#the heat is too hot and my brain is too floppy

[itadore-you]

currently in a mood (probably period induced) and it makes me sad bc i am missing so much on the dash and im not in the state to watch the new jjk episode i just kinda want to be an icky little puddle and sleep for three days then go on a writing spree afterwards or something idk

[rayveneyed]

cw: smut / a/b/o dynamics / cisfem!reader

contrary to popular, old-fashioned belief, alphas and omegas can be friends.

long gone are those times of wilful ignorance, the use of nature as an excuse for shitty behaviour —well, i'm an alpha, see, so i really can't help trying to shove my hand up your skirt, so—

most people are chill nowadays, you like to think — like to being the key phrase. sure, you get the occasional tradomega trying to tell you that you need to dive into your divine feminine and serve your alpha as god intended — and you've definitely been on the receiving side of some ticking biological clock rhetoric, for sure, by snot-nosed alphas with not even a single yen to their name — but it is what it is.

all of this to say that: when sero hanta is guts deep in you, it's completely platonic. completely. cute. casual. nowadays, no hair-brained ideas of marriage or monogamy or commitment accompany your coupling — it’s animal instinct, dirty and intense and slick and hot, scratching a biological itch, and that’s it.

you really lucked out on your choice of partner, too. sero’s an alpha, yes, but not in the derogatory sense. he doesn't get pissed when he smells other alphas on you, like a territorial dog; doesn't tell you that you should be settled down, already, with a household of pups to manage at 25 years of age; doesn't push and prod when you work long hours and devote most of your time to your career. he's funny, and goofy, and tall, and lean, and — and, well, his hair is floppy and inky black, and when he's hunched over you, sweat dripping onto your collarbone from his pointed nose, his cheeks flush the cutest shade of pink…

ahem. anyways.

while there are many omegas that are no doubt stronger than you when it comes to heats, forgoing human contact in favour of 700-odd pounds of silicone, you're part of the large majority that would rather shack up with somebody real. you're not knocking it, of course! your sock drawer is testament to the fact that you love your silicone, really, but there's just something about a person. all heat and skin-to-skin, sticky and nasty in a way that leaves you more satisfied than anything else.

and sero — with his kind eyes and goofy smile (and skintight hero suit) — is not only more than willing to help you through your heats, but have you enjoy them. not an easy feat when your insides are tying themselves up in knots between orgasms, but by god does he do it. something about his hips... something about the way he bows his head to your shoulder, grinding long and slow into you, hips pressed flush to hips. his lips brushing against your skin when he groans, his fingers tangling in your hair to pull your head back. you're not sure if you should be jealous of his obvious sexual experience, or just grateful that you get to be on the receiving end of it.

there is, of course, the obvious romantic connotations of it all. you’re not stupid enough to completely ignore it; after all, heats are these romanticised, coming-of-age-esque happenings, the plot of most early 2000 rom-coms and bad pornos. cute omega roommate forgets her suppressants and goes into heat! real alpha-omega love-making guaranteed!

but its not like that, because hanta is hanta and you are you. you’re like sharkboy and lavagirl. or fireboy and watergirl. whichever pairing fits the dynamic better — you’ve always been the hothead between you two.

“that’s a really shitty idea,” a friend warns you. she’d caught you with your scarf undone, baring the hickies that hanta had left on you to the world — an embarrassing result of the occasional non-heat trysts you’d find yourself caught up in. you couldn’t even blame the heat hormones for the way you’d almost mauled him, but a girl simply has needs! “i’m telling you, casual heat sex never works. trust me.”

but it works for you and hanta, right? because no matter how much you fight, how much you disagree, how much you chastise him for putting himself directly in the line of fire — on live tv, no less! — it all melts away in a pile of blankets and pillows. no matter how deep his cock drives in you, no matter how his teeth scrape your scent glands and have your toes curling against his back, it all ends up the same — slumped in front of the tv, lazily lounging on your phone while he boots up his nintendo 64 to kick ganondorf’s ass for the billionth time.

(and it doesn’t matter that sero isn’t seeing anyone else — it doesn’t matter that he’s deleted his dating apps, or that you keep the pillow he sleeps on when he comes over so that you can scent it when he’s gone. it doesn’t matter that he reminds you to take your anxiety meds — you know, omegas are 44% more likely to have GAD than the average person? — or that he remembers how you take your tea, coffee, and pho. these are things you’d do with any friend, of course.)

it’s cute. casual. not at all romantic, so surely you shouldn’t think twice about leaving a toothbrush at his place. and what harm could a set of pyjamas do? and you could always do with an extra pair of socks, and your skincare, and perhaps an extra phone charger…?

[batwritings]

Now hear me out, Blaze! Sapnap and Bunny hybrid! Reader, their separate mating seasons line up and they both are a complete mess of really horny and affectionate. They both have been trying to hold off, but things just get too intense and they give into the instinctual urges.

Is it bad that whenever I write for Sapnap now I purely listen to The Weeknd? Hmm...Enjoy!~

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Sapnap knew how dangerous his mating cycles could get. Being a Blaze, he eventually had to give up spending those long days in his own living situation because of how many times he burned his possessions or parts of his abode. The last thing he wanted was to end up burning you.

It took you by surprised when you felt your own heat creep up on you as you woke up. The room felt hot, hotter than it normally did when your mating cycle came around. "So this is going to be a bad one," you thought, clenching your legs together to try to stave off the pulse of pleasure that ran across your skin.

A sharp inhale caught your floppy ears, causing them to perk a bit. Your head snapped up to see Sapnap, tips of his pointed ears practically smoking with how singed they were. He was fiddling with the lucky rabbit's foot he'd found and you'd blessed with your own luck.

"Sap...?" You asked, your groggy morning voice making his tail flick restlessly. "You okay?" It was then that his scorching eyes met yours.

"You're in heat," he answered, fangs nicking his lip as he tried to keep himself from all but pouncing on you. "And my rut is here." Your ears fell back a bit at that, a wave of pure submission rushing through your body. "I have been trying all goddamn morning not to burn your door down. You reek."

You knew what he was getting at; instinct was starting to take over and your poor Blazeborn boyfriend was having a hard time not acting on his body's needs. You either needed to leave right now or you'd be spending your cycle together. No other way around it.

Despite being fully aware of the concerns Sapnap held for this time of the year for him, you flung your covers off. "C'mon then," you permitted. He was on you in an instant, claws practically tearing at your baggy shirt and sleep shorts.

If anyone thought the blaze hybrid eagerly marking up your neck was feral in his day to day, none of them had ever properly seen him in the thralls of his mating cycle. He was more animalistic than you were, the bunny hybrid, as he kissed and bit down your body. You did your best to pull his practically burning member free so he could do just what he came here to do.

You heard him whine as you took him in your hand to line him up. Even with a haze of lust clouding his mind, Sapnap was still worried about your safety. "Shh," you hushed gently, letting the head of his cock slip inside. "I've got you big guy." Despite your own mind starting to fill with lewd thoughts, you knew he needed you right now.

The Blazeborn hybrid was quick to slam into your tight heat, a silent scream forming on your lips. He was rough, desperate, and eager as he pounded into you without hesitation. Your claws unsheathed, digging into his biceps as your legs locked around his waist. Warm breath tickled your neck as Sapnap keened against your skin.

There was some weird relief flooding through the both of you as you each finally came. Sapnap's cum felt molten, like he might burn your insides if he kept it up. Yet your slightly satiated brain could only settle for peppering his heated cheeks with kisses as thanks.

This was going to be a long cycle, and you truly couldn't wait.

[superblysubpar]

return to main menu // a request from my angel, @palmtreesx3 💛

Sweet Little Lies:

steve harrington x fem!older!reader

summary: Steve Harrington has been landscaping your yard all week and you can’t help but wonder what it would be like to be with the younger man. | my blog and this fic are NSFW 18+

the song: little lies by fleetwood mac

warnings: age gap between reader and Steve (Steve’s at least 21) | use of Y/L/N | reader has image / self esteem insecurities | illusions to smut

It's the kind of hot that has your hair piled up on the top of your head, pieces falling out and sticking to the sweat coated skin of your neck. The kind that has you wearing practically nothing as you wander through your house. The distinct scents of lemon, raspberry, and mint from the lemonade you made mixing with the freshly mowed grass that's just outside the open windows you're trying not to gawk in front of.

It's the kind of hot that involves shirtless, sweating, baseball hat wearing, dirty Steve Harrington.

Maybe if he catches you with your mouth open you can blame your lack of composure on the sweltering heat. 

That's it. 

The heat has fried your brain.

Because that is the only acceptable reason for a grown woman to be biting her lip as she watches a man who's significantly younger than her carry large bags of…soil? Fertilizer? Rocks? You could care less as you watch the muscles in his tanned and sweat slick back tense and vibrate with each of his movements. 

And to give yourself credit, there really is nothing wrong with what you're doing and there are plenty of perfect reasons for you to be staring. It's not like he's so much younger than you that it'd be absurd - he's a man. He's not a boy. He can legally buy alcohol and cigarettes and...you'll have to check about renting a car. But, he is young enough for you to know that this is as far as it'll get - you staring and daydreaming out the window while he landscapes your yard, telling yourself little lies about what could be.

Steve drops the bag with a groan and reaches up and removes his cap, running dirty hands through his floppy auburn locks before turning the hat backwards and grabbing a wheelbarrow, veins in his sun-kissed forearms outlined by sweat and soil visible from the window and you audibly moan.

That's just not fucking fair.

Steve turns his head, like he heard you and then you realize - wait did he hear you?

He sets the wheelbarrow down, hand rising to block the sun as he squints in your direction and calls, "Did you say something?"

fuckfuckfuckfuck.

Clearing your throat, you cringe at the high pitch your tone takes as you call out, “Um, ye-yeah! Do you want some lunch?”

Steve flips his wrist, glancing at his watch while grabbing a white shirt hanging from a chair on your deck as he calls back, “Sure!”

Heading towards your fridge, you’re pulling out sandwich fixins and the lemonade you made, turning around you almost smack right into Steve, nearly dropping the pitcher as you jump, “Oh!”

His hands steady the glass, fingers brushing yours and you’re pretty sure the lights hum and flicker, like the charge of your skin touching caused a shortage. 

He laughs, eyes squinting as he smiles, “Sorry, I thought you heard me come in, but I guess…” he gestures to the radio playing far too loudly and you spin to turn it down and he continues, stealing the pitcher from you and setting it on your counter, “I get it, Fleetwood Mac requires the volume to be loud.”

Humming a quiet agreement, you gesture to the food on the counter and he raises his hands and nods towards your kitchen sink and you step aside to let him pass, pinching your eyes closed briefly as his shoulder brushes yours. 

As Steve washes his hands you’re able to analyze the details of him with more appreciation now that he’s closer. This has been your favorite part of every day for the last week, seeing the way his muscles relax as he eats, the way he narrows his eyes to assure he gets the dirt off of his hands before helping himself to the food. Today, his white shirt clings to the sweat of his torso, highlighting the toned muscles and dark chest hair peeking through the top. As you watch the sweat from under his backwards cap bead down his jaw and neck, you’re fairly certain he has at least three new freckles and without thinking, you speak, “Do you have sunblock on?”

His lips twitch up in the corner on one side, nudging the faucet handle off with his wrist as he looks at you and shakes loose droplets into the sink, asking, “What?”

“You…uh…” closing your eyes you spin and sit at the counter, starting to pour the lemonade while chastising yourself - get it together you are not a lovesick teenager, Y/N, before continuing, “Just, it’s so hot out, and you’ve been out in the sun all week and I realized I never offered you any. I have some, under the cabinet in the bathroom if you want some, which I really think you should take it because you have two new-oh shit!”

In your embarrassing babbling, you did not pay attention to the glasses overfilling, lemonade splashing on the counter and down the front of your shirt and you stand abruptly as Steve lunges forward with a towel. 

“Sorry, geez this is just…” staring at the floor and counter and then down at yourself, “a mess.”

Steve smiles softly, hands grabbing another towel, “I think you should take it easy on yourself, Ms. Y/L/N, it’s just lemonade.”

“Steve, I told you please call me-” he nods, interrupting you.

“I know, I know, it’s just…” he pulls your hand gently up, towel wrapping around your forearm and slowly wiping lemonade from your skin as he continues, “You’re older than me.”

Heart sinking into your stomach, you try to act like that sentence didn’t just gut you, sarcasm dripping out of your pursed lips, “Wow, I had no idea.”

He smiles, eyebrows furrowing together like he’s deep in thought as his hand in the towel works up your arm. You watch his gaze land across your shoulders and chest, up your neck until he’s staring directly at you, “You don’t seem older than me. So I think I need to call you that…to remind myself that I…that we can’t…”

He trails off and the room feels fuzzy. Like someone closed all the windows and turned the heat up even higher. His eyes seem to roam over your face like they’re taking you in in all the ways you’ve been doing to him during the week, noticing his distinct pause on your lips. His hand and the towel rests on your shoulder, the other dangerously close to yours on the counter. The distance between your bodies draws closer like you’re magnetic, the intoxicating scent of grass, sunscreen and something distinctly Steve filling the tight space between you. 

Scents that you’ve only gotten whiffs of all week in passing, never this close to each other fill your nose and cloud your brain. It’s earthy and natural and…minty? His face is close enough to yours that you’re sure the mint is from his slightly parted mouth, and you’re desperate to close the remaining distance and test your theory. Eyes more green than you can usually see from the line between you that you try to keep. They’re mossy, like the work he does has encroached on every aspect of his life - in the strength and tone of his muscles, the scent of his cologne, and the color of his eyes. 

Steve’s thumb brushes up your neck, grazing baby hairs behind your ear as he moves to cradle your jaw and something finally clicks, connecting your body and your brain and you take a step back, whispering, “Steve…we…”

He blinks a few times, smiling shortly and collects the towels, tossing them in the sink. You’re suffocating in the thick and heavy tension and heat filled room, so you start to back away, “I actually…I should go start getting ready?”

Steve continues to wipe his hands and doesn’t look at you as he asks, “Ready?”

Rubbing the back of your neck before folding your arms in front of you and shrugging as you reply, “I just have this blind date sort of thing my friend set me up on. It’s just drinks, maybe dinner, and it probably won’t even…it’s not a big deal…” you're embarrassed by your information dump, especially after what it seemed like might have just almost happened with him. 

Steve glances at you over his shoulder, hands leaning on the counter to allow the veins in his forearms to stand out more as he clears his throat, “Well, he’s a lucky guy. I’m sure it’ll be great.”

Simply nodding once at his statement, you turn before you can say or do anything to embarrass yourself further, wandering to your bedroom to get ready. Because, what does he mean ‘he’s a lucky guy’? Is he jealous? Does he wish it were him? Were you really about to just kiss each other? 

Pressing your forehead to the door of your bedroom as you close it, you take several deep breaths trying to fight the overwhelming urge to run back to him and explore what potentially almost happened. 

But Steve is young, he doesn’t know what he wants, and you are older - used and bruised, and unworthy of his attention. He has a whole life to live, and you’re realizing you’ve let the sweet little lies you’ve been telling yourself all week cloud your judgment - it will never work. 

Showering the sticky lemonade off of yourself, you try to let thoughts of what could have been with him fall down the drain with the water, a clean slate - a realistic slate. Because as you think about going on this date, you can’t help but think about how you would perhaps never go on a normal date with Steve. The difference in your age would always be a looming presence, whether you both cared to acknowledge it. It would be felt in judgment and stares from strangers and even your friends, it would be felt in his curiosity of someone younger, age appropriate, and a life he could have with them, and in your guilt of taking that all away from him. 

Pressing your palms to your cheeks, you squeeze your eyes closed and remind yourself that you have no idea how Steve thinks of you, and you’ve let yourself wrap yourself up in these delusions and it is time to let them go. 

As the hours pass, you hear Steve back out in your yard and you refuse to look out the windows again, ignoring the soft grunts that fall from his lips or his voice singing along to the portable radio he always has softly playing. 

Bringing yourself to your entryway, you analyze the way your new black dress clings and hugs your body, trying to remind yourself that the curves, dips, and plush parts of your it look good and are lovely and not a bad thing like you’ve been let to believe by past relationships or society. 

When you enter the kitchen, you finally risk a glance out the back door to see Steve has finished the landscaping, loading his materials and putting them away and you sigh. It seems fitting, he’ll move on, you’ll go on this date and you’ll forget about the week you’ve had with each other. 

The phone ringing pulls you out of the bittersweet staring and you answer only to feel all the progress you’ve made with yourself plummet lower than the floor beneath your heels you’re kicking off. Of course he’s canceling. Of course the first date you’ve been on in years can’t even make it to see you before canceling. 

Pulling out a bottle of wine, you start to pour yourself a large glass and you’re removing an earring and tossing it on the counter when the sliding door opens. 

“Hey, I’m all finished up and I just wanted to say, about earlier, I…” you glance up to see him blinking at you with wide eyes. His cheeks are flushed pink and you tell yourself that it must be from the sun, but then he has to go and say something sweet and stupid as he gulps and whispers out, “Wow, you look…oh my god you look so beautiful.”

Tears spring out onto your lashes in record time and you force a laugh out in hopes to ward off their decent down your cheeks as you remove the other earring, “Steve, please don’t-”

“You do though. You look…” he clears his throat, tapping his knuckles against the counter, “Sorry, you look really lovely and have fun on your date, you’re gonna knock him dead.”

Bringing the glass up to your lips, you mumble, “I’m not going. He canceled,” a tear falls and you quickly wipe at it before continuing, “What about earlier were you going to say?”

Steve takes a careful step around the counter, eyes unabashedly roaming over your body and you instinctively wrap an arm around yourself, trying to make yourself smaller and hide any insecurities you’ve ever had from him. 

He notices and grabs your hand, pulling it away from your body, thumb brushing your knuckles as he stares at your intertwined hands before finding your face, “That guy is an idiot.”

You start to try to pull your hand away and he grabs both of your hands, drawing you closer to him as he confidently says, “Let me take you on a date. A proper one, not just drinks. You deserve a five course meal and dancing and a horse drawn carriage ride or something.”

Before you can respond, he kisses your cheek softly, lips dragging across your skin and raising goosebumps over your entire body as he places another kiss below your ear, hands moving to your hips as your breath hitches. His mouth wet and hot as it trails over your skin like he’s savoring it and he squeezes you tighter and closer to him when you don’t push him away but instead let your arms wrap around his neck. 

Stumbling backwards, he presses you into the wall and you try to stifle a moan as his teeth graze your neck before he begins sucking a bruise into your skin, bunching the clinging fabric of your dress into his hands as yours ache to card through the hair so close to your fingertips. All the thoughts, daydreams, and lies you had finally discarded rush back to you as his tongue swirls soothingly around the new mark he just gave you. Sense and realism push through the haze of lust and you try to tell him that this isn’t going to work. 

“Steve,” his name comes out of you in a barely audible breath. 

His lips brush down the column of your throat as he hums in response. 

“What…what are we doing?” Your eyelids flutter as he leaves a trail of soft kisses down your shoulder and you push out the rest of your thought, “Steve, you don’t want this, you don’t want me.”

Your words stop his kissing and he pulls away just enough to look you in the eyes. His hand reaches up to cradle your jaw, a calloused thumb brushing over your bottom lip as he whispers, “Who made you believe you aren't worthy of this kind of love?”

His question renders you speechless - it settles in the air around you, heavy and hazy like the Indiana heat and makes you a little dizzy. Staring into his eyes, you’re desperate to see something in them that you’ve always yearned for in others. As they soften in their gaze upon yours, his thumb sending electric buzzing through you as it brushes back and forth across your cheek, you realize you don’t have to search for long. The fading summer sun has his hazel eyes melting into a warm honey, the deep green from earlier now just flecks peeking through. They seem to burn straight into yours, right down to your heart - like ivy or moss growing over bricks, threatening to crack the wall you’ve placed around it. 

Steve leans in closer, his breath fanning warm across your already heated skin, nose brushing yours as he practically pleads with you. His voice soft and longing, washing over you like the rain the summer aches for, “Let me show you how you deserve to be loved,” his mouth hovers over yours, a gentle graze of his top lip to your bottom, testing the line he’s desperate to cross, “Please.”

Your body gives in before your brain can truly catch up and your mouth parts under his, letting him swallow any doubts or insecurities you might have. He hums into you, large hands tilting your head gently to allow him more access to deepen his kiss. Lips moving tenderly over yours like you aren’t the only one who’s been imagining this moment for a week, both of you wanting to savor the taste and feeling of each other. 

That first kiss with Steve Harrington is exactly like the fading sun on the horizon. It’s warm, soft, and tinged in sweet sherbert colors that make you hum when it hits your lips, fingertips tingling, and tinting his cheeks. It’s breathtaking and almost slow enough you don’t even notice the way the colors and your lips deepen to darker shades of want and hunger for each other. It’s fleeting at the same time, inching closer and closer to disappearing all together, because eventually you have to part from one another. The first kiss is over too soon and then the moment is no longer golden, but tinged in the darker blues and purples of twilight. Dangerous and lust filled as your clothes start to get pulled from each other’s bodies in a desperate energy that the darkness welcomes and makes it easier to slip into in a way the spotlight of the day cannot allow. Giving in to letting each other believe in the possibility of what this could mean and disappear into one another as the day does into the night.

But Steve doesn’t allow the night to cover you in darkness, his hands and kisses lighting you up wherever they caress and brush, shining a spotlight on every inch of you as he whispers praises and compliments into your skin. He’s soft, sweet, slow - like he has every eager intent to explore your body until the sun comes up again. The sounds of the birds and buzzing day now turned to frogs and crickets filtering in through the still open windows, fireflies dancing in celebration of the faded light. The night doesn’t deny the sweltering hazy day, but seems to only turn it up - each kiss a dip in water that was heated by the summer sun all day, now cold and refreshing.  Moonlit and magical, your bodies moving together don’t have any concept of time or age like your brains did earlier. You simply exist together like that’s how it’s always been and how it’s supposed to be. 

Fingertips trailing over freckles, dips, curves, and muscles in each other like you’re charting constellations on one another’s skin. Bodies and lips crashing into each other like meteors, pieces of your heart fragmenting and combining with his. Being together is planets aligning and a whole galaxy behind your eyes as you cry out his name into his lips that are breathing out yours. And even when it’s all over, there is still plenty of night left to continue exploring. Lips brushing over knuckles, fingers carding through hair, and legs tangling together as you talk about everything and nothing. Until you’re waking to the rising sun, wrapped in each other’s arms. Ready to do it all again, every day you’ll let each other believe in it. 

[erikamaybe]

The Rewards of Service

When the call to protect the Earth went out, they said only the most dysphoric trans girls could survive the mental and emotional strain of being remade as the perfect, adorable, death dealing waifus needed to protect and unite the planet. The process was agony, so much  had to be taken away and replaced with metal and polymer. But what's left of you is TOO CUUUUTE! The perfect pinup spokes model for the Cause. From your fashionable haircut, to your cherubic face, to your perky breasts, to your smooth tummy, down to the demure coin slot pussy your navy blue one piece swimsuit/ flight suit just hints at, you're finally the petite and playful girl you always wanted to be. The metal rings of the interface sockets where your old limbs used to be weren't part of the plan, but it was a small price to pay. The chaos and fear and death of fighting in near Earth  space… that was a bigger price. You survived your first sortie, but you just can't stop crying. You hang in the darkened de-arming cradle, cold unfeeling robot arms holding you up as more remove your flight armor and your engagement limbs, packed with rocket pods, flight jets, and laser  arrays. The lights come on, blinding you. You can hear the crisp tap of heels on the deck, a blurry figure approaching. As your vision returns you make out an exaggerated hourglass figure looming over you. "Hello, I'm your permanent handler and government issue girlfriend" What?  They issued you a gf? What the hell? No one told you about this! You've almost gathered yourself to protest when a huge hand cups your cheek. It feels so warm after the cold of space. You let go of your protest as you melt into the hand. You look up at her as your vision finally  clears. She's huge, easily 8 feet, broad in the shoulders and just as broad in the hips. Her bosom is barely contained by a military grade brassiere and a crisp, button up shirt. She must have a canine gene-mod, with floppy ears and a prominent nose. Her expression shifts from coldly professional to a knowing smirk as your eyes linger on her body. "My name is Garnet… But you can call me mommy when my cock is inside you." WAAAAAAAHHHHH!?!? Your brain turns off as your body turns on, nipples hardening and your pussy, the best 22nd century medical  science could provide, blooms with heat and wetness that rapidly soaks your flight suit. That wonderful hand pats you gently on the head. "Good girl, you're exactly what your psych profile said you would be." GOOD GIRL!? HEAD PATS!? MOMMY COCK!? "That's right, you're  humanity's last, best hope. You get all the head pats and mommy cock a good girl can handle for what you're doing." Did… did you say that out loud? You did, you said that out loud, she heard it… You blush hot enough to feel through the flush of lust and praise. If you had limbs you'd cover your face and run away. But all you can do is close your eyes and pretend to be dead. Your composure almost breaks when she strips off your flight suit, but no, nope, you've died of embarrassment. But when something massive and hot is shoved deep into your pussy, the  moan you let out goes on forever. Whatever self control you had left is lost as you cum from that single, unexpected thrust. Your body clenches around the molten, throbbing heat inside as you moan and scream and cry, letting out everything you've held back as you endured torture  to become something you could be happy as. Arms wrap around you and press your face into starchy shirt over soft breasts. You're lifted away from lifeless robot arms, still impaled, a warm hand cupping your ass for support. "There, there baby girl, let to all out for mommy" And you do… you let it all out for mommy… 

It felt so good to finally cut loose and scream and wail. It felt so good to do all that while impaled on the enormous cock of an equally enormous woman who is holding you to her bosom. It felt so good to be called 'baby girl'... When you're finally all cried out from the horror of war and death and gender you look up from the wet and snotty mess you've made of Garnet's… of Mommy's shirt. At some point she carried you away from the cramped confines of your de-arming hanger and now you're in a surprisingly luxurious bathroom. You had no idea there was  anything like this on the carrier. You'd always showered with the other girls back ground side. "You seem surprised sweetie. You're a very important war asset now. No more maybes, no more training. You fought, you killed, and you didn't die or have your psyche collapse completely.  Now you get everything you could possibly need to keep your head on straight and keep doing your job." The thought of putting your flight kit on and going back out there hits you like a brick. You're stunned, disoriented, about to start crying again when suddenly you're lifted off Mommy's cock and set down into a warm and soft cradle. The sudden emptiness and all over warmth breaks your train of thought. Garnet leans in, looming over you, her huge hands cupping your face. "Hey… It's ok. I'm here to make it ok. I'm here to make all this worth it." The  kiss she gives you is a slow, exploratory thing. She takes her time, exploring you, learning you, tasting you. The whine you make when she draws away is deeply embarrassing despite, or maybe because of, the intimacy you're sharing. "I can't kiss you and get undressed at the same  time silly. Or did you want me to get in the bath fully clothed?" She swings the cradle around so you can watch her undress. She starts with her pleated knee length skirt, shimmying to get it down past her phenomenal hips and butt. Her shirt-tails are barely sufficient to tuck in, they do nothing to hide her ass or her sheath and bright red cock. Canine gene-mod confirmed. She meets your gaze as she unbuttons her formerly crisp military shirt, posing like an old fashioned pin-up, winking and blowing kisses, making you blush and squirm. A groan of relief  accompanies the removal of her dour, functional, military issue bra. The thump it makes in the floor is almost as loud as the crack of her back and your gasp of horny delight at the bounty of jiggling titty pointed at you. Finally she steps out of her sensible heels.  Garnet, nude and glorious, turns and places a hand on your tummy, rubbing and groping your nubile body with shocking casualness. "What a cute thing you are. Cute and helpless and all mine…" A pair of fingers slide into your pussy, nothing compared to the monster girlcock shoved  into your earlier, but still shocking, invasive, thrilling. "I saw you staring at my tits baby girl. Be a good little weapon and I'll let you have arms so you can play with them. But you haven't earned arms yet. Today you've earned being my living onahole and a hot bath." You're  not sure how to feel about the way Garnet's talking at you, but that concern takes a back seat to asdkgjlkrbnfonvoawsdklfwpriojg!!! as she starts eating you out. Normally you might call the perfectly crafted pussy they gave you… neat, demure. Perfect for just hinting at a more  intimate sexuality from behind a contrived panty shot. But under the heat and moisture and skill of Garnet's lips and tongue and TEETH you can feel things blooming… engorging. It's amazing but an ache is starting inside you, an acute sense of emptiness ready to be filled by  Garnet's glorious knot. You finally find your voice after so many wordless cries. "Garnet…" Your voice is so whiny and needy… oh gosh you hope Garnet finds it sex that you're unraveling under her attention. "Garnet, please… I… I want to be your onahole. I need to be filled.  I… I… oooooooooo..." Oh god you're cumming, you're cumming while Garnet's long canine tongue schlorp schlorp schlorps your brain right out of your head. It all comes out in a rush "Ineedtobeused! FUCKMEPLEASE!" You can't believe you said that!  But you really, really did and you could swear you feel Garnet grinning as she coaxes your orgasm to another peak. After that all you can do is moan and gasp and try to writhe as waves of pleasure crash through you.

 Sweating, panting, disoriented… Whaaaaa? Oh, Garnet stopped eating your pussy like the goddamned world champion of cunnilingus and you have enough spare neurotransmitters for your higher functions to work again… neat… but also boooooooooo… Huh? Oh, speech, Garnet is talking.  "Are you listening? Oops, there we go, I can see the lights are back on upstairs from your cute little pout. I said, I'm gonna show you something neat, accept my share request." You double blink, bringing your HUD up to full opacity. There's a share request for a video feed  labeled: Garnet Live Feed. You accept with a thought and your field of vision fills with Garnet's eyecam stream. Aaaaaand she's looking at your pussy. Your shining, sopping, engorged pussy. Your labia have bloomed into something from Georgia O'Keefe's fever dreams, meaty petals  surrounding a fleshy passage that looks… almost… hungry… as it pulses and winks at Garnet, topped by an erect clit the size of your thumb. Waah? What? What delirious mind designed a pussy that went from dainty coinslot to cockhungering maw? "One who's studied your porn history with the focus of a sculptor researching a block of marble baby girl" Oh fuck your said that out loud again… you've been spending too much time alone… again… "MY PORN HISTORY!?" you blurt out. "Baby girl… Our program has developed the most complete and effective predictive  psych profile in human history. You have no secrets left. And your profile said you wanted a "cute" pussy that would be able to "take monster girldick". The euphoria designers aren't miracle workers, but they come damn close." She runs a finger around your vagina, caressing your  labia and tracing your ready hole, sending shivers through you. "So when you get stimulated by a monstergirl like me with the right activation enzymes in my spit… you get ready for her monstergirl dick. So… do you feel ready?" Yes? Yes! YES!!! You nod your head with enough  vigor to bounce slightly in your cradle. "Say it, use your words bottom." Oh nooooo… Meme attack, critical hit to the extremely online trans girl. Fuckfuckfuck… You just have to tell her that you want her fat cock filling your pussy, fucking your brains out. You can do this!  "Garnet… um… I guess… I mean, if you want to… You could stuff my slu…" No, not today. You aren't down in the barracks dirtside anymore, trying to out slut the other cyborg babes to get fucked by one of the girls able to top in the Pre-Op bunk next door. Today you're a hero, or, at  the very least, an essential asset. An asset that had EARNED a reward. "Mommy, I want you to fill my essential to the defense of Earth pussy with your huge knotted monster girldick. You said I earned being your onahole, so… so please give me what I've earned." Garnet bites her  lip as she slides her hands under you. "Good girl… very good girl… that's the kind of attitude I like in a fuck toy…" A series of warnings flash across your HUD as she lifts you, hands around your neck and waist. 

ONAHOLE PROTOCOLS: ON 

ACCELERATION DAMPERS: ACTIVE 

NECK ARTICULATION: LOCKED 

INTERNAL OXYGEN SUPPLY: ACTIVE 

SPEECH FUNCTION: LOCKED 

WOMB PROTOCOL: ACTIVE 

WOMB!?!?! You think this at Garnet as hard as you can. "Baby girl, I told you the euphoria designers aren't miracle workers.  All this has to go somewhere if you're gonna get knotted like you've been wanting for so long. It just opens your "cervix" which leads right into your state of the art robot tummy-tum, which is being told to not start digesting me while I'm in there" Bored with talking instead of  fucking Garnet roughly shoves you down onto her cock. OOOOOOH FUUUUUCK this is so much more than before. You can feel your guts rearranging to make room for her. Yeah sure, physically you are ready for this. Emotionally, you were not ready for how being an immobile limbless  fucktoy being mercilessly manhandled would feel so right. Your eyes roll back and your tongue lols out of your mouth as you surrender to being used. When Garnet penetrates your "cervix" there's a moment of heavy pressure and a deep 'pop' as she enters your guts. Oh god she's so  deep and you're not even on her knot yet. The wet sound of pussy getting wrecked is joined by primal glurks as her cock quests ever deeper, forcing air out of your locked down throat. Finally Garnet hilts in you for the first time, her grunts becoming a feral snarl. She sets you  back in the cradle even as her grip tightens. She humps you in a frenzy of short, fast strokes building to a final triumphant thrust as she cums with a howl. Finally you get to feel a knot inflating inside you and it sets off what would be a back breaker of an orgasm if you could  move. In this hypersensitive womb mode you can feel her pumping into you, thick and hot, filling you and overfilling you. You don't see the kiss coming, fierce, slobbery, possessive. Garnet moans into you as the both of you shudder through orgasms together.

You can feel your tummy distending to accommodate the inhuman volume of cum being pumped into you. Your vagina is stretched taut around Garnet's throbbing knot, a hot, intimate, comforting sensation. You can't whimper when Garnet stops kissing you, but it's worth it when her arms wrap around you and lift you out of the warmth of the cradle and nestle your face and upper torso into the warmth of her behemoth bosom. Slowly the onahole safety protocols disengage as she pets your hair. "Now, does my good toy have anything to say now that her voice is back online?" Words? No words, only warm. Inside and out warmth, finally driving the cold of space, of fear, of death from your body, your mind, your heart. All you can manage is sleepy satisfied noises as you nuzzle her impossibly soft breasts. "Hahahaha… Ok, guess I'm  asking too much from baby girl…" You jostle slightly as Garnet turns to the bath that's been patiently waiting for the two of you to finish fucking, gently circulating to keep the water at the perfect "almost too hot when you first get in, then perfect and soothing once you have a second to acclimate" temperature. The feel of slowly submerging into a perfect hot bath rouses you, eyes fluttering open to see Garnet smiling down at you with a mix of gentle condescension and affection. A hand on the back of your head guides you into a kiss, and this time  you aren't limp with post cry exhaustion or literally locked in place. You kiss her back with all the need and enthusiasm that's been building since she first called you Baby Girl. Some timeless eternity later you both pull away, gazing into each other's eyes. You pause, enjoying  this perfect moment, enjoying the feel of Garnet's hands caressing and groping your body with casual possessiveness, her knot still filling you, supporting you. "Garnet… I… I think I'm in love with you… Is… Is that too incredibly shallow? To fall in love  because you're beautiful, and kind, and fuck like my deepest fantasies come to life?" Garnet shakes her head gently. "Baby Girl… You're in so deep you don't even understand the depths to which you're being manipulated. It would be a genuine crisis to this operation if you weren't  falling in love with me right now. But I'm right there with you. I signed up for this job… But I picked you. I've been falling in love with you for months. This isn't going to be a smooth road, we're in a war for the survival of humanity as a concept. I'm much more informed about what's actually happening. But I want you, I want you to survive, I want you to have something to survive for. Tomorrow the long road of being together starts. But for tonight…" You feel Garnet's massive cock swelling and throbbing inside you.  "I'm going to test exactly how much cum my girl can hold." With bitten lip and hasty nod you agree. Worry can wait till tomorrow, you're not going to let anything take tonight from you. You earned it.

[tteokdoroki]

uhhhhh yeah

just

shinso and his lil bunny girl <3

he loves to be mean and pull on her ears when hes fucking her <3

## new match -> run rabbit, run.

— re: hitoshi shinsou.

— a/n: YES HELLO WRITING THIS MADE ME REALISE HOW MUCH I LOVE WRITING BUNNT READERS AND SHINSOU !! THANK YOU FOR OPENING MY EYES AND SORRY THIS TOOK SO LONG !

— cw: smut, mdni 18+, bunny!hybrids, breeding, heavy!degredation, bully + mean!shinsou, hard dom!shinsou, spanking, impact play, slight!corruption, exhibitionism, dacryphilia, voyeurism maybe?? fem!reader.

— wc: 1.4K.

shinsou thought your existence was a crime.

how could it be that something so sweet and pure had fallen into his hands? next to you? his darling little bunny girl, hitoshi shinsou looked like a villain in disguise— a darkness in the form of a cloak sweeping around around you and corrupting you from the inside out.

you would have never done these elsewhere, with anyone other than him— the droplets perspiration in the form of pearls shine across your skin like the gems that they are under golden afternoon sunlight, the drops roll down the globes of your ass cheeks as shinsou bends you over in the field of sunflowers for the entire world to see.

you would have never done this. fold yourself over as he spreads your cheeks apart to slide his cock between, easily slipping past your near raw entrance to fill you up to the brim and touch at the deepest parts of your insides. you were too darling to think of something as raunchy as this on your own, but hitoshi had taught you this, to be dirty and sinful despite the innocent look the twitch of your coptton tail and floppy bunny ears.

but here you are, pressing back on shinsou’s fat dick even though it hurts to take him in your tight hole— clawing at the ground until there’s dirt under your nails and grime on your dress. there’s a patch of purple curls that tickle your lower back as he pushes back into you, nestled inside your honeybunny cunt that flutters a mile a minute like your fluffy tail. he’s not even moved and he can tell you’re sitting right on the edge, humping desperately against the hero despite the awkward burn of his intrusion while you adjust to his size.

“look at you bunny, such a fucking mess, slobberin’ all over and i’ve only just put it in you,” shinsou chuckles darkly, with a tug of your ears to pull a wail from your lips. lips that are already swollen and bitten from where you’ve kissed him without permission, and you couldn’t keep your naughty little paws to yourself. he’s not wrong however, your cunt drools slick in thick waves until it goops beneath your joined bodies and tangles in the fuzz right by hitoshi’s cock. and your mouth, god your mouth that doesn’t stop whining and whimpering at the delicious stretch and arch to your back— it drips, heavy with saliva, a sign of your skittish, empty bunny brain. “you’re so nasty bunny, can’t help but make me all messy. should be ashamed for dirtyin’ me up like this,”

heat flames under your skin, face hot and humiliated tears burning at your waterline— but you like it, you enjoy being tortured like the little bunny you are— like being chased by the fox that is hitoshi shinsou, the sun beats down on your conjoined bodies, but nothing feels hotter than the slight thrust hitoshi gives to your needy juicy hole before he pulls back, tip dragging against ever pleasure spot on your snug ribbed walls.

“h-hitoshi...toshi, it hurts, please,” you whimper, words broken up by your hiccups and heaving chest— salt and crystalline tears gathering on your cupids bow. your nose twitches, bottom and tail soaked with your arousal as it rubs tracks down your thighs. you’re so wet the pain and burn of his fat cock should have stopped, but you like it like this. “it hurts, hurts s’much, please don’ stop,”

stroke game strong, hitoshi rolls his hips into yours— sending your body lurching forward and a shiver down your curved spine. you arch for him before he even has to put a hand on the base of your spine, giving him a perfect view of your ass and white cotton tail. he tugs it on his way down to your clit, drawing smooth circles into the soaked swollen nub so that you take him easier.

“it hurts, huh? but you want more, right?” shinsou asks you, voice feather light while he builds up momentum behind his thrusts. “how pathetic, you can’t even make up your mind, can you? just getting dumber and dumber the more i hurt you,” his voice is chill despite the summer breeze only making your brain tingle as he thumbs your clit and quickly pumps himself inside your gummy cunt. “such a brain dead bunny, don’t even know what you’re begging for,”

the clap of his balls against your swollen nub makes you short circuit, body jolting and brain fuzzy. “t-toshi, toshi, please i wan’ it,” you cry, squeaking as your bunny ears thump against the ground you squeeze to stabilise yourself. you do, you want it so bad your body aches as you keep yourself in place letting shinsou’s his canter into yours at an increasingly aggressive pace. you squeak, squeeze down on his cock until the veins up and down shinsou’s shaft catch on the ridges in your heat— massaging him until his breath is light and eyes start rolling.

“please, please, please— you’re so fucking loud for a bunny. aren’t you supposed to be quiet?” shinsou scolds you even as your eyes brim with fat tears once again, he grips your ears and forces your head down into the dirt, using his grip on you as leverage to fuck your tight hole nice and deep, bullying your soft insides. your cries are muffled against the ground, what once echoed throughout the empty field flits between clammy bodies and skin slapping against skin.

your hips jump up as the coil in your lower tummy starts to tighten, the edge of which your high resides starts to become clearer despite the blurriness of your tears. it feels so good, all at once and suddenly it’s way too much— even though you try to scramble away, hitoshi keeps you on a tight leash— bruising grip on your hips, as his cock chaises the welcoming heat of your spasming and dripping cunt.

shinsou tuts and when he speaks his voice drips with disappointment, only lifting with his mocking tone. “run rabbit, run rabbit, run...run...run.” he growls, lips pulling into a smirk that only makes the fire in your tummy burn more. “you wanted this, my cock, to be fucked. so take it, dumb fucking bunny.”

wailing louder, you take what shinsou gives you until you can no longer breathe and you’re left at his mercy— collapsing into the dirt in a pile of shaky limbs. his cock jams up your cervix, bullying you cunt until your clamping down so tight a milky ring appears around his base, a mix of your arousals. “toshi, ‘m so so close—haa, jus wanna cum, please lemme cum!” you babble any word that comes to mind, eyes red and as puffy as your ravaged pussy while hitoshi picks up the pace, spanking your ass raw and tugging your tail hard. “promise not to—to tease ever again! never to run again! n-no, no, no!”

“you’re not gonna run anymore? gonna be my good bunny, yeah?” shinsou cackles in amusement, although sweat drips from his brow from his exertion and the slow rolls of his hips into your ass. “think that’s earned you the right to cum for me, bun, cream on this cock. make me cum.” he commands you and your body swiftly follows— sent hurtling over the edge of ecstasy and into a deep pool of lust as your release gushes between your joined bodies.

your heart rate quickens, overwhelming you as you tremble and twitch beneath hitoshi— sweet cunt fluttering around him all through the after shocks of your high. with one last cry of his name, shinsou collapses on top of you— the brunt of his wait nearly crushing you as his hips canter into your weak body from behind, seed spilling into your tight hole to add to your slick mess that that drips to the ground in thick globs.

“that’s a nasty little bunny,” he manages to coo to you, breathless, still grinding against you and pushing his cum deep into your womb. “filled with nothing but cock and cum.”

a sick smile lays spread across his lips when your tight hole begins to twitch to life again, ready for another load of his cum— amusing him as a single thought crosses his mind;

isn’t just so wonderful having a little bunny to bully, all to yourself?

[celestialking]

Naughty or nice

◇ NSFW 18+ only ◇ Minors/Ageless blogs DNI◇ You will be blocked ◇

~Disclaimer~ This is very important. While this event is Dom!reader only. Please note. I do not accept dom!reader requests. and I will not be accepting any requests for part 2 for any of these. This is an event special only.

◇ Previous day◇ Next day ◇

Finished Writing: December 4, 2021

Pairing: Dogboy!Dream , AFAB!Reader

Warnings: afab, degrading, edging, mentions of being a toy, bit of overstim, dogboy!dream, tiny bit of somno at begining? (just in case, idk), 

A/n: andddd im too lazy to proofread anything

Dream wasn't sure what to do. You were asleep, it was hot, and he was horny. In your sleep you pressed back against his hard-on. A small whimper left his lips. Being the light sleeper you were, you had woken up immediately when his hips started rutting against you. 

"Puppy," his ears perked up at your sleep-riddled voice. You felt him lean down into your neck. 

"Please," Dream whimpered, grinding against you. You could see the sunlight beginning to pour in your window. You pulled away as his teeth grazed your neck. 

"Enough," when he didn't stop you reached back pinching one of the floppy ears upon his head. He yelped. "I said enough mutt, or is your brain already too messed up to care about anything other than acting like a bitch in heat?" He let out a pathetic whimper at your tone. 

His fingers itched for your hips. "Can I please-" he whimpered, trailing off. He watched as you sat up in bed. Too awake to be sleeping now. You weren't going to let him get away with his previous actions. You pushed on his chest, forcing him to lay on his back. 

"Need it, need it please," 

"need what puppy? c'mon be a good mutt, tell me what you need," you purred starting to pull his sleep pants down. 

His cock twitched after you pulled his pants down just enough for the tip to poke out. "Take them off," he whined. 

"What? these?"" You snapped the waistband against his thigh. 

"Yes off," Dream choked on a noise as you grasped him through the pants. 

"Be nice or I'll just take what I want. You're lucky you'll be getting anything this morning," you growled. Dream turned his head to the side, his cheeks flushed.

"Can you please take them off?" You hummed pulling them off all the way. You started to slowly stroke his cock, leaving kisses on his thigh. 

"So, tell me, were you having a dream? Or did you just wake up like this," Dream gulped, refusing to look at you. 

"A dream," 

"Mm and what happened in this dream," You murmured. You had begun to suck dark marks into his thighs. Making your own sinful design across his skin. Dream sucked in a sharp breath trying to piece together his thoughts without stuttering.

"Puppy," you cooed. He looked down lazily at you, already hazy from the sweet pleasure he was receiving. 

"Your dream?" 

"Got to please you," Dream mumbled shyly. His breath hitching as you left another mark on his opposite thigh. Dream quivered softly beneath you, his hips struggling not to snap and claim his satisfaction quicker. "You sat on my face and rode on my tongue," his voice dropped to a whisper as he relayed his sinful dreams. 

His head fell back as your tongue trailed up the side of his cock. Dream was desperate for more. Whether that was more teasing or more pleasure he wasn't sure. 

"Would you like that? Do you want me to sit on your face, puppy?" 

Slowly he shook his head. "Not today," 

"Then what would you like?" after asking your question your lips wrapped around the tip. Dream let out a small whimper. You decided not to tease and let him take his time answering as you took his cock deeper and deeper into your mouth. 

"Can you ride me?" Dream begged. 

"Of course," you purred. 

He watched as you pulled off some of your clothes, throwing them to the side. After they had been removed you climbed up onto his lap, sitting above his cock. He hissed in pleasure as you sank down on him. You allowed him to grasp you as you became fully seated on his cock. 

"This what you wanted?" You began bouncing on him, very slowly. His fingers resting on your thighs. Dream looked like he had just found heaven, he nodded dumbly to your question. 

You felt so nice and warm around him. It took every fiber in him not to snap his hips up. Dream was still waiting for the small punishment he knew would be heading his way. Small moans fell from your lips as you moved. Dream always filled you up so nicely. It wasn't long before he was panting, and whimpering. His fingers dug into your thighs as he started to beg. 

"Please, please can I cum," Dream whimpered. "Need to cum," you shook your head smiling. 

"No, puppy," there it was, his punishment. 

"Please," his voice cracked as he moaned. 

You bounced up until you felt him twitch and then stopped. Dream let out a frustrated whimper. Then the dog hybrid growled softly, but quickly stopped once you gave him a pointed look. Once he had calmed a bit you started to move. There were no sounds but your combined noises of pleasure and the soft smack of your hips meeting. 

"Poor puppy," you frowned, grasping his chin. 

"This is why you should always ask before taking. Greedy puppies don't get what they want,". Dream hoped this punishment wouldn't be long. He could already feel the pressure of his orgasm building up. 

Once again you stopped when he was on the brink of cumming. His head thumped against the pillow frustrated. 

"Please," Dream begged, thick tears threatening to spill. 

"Hush," you hummed, waiting til his orgasm had faded before continuing to bounce on his lap. 

"You like this," every word you muttered had Dream whining. "being nothing more than a toy for my pleasure, a little dildo," He cried out, grasping your hips.

"Please, let me cum," 

you were just waiting for that first tear to fall. Just one. 

Desperately he clung onto you, hoping you would take mercy and finally let him cum. "Pathetic," you spoke harshly as the tears began to fall. The same word could describe the whimper that left his lips as your spit against his cheek. 

"You can cum, but I'm not going to stop until I do," Dream sobbed and babbled out thank yous. He twitched inside, whimpering as he filled you with cum. 

Just as you promised however, you kept riding him. Dream squirmed beneath you. You were already close so he wouldn't have to wait too long. His hands shifted down to your thighs as you sped up. 

"S-slow down, sensitive," Dream whined. "Aw poor puppy, is it too much for you?" You cooed, touching his sensitive ears. Dream whimpered below you, quivering as you mocked his whines. 

Finally, your bounces slowed down to a gentle movement. You squeezed around him, cumming. You continued rocking against him slowly riding out your orgasm.

"Did so good for me," you praised softly leaning down to kiss his forehead. Softly you laughed feeling his tail thump below you. 

"My perfect puppy," you brushed some of his fluffy hair out of his face, slowly getting off of him. 

"Let's get cleaned up," you started pulling him out of the bed and to the shower. Admittedly this was a great start to the day. 

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[mcfreakin-bxtch]

Playing with Fire

Part Five of the Just this Once Series

Warnings: Smut (no actual smut tho guys sorry), Masturbation (f), Teasing, Language, Dirty talk, Terrible Star Wars knowledge

Word Count: 2.3K+

Summary: A tease through the links and a bet fulfilled. 

A/N: This chapter is a little short, but I hope you all enjoy! This may seem a little anti climatic and messy but that’s on me guys, that’s my bad. Also this may seem different in tone if that makes sense? The next one will be more smutty goodness but with some injuries (and yes i used another random star wars planet don’t kill mee)

You’ve finally figured it out.

After about a week of travelling to your next destination, it finally occurs to you to just play at his own game. You know—fingering you in a crowded cantina, smirking to himself while you struggled to stay quiet in that fucking booth...  

But first, you must say that Edis is a strange place. Rain falling at every hour with apparently no signs of ever letting up, and the humidity is unforgiving—how Mando is handling it in all that armor and padding, you’re almost too afraid to ask, because there’s just no way that he’s comfortable, and an uncomfortable Mando can lead to a grumpy one. 

Maker you’re grumpy yourself if you’re being honest. The Child has been restless lately, like the heat is getting to him as well, and that’s been taking a toll on your (already) poor sleep schedule; Mando tries to help, but there’s only so much he can do. However, it has given you the chance to think of the perfect payback for your little deal—or bet is a better word—and you gotta say, you’re a little proud of yourself for coming up with this evil—and small—tryst in the first place. 

If it’ll work the way you want it to, time will tell. 

“Were you even listening?”

The modulated crackle startles you from your thoughts. You turn in the pilot’s seat, making contact with the visor and the stiffness of his posture confirms your suspicions—he’s hot and grumpy.   

“Sorry,” you mumble. “Lost in my thoughts.”

He doesn’t acknowledge it. “I’m leaving. They should be nearby, and everything should work out as long as you and the ship stay hidden.”

Like anyone could. Mando isn’t messing around on this one—well, the man doesn’t mess around with anything, actually—and he’s made damn sure that not only are you available with a few weapons nearby (some hidden, of course, just in case), but that the Razor Crest is shadowed by towering trees a bushes in this small part of the rainforest; it’s nearly impossible to even see the gunk through the one of the thickest part of the forest. If anything finds you, they most likely won’t come back alive.     

“Okay. Good luck.”

He gives you one nod and the cape whips as he turns around, strutting towards the ladder as you follow behind. Mando checks on the kid—sitting up in the middle of the haul with a few little toys surrounding him—and gives him a gentle caress of his floppy ear before using his vambrace to open the ramp. He doesn’t give you a glance back, and that’s okay with you, but you can’t deny the slight stinging in your chest when he disappears into the foreign planet.   

“Alright little guy,” you say with a grunt as you plop down on the floor next to the Child. “Let’s figure out what to do.”

***

Ten days. 

Mando has been gone longer on bounties like this, believe or not, but that still doesn’t ease your increasing anxiety when the com link stays silent; you suppose you’re used to the quickness of his updates. 

Today, after hours of entertaining the baby the best you could, you can finally settle comfortably in the pilot’s chair… but now what?

Sleep, your body says, because what else is there really to do? Don’t, your mind tells you, because you have the baby here alone on an unfamiliar planet and anything could happen. A part of you wants to go out and check the foreign terrain. One look shouldn’t hurt—  

“Hey,” his voice speaks through in statics. 

You quickly fumble with the com, feeling like a clumsy mess when you almost drop it in your haste; he’s caught you by surprise, for about the hundredth time. 

“Y-yeah. Yeah I’m here,” you stammer. 

“Not so close,” he tells you, annoyed and tired. 

You wince and pull your hand back from your mouth. “Sorry. Good news, I hope?”

“Yes. And no. It’ll be at least a few days before we’re out of here.”

That sucks.

You suspect that the quarry is indeed with him by the short words, and that’s okay, because with your plan now in the front of your brain, fresh anew like the first time you cococked it in the wake of sleep, washing your quick irritation away, your chance is finally here. 

“Mando,” you say as sweetly as you can—your heart skips a beat when there’s a moment of silence. “They can’t hear me, right?” you continue before you can find out if the com is dead or not. 

This is incredibly risky. Even a little unfair of sorts, given that he’s technically working right now, and that leaves no room for games or distractions—the moment is just too good to pass up.   

Another minute goes by. You sink in your chair in disappointment, ready to admit defeat. 

“Not now.”

Yes. 

“This was part of the deal, Mando,” you remind him. “And I’m already starting to get wet.”

That isn’t a lie. The slickness of your arousal is starting to seep from your core—fourteen days (counting the week it took to get here) is a long time, and as long as you can get him to keep talking, this will work beautifully for you.    

A pause. “I can’t…”

“I’ll do all the talking,” you lick your lips and slink down comfortably, sliding your hand along the length of your neck, imagining it’s his hand wrapping around your throat. “You just listen. You can do that, can’t you?”

You wait, and for a split second you’re afraid that, yet again, you’ve done something wrong. You really have to start working on that.   

“You don’t—”

“Okay.”

Maker. Maker okay. 

“I uh—” what were you going to say to him when you thought of this in the first place? “I… you know what I think about when you’re gone?” You know he can’t answer much, not without giving himself away, but you pause anyway for dramatic effect. “First, I imagine you stalking towards me like you always do… like I’m one of your bounties.”

Your pussy quivers in excitement as you close your eyes and picture him doing just that, sliding your hand down to your chest, groping your covered breast and trying to mimic the same amount of pressure he applies to them—you really wish it was his hand instead. 

“Then you cage me in, leaving me with nowhere to go. There’s a specific type of exceleration to it. One that makes things even more… exciting.” You pinch your nipple and whine, loud enough to give him a good show—Stars you hope that quarry can’t hear you through the baskar bucket of his. “You like to drag it out, to watch me shiver in anticipation, and fuck if I don’t like it either.”

You can hear the light breathing through the comlink. A spark of victory, early victory, runs through your body and straight to your pussy, neglected and hungry for any type of friction. 

“And then,” your hand slides further down to the waistline of your pants, fumbling with the buttons. “You touch me. Softly, at first, because you love to tease—” a barely audible sigh interrupts, bringing a cheeky grin to your lips. “—and I think you’re an ass man, because you never miss a chance to lay your hands on mine.” Your fingers slither their way under your panties; your inner thighs twitch at the first brush of your finger against your aching clit, and more slickness escapes your cunt. “And you ghost your fingers over my breasts, down my stomach, over my hips where you like to grip them tight, to my dripping pussy…”

Not a peep from the com. You’re surprised he’s kept his composure. You shouldn’t be, yet a part of you is. 

“And,” you go on with a moan. “When I feel your thick fingers paw at me, rip my clothes off and fuck my pussy deep, getting me ready for your big cock while your teeth scrapes against my neck—oh fuck…” The curse slips from your lips without warrant; your fingers buried in your pussy like you’re explaining to him. “My fingers are not the same—” you bite down on your lip as you curve your fingers, delicately trying to find the spot Mando finds with precision. “They don’t make me feel as full as yours do. But I’m still fucking myself with them, Mando. While you’re out there, and I’m in here… it sucks, doesn’t it. Having to stay quiet when all’s you want to do is fuck me until I can feel you for days and day after, your cum leaking from me, and who knows, maybe I won’t even let you cum.”

“You will,” he nearly growls, and that’s an early sign you’re in a world of trouble when he does get back. “That’s part of the deal.”

“...What...deal…”

The faint voice cuts in annoyingly, and Mando shoots back with a decent threat that’d make you terrified for your life; again, it’s probably wrong that it does nothing to deteriorate the fluttering of your wet muscles. 

“Keep going,” his tone leaves no room for argument. 

Your fingers move faster. “I think you should be a little nicer to me,�� you sigh dramatically. “You’ve been gone for so long, leaving me all by lonesome… you like to do this a lot I’ve realized, leave me high and dry. But you might have a chance to fuck my face if you’re a good boy.”

You have to stifle your giggle at the last bit. 

“Yeah, you’d like that,” you coo. “And I’d swallow every drop.”

A barely audible exhale filters through the link. You’re right there with him, your face scrunched in concentration. 

“I’m happy as long as you’re inside me,” you continue on with delight. “You’re an asshole sometimes, but you can fuck.”

Mando sighs again, this time feigned with theatorical frustration—well in his case, it may be truthful, but it sounds more for the quarry’s (and yours) benefit than the latter.   

This is more of an ego boost for him more than anything as well, if you think about it, but as long as you get him riled up and you cum, that’s enough for you. So you curve your fingers the best you can given the compromised position and flick your thumb against your clit, images of his gloves sliding down your pants in the cantina playing through on repeat. This time you moan louder for your own amusement, imagining him struggle; it’s sweet, sweet revenge. 

“And?” He asks suddenly—calm and steady. 

His voice, even modulated like that, makes your muscles twitch as the coil in your lower stomach boils to a tight flame, and the sloshes of your fingers slinking in and out of you adds to the euphoria clawing through your core. 

“Your cock,” you whimper. “Stretches me out so good every time. You’re so big, Mando, so thick in every way and it feels amazing. I bet you miss the way my sweet cunt clenches around you.” You bite down on your lip to hide a groan, wanting to hear his response as your fingers move even faster, scratching against the itch. “Don’t you?”

Your pussy flutters around your fingers at the first scrape against your sweet spot (finally!), and—well fuck, you’ve never seen much of him to actually picture what his cock looks like driving in and out of you at the verioucious pace he usually chooses, so this is a little bit difficult than you thought it’d be; as long as you keep fucking yourself like this…

“Yes.”

Your breath shakes as you exhale. “Shit I wish you were here right now,” you rub your clit harder. “I-I want you to fuck me so hard when you get back, Mando. Want you to—hmm—to grab me so hard that I have bruises the next day. Use me. And you’d come right in my tight little pussy, isn’t that right?”

You don’t expect him to answer this time. Not when you’re so gone in your little cheraid and your pussy clenches harder and harder until there’s nothing but white noise tying you down to this moment. 

“Fuck. Fuck I’m so close.” 

You try to conjure the feelings Mando gives you—the feel of his hands, pressing down all over you, fingers leaving indents in your skin, his mouth on your neck, biting down on the sensitive flesh until you’re marked; the drag of his cock along your slick walls until there’s tears in your eyes and you can feel him all the way to your cervix. 

“Mando,” you whine, then bite down on your lip again; the Child certainly doesn’t need to hear this. “I… I need to hear you. Say something, anything.”

“Go ahead,” gruffer, close to a grunt—your pussy gushes at that. “Now.”

The command is clear, and it’s not going to take you that much to ride the waves of your orgasm starting to crash down over you. Your moans and whimpers trapped behind tight closed lips and your fingers covered in your juices, it takes a few more curves of your fingers and tight circles on your clit to feel the hard and delectable clench of your inner muscles. 

“Yes,” your body trembles. “Oh Ma—” You hide the rest of the plea behind a muffled scream as short bursts of pleasure sparks through your entire body, your fingers trapped in the squeeze of your cunt as more juices flood down the slope of your ass, milking every drop of your orgasm. 

After a few long moments your tense muscles relax and deflate, relieved and satisfied. Though, the only problem is that it is short lived, an orgasm small enough to hold you over until the real deal comes back. Speaking of…

“Mando?” You breathe. “Still with me?”

“I’ll be there soon. Be ready.” And then nothing. 

Chuckling to yourself, you wince as you slowly pull your fingers out, wiping your slick covered fingers on your pants. 

And now you wait.    

For however long that’ll fucking be. 

[aellynera]

Beat the System (Poe Dameron x f!Reader; high school AU)

BEAT THE SYSTEM

My darling @autumnleaves1991-blog is doing a Writer Wednesday thing (click that link for details) and today’s challenge was:

...so I wrote this little thing. may or may not be based on things that might have somewhat happened during my years as a summer amusement park lackey.

Word Count: ~2100

Summary: You see a lot of people at your summer job, and you didn’t really want to see him or for him to see you, but that’s not how the system works.

Warnings: Female reader. High School AU. References to clowns. Complaining. Nothing else really, just a lot of fluff. As usual, mostly kind of proofread.

You kind of hated your summer job. 

It wasn’t so much that you hated having to get a job in the first place, after your parents insisted that’s what you’d need to do if you wanted your own car. And the job itself was actually pretty easy, at least in theory.

The ring toss stand at the local amusement park was your domain. Your days were spent surrounded by giant stuffed elephants and aliens and teddy bears, taking money, handing out rings, watching people throw them at bottles. Ninety-nine percent of the time this also meant watching them lose. The losses generally led to another futile round of buying and tossing. And, invariably, cussing; never mind that this was a family establishment and there was a five-year-old standing three feet away from the offender.

No, it was the job on repeat for eight hours a day, five days out of the week. It was seeing all your friends come by and have fun while you literally had to watch them (but hey, at least you got paid.) It was having to work every single weekend. And it was all the people. People you’d known your whole life, people who lived in neighboring towns, busses full of people from who knows where that flocked to this place every single year.

And it was just weird to think of this place as a destination. It was just the amusement park that was there all your life, that your parents went to when they were in high school, and maybe their parents did too. This place was freaking old. But why people felt the need to come by the busload from hours away--

“Hey, I didn’t know you worked here.”

The voice broke through your ranting brain and you looked up to see a familiar face grinning back at you from the other side of the booth.

Poe Dameron was a senior. He was captain of both the football and the soccer team, treasurer of the student council, sang on the chorus, played bass in the jazz band, was in the drama club, and you were pretty sure there were at least a dozen other things he just did because he was good at everything. 

He was also ridiculously hot and the last person you wanted to see you in your ridiculous, brightly colored work uniform. He stood before you looking like he just crawled off the cover of a romance novel, all tan skin and dark curls and defined muscles, and there you were with a high ponytail and baggy shorts and a shirt that would put a clown to shame.

Honestly, all you needed were the giant floppy shoes.

He was also there with a group of his rowdy, juvenile football friends, which only promised to make this hell even more scorching. At least for now, they seemed to be occupied with ogling the girl who ran the tilt-a-whirl across the path and completely ignoring you.

You scrunched your face at him. “Poe, I’ve seen you here like twenty times this summer. You’ve even played this game before. You know I work here.”

“Okay, you got me,” his grin didn’t falter. You weren’t sure, but it might have even gotten a little bigger. He handed over ten dollars. “A bucket of rings, please.”

Great, he was going to hang around. You glanced at your watch, and it solemnly informed you that your break wasn’t for another hour and half. So you were stuck there. In a virtual clown suit. With the hot senior you might have had a little crush on.

Not like you ever doodled his initials in your notebooks or on scraps of paper when the crowds at the stand died down. You denied all knowledge of these supposed incidents.

You could act like a normal person in his presence.

You sighed and took the money from him, handing him a bucket full of red plastic rings in return. “You know this game is rigged, right? They all are.”

“So I’ve heard.” He picked up his first ring. “But I am determined to beat the system.”

You rolled your eyes. “Do you have to be good at everything?”

Poe shot you a quick side-eye before turning his attention back to the sea of bottles in front of him. He tossed the first ring and it flipped end over end before bouncing off a bottle top with a spectacular ding! His brow furrowed as he reached for another ring.

“Apparently not,” he muttered. “But I’ll still beat it. You see, there’s this girl I want to impress, and…” He tossed the second ring and watched it ricochet off another bottle top.

“Of course there is,” you snorted. “There’s probably a whole horde of them.”

He chuckled. “Nope, just one.”

You waved your arm in a grand gesture toward the playing field. “Well then, have at it, Romeo. You know the rules. No leaning over the rail, and you have to land five rings to win. Let me know when you need another bucket.”

“Oh ye of little faith,” he replied as he tossed yet another ring. You tried, you really really tried, to ignore the way the tip of his tongue stuck out between his teeth as he concentrated.

And so it went until the entire bucket full of rings littered the floor of the stall, with nary a single one landing on its intended target. You grabbed the sweeper and started pushing them back into the bins underneath the counter.

Poe growled in frustration. “Seriously?!” He waved another ten in your direction and you handed him another bucket, giggling as you made the exchange.

“I told you, it’s rigged. But…” you crooked a finger to motion him closer. And then tried to remember how breathing worked as he leaned in, now just inches from your face.

“Yeah?” he whispered.

The attempt to subtly clear your throat was only half successful.

“Well, I didn’t tell you this,” you pointed toward the bottles, “but the table is slightly higher on that side, and so is that one part in the middle. If you aim for those bottles, you can probably bounce the rings onto the lower ones.”

The grin he flashed almost blinded you. “Beat the system.”

“Beat the system,” you agreed.

You leaned back and watched. After the first six rings or so, Poe seemed to figure out which bottles to aim for and how to toss the ring (with a bit of spin, of course) and before you knew it, his fifth ring landed on the center bottle and he was shouting “yes!” with a little fist pump.

“I am impressed, Dameron,” you said, clapping. “I bet this girl will be too.”

“I hope so,” he said, rubbing the back of his neck. Did he suddenly look kind of shy? No, that wasn’t Poe Dameron. He was the polar opposite of shy.

“Which one?” you asked, pointing to the prizes hanging above you.

“Which one would you pick? If you just beat the system and you were trying to impress someone?”

“Uhhh…” Why in the world was he asking you? It didn’t matter, this was his deal, you just worked there. And quite honestly, you probably wouldn’t pick any of these monstrosities. They were huge. And kind of weird looking. And neon colored.

After a few moments of confused contemplation, your eyes finally landed on a giant purple teddy bear, half hidden behind a chartreuse alien and an orange thing that was trying to impersonate an octopus. You pulled it down and handed it over.

“Here you go, the least weird thing you just spent twenty bucks on when you could have just gone to the mall and bought something more reasonable.”

“Nah, this is perfect,” Poe replied, grabbing the bear. It was nearly half as big as he was. You often wondered how anyone dragged them around the park for the rest of the day, much less managed to get them home. “Thanks for the advice.”

You couldn’t help the smirk that rose on your lips. “It was either that, or have to explain to my supervisor why you would have ended up hanging around until the park closed.”

He laughed loudly. “Rey would have understood. She’s cool like that.”

“Geez, you’re good at everything, do you know everyone in the entire galaxy too?”

Poe didn’t seem to hear you, though, as he looked over his shoulder and around the area, and you followed his gaze. His friends were nowhere to be seen and vaguely, you wondered when they’d wandered off and why they hadn’t very loudly announced it to him. He glanced back at you with a sheepish smile.

“I, uh, I should go find the guys,” he said. “And let you get back to work.”

“Yeah, okay,” you replied. All of the easy-going rapport from the past however long Poe had been there suddenly evaporated and every ounce of awkwardness you normally felt around him returned. “I’ll see you.”

You might have been looking anywhere but at him, but you didn’t miss the small wave he gave you as he walked away, and you definitely felt the heat that rose in your cheeks.

Poe was quickly forgotten as a swarm of ten-year-olds rushed the stand and the incessant clanging of misthrown rings once again took over all your waking moments. You didn’t think about him for the rest of your shift. All you could think about was how tired you were, how hot the day had been, how much you wanted to shower and sleep and pretend you didn’t have to do this again tomorrow and--

Your feet ground to halt in the employee parking lot and approached your beloved car, the entire reason you had this forsaken job in the first place. Your car, which, you would have serious questions had you not known exactly where the thing came from, had a giant purple teddy bear sitting on the hood.

As you got closer, you could see something sticking out from beneath the bow tied around its neck. It was a slip of paper, with a phone number scrawled on it. And a little “P.” with a heart.

What was even happening right now.

Before you knew it, your phone was out of your purse and you were calling his number. Sure, you might have had to dial it four times because your nervous fingers kept pressing the wrong digits, but who was counting? And never mind that it was almost midnight. It was summer, he’d still be awake, right? 

Finally you got it right, and the call picked up on the other end.

“Hello?”

“Hi,” you breathed.

“Hey,” you could picture the trademark Dameron grin behind it. And he sounded...relieved? “I’m really glad you called.”

“How did you get into the employee parking lot?”

“I didn’t. I asked Rey for a favor. I figured she might know which car was yours. Told you she’s cool like that.”

You laughed softly. “Yeah. Yeah, I guess she really is.”

“So I do have a really important question for you. Well, two actually.”

“I’m listening,” you said. It was hard to hear anything over how hard your heart was thumping in your ears, but he didn’t need to know that.

“Question one. Can I take you out on a date?”

“Yeah,” you said again and closed your eyes, partly out of a need to center yourself and mostly out of sheer embarrassment. Maybe one day, you would remember how to speak to Poe Dameron in multiple word sentences, but right at this moment was not that time. Oh well.

“Awesome,” he breathed out. “I was hoping you’d say yes.”

“Yes.” Thankfully he didn’t seem to be deterred by your current lack of language skills.

Poe laughed warmly. “Now, second question. Did it work?”

This time you couldn’t even come up with a verbal response. You just erupted in a bout of giggles, Poe Dameron laughing along with you. And somehow, you got that ridiculous monstrosity of a teddy bear into your back seat.

The somehows kept coming. Somehow you remembered how to use words. Somehow it was well after midnight now without either of you giving it permission to get that late. Somehow your phone refused to end the call. Somehow the hours were slipping by until you had to be at the park for an early opening shift in the morning, and somehow you suddenly didn’t care at all about getting any sleep.

Maybe this job wasn’t so bad, after all.

~end~

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[narrators-journal]

Months of tolerance

So, I was looking back at my ranpoe valentines story and I got an idea. Why not write a little collection? A little trio or so of Valentines-themed sort of ship stories?

And so, I wrote a second one for Shin-soukoku! Though, please be forgiving, I’m not a super big fan of Atsushi, so I don’t have a lot of ideas and experience on how he works and behaves, so I kinda took inspiration from the rp me and my friend did for BSD and their sort of rendition of Atsushi mixed with canon.

Atsushi had never really experienced Valentines day or White day, so when Dazai offered to take him out on one of his days off and introduce him to the basics of the event he accepted it. He was quick to find it to be a bit depressing.            “Dazai, I don't think I have any real...reason to be here," The tiger sighed, putting down one of the little Valentines bears he'd been looking at in the shop and looking over at the bandage-clad brunette that was to be his mentor in the ADA. The rail of a man just pouted at him,            "Nonsense, Atsushi! You're learning about romance," he assured, giving the white-haired man a sweet smile, which made Atsushi grimace,            "Yeah, but this holiday is obviously for couples, and I don't have any romantic partner of any sort," He pointed out, a stone of loneliness settling in the bottom of his stomach as he spoke, but his mentor simply snorted as if that point was moot.            "Sushi, you don't need a romantic partner to celebrate Valentines day, you can just as easily get gifts for friends. After all, I don't have a partner but I'm gonna get a gift for someone." He assured, and while the tiger was still a bit unsure, he just nodded.

After that, he just went back to milling around up and down the aisle as he poked at the little toys, knick knacks, or sweets scattered about until Dazai clapped his hands together in an idea,          "Atsushi! I have an idea for what you can do on Valentines day!" he chirped, bouncing on his feet in some childish, giddy high, "Why not get a gift for Ryuunosuke!" The tiger blinked and scowled at the idea,          "Why the hell would I do that? I don't have any sort of feelings for him," he about spat, almost feeling his lip curl in a snarl at the mere mention of the wheezing, gothic, Dazai fanboy. However, the brunette simply rolled his eyes at his venom,          "There is a very common phrase, 'kill your enemies with kindness', you ever hear it?" before the weretiger could answer, he continued, "Akutagawa doesn't like you. At all. Hates your guts. But! If you get him a gift, maybe be as friendly as you can be, you can get him to warm up to you!" the weretiger's scowl only deepened, which made his mentor huff and drop the excited, bubbly tone, "If you get him to like you, you won't have to spend quite as much on shirts every week." Atsushi ended up buying a cheap little gift for the goth. However, that now left him with a question. How was he to get the cheap plush cat to Akutagawa? He'd been pondering the question all through out the three days that led up to Valentines day, going back and forth on whether or not he should even bother with Dazai's stupid idea. Is it really worth risking getting stabbed again? Just to give this cheap little thing to a bastard like Akutagawa? He thought bitterly, though his cheeks burned a slight pink while he glared down at the floppy little beanie baby cat that was sprawled out on his meager little coffee table, staring up at the tiger with glassy amber eyes while he sat on his couch the evening before Valentines day. I'd sooner drink my own piss then give Akutagawa a Valentines gift. He told himself firmly, getting up from his couch and plucking the toy from the cheap table to get rid of it. To do this, he threw it out of his livingroom window into the darkness of the cold night and listened to it land in the dumpster across the street with a soft thud thanks to how hard he'd thrown it. And, with that, he shut his window with a decisive 'humph' and went to bed. Dazai was a smart man, but Atsushi was not going to have conflicting and confusing feelings plague him just to placate a violent asshole with a hateboner for him. An hour later, the tiger went out to the dumpster he'd heard the cat slam against and dug the poor thing out to be washed. Not that the weretiger had changed his mind or anything, he'd just spent money on the derpy little toy, he didn't want to waste it. Or, so he told himself. So, he instead returned it to his bedside table after washing it a few times, trying to see if he could somehow rub the new crack out of his amber eye while doing his best to get the dumpster stench out of its fur. If he really was going to 'kill Akutagawa with kindness' like Dazai said, the least he could do was make sure the gift didn't reek of three day old take out and dog vomit. When the next day came, he took the toy to work, then walked home with it draped over his arm after a day of dealing with petty couple squabbles that had turned nasty, or helping Ranpo to and from the smattering of robberies he'd been requested on. Y'know, this just proves why I should've kept this thing in the garbage, he fumed to himself, staring at the sidewalk ahead of him so he didn't see even more lovey-dovey couples for the day, If I gave this to Akutagawa somehow, all that would happen is I'd be a statistic. Nothing more. He hates me too much, it'd probably off- Atsushi's ill-tempered thoughts were cut short when he ran into someone else on the sidewalk, sending them both sprawling to the pavement.           "O-oh my god! I'm so sorry, are you hurt miss?!" The weretiger squeaked, hopping up to his feet at record speeds to offer a hand to the pretty lady in white. She had long black hair, and a familiar style of dress on, but it was her light, steel-colored eyes that finally got her face to click in the frazzled tiger's irrational mind.          "Oh!...Gin, right?" he asked as she took his hand and let him help her up while she nodded,          "Sorry, I didn't mean to run you over," she said, her voice as quiet as the first time he'd met her with Katai and Kunikida, but her words shot a nebulous sort of anxiety into his veins,         "Oh, no no no, it was my fault, I wasn't looking where I-I was going," he stammered, trying desperately to comfort her as he reached to dust her off, but then changed his mind half way, doing that would be super weird, so he instead tried to think up another way to make up for running into her. He felt awful for knocking her over, but had no clue what to do, so he just ended up putting a hand over his anxious heart and staying quiet. Gin, meanwhile, had spotted the saggy stuffed toy on the sidewalk,           "Um, is that yours?" She asked, picking it up and dusting the little thing off gently, snapping Atsushi out of his thoughts,          "What? Oh! Yeah, that's...actually, I bought it for...Akutagawa." he admitted, not knowing what else to say to explain why he had a stuffed cat. Gin blinked at him, raising an eyebrow,           "No offense, but why did you buy my brother a toy? Is it for Valentines day?" Atsushi gaped for a moment, for some reason his brain struggling to give even the simplest answer for a moment,          "I...D-Dazai suggested getting him a gift..." he muttered, his cheeks beginning to heat up as he spoke, which Gin seemed to notice, but she said nothing,          "Well, how about I deliver it to him? He likes cats, I'm sure he'd enjoy this one," she offered sweetly instead, and for a moment Atsushi could only stare at her while his cheeks undoubtedly glowed a healthy pink until he cleared his throat, get yourself together Atsushi! This is a fine way to get the damned gift to Akutagawa, then Dazai can get off your ass, he told himself, pushing down the weird flustered feeling in his chest,         "Um, t-that would be helpful," She nodded, smiling a bit at the toy cat. With that, she wished him well as the sky darkened from the yellow-purple gradient of Atsushi's eyes, to a dark, star-speckled blue, leaving the tiger to walk home and contemplate his day. For the next few days, the weretiger was on edge, just waiting for the wheezing goth to pop out from behind every corner ready to stab him. However, it never happened. Atsushi was expecting it, always at the ready to defend himself, but for the entire month he didn't even see his nemesis on jobs, let alone when he was walking home or too work. So, he began to relax. Maybe he really did enjoy the stuffed toy, he thought a month or so later on his walk home from the ADA. The thought brought an odd warm feeling to his chest, but he was swift to stomp the detested feeling back down into that part of himself he refused to acknowledge. He could accept his tiger, but he was not ready to face anything like that emotion. Then, something slammed into the side of his head. In an instant, Atsushi was knocked onto the sidewalk with his world swimming for a moment or two. In those moments, he laid there in a daze, forced to wait for his senses to return and the throbbing ache in his skull to die before he could finally stumble to his feet. When the pain stopped and he could bare to stand once again, the white-haired man looked around for what might've hit him in the head, but the only thing he found was a can of soda. A soda that, upon closer inspection, he found to be one of his favorites, which was weird enough, since usually his favorite soft drink doesn't fly at people's heads, but, no one was currently around to explain why an unopened, very dented can of his preferred soda was rolling around at his feet after knocking him on his ass like it had. He'd tried to look around, taking advantage of his improved night vision to try and spot anyone trying to hide from the blame for throwing it at him, but the street was currently sparse in other people in the area. However, after a moment of thinking, and examining the near-bursting can, it slowly dawned on the tiger who might've thrown it. Then, the date set in, bringing a stronger wave of hot embarrassment to his cheeks.           "Um?? T-thanks I guess?" he called out into the swiftly growing darkness, and then swiftly continued home, before the hiding goth caught sight of the way his cheeks tinged a small shade of pink or decided to come out to maul him for acknowledging him.

[hollyhomburg]

My love I am S O F T for hybrid fluff and this Packtan we have got going on is just like Making me AH from the floofy gooey sweetness. Can we just talk for a sec about if the reader gets pregnant but doesn't know it, she gets up early to make herself some coffee or tea or smth, and one of the boys comes down and he's sniffing the air and he's like "what's that smell it smells so good" And the reader like, oh it's coffee. But he's like "no that's you" and its like "OMG you're finally having pups"

oh~ i love the idea of this, and i think like- they would have noticed that she’d been needier the last few days, her and namjoon (cuz yeah- he’s the lead alpha and its only natural that he would be the first one to get you pregnant), god namjoon’s been so possessive of you- a little more than the others who are feeling the pull to protect and care more over the first few days your hormones are adjusting- their instincts know you’re pregnant before they do. 

all namjoon knows is that the waitress at the store smiles at you and he growls so hard at the alpha that everyone is turning to look at him, he’s just looking dark and angry at the alpha and it takes Seokjin leaning over and yanking on the nape of namjoon’s hair for him to snap out of it and he’s apologizing furiously, they make sure to leave a hefty tip and really- that kinda shit just happens sometimes and it’s quickly forgotten. 

the others feel a little different, they get agitated when they’re separated from you like a prick of annoyance on the back of their neck. Hoseok paces during practice, full of nervous energy- ready to snap at anyone or anything. Yoongi can’t stop filling up your plate at dinner and feeding you himself which is just weird. jimin gets shivers down his spine whenever you look even slightly unhappy, stopping whatever he’s doing to cuddle up to you- your favorite group omega activity. 

Every night Seokjin finds himself nesting anxiously, stress orders about a dozen more pillows and soft blankets from that one online omega emporium that has everything needed for nest Making. you go out for a walk with Tae and he finds himself stopping to readjust your scarf every time you even start to look a little cold, tugging your hands into his pockets with a low grumble. 

god- they all get unbearably overprotective. But not a single one of them understands why. not even when they’re getting ready to leave one morning and jimin legitimately hisses when Hoseok tries to wake him up from where he’s curled around you cradling your head against his shoulder. 

it’s not until one morning, a Saturday with nothing planned, Seokjin and yoongi making waffles while the others all slowly wake and follow the sweet smell of freshly baked goods- they think, until they get into the kitchen and each one of them scents you, already buzzing around the kitchen making enough coffee for all of you- a feat in its self. you’re smiley and happy to have them all here, almost glowing in the early morning light, a vision in someone’s large white button-downs so long on you that it nearly brushes your knees. 

they all feel needier than usual, and you do too, pausing by each of their chairs to dispense coffee and sleepy morning kisses,  pulling yourself into hoseok’s lap before you grumble and switch to Seokjin’s, and then grumble again before you’re in Yoongi’s,  you’re getting coffee for yourself when Jungkook stumbles in, plopping into a chair with the usual puppy floppiness that he only has during the mornings. he snags around your waist when you walk by, and you go easily in between his legs letting him bury his forehead in your stomach.

 you smell warm and milk and sweet but with a hint of namjoon- which is strange, different than your usual flowery omega scent- but also- you smell like namjoon- you smell so so much like namjoons thick pine and wood scent, it’s strange because you haven’t slept in his bed,

“you should go back to bed” you humm as jungkook nuzzles into your tummy, running your fingers through his long hair, “everyone’s loud and i could smell you from my bedroom.” he nuzzles in more to your tummy and you humm happily, your brow furrowing when he starts scent-marking your abdomen- which isn’t exactly usual but jungkook’s so tired you dismiss it easily, 

Tae looks over at you grinning from where he’s sipping his coffee, “he’s right you know, you smell a little different stronger, you should have cleaned up after last night with namjoon,”  you do smell good though, and it’s not as noxious as the usual “had sex last night” smell that all of you tend to have- you smell normal but with a hint of sweet milkiness-  different than your usual flowery omega scent- but also- you smell like namjoon- you smell so so much like namjoons thick pine and wood scent, 

 “what are you talking about- she slept with us last night tae” jungkook and jin chime in- and he’s right, you’d all piled into a nest last night. but tae’s stalwart, “she smells exactly like namjoon guys- maybe you can’t smell it cuz of omega hormones of whatever but it’s almost like she’s half namjoon half-” tae breaks off, his eyes widening, yoongi’s head snaps up to look at you, falling silent as well suddenly more awake than he’s ever been at 11 in the morning, something hovering on his tongue as the two betas share a look, 

“what tae?” you finally ask, and his voice shakes when he sets his coffee down his hand shaking a little. “when was your last heat?” you wrack your brain, “i think like- 3 months ago” you trail off, suddenly putting two and two together. all the while, jungkook hasn’t searched his nuzzling into your stomach, “oh my god you smell like namjoon”

the alpha in question is frozen, looking at you and then at your stomach, and jungkook a sleepy growl building in his chest the more distressed you start to smell. “stop” he says, still not entirely awake, “getting stressed is bad for the pup” 

“pup????” hoseok almost shouts, finally decided to join you in the land of the living. namjoon drops his cup which dosent shatter- but does spill hot coffee all over the floor. it does a good job of waking jungkook and everyone up though. 

que alot of scrambling and half shy happy smiles of “where the fuck do we even keep the pregnancy tests hyung-” “don’t bother looking i’m too excited- it’ll take too long I’ll just run to the convenience store,-” “you idiot someone could see you-” tae jumping up excitedly when he finally drags it out of the back of the closet, “here! omega-chance brand- not the best but we’ll take it”

 queue all of them trying to go into the bathroom with you assuring them that they definitely don’t have to come in with you to piss on the fucking bright pink stick, no matter how much they whine, yoongi holding his face leaning with his back against the wall, namjoon pacing, and the rest of them quite literally bouncing up and down. 

you open the door, and all of them let out a pent up breath, but the happiness in your face and the hand resting on your abdomen tells them enough! they shout, yoongi, Jungkook, and namjoon legitimately burst into tears, happy tears, namjoon needs to sit down, and the others are shouting and kissing your face, tae getting on his knees to kiss your baby bump while Hoseok back hugs you and jimin and seokjin cup your cheeks and kiss your happy tears away,

 “we’ve got you baby- you’re going to do so well and we’ll help you with absolutely everything,” and you will- you know, the child might be physically yours and namjoon’s but really- all of them are going to be the parents along with you, you’d always known that any child you had would be loved so thoroughly that there was no way they wouldn’t turn out happy, and now that you’re here, on the precipice of everything, each and every one of you feels so so lucky.

 namjoon is sitting in the kitchen, while across from him jungkook cries and stuff as many waffles into his mouth as he can, yoongi can’t stop gummy smiling, waiting, watching happily silently, his round soft cheeks a little wet. “come here baby” he says, and reluctantly the others part from around you, he pulls you into his lap so that he can be at eye level with your stomach, and so carefully, he sets his hands over your stomach, pressing close, forehead against your abdomen, “hello pup” he says, bursting into tears, there isn’t a dry eye in the house, and all of Packtan surround both of you, each of them scent marking along you, their omega. 

rest assured, once you start showing they get even more ridiculously protective than before. 

[adamfoolcry]

How the Tables Turned (One-Shot)

pairings: Reader x Hendery, Lucas(mentioned)

rating: PG-13  

warnings: none just cringe inducing fluff

genre: comedy, fluff

synopsis: You are a student assistant at the library and Hendery seems to love staying in the library past open hours.

word count: 1,734

a/n: Mentioning @nctcreations in case the tags don’t work. I love Hendery he exudes so much positivity and is very thoughtful.

Everyone who is acquainted with you knows that you are good-natured and possess a calm temperament. Right now though, the way you are glaring at the back of Wong Kunhang's head makes you resemble a bull seeing red complete with steam blowing out of your nostrils. The ticking of the old clock as it counts every second passing by infuriates you as if it's its sole purpose. It is already past five in the afternoon to other high school students it isn't much of a nuisance but to you, it is life or death. You need to be out of the school premises past five and should be on the way to the cafe you work in the evenings. Being a minute late at your part-time job means that you will receive a lengthy sermon from the cafe's owner as if they will not deduct it from your salary. But here you are still at the library waiting for Wong Kunhang to go on his merry way so that you can return the book he is pretending to be reading back to its respective shelf. Honestly, you would have let this pass but it's as if he is doing this on purpose for the past seven days. Adding salt to the wound, for every single day he takes a different book bringing it to his desk leafing through the pages eyes unfocused. Making you conclude that he is not doing any reading at all but just drops by the library to spite you. Each time before he leaves he will try to approach the desk where you are situated at and as if changing his mind in a millisecond he always makes a hasty retreat, exiting rather abruptly. You have reached your threshold and decided that you are going to confront him, for whatever his game is this got to stop. You walked towards the desk where he is, standing from behind his seat. You cleared your throat to get his attention. He craned his head back to look at you.

"Ummm, hi"

He immediately stood up from his seat in a frantic manner and rise to his height to stand opposite you. The seat's leg scratched the concrete producing a screeching sound.

"Hi, my name's Kunhang you can also call me Hendery if you like." He scratched the nape of his neck sheepishly smiling.

"I know who you are it is past five and the library closes at 5:00 PM sharp and I need to be at work -"

"I can totally take you there!" Kunhang exclaimed cutting you off. His words echoing in the empty library. You were not expecting that, the heat started blossoming on the tops of your cheeks.

"Uhhhmm, I was going to say that if you can, you know tidy up before five that would be great." You replied awkwardly.

"Ohh uhmm sure sure." You can see that he was embarrassed. He picked up the book from the desk. "I am sorry, I am gonna put this book back." You watched him as he put the book on its respective shelf and exited the library leaving you bewildered. Well, at least you got that over with.

After that incident, you no longer have to deal with him as he does not visit the library anymore. But he now occupies the other half of your brain you see him from your peripheral vision wherever you go. It seems that you are hyperaware of his presence and you can't take your eyes off him. How could you not notice before that he sits a few seats away from you at classes? By the things are going you can probably write a one-page essay about him.

He likes cats, not fond obsessed is the right word. His pencil case is imprinted with cat designs. He keeps a picture of his cats in his wallet, you know because you peeked over his shoulder at the cafeteria while he is paying for his food. He always remembers to feed the school's resident stray cat every morning. You saw him one morning bending down at the bushes near the outskirts of your school petting and feeding the stray cat.

He always hides a manga behind his textbook during classes snickering quietly so that he wouldn't be caught. Strangely enough, for someone who is not trying to do his best academically, he excels in maths and sciences and actively participates in those classes.

He likes to exchange crumpled notes with Yukhei. Maybe containing a joke or two because one time the teacher caught them they were kicked out of the class and got detention for the rest of the afternoon.

You can't deny that you are fascinated with him the same Wong Kunhang that you used to curse in your mind. You might even develop a tiny crush on him. This is why you found yourself boring holes at the back of his skull with the intensity of your gaze. Looking for minuscule details to add to your Hendery's cute and quirky habits list. Yukhei caught you in action sending you a wink and a teasing smile like he knows what's going on in your mind. He leaned down and whispered it to Kunhang.

Oh god no ...

Which made Kunhang spare you his attention looking at you with his biggest signature goofy smile. You abruptly hide your face behind your textbook and pretended that you are not gaping pathetically at his back so intently. You avoided looking at his direction for the rest of the day but you can feel Kunhang's eyes following your every move making you flustered and rendering you to something akin to tomato for the rest of the day.  

You do not feel good scratch that this is the worst menstrual cramp that you have experienced in your life. Top that with the fact that your PE teacher has instructed your class to do ten laps in the field under the sweltering heat. Your peers are already ahead of you and you have long given up trying to match their pace. You stopped jogging and clutched your stomach the spasms intensifying making you double over in pain.

"Hey _______, you okay?" Kunhang kneeled at your crouched figure.

"Yeah, I am fine." As soon as you said that your abdominal muscles contracted so hard and a whimper escaped your lips.

"Let's go to the clinic you don't look so good." Kunhang reached for your forearm and slung it on his shoulders providing support to your frail figure helping you stand up. Although feeling like you might pass out any minute you can't help but observe Kunhang now that your bodies are now in close contact. His perfect side profile, tall straight nose, big doe eyes, plump pink lips, his floppy hair that frames his face, and his light perfume which smells like the sea breeze. As Kunhang led you to the clinic he started telling you about the time he collapsed due to over-exertion at one of the PE classes blaming the teacher's strenuous routine and launching on his tirade about what a pain in the ass the teacher is. You giggled finding his attempt to comfort you adorable.

"I am on my period Kunhang. The cramps are a bit on the painful side today."

"Oh ..." Hendery said embarrassed.

After dropping you off at the clinic Hendery got back to the PE class to inform the teacher about your mishap and that the nurse advised you to take the rest of the day off. You decided to rest up at the clinic and head home after the classes are over. Exiting the clinic you advanced your way to the classroom to collect your belongings when you froze on the spot upon seeing Kunhang leaning at the opposite wall to the clinic. He was carrying your bag on his shoulder. Noticing your presence he greeted you with his smile.

"I thought it'll be a hassle for you."

You can't help but smile back at him, taking your bag from him as the two of you walk towards the school gate Kunhang started bribing you to buy him ramen as payment for his good deeds.

He has this habit of looking at you but he isn't trying to hide it, in fact you think he is waiting for you to catch him because every single time you caught him redhanded he'll flash his goofy smile at you. The first few times you caught him your initial reaction was to start blushing but after the novelty of being embarrassed wears off you just shook your head smiling your eyes crinkling in mirth.

He'll always approach you and start acting cute doing silly little poses sometimes Yukhei drags him off before he starts embarrassing himself other times Yukhei will join in and start imitating Kunhang's comical poses resulting in overjoyous laughter erupting from your classmates.

He leaves you food and other trinkets on your desk. Lately after coming back from the cafeteria the ever-presence of food at your desk baffles you sometimes it contains other miscellaneous items like hair clips and ties. It was not after that your cramps manifested again that you finally knew who the culprit was for in your desk is a hot water bag. You quickly looked in the direction where you knew Kunhang was sitting, his head thrown back laughing at Yukhei's joke. As if sensing your stare he turned his face in your direction and grinned charmingly doing another of his silly poses.

It's fifteen minutes to five o clock and you need to make sure that every book is on their designated shelf and there is nothing out of its place scrutinizing the library with a sweep of your eyes you deemed that everything is in order. You grabbed your bag under the desk when the sound of the door hinges creaking got your attention. You quickly look to whoever dares to come in at the library fifteen minutes to its closing time. Surprise it was none other than Wong Kunhang. You walk up to him to stand at his opposite side, clearing your throat to get him to address you.

"Is the offer of a ride to my workplace still up?"

"Only if we go to the movies afterward."

"It's a date then."

There it is Kunhang's goofy smile. Perhaps you are too, smitten with him.

a/n: Read more of my works for NCT here:masterlist.

[theresnosafeharbor4myships]

TITLE: Out of the Grave - Chapter 3: The Aftermath (Chapter 1 here, Chapter 2 here)

It took 10 minutes and lots of questioning and cajoling to get Jenny to calm down enough to listen to anything Abbie said. She maintained an air of defensiveness, shoulders squared, muscles rigid, face a drawn mask of doubt. Even now, sitting across the table from Abbie while he sat between them at the head of the table, he saw the tension in her, unsure and unwilling to believe, even as her defenses began to crumble. "Tell me again," she demanded. Abbie sighed patiently in resolution and explained everything in detail: how she'd emerged from the lake, the knowledge she suddenly had that felt like a light coming on in her brain, missing three and half days and the significance of that, the questioning Ichabod had done. He noted she conveniently forgot to tell Miss Jenny of their...ardor, for which he was most grateful. Somehow he knew she'd be excited and tease them incessantly, if not this night then starting with their next encounter. As it stood now, he felt like the flayed end of a raw nerve and didn't think he could handle much more of anything, let alone good-natured ribbing of something so momentous and incredible. Once he noted that Miss Jenny had calmed—indeed, even showed relief and elation—he silently excused himself, pussyfooting to the kitchen to make some tea and heat up some of the lemon loaf that Abbie favored. At the sight of it, his stomach grumbled, and he realized he couldn't remember the last meal he'd had. With the hum of the Mills sisters' voices as background accompaniment, he set about making himself a PB&J. His eyes burned like fire with every blink, but he couldn't possibly head to bed right now, not even sure sleep would find him, no matter how desperately he needed it, for fear Abbie would disappear while he slumbered. She had to be here to stay, didn't she? He couldn't consider otherwise. Besides, she'd returned with a deeper understanding of their mission. They were destined to this life, called to something greater. He nearly chortled out loud at the absurdity of his own thoughts—he sounded nigh like one of those blasted Hallmark movies Abbie indulged in during certain times of the month. Destiny, fate, meant to be... Perhaps he was delusional. But the Bible foretold of them as an unbroken pair, and Abbie had confirmed their entwined fates upon her return. And her return had certainly entwined them more than they'd ever been before. A flush rushed through him at the memory of kissing her, touching her, of her in his lap, closer than he'd ever thought possible. She'd floated in like a dream and started to fulfill his in brilliant Technicolor.

The kettle began whistling, and he shook off his wayward musings for a moment to remove the pot from the burner. He poured for the sisters, and while the tea steeped he ate his sandwich, nearly inhaling it to quell the growling monster in his belly. He heard sniffling from the other room, the sound drawing him back to the tunnels after Pandora's wretched box had exploded, blowing his last hope of finding Abbie to Hades. The dreams—or had they been visions? He'd have to ask the Lieutenant if she remembered coming to him telepathically, spiritually, or by some other supernatural medium—haunted his waking hours, and if he'd slept the past few days he knew he'd find them there too. Her seemingly contented goodbye, acceptance of him moving on without her, the way that, even in that netherworld, they danced so smoothly around the way they truly felt. He hoped...Heavens, how he'd hoped she'd felt the depth of passion for him that she inspired in him. At times he could barely refrain from spelling it out, touching her simply to feel the softness of her skin, holding her close because she was there.

Now he knew a touch of her fervor and he longed to burn in it, wholly consumed and happily so. Let it consume him the way his grief had, a pleasant and pleasurable replacement that'd taken her dying to bring about. What a fool he'd acted, skirting the issue this past year. After everything that'd happened to him, all the things he'd lost, he should've known better. Tears pricked his eyes. The places she'd gone to for him, for them, for the world...Purgatory, the catacombs, death. He had so much to make up for. Lost time, chances, moments, and words. He'd only begun to speak the avalanche of emotions held in his heart. The timer beeped loudly, signaling the tea had finished steeping, and he moved before he fell asleep on his feet right there in the kitchen. Extracting the tea strainers, he set the mugs and cake slices on a serving tray and put the sandwich fixings away. Every move felt like swimming through molasses, but he forged ahead, delivering the tray to the dining room. The Mills sisters stood in a tearful embrace, neither facing his direction, and he quietly slid the tray onto the table and made a silent escape. Hell's bells, but he needed rest. He didn't know how long the sisters would spend reuniting and discussing what's transpired the past few days, and he didn't want to interrupt, so he slipped down the hallway and into the bathroom. He took a quick, hot shower, scrubbing the strain of desperate wallowing from himself and washing his floppy hair into some semblance of normal. Drying off, he slipped on his robe and brushed his teeth, freshening his body the way he'd started to clean his spirit by speaking what he'd so long cherished in his heart. He took a long look in the mirror, barely recognizing the gaunt face staring back at him. Dark circles framed his tired eyes, his cheeks seemed to have sunk into his face, and his beard looked slightly untamed. He fixed the latter with haste, knowing the rest would improve with sleep and proper hydration and nutrition, which he'd sorely lacked as of late. He shuffled to his room and stopped short. A whirlwind had blown through it: clothes and books lay scattered and strewn about, the desk chair lay on its side, and the covers of his bed had been thrown off. Confusion briefly set in until a quick flash of a memory surfaced. In a grief-blind rage, he'd swept his arm across the bookshelves, sending his favorite tomes flying. Grabbing at the clothes hanging in his open closet seemed the next destructive step, and he'd made quick work of it. Throwing the bedspread, shoving at the chair, kicking at the items already littering the floor gave him minute catharsis. Then he'd crashed down, both emotionally and physically, sliding onto the floor in a devastated mess. Ichabod took a deep breath and, after exchanging the robe for a dark grey t-shirt and black yoga pants (he'd never trade in his now-antiquated attire, but he found the current leisure styles most comforting while at home), began tidying the room, switching the overhead light for the bedside lamp. The room took slightly longer to clean up than it had to deconstruct it, but he set about it quickly, ashamed of his childish outburst but feeling it necessary all the same. He'd believed the prophecies: the Bible, the tablet, the enemies' words that they were the Two Witnesses. He hadn't understood how he could've set his whole modern life, indeed, his heart, on that belief, only to have it crumble in the space of a heartbeat with the loss of his partner. His Lieutenant. (He hadn't the right to think of her as such, but it hadn't prevented him from doing so.) He righted the desk chair and picked up some of the remaining scattered books, still marveling that she'd walked back into their home, whole, healed, and heralding promises of their future together. The Two of them promised to Witness until the end. He had to be dreaming. Something quietly sounded behind him, and he turned to see the subject of his thoughts and affections leaning against the door frame, watching him. She'd changed into a pair of pink and black plaid pajama pants and a matching light pink shirt. It, coupled with the low lighting of his room, cast her face in a bewitchingly warm glow. He watched her eyes scan the room, some of the books still lying strewn about, then flash back to him. Sorrow etched her face. "It's been a hard few days," he murmured unnecessarily as an explanation before turning from her to stack the books in his hands onto the desk. He set them down, one hand resting on the top cover as he took a moment to gather himself. He wanted to hold her. He wanted to ravish her. He wanted to simply stare at her until he'd had his fill of all her beauty. He needed to speak of the days without her, to purge the ache that only she—living, breathing—could ease. She moved into his peripheral and, slightly startled, he turned to her. She held out the last of the books that'd littered his floor, and he took them from her, his eyes never leaving her face, her gaze intently holding his. Even after his earlier revelation, there were still so many things to say...where could he start? He cleared his throat, his brain finally catching on to the fact that he hadn't heard the other Mills sister in the past several minutes. "Miss Jenny?" he nearly croaked, his voice quiet. "She went home. Said she needed rest and a little bit of time," she explained softly. "And that she'll stop by tomorrow."

He nodded in understanding, feeling the same oppressive, cloying need for space to process her return in conjunction with the desire to never let her out of his sight. It all felt so overwhelming. Suddenly he moved away from her gaze, her proximity, and rounded the bed, sitting on its edge before he collapsed under the dueling weights of grief and elation. He didn't want to send her away and couldn't ask her to remain here, but strewth, he was wrung dry. He could hardly keep his eyes open, his head up. Gratitude filled him as Abbie remained where he'd left her for several moments, giving him time, space. Neither felt as good as she had in his arms, but he needed them just as badly. "In either of my lives, I've never felt as scarred as I have following your disappearance into that box." The words, spoken softly on a broken whisper, surprised even him since he hadn't planned on speaking them—hadn’t even known his brain was forming them—and the gravity of his admission sat heavy in the room. His entire 18th century existence, the loss of his parents, his best friend, his wife and son, his homeland. He'd felt those things as surely now as he ever did. But Abbie...losing her had felt different. Weightier. Like a millstone around his neck drowning him even as he still breathed. Mayhap because of their bond as witnesses. Or because she'd somehow become the glue that'd held his two worlds together, the only person who'd believed him, helped him, trusted him. Made him feel real. He stared straight ahead, the closet before him yawning open like the space between them. Perhaps he'd said too much. His heart beat wildly waiting for her response. It didn't take long. He heard her bare feet padding in his direction, and she appeared before him, petite, radiant, and stunning. He couldn't meet her eyes, afraid of what he'd see in them, but her hands sluiced through the hair at his temples, the heels of her hands resting on them as she leaned closer. He felt her lips press sweetly against his forehead, and his eyes dropped closed at the sensation. On sensory overload, he felt barely able to function, yet somehow his hands found her hips, resting lightly on the flare of them as if he'd done this a thousand times before. He felt the bones beneath her toned skin, the slimness of her figure, and his heart nearly exploded with the feelings he had for her. But Abbie chose that moment to retreat, though just enough to see him, her hands still deliciously tangled in his hair as her fingers absently massaged his scalp. He was going to crawl out of his skin if she didn't stop torturing him. Her touch both invigorated and drugged him, powerful in its simplicity, soothing in its method. She moved her hands down to his cheeks, and her thumbs arched along his eyebrows. He fluttered his tired eyes open to stare at her, finding her watching him with a sympathetic, loving gaze. Her thumbs brushed against his cheekbones, her touch sending warmth coursing through his body. The realization that she felt comfortable enough to freely caress him made him shiver all over. "You should rest now," she soothed. "We can talk more in the morning." He could imagine how wretched he looked right now, how she must see him. Gaunt and pale, red-rimmed eyes and dark hues beneath them. A sight bedraggled enough to make her eyes sore. Bringing his hand up to grip her wrist, he turned his head slightly to the right, kissing her palm reverently. She ran the fingers of her other hand through his hair again as he did so. God's wounds, he'd better not be dreaming all of this up. He wasn't sure how much more heartache he could survive. He didn't want to let her go, but his bed called to him like a siren. Reluctantly releasing her, he stood up and turned down the bedspread and sheets, then plopped listlessly down again. He eased down onto his side as Abbie stood by smiling sweetly at him. She watched him so attentively he thought she might just stay until he'd fallen asleep. Which wouldn't take all that long, to be sure. But then she softly bid him a goodnight as she turned to leave. "Please," he breathed in desperation, again speaking without forethought. "Stay with me." A few seconds later, he realized his words sounded like a paltry invitation. "I don't mean anything untowards," he rushed to assure her. "Just...please don't go. Don't leave." He swallowed hard, waiting for her response. Surely she wouldn't think him a scoundrel for requesting such a thing after she'd just returned from the beyond. Would she? Through his bleary eyes he saw her lips upturn in a small smile. She tucked one leg beneath her and sat on the edge of the bed. "I'm not going anywhere," she promised him. Ichabod's heart pounded wildly in his chest as he scooted to the other side of the bed. Abbie slid into bed—the sight left him again wondering if he might be hallucinating—reaching up to turn off the bedside lamp. The room plunged into darkness, but he felt her every movement: fluffing the pillow, pulling the blankets up, settling comfortably into the mattress. He, conversely, didn't move, could barely breathe. And when he did, the scent of Abbie's shampoo filled his senses. She lay so close he could he could reach out and touch her, wrap his arm around her, hold her close to him, to feel her breathing. To prove to himself she was real and living and here and...dear heavens, he didn't dare do such a thing. It was enough she'd agreed to stay with him this night. He'd thought he'd fall to sleep the moment his head hit the pillow, but he hadn't anticipated sleeping next to Abbie. Was he too close? Had he given her enough space? Should he move to the edge of his side of the bed? Was she comfortable? Maybe he'd compromised the covers, not leaving enough for her to stay warm with. "You're thinking too much, Crane," she murmured. Something about her tone, that reprimanding but teasing duo she had, made him huff a relieved sigh, and most of his tension evaporated. A moment later, she reached her hand back and grabbed his, pulling it over her side and draping his arm around her waist. Instinctively he moved forward as she settled back against him, and he noted how easily they fell into this most intimate of reposes. She felt real enough, had matched him in fervor and passion. She'd returned with all the grace and grit and poise of the woman who'd fearlessly and faithfully fought by his side since the moment he'd met her. And now he held her in his arms. His Lieutenant... He needn't have wondered if he'd ever get to sleep with Abbie in his bed; before he could even marvel at how wonderful she felt tucked against him, he'd fallen asleep.

[fereldenturnip]

But Don’t You Ever Let Me Go (3)

Primo Nizzuto/Majid Zamari Sugar Daddy Fic

Part 3/ ?

(Parts 1, 2)

Plus @ournextdoorneighbor has done several arts for #TrustTheWolf! Go check that AMAZING stuff out! :D

Majid wakes up at 10:58 am, completely well-rested. The evidence of his stale pleasure is glued to his body hair. The odd prickling promptly jump-starts his brain straight into freak-out mode. 

The car ride. Primo’s dulcet tones. The smell of him on his skin. The pleasure of release after so long without.

Majid leaps out of bed. 

Last night was a mistake. A weakness. One Majid is embarrassed to have committed in the first place. 

What’s shocked him most is the ferocity of his swift libido. Majid’s had fantasies before, lurid wet dreams inspired by exaggerated magazine spreads. Hot chicks in nothing but lingerie and ‘come hither’ stares. He used to go through bottles of lotion and boxes of tissues like crazy before he finally started having sex for real. 

Sex with women. 

Because Majid likes women. He isn’t gay! 

…Or, is he?

Fuck! Majid squeezes his eyes shut. He doesn’t know anymore! That tame, midnight fantasy was nothing at all compared to all his previous raunchy escapades, but it was also the most intense orgasm of his life. Primo’s very masculine body, his very manly voice, his very alpha-male presence awakens a dark need inside Majid. Hell, it knocked him unconscious for hours after emptying his balls all over himself. 

Still, Majid is confused. 

It’s the weekend. He’s off from work and that means no surprise visits from certain Mafia Dons. Hopefully. Just thinking about Primo overwhelms Majid and sends him into a wild frenzy around his flat. He spends most of his afternoon laundering his bed sheets and clothes, cleaning himself thoroughly in the shower…and then scrubbing down the tiles when he strokes out another Primo-induced orgasm. 

It’s absurd, but Majid suspects one look at him and Primo will know his shame. His cock gives a valiant twitch at that. 

Is this real life? Is Majid going to spend the rest of the weekend wanking off to Primo? He groans, flopping down on his springy mattress and hanging his head. 

What exactly is it about Primo that awakens Majid’s sexual urges when nothing else has? Objectively speaking, Primo is a handsome-looking older man. Any fool with eyes, gay or straight, can see that plain as day. After the first few encounters with the man, Majid scoured old newspaper clippings from decades past. Desperate to understand the gravitas behind the notorious Primo Nizzuto.

Gone is the ridiculous pornstache and bell-bottoms of his youth, exchanged for modern (albeit still flamboyant) facial hair and fashion. The floppy hair and thick thighs remain, plus the addition of one pierced ear that came about during the 80’s. In fact, Majid once spent an entire lunch captivated by a single teardrop-shaped pearl earring that swayed in time with Primo’s conversation.

He appears to have aged like a fine wine, hale and healthy, time only adding to his magnetic elegance. All that country air and good food is a testament to the wonders of Italian longevity. 

Add to that his influential power--and Majid isn’t that dumb not to notice the excited thrill he feels whenever Primo exercises said power on Majid’s behalf. Small, insignificant Majid, a real nobody that Primo pulls out all the stops for. Majid likes people watching? With a wave of his hand, Primo gets them a table with a stunning view for lunch. The gallery too crowded for Majid? One word and suddenly it’s just the two of them gazing at dusty old paintings. Primo could have literally anyone in the world, but instead he chooses to fill his days with Majid. 

It’s hot. 

It wasn’t like this with Hakan, who pranced around pretending to be his mentor so long as Majid continued making him money. Who coddled him while simultaneously collaring him. 

Yeah, but Hakan didn’t want to fuck your brains out, either. 

Oh, he knows exactly what Primo wants. Who he wants. Question is, is Majid willing to give it to him? 

Primo is sexually charged and aimed at Majid, ready to fire whenever he’s given permission. That the ball is even in existence and firmly in Majid’s court is pleasantly reassuring. Despite all his carnal hunger, Primo will wait patiently for his enthusiastic consent. In some small measure, Majid can exert his own special power over the man. That in and of itself is attractive.

It’s exhilarating and dramatic, daunting and intimidating. Has Majid been playing it straight this whole time because it was expected of him? 

Living in Italy only makes it easier to remove himself from the trappings of his old life and examine the bigger picture. For the first time, he’s outside of the rigid confines of tradition that mandated he be hard-boiled and repressed. Finally, Majid can breathe easy and freely explore what makes his cock throb without shame. Try as he might to abhor this “perverted” behavior, Majid not-so-secretly delights from the adventures, the conversations…the pampering. Maybe it’s alright to admit kneeling, crawling, and kissing Primo’s signet ring is exactly what he desires. 

However, if Majid capitulates to Primo’s wants and needs, what’s in store for him when he inevitably fucks up? What security is there that he won’t end up beaten into another bloody pulp, or worse--dead? Honestly, it’s the punishment that scares Majid more than the sex. He’s racked with crippling anxiety--pins and needles in his fingers and toes, air freezing inside his lungs, the memory of bone splintering while someone he trusted sits indifferent to his suffering. 

Surviving Hakan? Pure dumb luck. Surviving Primo? Not likely. Every moment spent with Primo is like lighting a matchstick around a puddle of gasoline. One wrong move and everything goes up in flames. Every nerve in his body is telling him to run, far away from Primo Nizzuto’s reach. 

Everytime he gets the itch to move, those damn captivating green eyes lure him right back again. 

You’re an idiot, Zamari.

++++

“Boss wants you to have this,” the man in the dark suit says.

It’s sunny as shit outside, enough that Majid squints an eye trying to adjust after spending so long in the auto shop. There’s a backdrop of power tools and air compressors whirring away behind him. In front, the Suit wears a thick pair of nondescript sunglasses over a neutral expression. He wiggles the package again.

Majid scrunches his face at the square box. It’s expertly wrapped in crimson paper that looks quite supple and expensive. It’s…a gift. A bloody gift, given the colour. Gulping, Majid wipes his hands off on a rag and clumsily accepts it. Suit goes absolutely nowhere, merely crosses his hands and waits patiently. Primo must have ordered him to witness Majid’s reaction and report back to him. Shit, Majid’s face burns hot and it isn’t from the sun.

The wrapping is just as buttery-soft as expected. It calms his initial, childlike instinct to rip and tear it open. Inside is a black box embossed with pale gold letters.

BVLGARI. 

Majid’s eyes widen comically. He stares at the box, then at Suit. 

Silence. Not even a shrug or head-tilt to acknowledge Majid’s turmoil. Nothing. Perfect, civil obedience. With his heart thumping loudly in his ears, Majid is almost envious of his observer’s detachment. His thumb edges the corners of the box and he immediately likens his situation to Pandora. What fresh hell is he inviting into this world by opening Primo’s gift? Just sign here on the bottom line...

Nestled on a cushion of creamy velvet is an all-black watch. The straps are a liquidy-soft metal of intertwining onyx teeth. The wide crystal face is ringed in matte black lettering (and fuck, it’s an actual Bvlgari) and tiny yellow-gold dials. Three perfect subdials catch a sunbeam and flare molten and golden, like miniature full moons in the midnight sky. 

Woof!

His brown eyes light up and dance at the superb craftsmanship. It’s edgy but sleek, confident and dangerous--whoever wears it will surely strike an intimidating figure.

Oh, who is he kidding? Majid is totally going to wear this. Already his wrist is heavy and itching with anticipation. It’s absolutely perfect and exactly to Majid’s tastes. It’s as if Primo saw inside his soul and plucked out all his wants and desires just to hand them back on a silver platter. A plume of heat rushes down his spine to settle in his extremities. 

Shivering, Majid reassembles the box and stares at the expectant Suit. He’s almost tempted to pass it back, refuse this precious (ludicrously expensive) gift, if only to gauge his reaction. The Suit wouldn’t mind, but he’d still have to deliver the news to the benevolent gifter. It’s already been well-established that Primo brushes off rejection like water off a duck. Or, in his case, a black swan. His first proffered gift was an entire damn vineyard. Dozens of meals and car rides later, a four-figure watch is innocent. 

His fingers trace the embossed logo. It’s such a thoughtful gift, too. 

“Please give Signor Nizzuto my sincerest,” apologies, “thanks.” Fuck. 

Suit nods stiffly, pivots on one polished heel, and returns to his nondescript car. 

Majid escapes the hot air outside and returns to the auto shop. The gift is tenderly tucked inside his personal locker, with the lock pulled twice just to verify it is indeed fastened. The rest of his work day is spent in a complete daze. Everything blends together--Majid can’t count how many car batteries and broken tail lights he replaces, his mind and eyes skittering back to bore holes into his locker. 

When he greets Primo outside his apartment for their usual Tuesday night dinner, Majid is clean of grease and clothed in his best black attire. There’s been an effort to tame his growing curls and trim his short beard. He looks handsome. 

The sallow streetlamp outside casts him all in shadow. Somewhere a dog barks.

This time, when the chauffeur opens the backseat door he lets Primo exit and meet Majid in the crisp night air. The two of them stand silently across from each other, only a scant few feet apart. Primo is dressed in a close-fitting red suit so dark it might as well be black. 

Beware, the devil wears red… 

Unabashed green eyes soak in his appearance, slow and sultry over all his edges and curves. Majid holds himself still, blazer tucked in the crook of his left arm. The purposeful posture highlights the gleaming watch adorning Majid’s wrist. It doesn’t go unnoticed.

Primo blinks once, tongue blatantly stroking along his bottom lip, “Do you like it, my boy?”

His husky words are a temptation, promising notes ringing in the air between them. Shuddering madly and unable to speak, all Majid does is nod. A smile carves its way onto Primo’s face, chiseling dimples in his cheeks. Those eyes of his are electric. He takes a step closer, bringing a cloud of that damn cologne with him--Majid inhales sharply--then promptly backing off to the side. A playful little dance that leaves Majid absolutely reeling. One gentlemanly sweep of his hand, Primo beckons him towards the belly of the rumbling car. 

…So tempt away, devil, Majid thinks carelessly and ducks inside. 

[writingbakery]

“season of the witch (& the werewolf)”

this is purely indulgent, fluffy, silly nonsense i dreamed up a while back, & am finally pushing out into the world! i may add more parts if it’s well received! <3 taglist; @lady-bakuhoe @katsukisprincess

[pairing; werewolf! kirishima x witch! reader]

[warnings; fluff, pining, crack, strangers to lovers, soft moments, clumsiness, slice of life, magical au]

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

fall, mid september

the leaves crunch sweetly beneath your boots as you make your way through campus; the air is chilly, still, like it’s holding an unspoken breath. how silly.

you shake off the lingering feeling that something.... important is about to happen, focusing your thoughts back on potions - magical college was much harder than normal college, and as a young witch in training, you needed to stay on track. this was only your second of six years; the almost daunting courseload was lightened only by the knowledge that you were exactly where you were meant to be, hopelessly in love with magic.

as a green witch, potions is a major part of your studies - second only to herbology, a smile on your lips as you remember your blooming greenhouse. potions and spells were vital to every witch, but in your case, they were the focal points of your magic. being in tune with wildlife was one thing; being able to borrow from & control it was entirely another.

you’re lucky, however - it’s fall, aptly dubbed the “season of the witch”, your magic stronger and more present. it’s your favorite season, partially because of the energy rush and partially because of everything it entails; halloween, chillier weather, your favorite films on tv.

so wrapped up in thoughts of elderflower and frog legs are you that you don’t even see the person in front of you, colliding with a sturdy chest and nearly toppling to the ground. nearly.

strong arms snake around your waist to catch you, warmth radiating from the laughing body of the man who’s both your savior and your reason for needing saving.

tall, broad, with a shock of red hair and peeking dark roots, smiling so wide you can count all four sharp fangs & hardened incisors - a werewolf’s mouth, if you remember your shifters correctly.

“careful there! that’s a pretty face, i’d hate to let the ground have it all for itself,” the werewolf teases, and you flush darkly before pulling yourself together.

“sorry, i was just.... wrapped up. potions,” you attempt to explain, but the tall redhead just waves off your concerns. now that you’re looking at him properly, he seems oddly familiar, like you’ve seen him but never seen him.

“it’s half my fault anyways, i was too busy lookin’ at the birds,” he shrugs, shaking his head. “i think you’re in my potions class. professor greenbirch? just finished?” that’s where you’ve seen him. a back row sitter, usually half asleep in his cauldron or dicking around with friends.

“that’s the one. this project has sort of taken over all my free thinking space,” you admit, tapping your fingers against your textbook; the way the young werewolf’s eyes widen makes you giggle. “i figured you missed that part. i’m [y/n l/n], green witch & second year.” you hold out your hand, which the werewolf blatantly ignores, pulling you into a rib crushing hug instead.

“i’m eijiro kirishima, also a second year and werewolf - but i’m sure you guessed that already! since i crashed into you so rudely, lemme buy you a coffee? and maybe we can team up on this project i had absolutely no clue about,” he laughs, and his smile is so bright you don’t have the heart to say no. besides, what’s the worst that could happen?

“sure,” you agree, gently prying yourself from his grip, and the two of you are off to the local cafe for chamomile tea and brainstorming.

winter, late january

you frown as you peek out of your frosted window, tending to your greenhouse plants. the weather’s been too chilly for them to thrive the way you want, & your heating spells can only do so much. bundling up in an oversized hoodie and gloves isn’t helping your shivers, but at least youre not directly outside.

technically, you’re meant to be picking herbs and various natural ingredients for your workspace, restocking on materials so that you can continue your studies - and your flourishing side business selling potions to your classmates.

instead, however...

krishima bounds through the grass excitedly, his wolf in full form - silky black fur, tinged with red, a massive creature that had frightened you nearly to death the first time you’d seen it.

ever since that day, swapping project ideas in the warm and bustling cafe, he’d been glued to your side, like a puppy nipping at your heels - he helped you with errands, kept you company late at night when you were lost in spellbooks, and even brought you coffee on the way to potions class. he’d become a great friend, and you were lucky to have him, as much as you teasingly complained about his clinginess.

although, as you watch his body morph and shift back into lean, corded muscle and a sunshine smile, the butterflies erupt full force, and you’re starting to realize you can’t hide your blossoming feelings forever.

he’s shirtless, as usual, a pair of dark sweatpants hanging low on his hips as he cheerfully drops the basket of ingredients next to you, eyeing your shivering form. for a moment you’re almost jealous of his wolvine blood, keeping his blood burning boiling hot despite the cold nipping at his skin. your eyes travel lower, past the broad width of his shoulders, trailing down the cut of his abs & the sprinkling of his dark-haired happy trail disappearing into sweats that hid nothing - clinging to well muscled thighs, and a very impressive print—

you pull yourself out of such thoughts with another shiver, although kirishima blames it on the cold, bless his heart. he’s quick to pull you into one of his notoriously strong hugs, surrounding you in warmth and a hint of cinnamon & pine, a scent you’ve come to associate him with.

it’s nice, comforting almost, and you can pretend you’re not flushing pink from his muscled arms around your waist, keeping you close.

“did you get everything?” you ask instead, pulling back a bit to eye his expression - kirishima has a tendency to get distracted in the woods, “playing tag” with the squirrels and diving into lakes. such a puppy at heart.

he nods, however, his toothy grin showing he’s extremely proud of himself. “i’ll show you everything i got in a minute - i found these really cool pebbles, and this super rare flower, but first we’ve got to warm you up.”

you flush deeper at that, ignoring his teasing tone as you cuddle closer to him, a little unconsciously. “whatever, puppy brain. not all of us have blood so hot it melts steel,” you grumble.

his laughter disturbs every bird in a ten mile radius, but it’s disarmingly cute, and very fitting - you’re smitten to the core, no matter how hard you try to deny it to yourself.

spring, late may

the weather’s finally warm enough to make your brow line with sweat as you dig out weeds, your floppy sunhat somewhat shielding you from the bright sun. your plants are finally coming in strong, tall and leafy and bubbling with happiness that seeps through your pores every time you brush over their stems.

it fills you with pride, a sense of giddiness that’s only heightened when you hear a familiar laugh from behind you, loud and full of sunshine you can’t shield your heart from.

kirishima’s in his element during the springtime, shedding his old fur, touching up his dyejob - the reds twice as vibrant now, and your fingers itch to play with the gelled up strands.

his skin flushes golden under the warm rays, makes him sunkissed and beautiful in all the right ways - you’re lucky to breathe normally around him, let alone control your racing heart.

he spots you easily, waving goodbye to his classmates before dropping down next to you with enough force to shake the dirt in your hands. he’s quick to hug you, immediately launching into a sped up recount of his day - all the while holding you close, nearly in his lap. odd.

he’d been clingier than usual lately, always hugging you close or playing with your fingers, face buried in your neck when he got tired or upset. it’s sweet, even adorable, but your tender heart can barely take it, and you’re not sure how to bring it up without making him - or yourself - embarrassed.

for now, you’ll just soak up the extra attention & hope to god it doesn’t make the fluttering in your stomach worse, your aura sickly sweet pink and flushed enough. eventually, you’d have to confess how you felt - it was eating you alive.

for now, however, this is enough. you tuck a daisy behind kirishima’s ear and laugh at the way he sneezes immediately, confusion written all over his face.

summer, early july

it’s sweltering, your greenhouse & garden safely locked away under cooling charms as you drape yourself over the couch in kirishima’s dorm room. you’re sweating despite the fan tucked under your shirt and ice cubes in your mouth, probably because you’ve got a redheaded, hotblooded werewolf in your lap.

kirishima’s clinginess has only gotten worse, not even the heat keeping him from burying his face in your stomach, arms tucked around your thighs. it’s lovely but too warm, the added heat from his body stifling as you finally push him off.

“too hot,” you complain, but kiri just wines in response, and you clumsily pat his head in apology.

he surprises you, leaning up to nuzzle his cheek against your palm, even kissing your fingers. he’s got your full attention now, and you watch his affectionate actions with a smile.

“what’s gotten into you, hm? you’ve been real cuddly, pup,” you hum, and the way his cheeks redden makes you laugh. “what, you thought i hadn’t noticed? you’ve been stuck to me like beetroot on toadeye powder, what’s going on?”

you’d kept mostly quiet about his ever increasing clingy behavior, but with the way he’s avoiding your eyes, you’ve got a feeling you know just what his response will be, and your heartbeat quickens.

he’s quiet for a long stretch, opening & closing his mouth like he’s deciding just what to say, & how to ssy it. it’s endearing, but you’re nervous, waiting to hear the words you’d been praying for.

“fuck it,” he says suddenly, sitting up on the floor so that his face is right up next to yours. confusion fills you as you sit up too, attempting to make space - but he tugs you right back down by your hands, lacing your fingers together and squeezing once, twice.

and then he kisses you, soft and sweet with a thousand and one unspoken words. it’s so gentle, a caress of his lips on yours and before you know it your hands are tangled in bright red locks, keeping him close.

“oh,” you say softly once you finally part, chest light and airy despite being breathless; kiri just laughs shyly, kissing your hands with a grin.

“yeah, oh. guess we should’ve done that sooner,” he blushes, but his tone’s still teasing - as always.

you roll your eyes and whack him lightly with your joined hands, your smile too wide to contain.

“and to think, all that pining for nothing,” you tease back, squealing as the young werewolf comes to bury you in a flurry of kisses, sweet and soft and full of love.

fall, mid october

you trudge through the grass, yawning as you crunch through the multi-colored leaves. there’s leafpiles everywhere - perfect for jumping, your inner child says, and you smile. it’s just chilly enough to make you shiver, but warm enough to forget a coat, and you hum as you walk, deciding to indulge yourself a little and kick through the masses of leaves.

however, you’re not accounting for the twigs to catch at your ankles, stumbling down and you wince as you brace for the rough fall—

two strong arms wrap around your waist, tugging you up and back against a strong chest, rumbling with laughter. cinnamon and pine tickles your nose, and you smile wider, giggling a bit yourself.

“we really gotta stop meeting like this,” kirishima teases, pressing a sweet kiss to your cheek before setting you back on your feet. you spin around quickly, hands resting lightly against his chest as you lean up to kiss him proper.

“oh shut it. don’t think i’ve forgotten about you rolling through the leafpiles like a puupydog,” you laugh, poking his cheeks gently; he’s dressed warmer than usual, a college hoodie and a varsity jacket. he’s quick to peel the latter off, however, and drape it over your shoulders. oh.

“i had a feeling my favorite little witch wasn’t dressed warm enough, so i came to rescue them from the cold,” he explains, taking your hands and kissing at the chilled skin. he’s always thoughtful like that, looking after you so sweetly. it makes your heart swell and your cheeks pink, the way he’s always thinking of you.

“well i had a feeling my favorite puppy hadnt taken in enough nutrients today, especially after a full moon’s night spent wandering in the forest. elderflower and ginger, to help with all your aches & pains,” you chastise gently, holding up the thermos full of herbal tea.

kiri takes the thermos with an excited gasp - he loves when you brew him things, always claims it’s twice as special coming from your hands. now that you have separate potions II classes, he can’t partner with you anymore, so he readily accepts whatever you give him happily.

“we still on for pumpkin picking? i wanna carve out professor horden’s creepy ghoul face to scare bakugou.” his voice rings out excitedly between sips, taking your hand in his free one once more; you laugh at his silliness, your heart twice as full as last year and steady growing.

the pair of you walk through campus just like this; holding hands and laughing about everything & nothing all at once, the future bright.

it’s the season of the witch, after all - the witch and the werewolf.

[tteokdoroki]

bestie bestie bestie pup boy bakugou in rut adn fucking his bunny girl gf n' he breeds her and- yeah

— “bitch bunny.” + katsuki bakugou.

bestie,,, bestie dont get me started on this!!! i made this gender neutral 🥺 so i hope you don’t mind uwu!!

pairing: german shepard!bakugou x bunny + gender neutral!reader

cw: smut, MDNI 18+, hybrid!pairing, slight!dub-con, oral sex, some degradation and dirty talk. reader is gender neutral and has no pronouns but i think i used slit once aaa!!

can you imagine being a hybrid!bunny adopted by deku, shy and timid— a shaky darling thing with a twitching nose and floppy bunny ears that fall over your face when you get nervous or flustered. izuku is nice, he takes care of you and brings you home from that god awful shelter. his place is warm and safe and oh, he’s got a little puppy friend for you to play with.

katsuki.

he’s mean, an awful german shepard!hybrid who snarls at you when izuku isn’t looking— steals your food, nips at your ankles and tears up your clothes. you hate him, you hate that you let him make you cry but don’t dare to snitch because you fear what he might do to you. katsuki had lived with deku longer, been loved longer and you were just a stupid bunny who was lucky to even be here. or so the blonde had told you over and over, backing you into a corner when your owner wasn’t looking.

he doesn’t mean it. is what izuku tells you when he gets you both ready for bed at night, hybrids need special care and izuku likes to bathe you together— bakugou stares at your body hungrily like you’re a piece of meat. kacchan can play nice, he’s just a little rough sometimes. another excuse.

a little rough doesn’t even begin to cover it.

not when katsuki has you pinned to the bed by a strong arms, cruel smirk spread widely across his cherry lined lips while your precious, meaty thighs shake either side of his head. “look at’cha bunny, shakin’ like a fuckin’ leaf ‘n i ain’t even touched’ya yet,” bakugou growls with a yank of your fluffy rabbit tail. your sex spasms, arousal staining the surrounding areas and dripping heavily onto the cotton sheets of deku’s bed. “poor lil bunbun trapped in heat, ‘n i’m the only one left’ta deal with ya....”

lust is heavy in his tone, blood red eyes dilating while he watches your hips jump up in desperation for some kind of friction and touch. “kat...katsuki, please...it hurts,” and it does, more than any of the mean words he’d thrown at you before. there’s heat burning in your lower tummy, spreading through the blood in your veins as your hole clenches around nothing and leaks pathetically under bakugou’s watchful gaze.

the blonde makes a feral noise in the back of his throat, pointed puppy ears twitching at your needy sounds— the broken moans that bubble from chapped lips. “yeah bunny?” he says breathless, voice lowering deep and husky. “it hurts not ta ‘ave a cock in ya huh? reaching deep in that tight, dirty fuckin’, scratchin’ that itch that you’re fingers can’t reach...” katsuki mutters filthy words into the plains of your skin, tongue dragging along your thighs as he approaches your sex— marking and biting a pathway towards it. his sharp canines sink harshly into the flesh that he moulds between large hands.

your chest rises and falls with your rapid, beating bunny heart— fear consuming you as your innermost instincts have been switched on. katsuki is a dog and you’re merely his prey for the evening, a darling little toy for him to take advantage of in your time of need. “katsu—“ you beg him, twisting and writing against the bed once more.

“what?” he snaps, fangs and gums bared in an impatient growl. he’d waited too long to have you spread out beneath him like this, smelt the slick from your heat dripping down your thighs— tasted the want in the air as you tried to fuck that itch away from yourself with stupid toys and your useless hands. “can’t eat yer stupid lil hole out if y’keep makin’ me waste my breath talkin’ to ya, bunny. don’cha want me to make it go away? take away the pain with my fat cock?”

“katsuki please, make it go away, make it stop hurting,”

katsuki’s head dips lower and lower until his nose is pressed right up against your slit, breathing in your sweet scent until his eyes roll back in his skull and his brain becomes cloudy with ideas of how you might fuckin’ taste, how tight you must really fuckin’ be. god, he’d thought about taking your puckered hole for far too long, taking you on his dick until your bunny ears droop and you’re reduced to a puddle of tears. but now that he’s got you, nothing but sex on your mind while you ooze sweet honey from his proximity to your core, all bakugou can think about is lapping you up like the fuckin’ dog he is and slobbering all over the sweetness between your meaty thighs.

“like it when you beg like a little bunny bitch in heat fer my fuckin’ dick babe, but s’too fuckin’ bad. wanna eat ya instead.” bakugou snarls, tail thumping on the bed as he finally latches onto your sex with teeth and tongue and the taste of you on his fucking brain. when he glances up at you between your shaky legs and give another tug to the fluff of your tail, your cute nose twitches and your watery eyes cross— the pain in your belly ignites into a bright flame of pleasure as you finally get what you need for your heat to subside.

katsuki’s tongue runs laps across every inch of your sex, sucking on you, drinking up the evidence of your arousal before it has time to further dirty your thighs— your fingers push through his mass of blonde locks and tug at his puppy dog ears until he whimpers into your hole that he plunges his pink muscle in and out of. ��look at’cha bunny, makin’ a mess in that damn deku’s bed. what’s he gonna say when he finds you cummin’ on this tongue of mine, his sweet little bun ain’t so innocent are they?” he teases, fingers coming up to prod and pull and pinch at your slick and intimate parts he also greedily feasts on.

“he—he wouldn’t, katsuki please don’t— oh fuck— i don’t want izu to see me like this,” you blubber with crossed eyes and skittering breath. the dog between your legs slots bites gently at your core, teeth grazing your intimate parts causing you to jump up and tug his hair closer to your needy, trembling body.

“bullshit, needy bitch.”

lewd sounds of your own sloppiness make your ears droop and cover your humiliated face, shame burning at the tips of your ears even worse than the hotness flashing through your body. you’re embarrassed, by your own dirtiness, by your desperation to be fucked by your owners awful companion. would izuku be disappointed in you? see you different from your usually shy and innocent self? you feel so much shame and yet you can’t feel yourself to pull away from the german shepard hybrid between your legs, sucking on you like you’re his last meal.

but you can’t bring yourself to feel shame, the thought of your precious owner walking in on you stretched over katsuki’s tongue and thick fingers— marked up and tainted, makes you gush and squirm. what would you do if his bright green eyes saw the sin his two darling hybrids were committing on his own bed? you’re naughty, bakugou’s made you naughty and that’s exactly what he wanted. to ruin you during your heat.

“you wanna cum, slutty bunny?” his tail thumps harder against the mattress, his hips grinding circles into the bed like his stuck in a rut, his own cock hard and heavy in his shorts while he makes you see stars and feel as if you’re on cloud nine. you nod and a dark chuckle reverberates through your body. “‘s too bad...” katsuki pulls away from you before you can tumble over the edge, sheen of your arousal painted across his chin— shining under dim light.

“k-katsuki?”

like a dirty dog, he wipes his mouth on his arm and smiles, mischief glinting in his eye. your heart rate spikes, nose and precious bunny earth twitching with nervousness and excitement.

“too bad, y’cum while ‘m breeding you on this cock, sort this heat out right.”