. A glowing beacon of hope and beauty.

He didn’t say anything to you at first and you nothing to him. He just looked at you and instantly knew something bad was up. He kept eye contact with you and it was as if he was having a telepathic conversation with you, understanding that you needed him and just him.

“Hey, Mitch man?” Harry asked, turning his head to somewhere else in the room. “Could y’just give me a minute. Please.”

“Sure, sure.” Mitch answered and all you could hear was the sound of shuffling and the door shut. As soon as he was gone you started crying all over again. You cupped your hand over your eyes and your body shook as you just cried. Harrys heart broke that you were alone and he couldn’t hug you close to his chest.

“Y/N, baby. Look at me.” He asked urgently and you just shook your head, embarrassed that this was happening to you. “You’ll be alright lovie, I promise. Just look at me, beautiful.” You moved your hand away from your face and wiped your eyes and nose to try and make you look slightly better - not that it helped. “There’s my pretty girl.”

You smiled. He smiled.

“I-i’m so-rry H.” You whispered, sniffling in between words because of how shaky you felt.

“Hey, no. None of that. It’ll be okay.” He reassured you, keeping eye contact with you to try and decipher what was wrong. “Where are you, lovie? You’re in the car, yeah?” Harry asked, recognising your surroundings but you could get anywhere. You could have been in an accident for all he knew, but he was remaining calm so he didn’t send you into a panic.

“Yeah. In the stadium car park.” You saw Harrys eyes momentarily light up at that, before he remembered that you weren’t okay.

“Okay. Tell me why you’re upset, love. Help me understand.” He sounded urgent, just wanting to know so he could help you out. He wanted you to be okay. He wanted you with him.

“The security guards wouldn’t let me in, backstage I mean. I didn’t have my backstage pass. But..” You choked on a sob and Harry told you to just breathe. You were okay. “One of them g-grabbed me and escorted m-me of sight.”

“Baby, are you hurt? Is that why you’re upset?” Harry asked, standing up now in panic. His face looked angry, but you could tell he was trying his best to be a comfort for you. “Y/N?”

“Y-yes. Yes Harry, yes.” You voice wobbled out and you let out an exasperated sob. “I’m s-sor—”

“No don’t you dare. Don’t apologise for this. Not ever. You understand me?” He made very clear he wasn’t messing around.

“Yes.” You nodded.

“Alright. Now, you gotta be strong for me okay?” He asked, before asking, still checking that you were okay. He knew you would be though, because you were his bravest girl ever - stronger than you knew.

“Okay.”

“You’re going to make your way back to the backstage entrance, alright? I am going to be there, before you get there. Those security guards won’t be there I promise. You’ll be okay. Can you do that for me?” He asked, moving around the room and then out of the door. He was walking down the corridors, ignoring the people shouting his name. He was only focused on you.

“Yes. Okay.” You nodded, wiping under your nose again.

“I love you.” He kissed the camera of his phone, looking like he was kissing you instead.

You returned the gesture, kissing him virtually back. “I love you.”

He told you that it’d be alright and then ended the call, explaining how you didn’t need to hear him get angry when he found these security guards. They would be fired even if they weren’t on his tour crew, he’d make sure of it. You made your way back to the backstage entrance again, slowing down before you rounded the corner. Taking a deep breathe you walked around and were met with exactly what Harry promised; him.

You smiled and broke out into a run to get to him, your bag weighing on your shoulder. Once you reached him your bag was thrown on the floor in front of him and you jumped into his arms. He lifted you up to sit you around his waist, keeping his arms tight around your waist and squeezing the biggest hug out of you. Your arms tightened around your boyfriends neck and you buried your face into his neck, and god he smelt like everything homely and sweet. He felt just like home.

“See, you’re alright now lovie.” He assured you, kissing your cheek that wasn’t quite buried into his neck.

“Th-ank you.” You muttered, kissing his neck in appreciation which made him hum in delight. He tasted so hot and lush. He was insatiable. You then felt him start kissing your arms, where the harsh red and purple marks were.

“Sorry y’had to go through this.” He kept kissing your arms, until you moved your head up and looked at him with furrowed eyebrows.

“If I can’t say sorry, then neither can you.” You shook your head, kissing his nose softly. You watched his eyes flutter close and felt so special that only you could do that to him.

“You’re so amazing Y/N. Truly.”

“You’re pretty special too, my love.”

He didn’t need to hear anything else from you, those words were enough, so he pressed his lips to yours softly, filling you with the love you’d been waiting to feel all day. You smiled into the kiss and he just felt so amazing. He was so soft and gentle with you - as smooth as the silk that dressed his body. He was so pretty to watch melt away under your spell and delicious tasting. Strawberries, was that?

He was everywhere. He was everything. He always would be.

[rjhpandapaws]

Through Cracks in the Stone

This is my first foray into Sidlink, and writing for BotW but I am excited about it. I belted this out on my 30 minute break at work yesterday.

//CW: For implied Suicidal ideation, as well as low self worth

Link was a great many things; as Sidon had learned; strong, resilient, kind, gentle, and unfailingly generous; just to name a few. And so very, very broken. It seeped out of him like winter runoff through the cracks in a partially eroded stone. Tiny trickles at a time. In silences that have stretched just this side of too long, even for him. In quiet sighs that could barely be heard and still shook Sidon like thunder. The tears his beloved Hylian hero would shed when he believed he was alone. Things that Sidon was certain he was the only one to notice. It hurt him to see that Link was in this much pain, and hadn't spoke a word of it to anyone as far as Sidon was aware.

Perhaps it was his old knight's training that kept him from voicing what was clearly eating at him. Or maybe now that his job had been completed he felt that those who had stood with him through Ganon's fall and all it wrought on Hyrule would no longer care. That particular train of thought made something sharp and bitter blossom in Sidon's chest. He pushed it aside, because he knew it wasn't true. He cared for Link, dearly, more than was probably wise in fact. So that couldn't be the reason; unless of course; Link didn't know.

Sidon was fairly certain he had made it clear that he was Link's friend. So why then? Why wouldn't Link come to him with his troubles? Goddess knows Sidon had confided in him often enough. Even if he couldn't help, having someone to just listen might ease his burden some. It always helped Sidon at the very least, Link's advice wasn't the best, but it was nice to have. He planned on bringing it up the next time he saw Link. He didn't plan on the next time he came across Link to be so soon. While he was seated by the water, looking into it like it held the answer to the sorrow in his eyes. Sidon crested the water slowly, and winced at Link tried to force a smile into place. "You know you can tell me anything," He said in way of greeting, "Right my dear friend?" Link only stared at him from where he was perched on the rock. He lifted his hands to sign only to hesitate for so long that Sidon feared he wasn't going to say anything at all. 'I Know.' He signed, 'Nothing is Wrong.'

Sidon wanted to scream out the frustration that built in his chest, he didn't though, that would only push Link away. He took a breath to collect himself and tried again. "You have been alone for so long." Sidon pressed carefully and slowly moved closer to the shallows though he took care to keep himself submerged to keep the heat off his scales, "You must be used to hiding your troubles, but you don't have to anymore, not from me." He sees the exact moment what he said sank in. The hesitation and fear that fills those usually depthless blue eyes and his heart breaks. Being a hero surely must be a lonely path. His hands are shaking when he picks them up to sign again, 'I Have Nothing Left.' His movements are small, like a whisper, 'I Did What I Was Made For. Now There Is Nothing Left. With Hylia Appeased I Am No Longer Needed.' A quiet sob rattled through Link and he put his hands down and looked away from Sidon, perhaps to try and hide this moment of weakness.

"You're wrong!" Sidon doesn't mean to shout and flinches when he hears his own desperate cry echo back at him from the rocks, he chases it with a whisper, "I need you." Link doesn't smile, but something gives. The stone wall he hides behind cracks just a little more giving room for something to grow. They haven't scratched the surface of what is hurting Link, but it's a place to start, and that is all Sidon needs.

[no-droids]

Kar’taylir

gif credit @sersi​

Part Thirteen of the Rough Day Series

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 11.8K

Warnings: language, angst and fluff, descriptions of a dead body, no real smut in this one but there is some nudity and touching, uhhh i think thats it tbh

A/N: Omg hi hi hello this was written in a week and a half so please be gentle, also I’m back on my linguistics bullshit and I can absolutely guarantee a vast majority of it is inaccurate

***

Everybody is asleep and you’re just a complete mess.

Truly.  And it fucking sucks, because this should be enjoyable.  This is home.  You’re in hyperspace, the hull is pitch black, the baby is asleep, and Din’s breathing is slow and quiet through the darkness.  Your cheek presses to his chest as it rises and falls hypnotically, you’re comfortable and safe and this would normally be a dream.  But your eyes are wide open right now and you are just going through it.  Spiraling in the midst of the most stable surroundings you could possibly conceive.

You suppose that this is partially your fault.  You don’t know why literally any part of you expected Din would explain himself without prompting from you, but you still couldn’t work up nearly the nerve necessary to ask.  Every potential question you came up with contradicted your intent, every way you tried to mentally phrase it gave off the wrong impression.  How do you ask somebody if they were being serious about something without revealing anything about your own intentions?  You can’t—that’s a downside of staying silent.

Din hasn’t said a single word since he urged you to leave the shooting range earlier, and he didn’t really seem like the quiet didn’t suit him, if that makes sense.  Yours was awkward, it fit you wrong.  You struggled for words while he easily ignored their existence altogether, able to navigate the Crest into hyperspace and exist comfortably around you without ever addressing the giant bantha in the room.  Maybe that’s part of the reason you floundered so hard—he didn’t avoid you, he held the kid while you took a shower in the small fresher, and even though he was quieter around you than he’d been in awhile, he gave no indication that anything was wrong at all.

You spent that time getting clean but also formulating some sort of plan.  As you bathed in actual water for the first time in a week and scrubbed your body clean, you tried to figure out at least why you were having so much trouble coming up with something to say, but even then, words evaded you.  You spent the entire time staring blankly at the metal wall, at a complete fucking loss.

When you came out of the fresher with wet hair and comfortable clothing to sleep in, Din was armorless and resting in your makeshift bed on the floor, the baby tucked soundly in his crib next to him.  You turned off the lights and carefully found your way under the blankets next to him in the pitch blackness, feeling him lazily reach around you and pull you to rest against his chest.  His fingers gently drew circles along your arm for maybe the first few minutes while you worked up the nerve to speak.  You needed to say something, this was your chance—

But then his hand soon fell to rest in one place on your shoulder and he passed out.  Helmet on, not even a few minutes of your quiet breathing next to him.

So now, you’re here, just… a little ball of stress in the middle of paradise.  Hours have passed, you need sleep after such a physically exhausting week but it’s like you haven’t even processed the fucking proposition he presented to you yet.  You’re having trouble even thinking the words, that’s how much he’s got you fucked up.

He said… hit the target and I’ll ma…. hit the target and I’ll marrrrr…

Fuck.  You stay on that loop for ages until your eyes begin to grow heavy, until you just settle on thinking about it with them closed.  Slow breaths from Din under one ear, the silence of hyperspace all around you—how are you supposed to contemplate when his body is so warm?  No, you can ask tomorrow, you’ll ask him tomorrow.

Eventually, you’re able to drift off into a troubled slumber, dreaming of bells made of beskar that deafen anyone who rings them.

***

You wake up what feels like two minutes later.

It’s not, but you don’t know that.  You’re so warm and the second your eyes open, they start stinging and burning and tearing up like your body just wants to cry for even being awake right now.  You finally got to sleep—you moan pitifully and start to turn your head further into the warm blankets, but then a gloved hand smooths your hair back and a voice whispers quiet through the darkness.

“I have to go.”

And oh, his touch is just the gentlest thing, but what he says makes your already fragile mental state want to shatter.  The first words he gives you in hours and they’re the ones you loathe to hear the most.

“W-Wha?  No,” you whimper and automatically reach for him, your throat starting to close up.  Maker, you’re so tired, you’re so tired, you feel so fucking emotional and vulnerable right now and you’re not even awake enough to realize it.  “Why?”

Din just catches your hands and brings both of them together in front of him, slowly pressing your knuckles to the cold beskar on the face of his helmet.

“I meet with Karga in three days,” he murmurs back, voice pillow-soft and barely loud enough to come through the steel under your fingers.  It’s gentle and lulling and it makes you want to sleep again, but you can’t and you feel like you could burst into tears for that reason alone.  “He gave me four pucks, I need four bodies.”

You can’t argue with it, the logic is perfectly sound.  But you still want to, and everything inside you revolts at the thought of allowing him leave like this without fighting for more.  Which means you have absolutely nothing reasonable or compelling to say to appeal to him; all you’re left with the glaring truth.

“But I don’t want you to leave,” you whisper, tightening your fingers.

And, perhaps if you were even half-conscious, you’d wince.  You’d cringe at the shake in your voice, you’d remind yourself that he has to make a living, he’s said it over and over again.  If you were completely awake, you’d scold yourself for being such a needy mess, but right now, all you can think about is how much you want him to stay, just this once.

After a moment, you feel the gloves carefully collect both of your hands into just one of his, and then he slowly reaches out with his free hand to cradle your jaw.

“I won’t be gone long,” Din murmurs.  “I can’t be.”

Your head turns slowly in his palm, and you’re just so, so sleepy.  Your voice is small and your words slur.  “Stay with me.”

Quiet, and though you can’t see him, the leather continues to press so warm to your cheek.  Your eyes slowly drift shut, needing him to stay exactly like this, stay right here just like this.  Karga can wait, the quarry can wait, the galaxy can wait—everything else can wait when things are like this, when he’s looking down at you breathing slow into his palm.

You’re almost asleep again when you hear him say something.

But… you have no idea what he says.  You hear it.  You hear his voice come through the pitch black, quiet enough to sit just on top of the silence and let the mysterious words simply become a part of it, but it’s strange.  Like his cadence lilts in a different way, the vowels are longer than what you’re used to, and your comprehension abruptly falters like it would if he was speaking another language altogether.

Maybe it’s just because it’s the first thing to pull you back from the edges of sleep, that has to be right.  It doesn’t sound like Basic because your mind is stupid and slow right now.  You need to ask him to repeat himself, but all that you can muster is the soft sound of confusion, not even able to open your eyes anymore.

His hands pull away from you and once again, you suddenly can’t decide between sleep and crying, quickly lifting and trying to reach out for him in the darkness.  You can’t feel anything, it’s like he’s completely disappeared from where you assumed he’d be, except then something tiny is placed into your hands instead and it makes an unhappy little sound at being disturbed.  You automatically hold the baby close to your chest and strong hands touch your shoulders, urging you to lay back down again.

“Leave the engine running, you’ll freeze if you don’t,” he mutters, quickly tucking the blankets up under your body while you close your eyes and feel the tears wet your lashes.  Fuck, you’re so exhausted, you just need to sleep.  “If I’m not back in sixteen hours, I’ll use my e-comm and you’ll have to fly out to me.”

He steps away from you, walks quickly and with purpose to the side of the hull, and a blast of frigid air fills the room before the door is slammed shut behind him.

***

Your head hurts.

Sparks and wires give your fingers mean, zapping reminders to pay attention every time your focus slips, but you still feel like you’re in a daze.

“Come on,” you drone, trying to use your voice to snap yourself back into the present, but the sound of it isn’t even interesting enough to pull you away.  “Come on.”

Maker, you’re going fucking crazy.  Is this just all an elaborate scheme to make you experience the same kind of insanity he told you he struggles with in your absence?  Because you don’t like this—you hate feeling like this, you can’t concentrate on anything and even if he hadn’t instructed you to do so, you’d likely still be counting the hours of his absence.

Fourteen have passed so far, not the sixteen you’re waiting for but getting close.  It’s one thing you’ve been able to accomplish.  Counting.  You can still count right now, so at least there’s that.

Oh, and another hoop you’ve jumped through.  Understanding words.  You can listen and repeat, even if you still can’t fully comprehend, but you’re getting there.

Din said… hit the target and I’ll marry you.

He said that.  Yep.  You’ve accepted it, you’ve accepted the words that were said.  Indeed.

Okay, but now… like…

What did he mean by that?  Why did he say that?

No matter how much you tell yourself he was just messing around—no matter how many times you offer up that perfectly logical answer to the burning question you’ve been sitting on, you still aren’t satisfied with it.  Something keeps tugging your mind back to it, a tether constantly pulling you away from the work that’s designed to be your distraction.

You frown down at the box of machinery.  Whelp, if he was serious, he’d probably immediately take the offer back after witnessing your behavior this morning.  You embarrassed yourself terribly, you acted like a clingy baby in the looming shadow of unconsciousness and what’s worse, you can’t even remember what he said after you begged him to stay.  It could’ve been a quiet, “Stars, pull yourself together,” for all you know.

And honestly, just… fuck these electronics.  You’re at the point where you’d probably cheer on whatever brutal impact damaged them so atrociously if you weren’t also well aware that this box was very likely attached to Din’s chest when it was crushed.  The magnetics are a complete mess, and you’re mostly just attempting to see how the individual components of each piece are supposed to communicate.  Turning the switch on doesn’t do much at all besides make the capacitors put out heat.  Not enough to shut it down or be a hazard to the housing when you close it, but enough to know that it’s going to present a problem for you at some point.

What’s more, you’re so lost in your own thoughts and busywork that you don’t see two green ears poking out over the top of the pile of armor on your temporary workstation (literally just the floor) until one of the thigh braces comes clattering down and the whole thing collapses with a ruckus.

You suddenly shove the metal box away from you in frustration and you reach for the little troublemaker with a sigh, scooping him up and getting to your feet.

“This isn’t going to work,” you grunt to him, hearing your words better for some reason when you direct them at the baby instead of talking to yourself, and his eh? allows the thoughts to come clearer and easier.  No, you can’t be distracted when your distraction is just another part of your status quo, you can’t use fixing mechanics to occupy yourself because it’s what you’ve done to occupy yourself your entire life, it’s worn off at this point.  You need something newer.  Something that takes your entire focus to do.

Eventually, your eyes drift over to the one metal panel on the wall that you’ve rarely ever opened.  One that takes up a comparatively enormous amount of space in the hull considering what you know it holds.  You eye the kid in your arm, who suddenly has sneaky painted all over his expression.  “You thinking what I’m thinking, demon?”

He squeaks his affirmative and you move over to the armory, pressing a few buttons before the doors slide open by themselves.  Because of course Mando invested in hydraulics for the gun closet but not for the hidden cot he used to sleep on, of course.

“Maker above,” you groan as the metal slides open, needing to lift your chin to eye the enormous collection.  How many fucking…?  All this for just one person?  What does that big one in the middle do that the others stacked strategically around it don’t?  They all kill whatever you point and shoot at, you’re assuming?  Are you missing something?

The baby makes a tiny sound of awe as you carefully look over your choices, not expecting nearly this many to be offered, before settling on one that looks the simplest.  A sleek silver one that’s still too big for your hand but smaller than anything else on the rack.

Grabby fingers reach out for the shiny metal as soon as you remove it from the shelf and you very purposefully set it down out of his pitiful wingspan.  “Nope.  Now come on, gotta bundle up.”

You make your way back over to the bed and pull one of the thickest blankets up, settling it over the open shield and then situating your partner in crime in his usual spot inside.  You strategically stuff and stack the fabric around him to make sure he’ll be warm enough in what you know has to be far below freezing temperatures, lifting it up over his ears and wrapping it around his neck in a loose hood.  He blinks up at you with gigantic eyes and an open mouth, clearly thrilled about your willingness to go on an adventure with him this time instead of being the tall nuisance that consistently holds him back from one, and you scoff down at him as you partially close the lid on his levitating nest of blankets for extra protection.  He should be warm enough, you’re not going to be outside long.

And then you pull out nearly half the amount of clothes you own and suit up in what feels like ten layers before grabbing the blaster.  The swirling wind nearly shoves the heavy hull door into you as soon as you open it and—Maker.

You look back at the kid behind you for a second, wondering if it’s too late to change your mind.  His expression narrows and he makes a triumphant ha! while pointing three fingers at the grey blizzard through the small open space in his crib.  Try as you might, you can’t ignore a call to arms when delivered with such ferocity.

Both of you step outside and take in the view after you wrestle with the door to haul it shut.  You don’t know the name of this planet but from what you can see, it’s one giant ice ball, mountainous and cold as fuck.  Though, to be honest, your only indication that it’s truly cold as fuck is the continuously accumulating snow blanketing the landscape and the flurries dancing in the whipping wind.  You’re too warm-blooded for climates like these—anything below room temperature and you’re freezing, you have absolutely no tolerance for cold whatsoever.

Keeping that in mind, you don’t travel far at all.  Just a few steps beyond the entrance to your shelter before eyeing what appears to be a large white boulder in the distance.  There’s a solid target, you figure—you’ll be able to see chunks splintering off when you hit it and the ice isn’t strong enough to bounce plasma back, you won’t have any ricochets.

Okay.  Okay—safety, where’s the safety on this one?  Ah, yes, okay—safety, off.  Stance, find your stance.  There it is.  Alright, now lift.  Lift, get that stupid frozen ball right in your sights, line it up.  Hold.  Hold.  Hold.

Inhale, exhale.  Inhale, exhale—

Fire.

You watch with bated breath as the bright red bolt launches from the end of the barrel and travels across the distance before melting a hole in the snow just to the right of your target.

“Mother fucker!”  You yell into the frigid landscape without warning, suddenly infuriated.  What’s the point of even having a sight if every gun is just gonna say fuck you no matter what?  Could there be some sort of mathematical reason why you seem to be fucking atrocious at this, you wonder?  Are you fucking up the angle somehow while trying to read the scope?  Should you just ignore it and try to aim without thinking too hard?

Admittedly, you spend the next five minutes shooting at that stupid fucking thing, not making a single shot.  It’s not been long at all, but your entire body is already trembling uncontrollably and it is just too fucking cold out here.  Freezing your fucking ass off isn’t going to help your aim of course, but it’s almost just tragic at this point.  Either you’ve got to accept that you’re just absolutely hopeless at this, or you’ve got to… blame the little womprat behind you for messing up your shots, yeah.  It wouldn't surprise you.

As a last ditch effort, you consider trying something a bit ridiculous to see if he really is fucking with you.

“I’m firing one last shot,” you call out loudly over the sound of the bristling wind and flurries, making sure he can hear your narration from his little blanket cave behind you.  “If I hit the target… I will present our demon overlord with a chunk of raw meat later for dinner.”

You give the offer a moment to sink in before raising the blaster, and then you jerk it up at the very last second while pulling the trigger.  The arc of plasma quickly disappears into the gloomy skies over the top of the ice boulder, completely straight.

You switch the safety on and turn around to say something smart to him, but… well.  Uh.  That’s an empty crib.

Sudden panic rips through you at the sight of the wide open shield, the blanket left abandoned inside.  Your head whips around in horror, wondering where the fuck he could’ve gone—but then you’re able to spot tiny footprints in the snow.  Your eyes quickly follow them up and see the baby wading his way up a large hill, slow against the terrain and trying in vain to get to something at the very top.

You drop the blaster and bolt through the blizzard to get to him while calling out through the freezing air and wishing, not for the first time, that you had a name to roar and strike fear into his tiny little heart.  In this case, you prefer a middle name as well.

Finally reaching him and yanking him up from the snow, you tuck him under the warmest part of your arm and open your mouth to start venting the terror from your body, but he makes a distressed noise and starts climbing.  You fumble with him on your way back down, not expecting that response, but he’s so distraught and preoccupied that he’s unable to stay still, trying to find different ways of escaping your grasp and making more and more sounds to indicate something is wrong.

“What the fuck are you—” you stuff him into the shield and at least get the blankets wrapped around him before looking back and trying to spot whatever he’s still wiggling and attempting to get to.  Frustrated cries start filling the icy air and… okay.  “Okay,” you tell him, your breath puffing like smoke in front of you, “okay okay, we can go look, but you need to stay warm.”

You clutch the edge of his metal shield and urge it to follow you back up the snowy hill, feeling the crunch of your feet disappear further and further into it as you climb.  Your outer two layers are probably soaked by now—stars, it’s so fucking cold.  You know you’re not exactly the best judge, but you’ve been outside less than five minutes and you’re already worried about getting sick or frostbite, already jumpy and wanting to go back to the warmth of the hull.

But as you reach the top and look out in the distance, you can just barely make out a familiar metallic glint on the horizon.  

Your heart picks up, but the baby makes another distressed sound.  Not… happy, not thrilled that his dad is coming back.  Some strange sort of dread begins to fill you, carefully holding the kid in his shield with one hand and looking at the bright reflection of light a little ways away just to make sure it’s…

No, it’s not moving.  Not disappearing and reappearing, not catching the sunlight differently.  Completely stationary in this absolutely horrendous weather.

You immediately make your way in that direction, your body deciding to outright abandon its trembling in the wake of this newfound worry.  You’re suddenly sweating, way too warm.  That’s Din, you recognize the glint of his armor anywhere, but why isn’t he moving?

The closer you get, the faster you move and the more you’re able to see.  He’s laying facedown in the snow.  There’s quite a bit of it covering the back of his cape, maybe a few inches, and… there’s also someone laying equally as lifeless behind him.  Your heart is slamming now, you’re doing your best to run in the unforgiving terrain, and you finally see that it’s… a corpse, a frozen corpse is behind him with a rope tied around its ankles, clutched tight in Din’s unmoving fist as it lays against the pure white backdrop.

“Mando?”  You call out, dropping to your knees as soon as you reach him.  “Hey—hey, can you hear me?”

The beskar strapped to him is frozen over and feels colder than ice when you try to shake him.  He doesn’t respond.  He’s dead weight; you do your best to turn him over on his back, but you still get nothing from him.  You shove your trembling fingers up under the helmet, and the only reassurance you have that he’s even alive comes from the petrifyingly slow pulse beating underneath.  His skin is ice cold.

Shit, he’s still breathing but he’s hypothermic, you have to get him back to the Crest right fucking now.

You fumble to get in position above his head while hooking both your arms under his, before leaning everything you have into it—but fuck, he’s so heavy.  You can barely lift him even just a few inches off the ground—the snow is deep, his armor makes him weigh a ton and the fabric wrapped around him is sopping wet.  You try again, making a tight sound in your throat while you haul, but it’s no use.

“Fuck,” you curse, starting to panic even fucking harder.  You’re gasping and breathless and getting dizzy and scared, continuing to try and find different angles to heave—

—until suddenly the burden is lifted.

You nearly fall backwards on your ass at the abrupt removal of tension, playing tug-of-war with a team that decided to give up with no warning.  But it’s like it almost doesn’t even phase you; you don’t even look behind you to see the baby’s eyes closed tight in concentration, you just recover and pull with both arms, feeling Din’s body gliding easily along the snow now and leading him all the way back down the hill.

Once you get inside the Crest and shut the door to the raging blizzard behind the three of you, there’s an extended moment where you just… you don’t know what to do.  You know all about how to deal with heatstroke, but this is the opposite—he either spent too long in the cold, or he exhausted himself trying to get back too quickly and then spent too long in the cold.  He said he’d use his e-comm if he wasn’t back in sixteen hours—was that the cutoff?  The point where the temperature outside would shut his body down and he’d need you to come get him?

Regardless, you need to warm him up.  Yes, that’s your priority, and you figure the quickest and safest way to accomplish it has to be the shower in slow increments.  The kid helps you move Din into the tiny fresher in the hull and then you sit on the floor with him, holding his limp body to your chest while reaching up to turn the faucet on.

Cold water sprays down and then suddenly—oof, he’s heavier than fuck again.  Air leaves your lungs and your neck cranes back under the unexpected increase in pressure on top of you to see the kid climbing down from his shield, no longer focused on mentally bearing most of his father’s weight or directing his own hovering form of transportation along behind you.  The baby disappears out of sight and you huff, completely trapped under Din as freezing water rains down on you.

Fuck, it’s so cold.  It’s way too fucking cold for you, but your core body temperature is also mostly normal right now.  Din’s isn’t, you’ll probably shock his system if you try to warm him up too quickly.  So you reach up and twist the knob, keeping it at a temperature he’d probably find just the slightest bit warm while inspiring violent shudders from you.

“H-Hey, I’m gonna t-t-take this off, o-okay—” you stutter down at him, knowing damn well he isn’t conscious to hear you but giving him that reassurance on the small chance he is, and then reach with trembling fingers to work at his armor.  You worry that the beskar is keeping the cold trapped the same way his clothes are, like having solid pieces of ice strapped to his body and nothing to protect him besides a few layers of soaking wet fabric.

The chestpiece comes off and you throw it blindly over your shoulder into the hull with a clang—admittedly, without thinking about where the baby is at all anymore.  The pauldrons come off next, but not before you reach up and turn the heat up just the slightest bit.  Your jerky limbs just want to blast it and remove the rest of his clothes in steamy hot water, but you can’t.  Even though your mind is hurtling at a thousand lightyears an hour, whatever reason you have left reminds you that you have to be patient or risk losing him entirely.

Eventually you’re able to get all the armor off but you hate the way he’s breathing right now.  Slow and shallow, like he just doesn’t really need the air at all but his body is still fighting for it on instinct.  His chest barely moves with it even when it’s got nothing weighing it down.

“You’ll b-be okay,” you say aloud, talking to the both of you even though only one is capable of responding.  “Y-Y-You’ll be o-okay—”

You reach up to inch the temperature a little higher, shivering terribly now.  His body feels slightly warmer under the shower than it did with the beskar, but you know you need to keep going and take the fabric off now.  Maker, it’s nearly impossible—the black clothing clings to his skin and its such a small space to maneuver, but it gives your mind and hands a clear goal to focus on while the water incrementally heats up.

Strangely, your adrenaline has been rocketing for so long that you almost lose track of time.  You just keep deadly focused on your task of undressing him and slowly heating the shower, trying not to think, trying not to get in your head and bring about disaster in such a crucial set of moments.

At some point, the water is warm.  Comfortably warm, and Din’s body isn’t ice cold anymore.  It’s warm, too, laying back into your chest and naked besides the helmet, but he’s still not moving.  No response, no matter how much mindless drabble you supply, no matter how steamy and hot the shower has become, no matter how much your own body has heated up.  Your fingers have found their home under his jaw, pressed right to his pulse point and feeling it continue to beat slow and faint, but you’re starting to feel the terror set in.  Real terror, the kind that makes you stupid and emotional, the kind that turns you back into a child again.

“I don’t know if it’s working,” you suddenly choke out, close to tears.  He’s warm, what else can you do for him?  Why is he not waking up?  “I-I don’t know what to do, Din, I…”

No—no, you cannot lose your shit, not yet.  You will exhaust every fucking option before you let that fear set in.  He’s not waking up because he needs to recover, his body needs time to work things out in a warm, comfortable environment.  He’s breathing, his heart is beating, he’s warm, and he’s still with you, so… you need to still be with him.

You turn the water off and clumsily get up, grabbing him under the arms and hauling him back into the hull.  He’s still heavy but it’s so much easier than before to move him; there’s no armor weighing him down anymore besides the helmet, no cape or snow or friction to catch him, no cold to lock your muscles up.  It’s slow going but you’re finally able to settle him in the warmth of your shared bed and then cover his body in the collection of blankets you’ve amassed.  You stand up and peel off all your wet layers of clothing, letting them plop to the metal floor while glancing around for the kid—

—who is currently swinging from the ladder to the cockpit with one hand.

It startles you for just a moment, just long enough for you to wonder what the fuck he thinks he’s doing up there, but then you figure that if he found some way to get up there then he can surely find his way back down again.

As you quickly drop to the bed and scoot up next to Din’s limp body under the blankets, the Crest’s engine suddenly gives a low rumble below the floor and heat starts blowing through the hull vents.  Again, you’re too preoccupied to even notice the gift much.  You’re tugging and tucking blankets around him and up under the metallic edge of his helmet when...

Maker, you need to take this off.  If the inside is wet, it’s probably keeping his head cold while the rest of him is warm from the shower.  You know it’s not a light thing—you know… you know at least a fraction of what this means.  You won’t look, you won’t look unless something absolutely drastic happens and it’s completely unavoidable, but you need to take his helmet off.

You catch the shoulder furthest from you and tug at his heavy body until he’s on his side, facing you on the bed.

“Din, I have to take your helmet off,” you warn him, saying it slowly and clearly.  Again, just in case.  “I’m not gonna look.  Nobody is gonna look—” your gaze flicks behind him to eye the baby, who is now somehow on the metal ground and waddling up to you both.  He blinks enormous black eyes at you, looking between you and his father huddled together under the blankets.

“Close your eyes,” you tell him very seriously, no room for negotiating.  “I know you understand me.”

It takes just a few seconds before he lifts his hands up and does exactly what you say, placing his fingers over his closed eyelids and then even so much as toddling around to face the wall.  You gasp in relief, clenching your eyes firmly shut and then pulling the helmet up, making sure you catch his head before it falls with one hand while tossing the beskar somewhere in the hull with the other.

Cold.  His hair is soaking wet and so cold, and his head rolls slightly as you guide it to rest in the warmest part of your neck.  Your hand stays attached to the back of it, wanting to transfer every single bit of warmth from your palm to him, and your eyes open to the kid’s back as your other arm wraps around Din’s bare spine.

And then all at once, you just feel… helpless.  He’s in your arms but Maker, you don’t know what else you can do.  The heat is blasting, you’re warm and pressed against him under multiple blankets, the engine is slowly heating the metal floor, but his breathing.  Slow.  Shallow.  Barely able to be felt against your neck.  He’s here but he’s not.  And you have no way of knowing if he’s getting closer or further away from you.

Tears start coming before you even realize.  But you have nothing to say.  After spending the entire time talking out loud, providing reassurances, narrating, distracting yourself—you don’t have anything anymore.  The silence twists you tighter, the nothing becomes inescapable, and the sudden sob that leaves you echoes hauntingly throughout the hull.  You pull his limp body as close to you as possible for comfort.  Wake up.  Wake up.

Your vision is watery—you don’t see it.  You don’t see the kid slowly turn around and take a few steps forward.  You only notice he’s there when green catches in the abstract blur, but you sniff and blink quickly to clear it.  It only takes a second to see the baby’s hand, extending and pressing against the blanket covering Din’s back, and you watch with wide eyes as he closes his.

And then there’s a second.  A second where you dare to hope.  Where you wonder if it’s even something that can be done.

The kid lowers his hand just a moment later and stumbles back a few steps, before plopping down on the ground and slowly falling backwards.  You have just enough time to see his little body inhale and exhale a few times as he sleeps, and then—

—and then Din suddenly jolts in your arms, bursting with too much life after spending too many heart wrenching moments without it.

“Shhh,” you breathe, instantly tightening your grip on the back of his head so he doesn’t pull away from you in a panic and keeping it tucked into the warmest part of your neck, right where your pulse thrums fast and present.  Your eyes clench tightly shut just in case and your heart bursts with pure, blinding, heavenly relief.  “Shhh sh sh, stay right here, just stay right here…”

As soon as he seems to recognize your voice and figure out that he’s not dead, his body immediately starts wreaking with shivers.  You squeeze him tight to you, feeling his large, quaking frame curl inwards into you for warmth, burying his own face into your neck even further and breathing shallow but quickly now, like his body actually wants the air again.  You do your best to will your blood to pump faster and provide him that relief, stretching and opening your body as much as possible to give him warmth.

And then you spend the next few hours like that.  Holding him, murmuring gently to him, providing him with your body heat and stars, he fucking clings to you.  He presses tight to you and trembles, and you don’t even know if he’s listening, but you keep talking.  Finding words for hours, and while some of them are just different ways of saying the same thing, you say them anyway.

He’s okay.  The kid is okay.  Everyone is okay.

Eventually, the shivering dies down until it stops altogether.  Din stays in one place and goes completely limp again, but this time he continues to breathe you in, slow and deep into the crook of your neck.  Fast asleep in your arms, and you thank the good fucking Maker above for the little angel passed out on the floor behind him.

***

He has to meet with Karga in two days.

After a few more hours of holding him and making absolutely sure he’s going to be alright, that’s all you can stupidly think about.

A deadline.  A very quickly approaching one.

You don’t know why.  But it might have something to do with the fact that you want nothing more than to climb up into the cockpit and navigate the ship off this horrid planet, and you can’t.  You’re confident that the hull and blankets are warm enough by themselves to keep Din comfortable as he recovers, and you’ve also had quite a while to regroup and get your mind thinking logically again, so you’re not worried about getting up and leaving him right now, no.  That’s not the problem.

The problem is that there’s a corpse outside.  You know this.  You know it’s there, and you know he needs it.  Nobody’s gonna take his word for just saying they’re dead, much less pay him for his services; no body, no bounty.  You also know it’s probably being covered with fresh snow right now, or maybe some sort of wild animal has already gotten their teeth into it, if anything can even survive out there.  And you’re the only one awake.  The only one capable of going to get it.

You’ve been arguing with yourself.  For about an hour, you’ve been struggling with the thought.  Din is soft and warm and every breath makes you focus less on the terrifying moments that occurred and more on the need to step up once again.

In the end, it’s the kid who gives you the final push.  You’re not going to leave him laying on the floor like that for any longer.  Not after what he did.

You take a second, grabbing the blanket and pulling it up all the way over Din’s head as it rests warm and comfortable in your neck.  You’re incredibly careful to cover his face, and even while climbing out of the warm cocoon of the bed, you keep your eyes firmly shut and continue to pull the fabric even higher, making absolutely sure you’re not going to see his face on accident.  You shouldn’t, you don’t think, as long as he doesn’t jerk awake and pull it down himself, but you want to take extra precaution regardless.

After quickly yanking on some clothes, you immediately make your way over to the kid and pick him up, seeing his little mouth open as he snores—and oh, you just have to.  You pull him to your chest and give him the most heartfelt, thankful embrace you can while not squishing him, before setting him down in his much more comfortable hovering blanket palace and closing the lid on it.

You know you have a very clear task now, but for just a few moments longer, you do your best to stall despite the ticking clock.  You start to pick up the mess in the hull—you close the fresher door, pick up Din’s discarded armor and set it in a neat pile close to the bed, place the helmet under the vent to encourage the padding inside to dry faster, and then you collect his old armor and stuff it back into one of the storage cubbies with your toolbox.

Only, an idea suddenly occurs to you as you’re putting away the chestpiece.  When you open the door to the hull, you know that a blast of cold air is going to flood the ship.  The engine is still heating everything inside and making sure you don’t get trapped in the snow by continuously melting it on the outside, but you don’t want Din to start shivering again.

So you grab the dented piece of electronics you were working on and flip the power switch, feeling the capacitors slowly start to heat up inside the housing.  You go back over and lift the blanket near his feet just enough to tuck the metal under it, close enough to Din that he’ll feel the same amount of warmth your body was providing him but not enough to overheat.

And then you make your way over to your bag and pull on the rest of your clothes, now exhausting almost every single clean thing you own just to make another trek through the snow.  You’re in the middle of pulling on your fifth pair of pants when the thought truly sinks in.

A corpse.  A dead body.  That you’re actually considering going out into the worst fucking weather in the galaxy to search for, haul back to the ship, and put into carbonite.  Because of a fucking deadline for an occupation very much not your own, very much not chosen by you.

You quickly walk over and leave through the door on the side of the hull before you can change your mind, slamming it shut behind you.

***

Well, it’s…  It’s not too terrible, you guess.

It’s been frozen out here for hours, that’s why.  It’s not bloody, not gory, not demented or malformed in any way.  Tranquil almost, like the creature died in its sleep in this nightmarish landscape, perfectly at peace.

You still don’t want to get anywhere close to it, but you have to.  You pull a face and slowly reach out, absolutely not thinking about the literal impossibility of it playing dead and just waiting for the moment to strike, but even still…  Even if there was nothing more sinister hiding underneath the surface of this scene, it’s still… existentially fucked up.  The last time you were confronted with a dead body, Din had to be the one to dispose of it—you couldn’t even think about it without threatening another wave of shock to your system.

And now you’re voluntarily grabbing the rope around one’s ankles and dragging it back down the pure white slope to the Razor Crest.

It doesn’t weigh that much and its icy exterior seems to work in your favor; it slides easily along the snow as soon as you get it moving.  As the ship comes back into view, you hurry to the door and you’re just about to open it when you suddenly get the feeling that you’re forgetting something…

Oh—

It takes a few moments of searching around in the freshly fallen snow, but eventually your fingers brush metal underneath and you stand, reaching behind you to tuck the blaster into your waistband.  When you’re positive you’re not going to accidentally shoot a chunk of your ass off on accident, you shove open the door and pull the body inside, before locking it tight behind you and keeping the frigid winter from touching this warm, quiet safe-haven.

There.  Halfway done.  You almost don’t want to look in case he wakes up unexpectedly, but then you find yourself peeking over your shoulder at the silhouette of Din’s body still passed out under the blankets and you’re thankful the squeaks and slams didn’t disturb him.

And then you take just a second to wonder if this is what it must be like for him.  Minus your obvious discomfort and ickiness at beginning to haul the corpse over to the carbonite chamber, it seems like it’d be reminiscent of any other time he’s brought back a dead quarry while you and the baby slept soundly.  Trying to be quiet, wanting it done and over with just to get back in bed that much faster, doing everything you can to prevent anything out there from so much as breathing on anything in here.

You do your best to hold on to the loveliness of the thought, because this part is the part you’re most anxious about.

The body needs to go into this slanted upright space so you can freeze it in carbonite.  And in order to do that, you have to grab it and put it there.  With your hands, you have to grab it.  With your hands.

You look down at its face, calm and at peace, frozen and forever etched into that expression, and something twists in your heart.  If it weren’t for the kid, that could’ve been Din.�� If it weren’t for the kid walking barefoot through snow, fighting an uphill battle to make sure you get to him, helping you drag him back here and then overexerting himself to make sure he’d be okay, that could’ve been Din.  He drives you crazy on a consistent basis, but he came through today.

Know what?  If that little squirt can save a grown man’s life twice in a few hours, then the least you can do is finish this job for all three of you and fly your asses out of here.

Weirdly enough, being frozen solid allows for way better handling than the alternative.  It means you don’t actually have to touch it too much; you don’t have to deal with the limpness of death, it doesn’t seem as much like a person as it does a rigid board you’re simply moving from one place to another.  You can just grab the shoulders and yank and the entire fucking thing goes with it, solid and upright, naturally wanting to lean back into the chamber so you don’t even have to hold it in place.  The perfect quarry for you basically, day one stuff, as easy as it could get.

Almost done, almost done—you study the key panel on the upper-right frame before eventually pressing a few buttons, and then you step back as gas freezes and solidifies the corpse in its carbonite prison.

Yes.  You’re done.  You already want to take another shower just from touching it for a few seconds, but that can wait.  Quickly making your way up the ladder and into the cockpit, you fire up the thrusters and then navigate the ship through and beyond the swirling white atmosphere of this dreadful fucking planet, before punching in familiar coordinates to Nevarro.

***

“Din,” you murmur, making sure you have your eyes completely covered with one hand before gently easing the blanket down from his face with the other.  “Din, I want you to drink some wat—”

He jerks awake so suddenly that you hear the metal canteen fall over on the floor next to you, thank the Maker its lid is on tight.  You automatically reach out to steady him, pressing your free hand to his bare chest and continuing to speak calmly and gently to reassure him, but he still scrambles to take in his surroundings after sleeping longer than he probably has in weeks.  

You know what he’s seeing, even though you’re blind right now.  You took time to make sure everything was settled before waking him.  The hull is clean with only a single light to illuminate it, the baby is still snoozing in his closed crib, his armor is stacked in a neat pile, the blaster is put away, and you retired your makeshift blanket heater box so the only thing left is you.  Freshly showered, hair dripping, offering him water, and dressed in just a thin shirt with nothing else (you ran out of things to wear).

“Wh-Where’s my h-h-helmet—” is the first thing he asks, voice broken and raspy.  Stars, he needs water.

“The padding inside is wet,” you quickly supply, keeping your hand tight over the bridge of your eyes to make sure his freshly conscious mind immediately understands that you have no bad intentions.  “I swear I didn’t look, and I made sure the kid didn’t either.  He’s sleeping now, it’s just me—I swear nobody looked, I swear.”

You might just be saying the exact same thing over and over again and admittedly, that might be putting some weird kind of suspicion on you, but you just want to make sure he knows.  Beyond a shadow of a doubt.  It’s important that he knows he’s safe and that everything is okay now, even if he collapsed and spent an unknown amount of time in a purgatory where nothing was.

His body trembles under your palm, waves of shudders attacking him even after hours of keeping him as warm as possible.  “Are—Are we st-still on H-Ho—H-Hoth—”

“No,” you answer.  “We’re in hyperspace.  Everything’s okay now, I took care of it.  We’ll get to Nevarro on time.”

It’s like he takes just a few extra moments, as if he’s trying extra hard to remember before responding.  “But—I d-didn’t—”

“You have four bodies for Karga,” you tell him, not letting him get too lost trying to recall something that no longer poses an issue.  “I took care of it.  You need rest, I only woke you up to make sure you drink some water, so please—” you blindly reach your hand out for the canteen you know has to be around here somewhere, but all you feel is…

His.  Catching yours.

“Y-You took c-c-care of…”  His hands are trembling harder than his voice.  “Sh-shit, I’m freezing, I—”

“Drink some water,” you tell him, squeezing his fingers.  “I’ll go turn off the light so you can sleep more, but you need water.”

His hand feels like it doesn’t quite want to let go of yours yet, but eventually it does and you hear the sloshing of water as the metal flask is picked up with an unsteady grip.  Purposefully turning your back to him and making sure he’s not in your line of sight whatsoever, you finally let your hand drop and blink your eyes open at the wall across the hull.  You hear Din shakily unscrew the lid while you stand up and find the light switch, before turning around in the pitch blackness and using his loud gulps as your guide back.

Your hands and knees are barely on the blanket when you hear him toss the empty canteen to the side and grab you, pulling you down to him.  

Fuck, you’re not expecting it.  You fumble in the dark but he doesn’t really give your clumsiness much of a choice—Din pulls you under the blankets like he needs you, his body craving that warmth even though his skin doesn’t feel cold at all.  He hooks a strong forearm around your tummy, keeping your back pressed tight to his chest while the rest of him curls to fit every part of you, and you have to adjust the blankets yourself.

It’s not even a few seconds after you settle into position when his trembling hands jerk down to grab your shirt and yank it up.  You quickly scramble to help him get you as naked as he is, feeling his palms drag greedily across the heat of your tummy and breasts before you’ve even finished wiggling the fabric over your head.  The shirt lands somewhere in the darkness and you’re squeezed back against him, your hands landing on his forearms as they wrap around your waist and he clings shamelessly to you.

“You…”  Din’s body still shivers every once in a while but the heat and closeness allows his voice to even out just a bit.  He clears his throat and swallows, tucking his head and burying his face in your hair before trying again.  “You brought back the qu-quarry?”

“Yes,” you confirm, confident in your reassurance but gentle at the same time.  “It’s in carbonite.”

All you can feel or hear in response is his breathing.  His heart beating steady and strong against your back.

And then Din’s arms suddenly squeeze you tight—tight.  He lets out a low shaky exhale against the back of your shoulder and presses his lips to your skin.  “Sweet girl.”

And he says just… so much with those two words.  Slow and purposeful, the steadiest thing you’ve heard from him in hours.  But the two biggest competing emotions you hear tugging at his vocal cords are gratitude and apprehension.  Like he already knows that it couldn’t have been easy for you.  Like he’s not taking it lightly.

You don’t want to talk about it.  You don’t want to talk about anything that happened in the past few hours, not right now.  “It’s okay.  Please.”

This time his silence seems to be on the brink, as if he wants to say more but the extra plea you put on the end makes him hold onto his words, at least for now.  

“How d-did you find me?”  He asks instead, scooting his legs up enough that yours actually go with him.  Cradled in his naked body, radiating heat so he can recover, pressed so close to him that you feel like gravity itself would be pushing you into his lap if the world weren’t sideways.

“The kid,” you tell him.  “We were goofing around outside and he dragged me ov—”

It’s like he’s still so cold that even just the surprise of hearing you say that makes his whole body lock down and convulse a few times against your back.  “You were wh-what?”

“I was practicing,” you openly admit to him, feeling like the earlier events already occurred a lifetime ago and you have no reason for being shy about it anymore.  In fact, you’re glad you were there, being terrible at shooting.  The alternative is unthinkable.  Though, something tells you also improbable, having a little supernatural sidekick who cares so deeply for him.  “I raided your armory.  We weren’t outside for more than five minutes before I wanted to go back in, but then he found you.”

And you think he’s going to get after you, for some reason.  Seems about on par, you figure—going outside for even just a few minutes on a planet whose name you now remember is colloquial slang for hell, even if it’s the only reason he’s not an icicle right now.

But he’s just quiet.  Breathing.  So you just relax into him, thinking that’s the end of it.  You take a few deep breaths in through your nose and just… rest.  In the near perfect silence of hyperspace you used to find haunting, but now only find comfort in.  It reminds you of him.

“Did you hit the target?”  He asks you quietly, and at first you scoff, about to ask if he’s kidding.  No, of course you didn’t hit the…

Only, after a remarkable delay, hearing him phrase it that way suddenly makes your stomach decide to drop and do a fucking somersault on the ground out of absolutely nowhere.

Everything comes flooding back.  The conflict you used to think was the most pressing thing, the one that kept you awake and your thoughts scrambled for hours.  It feels like it was ages ago.  An entire lifetime has passed since that happened, you might’ve forgotten it altogether if he didn’t decide to ask that very simple question in a very specific way.

“I…” you mumble in response, your heart suddenly pounding.  “Not… not yet.”

Okay, that’s a good answer.  It’s the truth and you’re giving nothing away by saying that.  So now what is he going to say?  What is he going to say?  You spoke your piece, it’s his turn now, that’s how conversations work.  Well typically, that’s how conversations work—but with Din… you probably should’ve known.

He falls back into silence almost immediately, appearing to accept your answer just the way it is without anything else to add.  You feel his heart continue to beat strong against your back, but there’s something too tense about his stillness that doesn’t imply he’s relaxing anymore.  His body goes slightly taut, but not from the lingering chill in his bones.

He’s going to make you ask him, you realize.  He’s waiting until you confront him about his choice in words at the shooting range.  Which means he wasn’t just joking around.  He wasn’t just messing with you.

“Din…” you whisper uncertainly, and his face suddenly finds its way into the crook of your neck as soon as the word leaves your mouth, arms tightening up around you.  You spent forever trying to find the words to even bring this up, and here he is, already knowing exactly what you’re asking just by the tone of your voice.  Still, you ask anyway, sounding small and so unsure of yourself in the darkness.  “Why did you say that?  On Tatooine, why did you…”

Din’s chest expands against your back with a long, slow breath, and then he lets it out against your neck, hot enough to raise goosebumps all over your body.

“I… don’t know,” he admits, voice muffled and quiet, but it’s not… casual.  Not like he’s brushing you off or indicating he doesn’t want to talk about it, but like it’s actually a complete fucking mystery to him, just as much as it is to you.  “I don’t know.”

“You don’t know…” you repeat slowly.

“You had said something,” he mutters, shifting just a bit behind you.  His palm slides up your bare tummy, stopping in the warm spot just under the swell of your breast.  “Earlier that day.  I thought about it, and then I just… s-said it.”

You?  Said something that made him ask that?

“What?”  You blurt out, genuinely startled and having no fucking clue.  “What did I say?”

“Something about…”  He gives the smallest shudder from behind you, and you don’t actually know if this one is from the cold.  “Not wanting anyone else to know me the way you do.”

Your heart rapidly kicks up and you flush, hating how unbelievably possessive your own words sound coming out of his mouth.  “Oh shit, I… I didn’t mean for that to be… that sounds so bad, Din, I swear I didn’t mean for it to—”

He cuts you off by clutching you tighter, burying his face deeper into your neck and breathing out shakily.  “Tell me you meant every word.”

You blink a couple of times in the pitch black before sighing, letting go of any charade or front you think about putting up for him to save some dignity.  “I meant it.”

Because it’s the truth.  You said it when you were caught off guard, throwing it out to him along with other mindless drabble that came from a place that was very real.  You don’t like the way you phrased it, but you meant it.  You do mean it.  Every word.

If there weren't so many things still left unsaid right now, you might actually worry he fell asleep on you.  Din loosens up considerably after you admit it, letting go of more tightness you didn’t even know was inside him.  His head slowly drops from the crook of your neck to the back of it and he breathes hot air on your nape, quiet for a long time.

And, you suppose you’d actually be okay with it if that was the end of the conversation.  There are, of course, millions of things left to ask.  But he doesn’t know the answers, just as much as you’re left clueless about the questions.  You’re not expecting him to elaborate anymore, and if he’s waiting for you to ask, he’ll be waiting a long time.  Soon your eyes close and you almost feel yourself beginning to drift.  It’s been such a rough day today and to just be here in his arms, it’s more than enough for you.  

But then his low baritone comes through the darkness.

“In Mando’a,” Din’s voice suddenly whispers against your skin, “the verb, kar’taylir… it means to know.  Su kar’tayli, you know, kaysh kar’tayli, they know.  Ni ke kar’tayl nu… I don’t know.”

Your eyes pop open and you immediately forget all about sleep, wide awake and suddenly hanging onto every word as it rolls so gently off his tongue.  You’ve never heard the language spoken aloud, you’ve never heard anything about the Mandalorians directly from one before.  All of the stories seem sensationalized, passed down by word of mouth and chipping away at the kernel of truth until it disappears completely.

“The language is dying,” Din continues, murmuring soft and gentle along your nape.  “By the time I learned it, too many words had been lost.  The ones left were the ones that were needed.”

“What do you mean?”  You whisper, almost afraid of breaking the quiet.  Not wanting him to feel distracted or pressed, but needing to express your curiosity lest you somehow overflow with it.

“There are only three pronouns,” he answers slowly, and you’re already fucking fascinated.  “Ni, for I or we.  Su is you or you all, and kaysh is third person.  Subjective, objective, possessive, singular, plural—doesn’t matter.  Three words, for every individual or collective in the entire galaxy.”

You blink in the darkness, your logic telling you that it sounds so simple it’d become confusing and then your logic also telling you that doesn’t actually make any fucking sense at all.  If that’s true, it’s unbelievable.  How do they differentiate?  Just context?

“How do you distinguish?”  You ask him.  Admittedly, you don’t know much about linguistics—not anywhere near the extent he does, but it seems so counterintuitive.  I can’t be the same word for we, the amount of misunderstandings would be a nightmare.

“We… don’t need to,” he explains to you, slowly, like nobody has ever asked him these things before and so he’s unsure how to phrase it.  “Individuality isn’t valued, it’s not a concept.”

And… you almost can’t wrap your head around it.  “What do you mean?”  You ask again, knowing you’re sounding like a broken record without specifying more, but trying with your whole heart to understand.

“I mean… we swear oaths to never reveal our faces,” Din tells you, something you shouldn’t need to be reminded of.  “We abandon our names.  We become… whispers, of the same voice.  There’s not many words in Mando’a with a unique meaning, almost all of them are homonyms.  Interchangeable.  Transient.”

Your eyebrows shoot up, suddenly blown away by the implication.  Almost all of them are homonyms?  How in Maker’s name are you even supposed to communicate at that point?  That’s… unthinkable.

“Most words have two meanings?”  You clarify, wanting to be absolutely sure you’re getting it right.

“Most have five or six,” he returns, and you’re downright shocked now.  “Everything just depends.”

“Stars…”  You breathe, moving a palm up the length of his forearm and holding the back of his hand with it.  Fuck, you hope this is the direction he’s intending instead of veering him off course, but you’re incredibly invested.  “What else does, uh… kay—er, kar… kar’taylir mean?”

Din lets out a slow breath from behind you, and you can… you can feel his own heart beating faster when it presses up against your spine at the apex of his inhale.  “It’s… a rare word, it only has two meanings.”

You bite your lip and start to feel butterflies in your stomach for some reason.  Slowly, his hand begins to travel up your breast and then to your sternum before heading just the slightest bit left, and your own hand moves with him.

“To know,” Din says quietly, “but also… to care very deeply for.”  He doesn’t stop until his palm presses right above the rapidly pounding organ in your chest.  “To hold in the heart.”

“To know,” you swallow thickly, curling your fingers around his hand and praying he’s saying what you think he is, “or… to love?”

“When Mandalorian’s take vows, there’s no ceremony,” he whispers into the back of your neck.  “No witnesses, no celebrations.  We just take our helmets off in front of the other and look.  It doesn’t sound like much, but… our secrecy is our survival.  Letting someone see our face and swearing lifelong devotion to them, it’s the same thing.  To know is to love.”

Your eyes close tight and your lungs empty themselves, too full of emotion to even fit oxygen inside you anymore.  Din’s lips press feather soft behind your neck, and now you’re the one shivering uncontrollably.  The move up and trail along your neck in the darkness.

“Ni kar'tayl su,” he murmurs, shifting back just slightly and pulling at your shoulder.  “I know you.”

You go with him, facing the ceiling as he fits his head under your throat and places slow, open mouth kisses down the curve of it.

“Ni kar'tayli gar darasuum,” he goes on quietly, his voice starting to sound raspy again, dragging his hand down your torso while his lips brush your collarbone.  “For an eternity, I’ll know you.”

Water wets the corners of your lashes and you inhale three or four times before exhaling, shallow hiccups and desperate for air.

“Ni ke vaabi nu kaysh ke kar’taylir su te ni kar’tayl su.”  Din says, slowly moving his mouth back up when your fingers tangle in his hair and beg him to come that way.  The words dance along your skin as he whispers them, forever searing themselves into your memory.  You can’t see them, you’ll never have a visual to reminisce upon, but you’ll know how they felt.  Right under your ear, brimming with quiet devotion.  “I don’t want anyone else to know you… the way I know you.”

Your face goes blazing hot at the sound of him translating your own rushed and half-assed sentence into something gorgeous and flowing, something that sounds so much more beautiful than when you blurted it out earlier.  You told him you loved him in that hangar, right to his face.  Unashamed and stupid about it, but meaning it with every part of your body.

“I knew you’d say no,” he finally admits, staying in this one spot.  Unmoving.  Telling you the truth, allowing you to know it.  “I just wanted to… say it.”

That… that makes sense to you.  The last part does, at least, it makes so much sense to you.  The first time you said you loved him, you said it just to say it.  You wanted to feel the words, sound them out even if neither one of you could hear them.  It felt freeing, like coming to accept a universal truth.

The first part, though.  You’re still behind.  “You knew I’d say no?”  You ask him, feeling him ease back just slightly.  Staring down at you through the pitch black, even if he can’t see either.  Keeping his palm over your heart as the ship hurdles through nowhere and everywhere at once.

“You wouldn’t take my first name without convincing,” he reasons quietly, and then moves back to lay in the blankets once more, leaving the rest unspoken.

But he’s… oh stars, he’s so right.  If he’s going to take his helmet off and let you see his face—if he’s going to commit to you that way, it is not going to be because you shoot a blaster correctly.  Not after today, not after what he’s told you.

So you move up to your elbow and turn to face him, trying to let him know why even if he’s already guessed the what correctly.

“I want it to mean something,” you say after a moment.  “I want it to… have the meaning it’s supposed to have.”

Your palm finds its way to his chest in the silence following.  Right over the beating of his heart, feeling it thrum hard and rhythmic while he considers his response.

“This is The Way,” Din finally murmurs, settling his hand over yours, and you repeat the words back to him.  Respecting them.  Feeling like, for the very first time, they now apply to you in some way instead of belonging to some mysterious creed you’ll never know anything about.

But when a shudder subtly rockets up and down his body, you realize the blankets have been pulled down with the changing positions and his whole torso is bare and exposed to the hull.  So you pull them up until you’re both covered again, before you lean down and press a soft kiss to his shoulder.

Din shudders again when your mouth opens and the hot glide of your tongue catches his skin, but you know it’s not from the cold this time.  His breathing deepens while you slowly move over him.  You ease him further on his back and let him keep feeling the warmth of your mouth on his body, alleviate the lingering chill by sucking gentle hickeys into his skin and feeling the goosebumps raise under your tongue.  He moves with you; he stretches his neck when you want to nibble his collarbone, arches when you mouth down his chest, shifts his elbow to let you drag your tongue along his ribcage.

And… and it’s as if all the stars and systems hold even more still for you than the relative physics of faster-than-light travel can explain away by themselves.  You’ve always felt timeless in here, living from one fleeting eternity to the next, suspended in perpetuity while the rest of the galaxy ages without you.  But when you’re with him and it’s pitch black and there’s no light to streak across your vision, no evidence that time and space have all but disconnected from each other just to let your insignificant little bodies through… it’s like you’re meant to be here.  In some strange, unexplainable way, you feel like you could’ve died out there with him in the frozen wasteland today and this is exactly where you’d still end up, no matter what.

To know is to love.

“Do you have brown eyes?”  You hear yourself whisper under his jaw, and you feel Din’s fingers thread in your hair and ease you up enough to brush his lips against your chin.

“Yes,” he whispers back, and then his mouth is on yours.

[seiyasabi]

Bulls in the Bronx

(So…. long story short, I’m now a hucow simp. Thanks a lot @/biskywrites and @/dark-side-blog2 for making me this way (ﾉД`) lol, all jokes aside, I wanna suck some tiddy milk from a buff man ;)) Anyways, this is Yandere Hucow(Hubull?) Bokuto x Fem Reader ;0 This fic allows me to flex my farming knowledge lol, bc my grandparents owned ponies and dogs. 

TW: !Noncon!, !dubcon!, creampie!, he hits you twice!, somnophilia!, predator vs prey?, manipulation!, cumflation!, breeding kink!, size kink!, ur a farmhand!, lactation!, tiddie sucking!, Asshole farmer Ushi, etc.. 

Please don’t proceed if any of the above are triggering! Also, sorry if Bokuto is too OOC lol) 

“Bokuto got into the lackweed again,” You can’t suppress the laugh that explodes from your mouth. The idea of the biggest hucow (hubull??) on the ranch freaking out (again), because he’s now dripping milk is hilarious. 

“Where on Earth does he keep finding those damn weeds?” The other farmhand laughs as well, stooping down to fill two buckets with water. 

“I think those grass seeds were cross contaminated, the other hucows also started to lactate a lot more than usual. But, it’s kinda funny that our best breeder is dripping like a heifer,” Chuckling in acknowledgement, you can’t help but feel a pang of pity. Poor Bo, he’s probably really self conscious at the moment. 

“Maybe I should go check on him-” Your coworker almost drops the bucket she’s filling, looking up at you as if you just grew three heads. 

“Why would you do that? Did you forget that he’s going in rut soon?” Frowning, you glance down at the floor in mild shame. 

“Well, yes, but he isn’t supposed to start until next week! Plus, I’m not ovulating right now, so I won’t trigger him,” The other girl thinks for a moment, before nodding slowly. 

“I suppose it’d be fine. If anything, he may calm down if his favourite handler is there,” Nodding, you grab two buckets from the shelf beside you. Squatting down next to your coworker, you place a bucket underneath a faucet, turning the circular handle to the left. A gush of cool water rushes out, quickly filling the plastic pail. Quickly switching it out for the empty one, you wait a few more moments, before turning off the rushing water. Grabbing the handles of the buckets, you lift them whilst standing to your feet, using your legs instead of your back. 

Nodding towards the other girl, you bid her farewell. Turning on your heel, you tromp towards the bull pens. The large red barn is quite a far distance from the shed you were once in, causing you to break out in a light sweat. It doesn’t help that it’s mid spring, causing the farm to be quite warm. 

Setting the buckets down on the dirt ground, you wipe your brow with the back of your hand. Huffing out a deep breath, you quickly move the concrete slab keeping the barn closed away from the sliding door, before shoving it open. The sound of the cowbell on the red and white door handle on the inside clinks noisily, queuing a symphony of deep ‘moos.’ 

Picking up the buckets with bent knees, you hurry inside, relishing the feeling of the barn’s fans on your sweaty skin, “Hey guys, is the barn cool enough for you?” Grumbles and shifting of large bodies are all you get in response, causing you to laugh, “I’ll take that as a yes.”

Gunning it for a certain grey haired bull’s stall, a bright smile makes its way onto your face, “Hey, Koutarou, how’re you feeling?” 

He’s currently laying on his bed of compact hay, tears sliding down his handsome face. His cute ears are droopy, his bell earring not jingling with life like normal. His tears drip between his septum piercing, and drop onto his well defined abdomen, “Not good, (Your Name).” 

With a small gasp, you set down the pails rather harshly, some of the cool liquid sloshing onto the wooden floor. Hurrying towards him, you sit on the prickly ‘mattress,’ “What’s wrong? I heard that you’re lac-” A small sob leaves his lips at your words, causing you to grab his hand reassuringly, “Are the other guys making fun of you? I can go yell at them if you’d like!” 

The buff bull-man sits up, one arm covering his chest self-consciously, “No! They’re not being mean,” He grips your hand almost to the point that it’s painful, “I-it’s just… my chest hurts, real bad.”

Nodding in understanding, you motion towards his covered pecs, “Let me see, Bubs. I’ll see what I can do.”

His face flushes bright red, “But it’s embarrassing!” You shush him sweetly, releasing his hand to coax his arm away from his chest. 

“It’s okay, I won’t make fun of you! I just wanna help you,” After a moment of hesitance, he obeys, revealing his swollen, red nipples. 

The area around his nipples is raised as well, showing just how much his milk is backed up. 

Eyes softening even more, you delicately rub both pecs, “You’re alright, Bubs. This happens to the cows sometimes when we don’t milk them as much as we need to. If you’d like, I can go find a pump!”

“No! I don’t wanna pump!” You jump slightly, and move away from him, only for his hands to trap your own to his chest. More tears gather in his eyes, as he becomes distraught, “I don’t want my milk to go to waste!” 

Taken aback, you nod, although you don’t understand his reasoning, “Kou, why’re you acting like this? You know we don’t get rid of milk, we sell your guys’ milk at the market.” 

He shakes his head, “I don’t want you to sell it. I want you to drink it,” The look of shock on your face is mistaken as disgust, causing him to cry even more, “Do you think I’m weird? Why do you look like that?” Seeing the bull act so sensitive is adorable, but you feel as though you have to comfort him.

“No, no, it’s okay! I’m not weirded out, I’m just surprised. I’ll go get a bucket-”

“No bucket!” Sighing at his weird behaviour, you cock an eyebrow at him. 

“Then how am I supposed to collect it?” A big grin crosses his teary face. 

“Drink from me! I promise I’ll be good!” Shifting in discomfort, an anxious sweat starts to form on your brow. 

“Ahaha, that’s funny, Kou. You know I can’t do that,” More tears well up in his eyes, squeezing your heart painfully, “Don’t look at me like that, Bubs. I don’t think your owner would like me getting so close-” 

“I don’t mind,” Ushijima’s voice booms throughout the barn, scaring the living daylights out of you. Whipping your head around, you make eye contact with the large male, an uncharacteristic smirk on his face, “As long as my star bull is happy, I’m happy.”

Kou releases your hands, only to grab your face, forcing you to look at him, “See! He doesn’t care! Please, (Nickname), please help me! My udders hurt so bad!” 

With Ushijima’s eyes on you, and Koutarou’s sad and pain filled face, you finally relent, “Okay, okay! Don’t freak out, Bubs, I’ll help. You just gotta let me go.” 

He releases you quickly, before shoving your head towards his chest. The jingling of his earring is heard, telling you that his ears are no longer pressed down on the top of his head. You hear heavy footsteps walk away from his stall, probably gathering the bulls to let them graze outside. 

You try to push away from where your head is being smushed, but the bull gives you no leeway, “Why aren’t you drinking?” The male practically whines, as you whack his shoulder lightly. 

“I’m being smothered in between your tiddies, Kou,” You chuckle in slight discomfort, but he finally allows you up. Moving towards his most swollen nipple (the left one), you pinch it between your thumb and forefinger, causing a small stream of milk to come streaming out. 

A small moan leaves the large man’s lips, as he shoves you once again face first into his chest, “Don’t tease, (Nickname), I feel like I’m dying!” A flash of empathy goes through your heart. 

Removing your hand from his nipple, you take a deep breath, and latch yourself onto him.Your chapstick covered lips are soft against his sensitive skin, causing him to keen. When you suckle, a tidal wave of milk bursts into your mouth. Luckily, it doesn’t taste very bad; his milk tastes like vanilla, causing you start to slurp it up like a babe. 

Your one hand kneads his other pec to soothe him, “Fu-fuck, you’re making me feel so good!” You don’t bother trying to say anything, instead, you just suck harder. Your unoccupied hand squeezes his tit that you’re currently nursing on, causing him to pump out more of his yummy milk. 

After a few long moments, you release his nipple. A drop of milk trickles down your chin, which the large bull laughs at. A thick finger wipes off the excess, pushing itself into your mouth. A tender look is in the grey haired man’s eyes, as he kisses your forehead. 

“Thank you, pretty girl. Can you do the other one, please?” Now that he’s no longer in a painfilled state, he’s back to his normal, boyish self. Nodding, you lick your lips, before latching on to his other nipple. He barely chokes back a moan, his hand gripping the back of your head. 

You suck as hard as you can without hurting him, pretending his nipple was a straw to a thick ass milkshake. Between your massaging and sucking, his teat no longer feels as painful as it once did. 

Pulling away, you give him a wry smile, “There, all better. Well, I should pour your water into your trough now,” Standing up with wobbly legs, you move towards the filled buckets. Picking them up one by one, you pour it in with unsteady hands. Why are you so shaky right now? “Well, I should get going now. I hope you feel better later,” You try to walk out of his stall, only to be yanked back into Bokuto’s lap. Both empty pails fall to the ground unceremoniously, clattering loudly through the empty barn. 

“Don’t leave me, Lovely, I need you,” His warm skin against yours feels nice, and you suddenly feel sleepy. 

“Kou, I’m tired. I think-I think I’m gonna take a nap,” He runs his fingers (through your hair/over your scalp), tantalising you into drifting off. 

“That’s alright, (Nickname), I’ll watch after you,” With a muffled ‘Mhm,’ you fall into a deep slumber. 

-

When you awoke, you woke to your body shaking. Brow furrowing, you blearily open your eyes, only to see a tuft of grey hair in between your bent, spread legs. 

His long tongue is currently fucking in and out of your dripping cunt, his thumb rubbing against your clit. 

“Ku-Kou? Wha-“ He looks up immediately, a look of shock on his strong features. 

“I-It’s Not what it looks like! I-I just wanted a taste!” You groggily push at his head, catching his ears slightly, causing a small jingling to sound throughout the empty barn. 

“You didn’t ask, why, why are you-“ He grabs your hand, kissing each knuckle with a slobbering kiss. 

“I’m sorry! I’m sorry! Let me make you feel good! You taste so good,” You yank your hand back, trying to kick off the hand that currently wrapped around your right thigh. 

“Get off of me! Bokuto, you-you’re doing this without my consent! I thought we were friends!” You shout, pushing at his face harshly. He grabs one of your hands, trying to kiss it, only for your other to clap him upside the face harshly, “Don’t! You’ve already done enough.” 

Kicking him away (even though he’s much larger and stronger than you, meaning he just moved away), you stand to your feet, pulling back up your halfway down jeans and panties. 

Snatching up the buckets previously discarded, you don’t even shoot the crying bull a glance, just turning on your heel, and stomping away. 

Tears of your own drip down your face, humiliation and betrayal weighing down your aching heart. 

Forcefully sliding open the barn doors, you run from it, catching the eye of a certain green haired farmer. 

It seems Bokuto fucked up. 

But that’s okay, when he goes into rut, there’ll be nothing keeping him from breeding you full of his massive calves. 

-

You avoided the bull barn like the plague for the next week. The hucows are very pleasant company. They treat you as if you’re their young, making you feel well loved. 

That is, until Hachi asked you why you’ve been avoiding Bokuto. She’d told you that he hasn’t acted the same, in fact, he’s acted depressed and withdrawn. 

Since then, you’ve stuck with aquatic life. The fish, swans, and ducks don’t give you that much trouble. 

But, when you come back from the pond and fish pools, the farm is ensued with panic. Apparently, Bokuto’s finally gone into rut. 

And, unfortunately for you, he’s on the prowl for you. 

So, when your coworker runs up to you, begging for you to calm him, you turn on your heel, and start walking back towards the pond. They can figure this out themselves, you’re not going to sacrifice yourself to someone who tried to take advantage of you. 

Sadly, that doesn’t work out. 

You’re immediately stopped by Ushijima, his broad form blocking you from advancing forward, “Where do you think you’re going?” His arms are crossed, an angry scowl on his usually handsome features. 

“I forgot something at the pond,” You lie, smoothly, “I’m going to go grab it real quick-” 

“You’ll do nothing of the sort,” His strong voice booms, “What you’re going to do, is march yourself into the barn, and make my prized bull happy.” 

Your own scowl forms on your pretty face, “I will do nothing of the sort. Interspecies sex is illegal! You can fire me for all I care, I’m not going in there!” You try to move around his large form, only to be manhandled into a chokehold.

His left arm is wrapped around your neck, your back to his chest, and your face being held in a large hand, “Interspecies sex is legal when a human and hybrid are mates,” He hisses through gritted teeth, and you struggle in his hold, “If you don’t go in there, I’ll drag you in.” 

“Fuck you,” You spit, “I’ll fucking castrate you!” You kick backwards, landing a solid hit on the large man’s groin. With a loud yell, you’re let go, allowing you to run towards the farm’s parking area. Pulling your truck’s keys from your pocket, you haul ass, not bothering to look behind you. 

The barns and sheds fly past you, as you run through the open field leading to the car park. You suddenly hear loud footsteps follow after you, and you assume that it’s Ushijima, that is, until you hear them, “(Nickname)! (Nickname), where are you going? Why are you running away from me?” Bokuto’s voice rings out at top volume, hurting your ears. His voice a lot more gravely than before, and without looking at him, you know that he most likely looks crazed. 

You don’t respond, trying to pick up the pace. You click the unlock button one time, only unlocking the driver’s side door. Because you had a head start, you cleared the field in less than three seconds, allowing you to hop into your truck, and lock the doors. Shoving the key into the ignition, all whilst buckling your seatbelt, you press on the brake, and turn it, only to hear the spluttering of your failing ignition, “Come on! Don’t do this-” Bokuto slams into the driver’s side door at top speed, rocking your large vehicle harshly. His hands and face are pressed against the window, his expression looking like that of a kicked puppy. You then notice the fact that the buff male is completely naked, his impossibly large cock bobbing against his toned stomach. 

“Why are you trying to leave? I need you so badly, pretty-pretty. Why don’t you open the door, and we can figure this out? I promise I’ll make you feel good, after all, us bulls pride ourselves in taking care of our mates,” You cringe in disgust, not bothering to answer him. Instead, you continue to fiddle with your ignition, muttering expletives under your breath. His large hands start to beat on your driver-side window, trying to gain your attention, “(Nickname), come out already! Ushi already cut your fuel line, so you’re not going anywhere! Come on, I just wanna make you feel good-”

It was your turn to cut him off, “Shut up! We aren’t friends anymore, Bokuto, much less lovers! Just leave me the fuck alone! I’m sure many of the cows would love to help you through your rut, why can’t you just ask them?” Tears of frustration dot your eyelashes, as you pop open your glove box and search for your phone. Catching sight of the black cased (phone type), you snatch it from its confines with a loud ‘Aha,’ “Don’t make me call the Farmer’s Union, Bokuto. I’ll report you and Ushijima for-”

“You won’t! You love me too much!” His frantic words raise in volume, as he hit the glass even harder than before, “You wouldn’t put me down! Come on, (Nickname), why won’t you call me ‘Bubs’ anymore? I love you!” You swipe open your phone, and go to the contacts. Pulling up the Farmer’s Union phone number, you go to press ‘call,’ only for the shattering of glass to halt you. 

You scream in both fear and shock, throwing up your hands to protect your face. This, in turn, causes you to drop your phone. In this time, Bokuto is able to grab you by your arms, and drag you towards the broken window. Your seatbelt keeps you in place, causing him to pull you even harder, and making you scream in pain. 

You use your arm to whack his against the broken glass on your truck’s window area. He releases you in a moment of pain, allowing you to unbuckle yourself, and throw yourself to the passenger side. Once there, you unlock the door, and bolt towards the road. 

“(Your Name), come back here! Stop being so difficult!” You pay him no mind, a few meters away from the busy road. Noticing a car speeding towards the area you’re running to, you push yourself even harder, trying to throw yourself into the road. Unfortunately, you’re grabbed by two buff arms that encircle your waist. They use all of their strength to smash you into their chest from behind, knocking the air from your lungs, “Are you crazy? You could’ve been hurt!” You thrash and try to bite at him, causing Bokuto to backhand you across the face, “Now look what you made me do! If you’d been good, I wouldn’t have had to do that!”

To be completely honest, you’re in shock. Bokuto has never raised a hand at you, and that slap wasn’t a warning tap. No, that was him using a good majority of his strength, causing your cheek to throb painfully. 

You continue to thrash and curse after freezing for a moment, drawing the eyes of concerned coworkers, “Let go of me! What the fuck is wrong with you? Put me down!” You try to kick him in the junk, only to kick him on the inside of his thigh. In retaliation, he backhands you again, this time on the other cheek. Gasps and whispers are heard from those around you, drawing the large hucow’s eyes. 

“There’s nothing to see here, guys! Just my mate making a scene,” He shakes you a bit to shut you up, causing you to become disoriented. The farmhands and other hybrids look like they’re about to step in, only for Ushijima himself to show up. 

“What Bokuto said is correct,” His harsh gaze is on you, his hand gripping his dick, “She’s just making a scene. Let them through.”

They reluctantly go back to their business, as Koutarou guns it to the empty bull barn. Ushijima only watches as you’re dragged to the large building, as tears drip down your face in fear, and his fist at his side clenches in fury.

Stomping into the barn, Bokuto makes quick work of getting to his stall. Once inside, he tosses you on the hay mattress, and straddles your waist. With pawing hands, he rips your t-shirt and jeans off of you, leaving you in your bra and underwear, along with your boots and socks. Yanking off your boots, be tossed them out of his ‘room,’ as you try to throw punches at his muscular chest. He grunts, but doesn’t stop. 

With beefy fingers, he yanks off your bra, ripping it in two. Your tits jiggle at his harsh movements, making him lick his lips in enjoyment. He then rips off your cotton panties, exposing your cunny to his hungry eyes. 

“You’re beautiful, pretty-pretty. I can’t wait to see you stuffed with my calves,” You shake your head no rapidly, pushing his hands away from where they rest on your hips. 

“No! Stop it, Bokuto! I thought we were friends!” He tightens his grip on your pelvis, forcing your legs open. 

“That’s Not my name, (Nickname), you know that. Now, you know that I’m way more than just your friend-I’m your mate, and you know that I’ll provide for you and our calves,” With grubby fingers, he rubs at your clit, trying to draw a good reaction from you.

You squirm in response, trying to wriggle out of his one handed grip. You shove at his chest, but he remains unmoved, choosing to press down harder than before, “Stop it! Let me go!” 

He inserts his middle finger into your moist cunny, forcing it in and out. You try to kick him in the head only for him to catch your leg with the hand that previously held your hip, “If you wanted me to eat you out that bad, you should’ve just said so, pretty girl,” Before you can refuse, he throws your legs over his shoulders, and dives in. 

His long tongue fucks in and out of your hole, one of his thumbs rubbing your clit. A loud whine escapes your throat before you can stop it, making you feel a wave of disgust for yourself. Bokuto shouldn’t be making you feel good, he’s assaulting you, after all. 

But, when his tongue brushed against your g-spot, you can’t help but convulse in pleasure. Thighs quaking, you try to stop yourself from cumming. 

“St-stop! I’m, I’m gonna-“ He stops before you can cum, instead, pushing your hips down to where his cock lays against his abs. Forcing the bulbous head against your tiny hole, he pushes harshly, trying to fuck into you like an animal, “No! No! You’re too big! You’re going to tear my-“ With one powerful thrust, he forces his way inside, and you can’t help but scream. 

Tears drip down your face at the feeling, your pussy feeling like it’s been ripped open. Bokuto grabs your head, and forces it against his chest, practically making you take one of his pink nipples into your mouth. You’re immediately met with the taste of his vanilla milk, drinking it up as the hucow starts to buck into you at a lightning fast pace. 

Your teeth bite down on his nipple, but instead of being angry, he just moans in lust, “Yes! Yes, pretty girl, you’re taking me so well!” 

His hand that isn’t cradling your head goes to your tummy, feeling his huge length moving underneath your skin. He presses down a bit, causing another wanton moan to leave to both of you. With this thought in mind, he picks up the pace, practically fucking you into unconsciousness. 

Eyes rolling back, your ruined cunny gushed pathetically, coating you and the bull with your juices, “(Nickname), you’re so pretty when you cum,” He continues his breakneck pace, getting close to orgasm himself, “I’m gonna fill you up so good, that you’ll be dripping with my fun for days! Your little womb will be bloated with my fertile cum!” 

You try to speak, but you can’t, just continuing to suck his yummy milk from his teat. Walls fluttering with another orgasm, you feel yourself clamping down on his enormous cock. 

With one last mighty thrust, he seats himself fully inside of you, cumming directly against your unprotected cervix. A muffled scream erupts from your chest, as you feel your womb expand with copious amounts of beeile cum. Releasing his nipple, you throw your head back, a loud cry echoes throughout the barn, as you squirt once more around his cock. 

Now completely filled to the brim, you pass out from the trauma. Entirely exhausted, Koutarou grins down at your bloated form. He rubs your tummy like a Buddha statue, kissing it tenderly. 

“You’ll be a good Mommy, I’m sure of it,” he then trails his hand up your abdomen, groping your right tit, “You’ll look so pretty all milky and filled with my calves.” 

The sound of a throat clearing gains Bokuto’s attention, as he practically throws his naked body over yours. A loud ‘moo’ of warning escapes his chest, even when he notices that the person is just Ushijima. 

“I see that she mates with you well,” His eyes trail over your sleeping face, not straying downwards, “I hope this means that you’ll enter more shows.” 

Bo smiles, “Yes. Now I need to show off, so my mate thinks I’m an eligible male.” 

Nodding, Ushijima turns on his heal, making his way to leave the barn, “I hope your children take after you in strength. (Your Name) is a lot prettier than you are, so maybe they’ll be pleasing to the eye as well.” 

Snorting, the grey haired man’s ears twitch, jingling throughout the room, “You bet she is. She’s perfect.” 

[aetheternity]

So sweet, just for me

Synopsis: Just some stories where reader takes care of Virgin! Armin.

Disclaimer: Unprotected sex, blowjobs, Sub Armin and sexually experienced Y/N are all present in this. Minors exit now.

☆☆Just Summer Things☆☆

Sweat coursed down the expanse of every inch of your body. Or maybe it was water you weren't really sure. A set of carefully trimmed nails shivered and shook beside your head, digging into the grimy tree bark. Locks of sun kissed blonde hair stuck to parts of your neck, face and collarbone as you coaxed Armin's breathing down. Forehead resting uncomfortably against the bark and your ass firmly seated against his hips.

"How do you feel sweet boy?"

"I-I.." He panted, pulling his face back a little. Blue doe eyes full of lust and the sweet shine of tears.

His cock currently pressed delicately against your g-spot during what started out as a normal water balloon fight. Between the boys and the girls of course. You guys had all come out during late afternoon, Sasha and Connie started tossing water balloons and teams formed accordingly.

At some point you'd run off to what you thought was a safe zone only to find Armin perched in the bushes. Contemplation etched into his soft features.

"Move slowly ok." You encourage. You were surprised by how big he was sure but the warning was more so this could last for a while.

He nodded where you were still holding the back of his head. His nails cautiously unlatching from the tree moving instead to sink into the fat of your hips while at the same time his once snugly nestled cock began to move. The sweet drag forcing your toes to curl and your eyes to shut. A small exhale cresting off your lips.

A breathy moan fell from his trembling lips as he pulls you in closer. Wrapping his arms around your waist and squeezing around you like a lifeline.

You'd met Armin only two years ago through Jean and continued to crush on him for the entirety of those two years. Until today when he'd admitted to you that he was a little ashamed of being a virgin while consistently having to listen to Eren, Connie and Jean's conquests.

You told him they were probably lying about at least half of those stories but it only got you a small smile. So you decided to do him one better and offer to take his virginity.

It wasn't selfish. It was a win win. He would receive a conquest story to tell and you would get what you'd been craving since you'd first seen him in Jean's apartment shirtless and trying to help fix the messed up drain.

"Feels good?" You chuckle huskily

"Oh my God.." He huffs into your skin. 

His hips worked themselves up a little faster. A slightly clumsy pace forming but he was new at this so you weren't mad.

"Armin slow down baby, I don't want you to get ahead of yourself."

"I-i'm sorry.. j-ust feels amazing.."

One of his hands hesitantly snaked up your shirt. Skittish in the way he palmed at your breast. Though he quickly eased up when you replied to the affection with a little mewl.  

It felt surprisingly amazing for you as well. Considering the situation and the fact that Armin had never done this with anyone. This really was his first time.. What a weird thing to tell people. My first time was at a water balloon fight against a tree.

You hummed when the pleasure started to sit in your stomach. Legs trembling a bit as he pumped inside you a little faster. Any other time you would've just thrown your head back and relaxed, especially since his dick was so perfectly filling right now but-

"Armin, slow down." Your breathing was a little raspy.

He replied with a whimpery moan, thighs shaking against your sides. You reached an arm around grabbing his hips with your hand to slow them. It seemed to catch his attention because those soft doe eyes were wide.

"You'll get to cum baby I promise you, ease up a bit it's not a race." He nodded in affirmation and you smiled warmly.

Silk strands warm under your guided fingers as he pulled all the way out and slowly eased back in. A collective united moan exiting both your mouths. You'd shut your eyes but they worked themselves back open at the almost unnoticeable twitch of his cock head.

Your favorite part.

"Mm baby so close.." You whisper, your lip coming to tuck itself under your teeth.

A small chorus of yes's and little gasps fall from his open mouth. His skin somehow easing out of tomato red and into surface of the sun red.

You pull him close making sure his eyes were open. "I need you to cum for me ok? But make sure no one hears you." You say, and fuck is it gorgeous watching him come undone. Just like you'd imagined so many times before.

The tears once welling in his eyes spilled over like a faucet. Choked moans and harsh gasps worked their way off his lips. One of his hands flew back up to the tree where his nails soon dug the bark clean off. His hips stuttering through his entire orgasm. You were almost worried when his climax ended. The way he went silent except for his wild breathing.

"Armin?"

"Fuck.." He sighed

You couldn't help but giggle. "How was your first time?"

He gasps and rolls his eyes still stuck in euphoria. When he pulls out you take the opportunity to turn around. Working your panties up over your hips and pulling your fluttery skirt back down.

"Please, please let me do that again sometime.." He huffs finally managing words. You bring his lips to yours in a chaste kiss that honestly doesn't last long enough for you.

"Only if you promise to stay my good boy." You reply pulling his shorts up till they rest comfortably on his hips.

"I promise." He remarks, almost too eager. "Oh! Wait you didn't get to c-"

"Hey, where did you guys go?" Armin practically separates from his skin as Connie and Jean round the corner. Water guns tucked in their grasp.

"When did you guys get those?" You asked nonchalantly.

Jean shrugged, "We made the game more interesting."

Connie shook his head running back around the corner as Sasha's battle cry sounded.

"Hurry and get back we need you out there Armin." And with that Jean was gone too.

You picked up Armin's discarded water balloon, placing it in his open palm. "See you out there, lover boy."

☆☆Showing Armin how to do Yoga☆☆

"Why's Armin coming over here so early again?" Sasha asked rolling over onto her side. The bag of cotton candy once perched on her thighs flopping over and nearly spilling its contents.

"To do Yoga!" You replied with a laugh sitting the bag upright next to her.

She groaned dramatically. "But it's six thirty am on a Saturday."

"No one told you to get up with me." You remark, pushing the coffee table to the edge of the room.

She holds her once displaced bag up for you to see. "It was calling out to me." She sighs, hugging it to her chest.

A knock on the door takes your concentration. As you pull it open you call back to her, "Well since you're up, you might as well join us."

"Nope!" She quickly scurries away with a wave of her hand. Cotton candy stuffed under her arm.

You shut the door behind Armin as he stares down the hall that Sasha had disappeared down. Your grin is bright almost devilish as it slowly spreads across your face.

"Seems like it's just the two of us." You mutter, loud enough for him to hear.

You watch as he thickly gulps with a nod. Bite able Adam's apple bouncing but you pretend you don't notice. Your mat is already laid out on the floor but you can't stop yourself from bending over to smooth out the corners. Barely paying attention to Armin until you hear a small cough or maybe him choking it's not very clear.

He's holding his mat in his arms defensively across his chest. Silk strands of blond hair fluttering when he blinks. His cheeks a beautifully vibrant pink.

"I-I wanted to th-thank you.." He says, blue eyes trained where they stared at your mat. "For.. the- um.." He gestures and you can't help but giggle.

"The sex?"

Now his eyes find you. Blown wide as his pink lips part over a word that never succeeds in leaving his mouth. Your feet pat over the floor as you close the distance between the two of you. His cheeks warm under your delicate grasp and you hold his face almost as though you're sure he'll shatter.

"You're so cute, please never change."

You're almost scared it sounds condescending but the soft rosy color trudging up to the tips of Armin's ears says he doesn't agree.

You turn back to your mat with a smile but just before you sit on it you add, "And you never have to thank me for sex, I'd do it with you anytime."

He nods once as if responding to you and then twice as if he's confirming that you did indeed say what he heard. The soft plap of his mat on the floor reminding you of what you were both here for.

"Ok, let's begin then." You take a deep breath, adjusting the scrunchie holding your hair in place. "First we wanna stretch alright, so I just need you to reach up above your head with both hands and reposition your feet."

You demonstrate using yourself and Armin awkwardly copies. Slender fingers curling towards the sky as he slowly relaxes his shoulders. You can't help but let your mind wander a little as a glint of light flickers off the steel rings decorating three of his gorgeous digits.

You had fingered yourself last time the two of you were together and now you were craving him. Wondering what the warmth of just one of those inside you would feel like.

"Spread your legs more." You encourage, meanwhile it nearly has Armin doubling back. "Dirty boy." You tease

You stand in front of him gently kicking his legs apart. Easy enough. And he responds to every bit of your touch like he craved you too.

And well you wanna tell yourself that you had actually had completely innocent intentions when you'd invited Armin over here today. He genuinely had never done Yoga before and you knew Sasha was gonna be here. So yeah, you'd love to say you wanted nothing but to relax Armin in this encounter.

But you couldn't even keep a straight face while thinking it.

"Can you bend your knees a little?" He squats, carefully coming back up. Arms reaching out on both sides as you coaxed him. "A little lower sweetie." You say as his ass hovers inches over the mat.

And oh to be the mat.

You step back until you're completely back on your mat. "I'm sure your arms are tired, you can put them down now." You wave him off and he lets out a smooth exhale. "Feel relaxed yet?"

"A little." He replies with a confident smile.

"Then you're ready for the next part." You clap "I need you to bend over and touch your toes alright."

He shuts his eyes, pretty lips parting over your choice of words. What you wouldn’t give right at this second to be a mind reader. His back arches, ankles locking together as you demonstrated. "Good, good boy. Back straight." You sink your thumb into his black athletic shirt to touch his spine. And he hardens with your touch. "Don't be shy, it's just me." You mutter, breath heavy.

Fuck! Touching his back muscles this up close and personal made you wanna sink your nails into them. Leave lines up and down his soft supple skin as a mark that you'd always be his first. No one else would ever get that privilege. 

"I-I.."

Shit.

"Ok, you can stand."

You pretend not to notice the way he shifts his sweats as he stands. This time you vow to actually stay on your mat.

"You should know this position." Your legs spread on one end of the mat while your hands came down to lay flat near the opposite end. "Try it."

Carefully he gets into the position you're currently doing but not without peaking at your figure. His blond hair dipping towards the mat and you can't help but smile at how cute he looks.

"Now we're gonna slowly curve our bodies down until our pelvis touches the floor." You say, head curving up toward the ceiling. For once Armin has immediate trouble, hips dangling weirdly over the ground. His arms trying and failing to steady himself.

"What's the matter? Wanna try a different position?"

"N-no it's nothing.."

You plop down on your mat, crossing your legs and gesturing for him to do the same and even without his reluctance you already know what's wrong. He slowly but surely rotates his hips, spreading his legs. His hardened dick print on full display.

You don't even try to hide the slow slither of your tongue wetting your lips. You quickly turn your head before crawling your way over to a very very flushed Armin. Sweat glistening perfectly over his pale skin.

"W-wait Sasha!" He panics, his arms flailing a bit as he backs up slightly.

"Shh it's ok, she definitely fell back asleep the second she went back in her room." You reply crawling towards him again.

"But you know I c-can't keep q-uiet. Wh-what if she h-hears!"

Your hands inched past his now loosened sweats to gently squeeze his hardened cock through his boxers. Both his hands flew to his mouth giving you a new gorgeous view of those pretty rings.

His eyes roll unfocused with every sweet glide of your hand. Tears already starting to brim along the edges of his warm eyes.

“Do you always wear those rings for physical activities or is it just for me?” 

“I-I just forgot to take them off..” 

“Did you?” You can tell your smile is shitty. Just from the way his eyes dart away from yours "You've never been blown either have you?" You ask getting back on topic.

"N-no." It's a muffled response but it hits your ears loud and clear.

"Another story for the growing journal then." You tease

You honestly can't help yourself. Lips curving and confining his tip like a vise. Precum salty where it stains your tongue. His gasp bouncing off the wall so elegantly. So fucking perfect. But even though Sasha is a heavy sleeper you were still worried she'd wake up before you finished.

So as much as you wanted to tease.

"Can I pull these down baby? I know your dick wants some relief."

He complies, oddly quickly. And you pull his sweats and boxers down just enough to hug the tops of his thighs. 

And his dick is gorgeous. You hadn't actually seen it before but fuck was it pretty, standing tall and leaking before you.

You inch forward spit dribbling from your lips to be collected in the hand that was working his slender shaft. It had Armin's hips bucking up to greet you. His sweet whines egging you on.

And slowly but surely.... "Oh my fucking god."

It was an adjustment. Not as smooth as you would've liked because of the weird angle but you'd taken a little more than half of his dick in your mouth. A mildly painful fit made up for by the angelic cries of Armin just above you.

"Pl-please.. oh God please.."

He couldn't tell what he wanted to hold, hands shifting to the top of your head, the floor and his rolled up sweats all in less than a minute. You swore you could hear his heartbeat through his chest every time you swallowed his cock again.

You wanted to speed ahead so bad, see him just as flustered as he had been last week when he had his cock buried deep inside your pussy but it was obvious he wasn't going to last long either way.

Disorganized syllables flooding off his lips with the occasional whimper of "thank you" and "yes". His throat heavy with every curse word he knew stuck in it. Breaths quick and uneven as you coaxed him down your throat. Vibrations coursing past your lips to meet his already sensitive sex.

"I-i'm.. gonna cum.. mmm soooo close! Gonna cum!"

His choked breaths fell over your forehead and in the next second he was emptying every bit of his stress into your mouth. Eyes clouded like Armin wasn't even in there anymore. And you drained him of every drop, reaching between his legs to squeeze his balls.

When you pulled off of him he let out a deep exhale. Body still shaking as he looked at you.

"Thank you so much." He grinned hazily

"God, I wanna be as many of your firsts as possible." You breathe out a laugh.

☆☆The one where Eren walks in☆☆

It wasn't often you came back to the same guy. Every now and then you had one night stands and that's all it ended up being. You'd always been fine with that.

But Armin made you stay. His shaky fingers, nervous tongue and tear stained cheeks so oddly addictive. Intoxicating in how innocent he stayed despite having two sexual encounters with you.

And now here you both were having your third in his bed. Bodies melded together in the heat of both your sweat. Eyes fixated on only each other as his head tilted up like a hungry baby bird to pull you back in every time you fled.

And you indulged him as much as possible because fuck he was the cutest thing. Your hands gliding over his back and up to his shoulders to pull him impossibly closer. Spine curving deliciously when he grazed over your g-spot.

"Armin.. there." You breathed

Your free hand slid between your bodies making space for those slender fingers to work over your clit.

"Flick it." You encouraged, he immediately did as he was told earning a moan of approval.

"Good boy." You hum, lip trembling where it curves under your teeth.

The once soft pink of his face deepened with the compliment. A little smile decorating his gorgeous features. Just another thing to add to your growing folder of mental images.

"There honey.. keep going." You cooed over the little whimper fluttering off his lips as you hugged his cock. "You remember that spot right? The one that you hit when we were outside?"

"Yeah.. I think it was.." His hips remained delicate as he slid right into place. One leg up as he slotted his cock inside you. Heat pooled in the lowest depths of your stomach with the hesitant prodding of his tip to your g-spot. Eyes curving up to yours for further instruction.

"Mmhm that's it.. hit it a little harder ok."

It was all sorts of clumsy but he rammed your g-spot full force. An apology made its way to his throat but eye contact and the choked gasp that left your mouth soon proved it wasn't needed. You spread your legs a little further for him and he grabbed your waist smoothly working your hips over his dick.

"You're doing so well." You giggled taking a hold of his face. "And you're holding out much longer this time."

"Y-yeah but I'm almost there.." He sighed, fingers working at your clit a little faster. Right in time with the faster tempo of his hips.

"Fuck, you feel soooo good." He drawls

His lips parted, eyes flying north. You hugged him a little tighter as his chest pushed you up and down with each thrust. The once gentle drag of your nails now much rougher. As you let it slip just how much you were enjoying this.

Let your mouth fall open for the words circling your brain. Stomach heavy as Armin fucked you with intention. You brushed beads of sweat back from his face. His hair going up with it, clumping together atop his head.

"Mm gonna cum.." He moaned, head lolling with the intensity of his full body tremor.

"Hey Armin-"

"Eren!" Armin nearly shot up as Eren pushed the door open with zero warning.

Armin's free hand stayed on your clit completely stagnant. Tip twitching inside you, he didn't even have time to cover his mouth. Moans and whimpers pouring out from his still parted lips. Every bit of your fifteen minute effort now seen and heard by Eren who stood in the doorway with a raised eyebrow.

"Hey Eren.." You greeted, pulling your hand away from your upturned lips. Meanwhile Armin's face is buried deep in your shoulder blade. Where you already assumed he'd be staying for the next hour.

"Uh huh.." Eren replied, slamming the door shut. "Mikasa, he's busy let's go!" You heard him call as his boots clicked down the hall.

You don’t say a word till you hear the front door open and close, “You ok?” 

“Any chance Eren didn’t hear that?..” He whispered 

“Not in hell or on Earth love.” 

‘Then no..”