#throw a dart at a wall of things he's done and never miss him doing something emotionally desperate.

[dxxtruction]

Personally, I think the “That’s how it happened right? You standing in my blood, stroking my hair?” Was how it happened. Louis is just super detached from that headspace he was in before, and validly wanting not to have it be true that he didn’t, at one time, care about Claudia being gone, would be reasonable, and in character. Blaming Armand, partly, for why things got to be like that is correct. Though in this instance is misdirected to include things Armand did not in fact do to get it to be like that, but had, very much, done in a recent unrelated incident. He's essentially combining two events together to get it to align with his current set of beliefs. (Surely everyone's looked back on a situation before and saw it differently given time to think or feel differently about it. Get differing information, and so on. The show is directing us to that a lot, if not making it one of its major themes.)

But I say this is probably, almost definitely, the case, because Louis story beats need to be told accurately lest it take away from his character arc, as well his whole character and its complexity. Obstructing from his, very powerful, highly emotionally driven, story in a way that's frankly offensive. Armand having total and complete control over it, is bullshit. While, he does this though, to himself. Does a character armor on himself to get away from his own flaws, and role, in how things came about. Not intentionally, because it is emotional, and a lot of times just a result of blocking out that trauma. But this is something he’s seen doing often - Not remembering situations in the light in which they’re most accurate, and in so doing painting himself better sometimes, and others worse. Straight up forgetting, or overlooking information, and so never reevaluating why certain things came about until this moment. Not accurately applying the emotions of then, to the way he feels about it now, because he can't, or couldn't previously, actually remember it in that way. As he doesn't connect to those feelings, even those memories. His feelings in a lot of ways keep clouding his memories and his judgments of them.

Daniel gets at this too, where he brings up the tapes, and how Louis was basically just raving the whole time, and this story all happened differently then. It's the same story beats, yes, but it's all so emotionally different to the point where information gets completely changed around, even looked at like it's forcefully constructed to be a certain way, and not actually, therefore, accurate. Louis always tells an emotional story, and that’s important. It places him in time and continuum, in his own history as opposed to outside of it. That’s like, I think a history that can’t be overlooked, even if it's a history that's subject to change. And shouldn't history be? Shouldn't we look back on events that took place in our lives differently? Isn't that how any society grows? And why shouldn't Louis judgments be clouded by his emotions when that's the reason for most any other characters actions? Isn't that the story being told here?

[madameminor]

In More Ways Than One, Part 10 - Bad Batch x F!Reader - Crossed

Summary: You just want to restock the ship - but Crosshair has other plans.

Tags: (the series is) 18+ smutty mcsmutterson, porn with plot, basically, all the good stuff

Warnings: P in V sex, 'ownership' mentioned, rough sex (hand on throat, some throwing around), squirting, sensual sex, use of pet names. Top! then soft Crosshair.

Notes: I hope you all enjoy :). People have been asking after this chapter for awhile, which brings me SO MUCH HAPPY! Please share the happy by reblogging. (For real, if you love it enough to ask for more, my dears, please reblog. It brings me such joy - don't you want to bring me joy?? 😭)

Word Count:

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 3.5 Part 4 Part 4.5 Part 5 Part 5.5 Part 6 Part 6.5 Part 7 Part 8 Part 8.5 Part 9 Part 9.5 Part 10 Part 10.5

“That didn’t count!!!”

Crosshair smirks around his toothpick. “A pin is a pin, Wrecker,” he drawls, continuing down the corridor with you and the big guy in tow.

“But she was WIGGLING.” Wrecker pouts as he follows, wiping some of the sweat from his brow. You smile mischievously, a little extra flounce in your step as you walk.

“You heard him, babe, a pin is a pin. And I’ve been holding back that tactic for ages.”

Wrecker shoots you a look before looking forward again, moving to avoid two oncoming troopers. “Well that’s not fair.”

You laugh. “I’m really just doing you a favor. What if some sexy clanker has you pinned and starts doing the same thing? You'll be so unprepared!”

Wrecker’s eyes open in surprise. “Do they make those??”

“You never know, those Seppies are sly.” You raise your eyebrows suggestively. He goes back to pouting, realizing you're joking.

“Hm.”

You laugh, circling your arms behind his neck and kissing him on the nose. "Sorry, honey," you coo, not bothering to hide your enjoyment. "I won't do it again."

"Hm. You better not," he grumbles as you slide back down.

"Speak for yourself," Crosshair says quietly to himself. You wink at him, then stretch your arms over your head with a contented sigh.

“Oof that shower is going to feel good,” you breathe, rolling your neck. “I think I'll head to the ship, use the fresher there."

Crosshair's eyes dart to yours, irritated.

“What for?” Wrecker asks, equally let down.

"Because three of us need a shower- and I actually need to get clean.” You smile at Wrecker’s crestfallen face. “Besides, I need to take stock of our supplies - since now I know where ALL THAT GAUZE WENT.” Wrecker grins, recovered in light of their combined mischief. Crosshair just smirks. You playfully turn on your heal, starting to head down the corridor towards the ship with a wave. “Don't miss me too much, ok?”

"We'll try!" Wrecker calls after you. He starts back to their barracks - then stops, realizing that Crosshair isn’t following him. 

“You comin’?” 

Crosshair turns his body, eyes staring for a moment at your receding form before fully turning to follow his brother, a glint in his eye.

“I’m showering first.”

Wrecker looks over at him, confused. “Why, you got somewhere to be?”

“No.” Crosshair smirks, approaching the door to their quarters. “I have something to do.”

Wrecker's brow furrows as the barrack door opens before him. “What?”

Crosshair looks at him out of the corner of his eye as he enters, making his way towards the fresher.

“Let's call it some… unfinished business.”

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

You sigh contentedly as you step under the hot water for a last rinse. the final suds disappearing down the drain. Clean. Well and truly clean, even for just five minutes.

These moments are sacred. Peace, calm, relaxation. It can happen so rarely as a soldier - especially surrounded by a bunch of large, smelly boys. And battle. And sex.

...

...and then your brain pulls you to the chore waiting outside the fresher walls.

Dammit. Moment over.

Well, the sooner it's done, the sooner you can stop worrying about it. You turn off the water, dry and wrap yourself in a towel, then head to the medical supplies storage unit, already reviewing the list in your head.

You sift through your stores methodically. Hm.

You needed more adhesive spray (dammit, Tech was CONSTANTLY stealing yours!!!! That fucking...)

Good on grav press bandage cuffs…

Good on Medical bandage patch…

Need plenty more Bacta patches - need more glue stat…

Laser suture- where the heck was the laser suture? Did kriffing Tech take the fucking LASER SUTURE???? (You were going to KILL HIM! SADISTICALLY! FOR SCIENCE!!)

And gauze. Lots and lots of gauze. Fucking Hunter. These boys. What were you going to do with these boys getting into your damn med supplies?! Give them a hefty helping of Queenly whoop ass, that's for damn sure-

You hear the hatch start to open behind you, crankily curious to see who was coming aboard… maybe Tech had heard about what you were doing and was coming to give back the fucking laser suture, hoping you would spare his fucking life-

You see Crosshair's silver hair before you see the rest of him, dressed in his armor, but freshly washed. He closes the hatch, tossing his helmet onto a cockpit chair as he makes his way to you. 

You turn, fists on your hips and a scowl on your lips. “You had better be coming to give me some life or death information right n-"

He bends and lifts you by the back of your legs, slamming you against the bulkhead, your towel falling to the floor. Arousal spikes through your shock - god you love when he manhandles you. (He knows you like it, too- dammit, why did you ever tell him that?) His eyes glue you in place with their amusement, his slithering voice wrapping around you like a coil.

"Hello, princess."

You feel your breath catch at the sudden pulse in your pussy. Fuck, that smirk looks dangerous...

"You owe me.”

Wait, what?

“The hell I do! You remember I'm here to replace gauze, don't you?”

“No," he drawls. Damn that smug glint of satisfaction making you wet. Jerk. "You started something the last time we were on this ship.”  Oh, his voice is caressing your skin, possessive and inarguable. "its time you learn to finish what you start."

Crap, more coming back to haunt you. You sputter, trying to find the words to save you. “Cross, that was DAYS ago-”

“I have a long memory.”

“-and, it was only to tease you, which I already paid for-”

You hear the click of his codpiece before it falls to the floor. 

“W-wait, Cross-” you mean to protest, but the words come out as a breathy moan.

“A promise is a promise, Princess.” He purrs, freeing himself from his under armor, eyes hungry and dangerous. You lose yourself to shivers as you feel his cock hard against your back. “And I’m tired of waiting.”

His voice darkens, sending the shivers lower, tightening the possessive coil it holds over you. "And since this is the second time you've riled me up on this ship, I'm going to take you the way I want to. Do you understand, Princess?"

You whine a greedy ascent as he lines himself up with your entrance.

He leans in, purring in your ear. “Safeword?”

“Meiloorun,” you whine, giving in, desperate for him. “Green.”

“Good girl.”

You gasp a cry as he slams into you, sheathing himself in one lengthy stroke. His head falls back as he sighs a grunt, letting himself enjoy the tightness of your slick, unprepared walls.

“FUCK.” He swears before lifting his head, a smug glint in his eye. “That’s better.”

You feel his grip tighten on your ass cheeks as he leans in close to your ear. ‘Hold on tight, princess.’

You whimper, arms wrapping around his shoulders, surrendering, already on the verge of begging him to take you like this-

He pulls out and slams into you so hard you swear you feel the ship rock. 

You cry out with near-painful pleasure, hoping that somehow they don’t hear you outside of this ship - you can’t imagine the looks from the hanger clones if they hear Crosshair forcing his pleasure into you, ripping your begging cries for mercy yet for more from your lips while he grunts his pleasured staccato in your ear. 

“Too big, Crosshair, you’re too b-big for me right now!”

“You can take it Princess. I - FUCK - I know you can.” His breath quickens, nose buried behind your ear, short groans announcing his oncoming orgasm.

"KARKing hell, so tight, I'm already going to-"

Without warning, he groans a growl as he cums, pulling out to spill on the bulkhead behind you. You feel his thrusts, his cock sheathing between your ass cheeks to help him ride it out. You catch your breath as he pants into your neck, until he lifts his head with smug satisfaction. You look at him with your best pitiful eyes, hoping to lessen your sentence, praying that it doesn't.

“S-Satisfied?”

He smirks through his panting. “Hm. That was just to take the edge off.”

Shit.

He turns, still holding you up, before benching you onto his bunk and ripping off his armor. He pulls himself up behind you, crowding you against the bulkhead that serves as a headboard, pinning you there with a hot, hungry kiss. 

Dammit all to hell, all of this is making you so wet, and he must know it. 

With no finesse, no patience, he slides down your body, diving into your pussy like he hasn’t had a drink in weeks, laying waste to every curve and fold. He is RAVENOUS, like he would win the fucking war if he could just make you cum. Its completely overwhelming. You cry out in huffs, you can’t help it, brain barely catching up to the pleasure being sucked through you. “Crosshair, c-crosshair, holy fuck oh GOD.”

It almost hurts with his insistence, but his ferocity only makes you wetter, his ownership of everything you have to give like a fire in your cunt.

Two fingers slide inside of you, pulsing in and out of you at a rapid pace, rubbing against your G spot like he’s trying to beat a record, the lewd sound of your slick as he fucks you making you croon. His mouth sucks your clit hard enough to send your eyes back into your head, hands tangling in his hair. 

“Uh, uh, NNCrosshair! I’m- its too much- its going to make me-”

Its like you’ve lost all control - he’s going so fast that you can’t keep up, your body completely at his whim, so hot, so high; your mind can only lay scattered while your body reaches its peak.

“Ah, aH, Cross, Crosshair!” 

Your cum with an unabashed scream, letting go of any control of your pleasure - and you feel more wet than you’re used to squirt out onto the sheets, soaking your thighs with sticky wet warmth.

“OH shit oh god, Crosshair, I-I think you made me-”

“Kriffing right I did.” His eyes glint with that smug, hungry look again. He pulls your hips towards him, leaning over you to prop himself against the bulkhead, lining himself up with your entrance. “That pleasure belongs to me.”

He pushes into your sopping hole, making you cry out with overwhelm and need, still sensitive from your orgasm, but desperate for another one.

His hand clasps around your throat, tightening slightly as he starts to thrust. You whimper as you look up into his eyes, dazed, subdued, submissive, just for him. He’s panting, eyes boring down into yours. 

“That’s right, Princess, I’m taking what's mine. Your pleasure belongs to me.”

He grits his teeth as he sets a relentless pace, fucking you like it would save his life. You can only lay back, full with sensation, boneless, euphoric, feeling your breasts bouncing to the rhythm of his skin slapping against yours. 

Your voice comes out as a whimper. “Yes, Cross, yes, god you’re so big, please don’t stop, please let me squirt all over your cock.”

OH his GROWL as his hand tightens around your throat, not to choke you, just to make you blurry, remind you who’s mercy you’re at. 

“That’s right, my little cockwhore. You love me taking you like this, taking your pleasure all for my own, don’t you?”

You squeak from beneath his hand, his words sending you towards your climax, walls squeezing around him.

He pinches your clit, making you cry out and look back up at him.

His eyes are serious, daring you to disobey. “I didn’t tell you to cum yet. You’ll do it when I tell you. I’m in control here, not you.”

“Y-yes sir. I- AH!” He changes his angle, making you cry out as he thrusts deeper. His breath is more labored. Kriff he’s getting close, so close to giving you all his cum. You want to be so good for him… his good little cockwhore.

“Are you ready to take my cum, Princess?” He demands, already knowing your answer as he speeds up, his thumb finding your clit.

“Y-yes sir, all of it, please, dump all of it in me!” You whimper, your mind lost, spewing whatever comes to mind, whatever he wants to hear, so long as he keeps making you feel like this…

You both cum together with a cry, his a growl, yours a shriek. He grunts with each thrust as he empties himself into you, pushing inside you as far as he goes. He lets you ride out your wave on his cock, his hands flying to either side of your head to prop himself up as he pants in release. He eventually slows, looking down at you, satisfied, approving.

"That's my good girl. Taking my cock so well," he purrs, the thumb around your neck tracing your jaw line as he leans in to kiss you.

"Anything for you, Crosshair" you breathe, unthinking- and meaning it.

Everything seems to slow around you, the two of you breathing together while you come down from your play. He...something in his eyes changes while he pants down at you. Your words... he's taking in your words. You see... that openness from when he let himself cum down your throat, that... click.

You feel the energy change between you.

And slowly, so slowly, he leans in and kisses you.

Its totally different from how he was before. His kiss is slow, possessive, tender - the hand around your neck comes up to cradle your cheek. He lowers his body to yours, propped up by his elbow, bringing him skin to heated skin.

An ember glows in your belly, his kiss slowly feeding it as it glows hotter, and hotter. Your tongue flicks against his lips. He opens them to meet you, his tongue pushing in to dance with yours in his own. Fuck. You can taste his desire, his yearning, as it feeds your burning ember into a flame, flaring with yearning, hunger, need. Your hands find your way into his hair, eager to be close, to touch him more, more, to meld with him, join with him like only lovers can. And you NEED it.

You feel him firming up inside you again as he starts thrusting, as if he can’t help himself. You moan under him, growing desperate, frantic for more of him. You can't pull your lips away, getting swept up in the need to be close, to be closer than close, to have him inside of you as far as he'll go.

“Princess…” he breathes, barely pulling away, his thumb tracing your cheek bone while he moves in you. “Missed this pussy. Missed having you cum all over my face. Missed…” He pulls you into a kiss again, his lips saying what his words can’t.

Your fingers tighten in his hair to pull him closer, and he groans into your mouth.

His hips move, but he’s not aiming for the finish line anymore. He pulls away from your lips to look down at where he’s entering you with long strokes, taking his time, his breath ragged. You both watch where he thrusts into you, joins with you, makes sweet fucking love to you the way he wants to. You both moan at the sight. Then he looks up, his forehead back to yours.

“Crosshair…” Your voice is breathy, so full of this feeling he’s bringing to you, sensually taking you one stroke at a time.

His own voice is quiet, caressing you like the hand on your face. “Kriff. So good, Princess. You always feel so damn good. You taste so sweet, I'm so hungry for you all the damn time...”

He buries his face in your shoulder, breath touching sound as he pants his pleasure. His pelvis rubs along your clit, his body so close to yours, your arms clutching him, nails digging into his back while he continues thrusting you into the mattress with long, hard thrusts, pushing cry after cry from your lips. His breathy moans make you clench around him, trying to take him in farther, just a little bit farther.

You feel your crest approaching, slow, but steady - and overwhelming.

"Cross, I’m so close." You could cry with how good it feels.

"Fuck, mesh’la, yes." His own voice is breathy, lost in sensation, desperate with desire. "Need to feel you cum on my cock again. Cum around me, just for me."

"Cross, Cross, Cross," you pant, tears falling back into your hair.

"That’s right, cum with me, precious. Cum with me again. Don't stop, don't hold back. Let me watch you cum for me."

He’s up, forehead to yours, rocking and grinding you right where you need it to send you over. 

You breathe, moan together for a few more moments, connected, devoted, while you both soar up and over the edge.

He kisses you as you cum together, the two of you swallowing each others desperate moans as your lips meet again and again, bodies convulsing against each other as he releases into you, your walls squeezing him for every last drop he has to give.

You kiss until you’re both starving for breath, and only barely manage to pull away. You meet his eyes. They're open, assured, sincere, speaking volumes without saying anything, before his head falls to your neck, slowly kissing his way to your shoulder and resting his head on your collarbone, panting out his exertion. 

Then, amid his panting, quieter than a pin drop, so quiet you almost miss it, you hear him breathe out:

“Ah, cyar’ika. My cyar'ika."

!...

“...Hmm?” You turn, nuzzling into his hair, hoping beyond hope he'll repeat it.

“…nothing, Princess.” He leans up and kisses your forehead slowly, tenderly. He slowly pulls out with a combined groan from each of you. He lays beside you, pulling you close to him, his face nuzzling into the top of your head. You hold him tight, nuzzling in turn against his chest with a secret, sated smile.

You understand. You know what he said with his kisses, his body, but it's not ready to be said aloud, not ready to become a part of your relationship. And that's alright. You drift off to sleep, breathing in his scent as your body molds to his.

Its not time yet.

And you can wait.

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

You wake up slowly, unsure if its been hours or minutes, but still swimming in the bliss of your earlier experience. You slowly look up to find Crosshair still asleep, deep breathing guiding the unguarded moment.

He's beautiful.

Peace looks so good on him. You gently brush your fingers along his cheek, taking in this unguarded moment that so few get to see. But you do. Because he's yours. Your Crosshair, your sniper, who craves the touch and comfort you give him, even if he's too proud - or is it unsure? - to ask for it by name.

For now.

You smile to yourself, eyes tracing along his unknit brows. He's yours. And you vow then and there - you'll take good care of this trust he's given to no one else but you.

.....

Jeez, were you going to get more sappy than this?-

-The quiet of the ship is interrupted by your com's insistent beeping. Crosshair’s eyes open quickly, peace falling from his face as he’s instantly alert. You sigh to yourself, rolling over to jump off of the bunk - the outside world calls. You check the transmission before answering with a smile.

"Yes Tech darling?"

“Have you been locked inside the Marauder? Do you need rescuing?” His matter-of-fact-yet-irritated voice makes your smile wider.

“No, just… fulfilling a promise.” You chuckle, glancing up at Crosshair. He rolls his eyes and falls back onto the bunk.

“I see," Tech admonishes. You can practically see him adjusting his goggles. "Need I remind you that it is also time for your next inoculation? They are asking for you at the med bay.”

Ah, shoot. You had forgotten that, and you were the damn medic. You hit your forehead, hand sliding down your face with embarrassment. Ok yeah, that one is on you.

"Also," Tech continues, still a hint of lecture in his voice, "the Commander has been looking for you. He is hoping that you will join him for the next meal. I would quickly compose yourself and seek him out. You wouldn't want him believing the... rumors going around, would you?”

"Alright, alright, I understand." Your head falls back with a sigh. You glance over at your unfinished storage count, wondering if you should take the time to finish your checkli-

Wait just a damn minute.

He wanted to play 'you did this wrong'?

Alright. You'll play.

"Oh!" You start brightly, as if remembering something. "By the way, Technically Jangoson," you continue into the com, words dripping with honeyed venom. "I have a small teensy, tiny question just for you."

Silence.

A throat cleared at the other end. "...Yes, my queen?" The full name. Oh, he knows he's in trouble.

Good.

Your voice turns harsh, your tone angry, and your Queenly control is fully back in place.

"Where.

The FUCK.

Is my laser suture?!?!"

----------------------------------------------------------------------

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[amazingmsme]

A Little Dusty

AN: Again, I know it’s late but just be glad I’m still tryna pump these out. I’m literally sooo obsessed with Prismo, the flat boi needs to be WRECKED! Anyways, here’s day 14, enjoy!

The Scarab would never admit it out loud, but being stuck in the Time Room with Prismo wasn’t as asinine as he’d first thought. He’s still getting used to his new form, but he manages to get by. And his new roomie was chill, all things considerer. He let him pick out his own room, offered fresh pickles any time he wanted, and most importantly, he didn’t care if the Scarab was actually doing his job.

Despite the hot tub, TV wall, and the computer Prismo introduced him to, he found himself getting bored and restless as the days dragged on. Each day like the one before, more or less. He was starting to understand why Prismo went and made an unauthorized universe. He understood, but that didn’t mean he had to stop cursing the wishmaster’s name for putting him in this mess.

It was one of those days when he longed for the outside world- to hunt down violators across the vast multiverse. But noooo, there was a good chance that might never happen again. He was busy dusting, glaring at Prismo from across the room. He was oblivious to the stare, completely engrossed in his work. The Scarab would watch as he’s hum and giggle to himself before typing away on the keyboard. Some times he wore a more serious expression, typing something out before shaking his head and deleting it. And other times he just stared at the screen, hands unmoving and frown etched onto his face. The Scarab was a little curious what he’d been working on, but he didn’t plan on asking.

He slowly made his way around the room idly dusting at nothing. He’d dusted only last week, but he needed something to keep himself busy. Now he stood beside Prismo, tapping his foot impatiently.

“Could you move? I’m trying to clean.”

Prismo paused and glanced around the room with a shrug. “Looks pretty clean to me Scrabby. Why don’t you take a load off?” he asked, brushing him off and returning his attention to the laptop.

“Unlike some people, I don’t like to leave things unfinished.” Prismo seemed to miss the subtle dig tossed his way and the Scarab huffed in annoyance. “Look, I already cleaned over there, so why don’t you go sit on that wall?” he asked, pointing over his shoulder. Prismo’s gaze didn’t leave the screen. “Prismo!” he yelled with a stomp.

Prismo glanced up for a split second. “Yeah?”

“Move!”

Prismo groaned loudly, looking at the Scarab with annoyance. “Dude, I’m in the zone right now. I just wrote like 10 pages in five minutes!” he bragged, going back to typing. “If I move now, it’ll throw off the whole groove I’m in.”

The Scarab was done.

He threw his hands in the air with an annoyed huff. “FINE, be that way! I’ll just- I’ll dust around you since you won’t move,” he growled out, but Prismo continued to type away happily. It was infuriating, if not cute. Wait, he did not just think that about Prismo of all people…

He resumed dusting with a huff, sweeping the feather duster over his head, working his way down. He was lost in thought and didn’t pay much attention to where he was sweeping, and his general annoyance towards the wishmaster meant he didn’t necessarily care if he dusted him in the process. But he certainly noticed when his duster trailed too close to Prismo’s side, making him spasm and squeal, darting across to the opposite wall, laptop forgotten.

“Wohoah, hey, you could’ve just asked me to move, no need to start dusting me,” he rambled, hoping to mask his nerves. The Scarab just stared at him in wide-eyed shock.

“I did,” he said bluntly. Prismo chuckled nervously, rubbing his neck.

“Oh, y-you did? Sorry, I don’t remember I tend to zone out when I’m busy.”

“So it would seem.” He looked down to the soft tool in his hand and back at Prismo, a sly smirk hiding behind his mask. He noticed that his feet were now resting in the spot he’d previously been, seeing as he jumped to the opposite wall. Now, he wasn’t stupid, he knew what just happened. But he could play dumb.

The Scarab resumed his dusting, humming to himself as he brushed over the tops his feet. Prismo shrieked, yanking his legs away and tucking them close to his chest. He stared at the Scarab with a wide, unblinking eye and gulped.

“You uh-“ he cut himself off and cleared his throat when his voice came out too high. “You scared me.”

“Really?” he squinted at him, walking closer and relishing in the way Prismo was slowly backing himself into a corner. “Because normally, only ticklish people are afraid of feathers.”

He couldn’t hope to contain his nervous laughter or the obviously flustered stuttering. “W-wha whaaaat? N-no way bro, that’s just silly,” he tried to brush him off, waving a hand in the air. “I mean, I’m flat! So, there’s really nothing to tickle, haha! …Right?”

The Scarab arched a brow. “You’re asking me?” Prismo stuttered again and yelped when the Scarab was suddenly standing next to him. Quite frankly, he didn’t know what to say.

“You can go back to cleaning now.” The low chuckle the Scarab let out really wasn’t comforting.

“Okay, if you insist.” Prismo was given no time to ponder before soft feathers brushed over his belly. Bubbly giggles start building up in his chest as he curls in on himself, doubled over where the two walls meet. When the Scarab started swirling the duster in tight circles across his tummy, a loud snort broke the dam, allowing his high pitched laughter to fill the Time Room.

“Scrahahabby whahat are you dohohoing?” he asked, hiding his growing blush behind a hand as he weakly swatted at him with the other.

“I’m doing what you said: cleaning,” he teased in a deadpanned voice, trying to act as though this wasn’t the most fun he’s had since his punishment began.

“Nohohot mehehe!” he squealed when he began targeting his ribs, causing him to dart to another wall for safety. The Scarab tutted and shoot his head.

“Poor Prismo… it would seem as though you’ve nowhere left to turn,” he taunted, twirling the duster triumphantly. He laughed when he noticed him glance at the trap door for a split second. “You’re not really gonna run away from a few feathers now, are you?” he asked smugly. Prismo’s blush grew darker as he failed to speak, crossing his arms instead.

“Well that’s not very nice,” he grumbled.

“Good,” the Scarab said bluntly before sitting down on Prismo’s ankles, trapping them. He barely had enough time to protest before dozens of soft fibers swept over his feet. His giggles raised in both pitch and speed, a few more snorts managing to slip through.

The Scarab had always scared Prismo. He had such an intimidating aura, and everything about him screamed ruthless killer. After living together for a while, he thought maybe he wasn’t so cruel after all, but as he laid there laughing at his mercy, he thought that maybe he hadn’t been so far off with his initial judgment.

[emilixthefox]

I have something to show you Ninjago fans.

Brave x Ninjago

Lloyd smiled, laughing only to notice that Arin was missing from his seat behind him. "Arin?" Lloyd asked as he spinned around to find Arin.

Arin walks out holding a bow taking off his mask.

"I am Arin and I'm going to show you that you don't need elemental powers to be a ninja!" Arin announced as he prepared to take aim with the bow. He aims and hits the first target dead on center.

All the other masters looked at Lloyd for an explanation, but Lloyd didn't have one. He looked at Arin in horror, as much as Lloyd was proud of Arin and believed in him this was going too far.

 "Arin, wait, stop this!" Lloyd called after him leaping off the platform watching Arin as he moved on to the second target, aiming and shooting center again.

Lloyd chased after him, hoping to stop him before he shot another arrow. "Don’t you dare release another arrow!" 

Arin takes another arrow and prepares to shoot the third target. Lloyd could feel his anger building at Arin not listening to him and causing a scene. "Arin, I forbid you!" Lloyd told him, reaching out to grab him.

Arin breathed in.

At that moment Merida shoots the arrow and hits the center of the target, splitting the successor of gravity's arrow in half.

Arin smiled turning to face Lloyd but his smile faded when their eyes met.

Lloyd dragged and threw Arin into his painting room slamming the door behind him. Arin stumbled in catching his footing.

"I can't believe you! Just what were you thinking!" Lloyd snapped at him, turning to face him as his eyes narrowed.

"You’re the one that said I could-!" Arin shouted at Lloyd, confused why he was mad at him. Lloyd cut him off, raising his voice.

"You just embarrassed them! You embarrassed us!" Lloyd told Arin gesturing to the door then back at him. Arin huffed, rolling his eyes.

"I followed the rules!" Arin asserted back.

Lloyd groaned walking past him, turning around glaring at him. "You don’t know what you’ve done!"

Arin gave a frustrated scream throwing his hand into the air. "I don’t care how-."

Lloyd covers his face with his hands, cutting off Arin again as he paces. "There will be fire and fighting if it’s not set right." 

"You're not listening! Just listen to me!" Arin shouted at him feeling desperate but recoiled when Lloyd faced him.

"I am the green ninja and the leader! You listen to me!" Lloyd yelled, putting his foot down as his eyes flickering to a shade of purple. 

"Oh! This isn't unfair!" Arin argued back, marching over to the other wall picking a training sword.

"Huh?" Lloyd asked, perplexed folding his arms across, staring at him.

"You are never there for me!" Arin jabbed at Lloyd even though this wasn't true as he pointed the sword at him. Lloyd flinched but not because of the sword.

"Do you ever bother what I want? No! You walk around telling me what to do, what not to do! Trying to make me be like you! Well, I’m not going to be like you!" Arin shouted and swung the sword around.

With every word that came out of Arin's mouth Lloyd could feel his anger rising but he kept saying to himself that Arin was just saying these things because he was mad at him.

Of course this didn't stop the oni inside of him from feeding off the frustration and anger from Lloyd, pushing him.

"Ach! You’re acting like a child." Lloyd told him while holding his head, all this stress was getting to him. Arin growled glancing over at the unfinished painting of him, Sora, and Lloyd. With Lloyd's hands on their shoulders, all of them smiling.

"And you’re a terrible teacher! That’s what you are!" Arin sneered at Lloyd pointing the sword at the unfinished painting that Lloyd had been working on.

Lloyd glanced over then back to Arin, but his eyes widened darting back in realization to where he was pointing the sword at.

"Arin?!" Lloyd called out to him in fear.

"I will never be like you!" Arin shouted as he stuck the tip of his sword into the painting.

"Wait, No! Stop that!" Lloyd cried, reaching out hesitantly and scared.

"I’d rather die than be like you!" Arin screamed and slashed the painting, Arin separated himself from Lloyd and Sora. Lloyd's arms jerked back in horror.

Arin frowned, looking back at Lloyd feeling a bit of relief from his anger. 

Lloyd's face went dark as the oni inside of him came out full force. Arin's eyes widened staring at Lloyd's glowing purple eyes.

Lloyd marched over to Arin, tearing the sword out from his hand throwing across the room. He also takes Arin's grappling hook from him as Arin looks at him in fear.

"You will never be a ninja! If you can't act mature!" Lloyd growls, throwing his grappling hook in the fire. He turns his head at Arin, glaring at him as he stares in shock at him.

Arin backed away slowly then slammed the door open, running away.

"Arin!" Lloyd shouted after him as his eyes returned to their normal emerald hues. A crack and pop sound came from the fire, Lloyd eyes widened and immediately regretted his actions in realization.

Lloyd quickly kneeled down reaching into the fire and pulled out the now broken grappling hook before it burned. Lloyd shook his hand in pain from the heat.

"Oh no! What have I done?" Lloyd wept in horror at his own actions. Why did he say that? Arin was more than capable of becoming a ninja.

[lizhly-writes]

i now have the vivid image of clw ending up in transmigrator clw's world and going "...?" when finding out everything the "other him" did. What drugs did he take to get so much drive. Why on earth would any version of him be (*throws a dart at a high-powered position*) the CEO of a top fashion company. Lol

welp.

It wasn’t the first time Chen Liwei had woken up in a room with no idea how he got there. He couldn’t remember how many times he’d been kidnapped. He used to keep a tally, but he’d lost track at some point. It was too much of an effort to figure out the missing iterations, so he’d stopped there and never picked it back up again.

Whoever had kidnapped him this time didn’t bother securing him. No rope or zip ties around his wrists or his ankles. He was free to wander around the office --- an office with a view, how nice --- and do anything, like raid the fridge or try out the door. Maybe the door was unlocked. Maybe he could turn the handle and walk out, and no one would ever notice he was gone.

Chen Liwei would need to get off the ground first.

Slowly, he sat up, and arranged himself into a slightly more flattering position than flat on his back. There. Good enough. He’d check the door in a little bit.

“What the shit,” said a strangely familiar voice.

Or not.

There was a man standing in the doorway, neatly dressed as any businessman Chen Liwei had ever been arm candy for. He was probably not Chen Liwei’s kidnapper, considering how surprised he looked at the fact that Chen Liwei was sitting on his nice carpet.

Chen Liwei was sure he had never met him in his life, but there was something … familiar about him. Something about the face. Something about the voice. Something.

“Chen Liwei,” the main said.

“Yes,” Chen Liwei said.

The man’s expression turned angry.

… No, that wasn’t what happened. It was easy to assume it was anger, but there was no tension in the brows or the jaw or anywhere else. This was a fully relaxed face, it just happened to look angry.

Yes, Chen Liwei knew why this face looked familiar now. It had been unrecognizable when filled with any emotion at all, but when set in dead-neutral --

This was the face he saw in the mirror every day.

“Fuck,” said Chen Liwei’s identical twin.

‘Fuck’ was probably not his name.

While Chen Liwei pondered this, his twin stalked into the room and towards his desk. “I have a couch,” he barked out, which wasn’t a command, technically. He wasn’t technically telling Chen Liwei what to do. Chen Liwei didn’t have to. No one was stopping him from staying on the ground.

By the time Chen Liwei had decided that maybe sitting on the couch was worth the effort of unfolding himself from the floor, his twin was on a call. “ --- look, I just need you to --- you will? Good. You know where my office is, I just need you to take him for… four hours? Okay. Okay --- no. I’ll explain when you get there --- ”

Chen Liwei waited. Back straight, legs crossed, hands in his lap. Perfect posture --- he could always do at least that much while he was staring blankly at the wall opposite him. Briefly, he considered the door again. It occurred to him that it would be a good idea to check the date and time, since he didn’t know either. He might be late. Boss always hated when he was late.

He checked his phone. Nothing on his calendar. No missed calls. He was probably fine to just sit here, then. It seemed like a lot of work to do anything else.

“Hey,” said his twin, waving a hand in front of his face and frowning the moment Chen Liwei made eye contact. “You’re not supposed to be here.”

“Yes,” Chen Liwei said. That seemed self-evident enough.

“So I’m getting someone to look after you. He'll keep you company here for a few hours, that'll be when I'm done with my meeting. Then we'll hash things out.”

Chen Liwei didn’t have anywhere better to be. “Yes.”

His twin frowned harder. “You’re not even going to ask why?”

“Why are you getting someone to look after me?”

“That’s not what I --” he cut himself off with an irritated click of his tongue. “You don’t actually care, do you.”

It was more of a statement than a question, so Chen Liwei didn’t answer it. But it was true enough: Chen Liwei didn’t care.

Chen Liwei hadn’t cared about anything in a very long time.

[perenlop]

Aim to be a Pokemon Master! Episode 11: The Rainbow and the Pokemon Master!

It's bad scoob.

I feel mean saying it's as bad as it is, but like... honestly, I don't see the need to hold back. This was a sendoff to one of the most recognizable anime characters of all time, a character that's been around for years and years and years, so his final episode should've been handled with the upmost care. Otherwise, it'd just be disrespectful to the fans AND the characters themselves.

So how did they handle it? Badly. Under the cut because this got really long. Sorry in advance if the readmore breaks.

The episode is a mess of "throw a dart at the wall" style quicktime events with a kinda tangentially related question about what being a Pokemon Master even means. Which, the more you think about it, makes the entire miniseries feel like a waste of time.

Again- I am fine with this miniseries being a relaxed time calling back to old filler episodes by just having Ash, Misty, and Brock chill out and interact with the world. But it really feels like they wanted to have their cake and eat it too with the Eon Duo plot. You cannot act as though the miniseries is just going to be cute filler and then act like there's actually an overarching plot that we should absolutely care about.

What makes the Eon Duo plot feel even weaker is that it barely plays a part in this final episode. It is the reason Ash is now home. Because... the Latis also went home, I guess. Yeah they don't really connect it all that well. But beyond that, and Ash reminiscing about them a couple of times, they have zero relevance to the final episode. It really makes the whole thing feel like a waste of time more than anything.

I'm three paragraphs in and I haven't even talked about the actual plot so let's do that. Although in my defense, the pacing in the episode is awful, so if anything, this post being poorly paced is kind of an artistic choice if you think about it.

So, Ash, Misty, and Brock all say goodbye again in kind of a hilariously underwhelming way (I get that they've done it before, these characters will most likely see each other again, and they were never going to do anything as impactful as the OS finale, but... still) and Ash just kinda fucks around at Professor Oak's the whole time. There is a missing Charmander quicktime event that has nothing to do with the conflict, but it gets Gary to appear and ask Ash if he's closer to becoming a Pokemon Master, which sets up the "main conflict". If you can call it that.

I actually think Gary presenting this question is a good idea. Ash has been chanting about being a Pokemon Master for so long, yet has never had an answer for what that means. So his original rival who used to put him down so often being the one to really make him think about it is nice.

But... why on earth did they put it in the final episode and not the first? Why not have the entire miniseries be about this question? Hell, the marketing made it seem like that was going to be the case by having Gary pose the question in the trailer, implying that this was going to be the main conflict of the miniseries... and then it isn't. It's just the characters dicking around for ten episodes, and THEN we ask "what's next?" and that's really weird to me. Now the conflict has no space to breathe because we've only got like 15 minutes to cover, and any answer he has is going to feel rushed.

Speaking of rushed- boy howdy is this episode just a series of sidequests all shoved out as quickly as possible! Team Rocket's shitty breakup plot has ONE SCENE where they all just sorta huff at each other before they reconcile for the simplest reason ever (they all want to capture Pikachu. Which they were doing anyways and there's no reason why they would think the other members weren't in on that after the breakup). The missing Charmander sideplot leads into nothing and is an episode prompt that was done better in several other episodes before this. Gary is shoved out of the plot as soon as he's said "Pokemon Master".

And then there's Pidgeot who gets its own paragraph because this part of the episode actively annoys me and it's probably the most mean I'll get... I just wanna say... does any actual fan of the show (IE: people who still watch the episodes, keep up with the show, not someone who just kinda accepts stuff like "team rocket are teenagers" at face value because they haven't seen the show in years) actually care about Pidgeot as a character? Because I don't. Pidgeot is nothing to me. Pidgeot has absolutely no substance as a character. All it did was try to eat Caterpie that one time, pop balloons, do search parties, and then leave.

It might seem silly to insist it has no character when it's an animal that can't talk, but that feels like an empty argument when the other Pokemon are so expressive, even if it's just in certain episodes. Even Primeape, who spent muuuch less time on the show, left more of an impression with it's character arc before it left.

But in any case, the reason it seems like the bird has stuck around is because of it's release episode, which caused several people to write clickbait articles about how Ash is actually this fucked up horrible trainer because "he said he'd be back for Pidgeot!! He ABANDONED Pidgeot!! I can't believe the show wants us to think he's good when he was so HORRIBLE to Pidgeot!!" Ignoring that the line was actually a dub-exclusive one and there was never any implication that Pidgeot wanted Ash to come back for it. The idea that Pidgeot was abandoned is fanon. There's nothing to correct. There's nothing to "redeem" about Ash because he did nothing wrong.

But of course JN LOVES its clickbait- I mean, respectful character cameos! So of course we have to spend time in this episode bringing Pidgeot back in the most underwhelming and contrived way possible (Team Rocket nabs Pikachu and Ash left his Pokemon behind for... some reason.... and Pidgeot is just there and helps out and Ash is like "Wow Pidgeot you should join the team again!"). It had to right this horrible sin the OS committed! We gotta redeem Ash in the final episode you guys!! Now all those clickbait articles- I mean loyal dedicated fans are satisfied!!

So basically, they canonized something that people who actually watch the show don't actually care about, because we gotta get those clicks in I guess. Keep in mind, there are other Pokemon that got released that could've used the spotlight way more, that actual fans would have appreciated a lot more than this. Like I dunno... Ambipom? A character that was notoriously done dirty by her original season? Butterfree, a Pokemon more people love and remember? (We even got a glimpse of that in the JN finale so like... obviously it was a plot they knew people would have liked to see) Hell, why not bring it around to the first JN episode and have Pikachu reunite with Kangaskhan? Have a little cohesion and really make the journey come full circle?

Nah, obviously the bird no one cares about beyond misconceptions is more important here.

The actual reunion isn't even good. Usually, when a Pokemon returns to the team, it's an event. It's a stinger, like when Gliscor came back during the Sinnoh league and ended off the episode, and then the beginning of the next one builds off from that. Here... it just kinda happens. Pidgeot rejoins the team and then the episode runs off to the next sideplot with no space to let it breathe. Nothing about the plot would change if Pidgeot just stayed with the Pidgey flock. Wow. What fanservice. They really did care about this plotline you guys.

Anyways. So after that happens, while Delia is trying to give Ash the ugliest shoes I've ever seen (poor woman, her son runs out on her so much that she hadn't had time to make anything better) Ash and Pikachu get stuck in a rainstorm, and they watch the same gen 1 Pokemon they've oogled at all season, go "wow the world is HUGE!!!!" again because of course they do, and Ash is like "Well, I didn't actually feel the champion thing all that much. I think being a Pokemon Master is about loving all Pokemon. So let's go love more Pokemon!" and then he takes the shoes without saying bye to his mom and then he's out of the show forever.

... What

He's been.... he's been doing that the whole time though? Why are they acting like this is an epiphany and this is something Ash has to change if he wants to be a Pokemon Master? Shouldn't he be one already by that logic? If Ash didn't care about becoming champion, why did we spend so much time on that? Doesn't that undermine a lot of the show?

What was the point of any of this?

And I think that's my main issue with this miniseries: there is no point to it. It barely feels like a finale, it just makes the weakest gestures possible to make it seem like a finale, and then it just ends. It's a mess.

It feels less like a respectful conclusion to the character, and more like... "Eh we're gonna try something new next season, but we don't wanna leave Ash off the table if it bombs, so let's just kinda put him on the sideburner and wait and see". It's non-committal. It's frustrating.

"Well, why is that so bad? Pokeani always clings to the status quo, they never let the characters age and grow, why would they stop now?" Well... because it's literally the end of Ash and Team Rocket's time on the show? Because they ARE about to change the status quo by bringing in an all new cast and setting? Because this whole miniseries was advertised as an ending and celebration of Ash, and therefore the expectation is that something substantial has to happen to justify him not being in the show anymore?

Ash not changing after DP or XY or SM is a little strange, but it's also fine because he's gotta keep on trucking for several episodes. Part of the point of Pokeani was it's longevity, so keeping the general setup and characters the same was part of the point. But now, there's no expectation for Ash to keep up the same routine. He's passing on the mantle to Liko. Why SHOULD he stay the same? Why not take the chance to substantially change up his life to justify him leaving? Why leave Team Rocket in such a depressing spot where they apparently just keep chasing Pikachu their whole lives when that's not actually what their fans wanted?

Why end the character's arc the exact same way the other series probably would have ended it? What exactly is the point of ending it at all or having a celebration in that case?

This episode isn't the worst thing ever, I don't even know if it's one of my least favorites, but it is definitely one of the more frustrating ones to me. It could have been good, but... why challenge anything if we don't want to?

Very disappointing. I'm sad this is the end for Ash and Pikachu. They deserved better.

Oh also some psychic damage for reading this far. I have to end off this long ass project with something worthwhile

[beerecordings]

Wolf Bite - Part 21

“You need to let me in to see my pack.”

The secretary at the police station is decidedly unimpressed with him. She's wearing a perfume so overpowering Marvin thinks she might have put it on just to mess with any werewolves who dared to come through her door.

“There's a dozen reporters here trying to get a story, sir,” she tells him coolly, tap-tap-tapping away at her keyboard. “I can't let just anybody in.”

“I'm the one who was with the Second! I sat with that weirdo for half an hour before Jackie could track down the Alpha! Could I be any more involved in this?”

“Thank you for reporting the Second and the scene of the crime to the police. Now, if you will kindly leave, I need to keep the space clear.”

“There is fucking no one else in here.”

“Dana.” A familiar voice cuts her off from the door that leads to the back, and Marvin's gaze shoots over to Sean, his face blooming with a smile as he sees his friend upright and out-of-hospital again. “He's with me.”

“Yeah, Dana,” shoots Marvin, darting back towards Sean. “I can't believe you're up!”

Sean hugs him tenderly, flinching slightly even with small movements. “No way I was leaving them without advocacy during all this. I know the chief here and some of the detectives. We're getting everything figured out now.”

“How are they?”

Sean's look tells him too much. “Schneep and the missing uni student aren't shifting back. The uni kid I think I can get out of here if I'm careful and he stays friendly. But Schneep...”

“It's that bad?”

“It's going to take time, that's all. It's going to take time. But Chase is human. Shaken up, but human. They just got done with his interview.”

His chocolate smell, painted uncertainly in different packmate and Alpha scents, hits Marvin hard in the gut. He tears away from Sean and follows the scent into a room down the hallway, finding Chase sitting listlessly along the wall. “Chase, Chase!”

They crash together like birds in the air, Marvin throwing Chase back onto the couch and scenting him decisively, rubbing their cheeks together. “Holy shit, I thought I might never see you again, I thought – ”

“Marvin,” whimpers Chase, burying his face in his shoulder and squeezing him close. “It's so terrible, you can't imagine.”

“My poor darling.”

“I'm so glad you sent Jackie to come find us.”

Marvin can't help but laugh shakily, clinging to his friend. The implication that Marvin calls the shots is flattering. “Jackie decided all on his own. But I'll be happy to have you both as pack too.”

“You mean it? It wasn't just to help us out? You'll have us as pack?”

Marvin wraps around him tighter. “Of course. We're all going to look after each other now. Darling, what happened to Schneep?”

Chase whines and shakes his head. Sean comes over to put his hand on Marvin's shoulder, leaning in close. “He can't shift back.”

“Sean said, but how do we get him back? What happened?”

Chase groans. “I can't tell the story all over again.”

“We'll fill Marvin in on the details later,” Sean assures him.

“What was Anti like while you waited with him?” asks Chase, looking up at last. “They said you waited with him while Jackie handled things his way. Was he... nice?”

Marvin snorts. “Um, no. Well. He didn't do much. He was so exhausted. Beat to shit, really. Just laid there and mumbled a couple things about his brother and his Alpha.”

Chase and Sean exchange looks, and Marvin understands there's a lot he still doesn't know. “What will happen to him?” whispers Chase.

Sean shakes his head. “I don't know yet,” he says quietly. “They said I can talk to him later. We'll figure it out. Okay?”

“Where's Jackie?”

Marvin can answer that one. “He's home, lovey. So worn through he didn't even want to watch his favorite shows. He's going to be out of commission for a while. But he's okay, Chase, and so are you.”

“I... I want to see him,” says Chase, with something almost like shame in his voice.

Marvin knows the need for his Alpha when he's scared can be powerful. He leans in and rubs his thumb across the back of Chase's skull. “Soon as he's up for some stimulus, I'll bring you right to him for a proper scenting. But I'm your pack too and I'm not going to let anything hurt you in the meantime.”

Chase nods, eyes drifting again.

“I'm going to be in and out talking to Henrik and JJ, trying to calm them and bring them back, but it will take time,” Sean explains. “JJ's doing better – having a stable Alpha will do wonders for him – but Henrik's not snapping out of it well. He could use something to ground him that doesn't remind him of all this wolf stuff.”

Marvin nods slowly. “I might have an idea. You do what you can and I'll work on it. But you'll also get some damn sleep tonight, Sean, and let your brother look after you. You're just going to burn yourself right out again, hurt like this.”

Sean colors, his scent twisting with feeling, but it steadies out again after a second, and he deflates with one short nod.

Marvin turns to look at Chase, wiping at a smudge of dirt on his cheek. “It's all going to turn out okay, Chase. Right now, I think you need a hot shower, some food, and a nap, okay?”

Chase's mouth trembles. “I don't feel safe in my house.”

“I'll guard you,” Marvin promises. “I'll clean the place up and make you something to eat and check that all the doors are locked. Nothing will hurt you while you're with me.”

Chase's eyes well up. “She's really not going to get us again.”

“No,” says Marvin. “She's really, really not.”

Chase closes his eyes, letting his head tilt back. The cold fluorescent lights shine white on his face.

“Come on, brother,” says Marvin, putting an arm around him. “Let's get you home.”

.

The room's too small.

JJ makes himself smaller too, backed into a corner, hiding under a metal frame with blankets on top. He wishes the blankets were underneath with him, but he doesn't want to get out from under the darkness to pull them down with him.

The smell in here is so stale, chemicals in old paints and floors mopped drudgedly in clinically citrus soaps. There's no smell at all of another wolf. Not anywhere he turns his head. There's some distant movement, beyond his four walls, but everything else in here is dead quiet.

He waits for a long time. For his Alpha, the new one or the old, doesn't much matter as long as somebody, anybody, comes back for him. For his new packmates, unsteady on their feet in a way the Alphas aren't, wrapped close in the scent of fear and each other. For his Second who used to scratch his ears and whisper to him.

He laps at his side. His tongue feels scratchy. It almost hurts. The fur is thin.

The door opens. He jerks further back, pressing himself into the corner, underneath the safety of his frame. Some big human comes towering over him, giving him commands he doesn't understand. They put something on the floor that smells good enough to make his stomach hurt for the emptiness, but he won't come out, and eventually, the human goes away.

JJ's not supposed to eat first. That's for his Alpha and his Second. He doesn't want to eat without his pack. He needs to urinate, too, but then the whole room will smell of it.

Why did the Alpha let the humans take him? Does he not want JJ? Where did Second go? Is he just... alone?

He gnaws at patches of fur on his arms. There's this ache running through his whole body, and it's migrating towards his head, leaving a pounding pain there. He wants Second, wants Second, wants Second.

The door opens again. He hides.

Oh, it's another wolf now. JJ wags his tail feebly. It may not be good news, though - he's a lone wolf right now. He has no protection if the other wolf attacks.

He's wearing his human skin, though, thin and unthreatening. A long beat passes as the stranger takes in the scent of the room.

"Hiding all the way under there?" he asks, after a minute.

JJ watches the floor carefully, chewing on his paws.

The stranger hums and moves closer to him. JJ puffs out a warning, but the other wolf just comes closer still and... sits.

He sits for a long time, actually. Sits and speaks in this soft, rolling voice. The little room is warm. The stranger smells like coffee over a bonfire.

“Come get something to eat.”

Oh, 'eat' is a word he knows. The stranger gets up and brings back something that smells really nice. Then he leans down.

JJ's in his fangs and fur beneath the bed, staring at him, his teeth centimeters from his throat. And that other wolf leans right down and shows him his friendly, bearded face – and the whole of his white neck.

JJ blinks. Properly friendly, that is. Everyone's so unfriendly lately. His new packmates were nice after a while, but everyone was so jumpy and angry at first. His tail picks up again.

“You've got a real nice temperament even like this, don't you?” soothes the stranger. “I bet you'd love go run around outside together. Look at you. Not a bad bone in your body. You've had a lot of people looking for you, mister. Kidnapped right out of your dorm room. Bet your roommate thought he was getting free tuition. Come here, then. Have something to eat.”

He's beckoning at him, his scent warming the air. JJ licks his paws thoroughly one more time before he crawls out from underneath the metal frame. He looks up at the stranger warily. The other wolf reaches out an open palm, rumbling at him. JJ licks his hand carefully.

“There's a boy,” sighs the stranger, presenting him with a big chunk of meat, still bleeding. JJ tears into it without further complaint, but the smell of the stranger quickly becomes even more interesting. JJ steps around his legs and climbs into his space, sniffing heavily around his neck.

“I'm Sean, by the way,” he says, reaching up to rub JJ's ears. “I'm going to look out for you, I promise.”

He smells... like the peace-making wolf. His packmate. JJ huffs out as much of a bark as he can manage and sits down, crushing the man's legs. Sean groans, but doesn't protest, laughing.

The door swings again and JJ rears, tail between his legs, but Sean reaches out to grab him tightly around the neck with both arms, hushing him. “What did I tell you?” he calls to the human in the doorway. “This is just a scared kid. He's no danger.”

“He's still not shifted back,” answers a voice. The big man from before. He smells like metal and paper.

“I can handle him. I'm certified. You can release him to me.”

“He's got to have the harness on.”

There's a long pause. JJ hides against Sean, pressed against the smell of his packmate.

“Sean. You know he has to. He can't go with you without it.”

“Let me take Henrik too, at least.”

“Are you out of your mind? He is actively biting anyone who even tries to get in that room. You'll have to try again later.”

“I can't just leave him here, locked up for nothing. He could get worse.”

“It's out of your hands now. You can take this one if you swear you'll follow your protocol and keep the damn harness on him. He might be a human under all that, but right now, he's thirty-eight kilograms of wild canine.”

Sean's scent sours with frustration and fatigue. “He's not wild. Just – give it to me.”

Something hits the floor beside them. The door closes again.

“Okay, pal, okay,” murmurs Sean, rubbing his ears again. That's just magnificent, that is. Yeah, proper friendly. “I know we just met. Know things are a little chaotic, a little scary. But you'll feel better if I can get you out of here. So I'll tell everyone to clear out for a minute, and I'll lead you somewhere safe. But you got to let me get something on you you're not going to like, okay?”

JJ doesn't really get it. It's scary when Sean starts to pull something around his throat and chest, and his ears fold onto his head, but he doesn't pull away. He doesn't want to be alone anymore, trapped. He wants to go to his pack mates.

Something clicks around his neck. JJ shifts and licks at Sean's wrist, gazing up at him with big eyes.

“There's a good boy,” whispers Sean, and the words don't make sense, but he smells like sorrow. “Baby steps. We'll get you back, Jameson.”

Jameson. Oh. He knows that word too, from somewhere.

“I'm going to keep you real close to my side. I couldn't quite stop you if you tried to yank away, so you've really got to be calm for me. But I wouldn't take you out of here if I thought you were going to hurt someone, so just stay with me, okay? Okay.”

They get up. Sean opens the door. JJ's tail wags madly. This is really good. Maybe it's his chance to go outside. Second always takes him outside, at least once every... while, whenever he can manage. It's the best part of being alive, when he gets out of his little box, and Second takes him running. He hopes Second is coming to find him. JJ sniffs along the floor immediately, trying to pick up any trace of him. He thinks there is something far off, but not close, not recent. Instead there's the other packmate, the white one. JJ's tongue lolls out and he tries to follow the scent, but the thing around his chest tightens and pulls him away. He turns with a sneer to attack it, but Sean's hand comes down quickly to warn him away.

“Just bear with me, just bear with me,” Sean tells him. “It's okay. Won't hurt you. Come on.”

But he doesn't want to come on. He can smell the white wolf. And as they move along the hallway, he hears him too. Howling and barking and snarling. JJ tries to whine, but nothing comes out. He tries to pull, but he's pulled back.

“I know, I know.” Sean's hand pets roughly at his head. “Not right now, Jameson. We can only do so much.”

Reluctantly, he follows the stranger out of his latest cage, and waits for Second to come find him.

.

He thinks he should probably feel angry, right about now. He's always angry, it seems, and today, he has a better reason than ever to feel angry.

“Chase?” he murmurs, reaching out to touch the wolf's back. Chase is wearing a police hoodie with a badge printed on the front and somebody else's sweatpants. He doesn't look right in it. He still kind of smells of that other Alpha and the stinking house.

Marvin should be angry.

“Feels like a completely different house,” Chase whispers, standing in his doorway like he's been glue-trapped there. The breeze comes up the porch and plays with his unwashed hair. “Will you check that no one else is inside?”

Like a kid asking Mom to check there's no monsters under the bed. But it's reasonable, Marvin knows, even though Anti and JJ and Iris are all far away. The fear won't leave Chase quickly. It was real once, and his brain will keep that knowledge as long as it thinks it has to.

“Course I will,” Marvin says. “You just stay right there.”

“N-no,” chokes Chase. “I don't want to be alone on the porch either.”

“Come right here and let me close the door on you. That's right. Take a deep scent of the place, will you?”

Chase obeys, sucking in a deep breath. “No one... no one's been here for days. I smell strangers, though.”

“The police searched the place for evidence.”

“Do you know how much they found?”

“I just heard about blood in the guest room.”

Chase's eyes flicker with something. “Schneep's.”

“Anti bit him?”

“No. JJ. Don't think he had any choice in the matter, and he definitely didn't understand what was going on even if he did. It was like it was a game to him, sometimes, and he didn't understand why we couldn't all go outside and be happy together.”

“He was a wolf for a long time.”

“Yeah.”

Chase's eyes get foggy, lost in thought, and despite the abandoned smell of the house, Marvin checks it thoroughly for him anyway. Chase showers while he guards the door and eats the takeaway Marvin gets him with gusto, tearing white meat from a fish's spine with his teeth. Maybe he should have gotten him something more American, some comfort food like a big pizza, but Marvin was the one who needed the moment of nostalgia. Like Mom always used to get him before she ran off. Nothing a good fish n' chips can't fix. They used to have it every Sunday evening. She'd walk him to the shop holding his hand and let him count out the coins to pay for it.

He should be angry about a lot of things. He usually is. About Mom, about Graham, about every fucker in the park who sneers at him and reminds him how unloved he feels, deep down, all the time, because no one ever wants to keep him.

“My stomach hurts,” Chase complains, after they're done eating.

“You're anxious,” Marvin says, petting his hands through his hair for a moment. Chase looks up at him in surprise, like he can't believe how Marvin's acting. His expression clears a second later with something like relief. “You'll take a little Ibuprofen and lie down, okay?”

“And you'll stay here tonight? Doesn't Jackie need you?”

“No, he'll just want some alone time anyway. He'll tell me if he needs me. You sure you want me to stick around, though? Won't be scared if I'm in the house in the morning?”

“Please stay, Marvin.” Chase reaches out to grip his hoodie. “I don't want to be alone.”

Marvin smiles weakly, brushing a strand of hair from his face. “Me neither, brother. Of course I'll stay.”

Chase cries a little in his bedroom, but he doesn't ask to sleep somewhere else. Marvin can smell Anti distantly, but Chase doesn't want the sheets washed. Marvin has him drink some water and take the promised Ibuprofen, and he sits in the bed beside him until Chase falls asleep.

He's bedraggled and exhausted and hurting and traumatized. Marvin should be angry, angry, angry.

Instead, he just wants to make this better for him, for all of them, for his pack. It's such a weird feeling. All these negative emotions, and he doesn't just have to squeeze them down in his chest until they burst out in a flood. He can do something with them. He can take care of someone.

“How stupid is that?” he whispers, tugging the blankets up over Chase's chest. “Thought I was mad this whole time, and maybe I was just fucking lonely. Maybe I was just looking for my pack.”

He should be mad about that too, just because it really does feel so dumb, so simple and so cheesy and so risky, to let himself give his heart away in any capacity to someone he hasn't vetted for years. But he's not mad, not tonight. He's too glad that they're alive, these wolves he's watched become wolves, and he's too glad to feel wanted for the first time in years.

Jackie wants him. That's a fact now, no longer a question, no longer a fear. And these wolves, these newcomers, these pack mates – maybe they will want to go, someday. Maybe they'll leave and it will hurt just as bad as everybody else who's left him behind. But in the meantime, he's too fucking ready to love somebody to let that fear get in the way anymore.

“How stupid is that,” he says again.

It's not stupid. Marvin burns a scenter on the dresser drawer by Chase's bed, and the whole room breathes with the smell of mint chocolate and smoke and the homey, sweet scent of the company of wolves.

[witchcatyoshiko]

You look at the cross in your hand. You had spent so much money on the pretty silver one that was blessed by that really religious guy that all those people like to go see. It was probably a scam item anyways. It smelled like nickel. You were going to die because you couldn’t be bothered to authenticate your purchases. Well, actually, if the leech was telling the truth, you were going to die because you had never fully believed in God. Faith? What was faith? What did you truly believe in anymore? How were you supposed to believe in a giant invisible bearded dude in the sky? The only thing you truly believed in was…

You paused your pity party. Would it really work? You motioned a pause to the leech who stopped his advancing, dumbfounded by your quick scrabble for your bag. His brows knit together as you found what you were looking for. You turned quickly, running to him, howling like the loon you’d become. He opened his arms to trap you but as soon as your fist met his chest he sailed back with a hiss.

He slammed against the wall, reflexively scooting up it as he continued to hiss at you. You smiled triumphantly, “I may not believe in much but I have full faith in this!” You brandished your latest paystub from your day job at him. His hissing face fell to confusion but you weren’t done. You began flicking small paper darts at him, each one making contact and burning his skin. You laughed “dance for me bay-BEE!” You had been so ticked when you were called to hunt on the night you were supposed to go to your coworker’s bachelorette party. You had sat on the subway, sulking and spinning all your ones into little darts for the toothpick launching crossbow your brother had given you as a gag gift. You vowed you were going to shoot him with them for getting sick and leaving you with the hunt. And, here you were, watching the rolled up bills bury into the leech’s skin till it writhed on the floor, melting away in anguish. Oh how fate loved to twist and turn.

Later you loaded the shriveling head into a plastic market bag, double bagging it and tying the handles tight. You really hopped it didn’t spring a leak again. You were really tired of being the weird horror movie maker chick on the subway, explaining away how to make believable blood and body parts. You eyed the bag for a moment then went to triple bag it. Your phone rang. You looked at your bloody gloved hands, sighed, then jerked your head multiple times as if in a seizure, knocking the small ear piece in your ear against your shoulder till it answered the call. You heard the click of the answer, “Busy.” You stated flatly. You struggled to open the plastic container you’d taken from your bag earlier.

Your brother sneezed in your ear before croaking “you missed check in”

“Because I was busy.” You rolled your eyes at the black heart with a small stake sticking out of it. “You could have told me” you move to snap the lid onto the container but the stick blocks you. You sigh again.

“I thought you liked dogs.” Your brother coughed while trying to laugh.

You pause your assault of the plastic lid with your knife, “it was a leech not a dog”

“Shit!” Your brother sounds suddenly alarmed “are you ok? Were you bit? Do you have your UV kit? We have NOT gotten you fully trained on those.”

You nodded fervently, forcing the lid closed, the stick piercing through the hole you made for it. “Yes. No. The what? Yea I’m aware.” You triple bag the heart and shove everything into your large not-at-all-inconvenient OR suspicious to haul around in a subway black tote bag. You growl, struggling with the zipper as you listen to your brother throw around papers and check his mission book. He curses and you hear something crash then both of you are still, both heavy breathing and irritated. You wait one more moment then say, “pity pick-up or don’t-tell-dad designated driver night ENDING at Poles & Dills.”

Your brother sighs but it’s cut off with a sneeze and a hacking cough. He clears his throat “I’m still sick”

You grin as you shoulder your bag and begin your hike to the bus stop, “And I have a lot of bloody ones.”

"You have misunderstood the lore, hunter. It is neither crucifix, nor rosary, nor holy water, nor any other trapping of faith, but faith ITSELF that is anathema to my kind. And yours has proven to be. . . insufficient."

[ihateoc]

Disappear

(word count: 3.018) (broody boy)

After Tenchi had sent Ember to hunt him down and Ren saved his ass, Shadow felt… well… complicated. 

He didn't want to drag Bennett and Ren into his world. His problems. He knows better than anyone that they can handle themselves. But that isn't the problem. Strangely, he just doesn't want to see them get hurt or get involved at all. 

So, he disappeared. 

He packed his things and left when Bennett was at work and took up at a hotel in the area, not bothering to tell anyone where he was going. 

He felt guilty, but for once, he had people he wanted to protect. His laidback lifestyle had all but faded away in an instant. He sat in his dingy hotel room deep in thought, feeling like he was back in his mercenary days. 

His phone kept vibrating violently on the table, notifications of missed calls, voicemails and texts flooding the screen. It had been silent for some time before it buzzed again, prompting Shadow to flinch at the sound. His eyes dart to the screen when he notices Ren's name flashing across it.  

The pounding in his chest grows louder with each passing second, part of him itching just to hear her voice, but another side too overwhelmed by guilt. He decides against blocking their numbers because maybe someday they might need him and he'll be there for them. 

Being normal was never really meant for someone like Shadow anyway. 

At the sound of another notification, he picks the phone up and throws it across the room, replacing it with one of his old knives. The weapon feels comfortable in his hands, the weight and balance soothing his rampant thoughts. He runs the whetstone along its edge with practiced ease, a familiar task that grounded him. 

But every now and then, he finds himself glancing towards his discarded phone, or to be more precise, towards Ren. His pathetically sentimental feelings made him frustrated at himself for being this weak.  

With a grim resolve, Shadow inhales deeply, holding his breath while closing his eyes. He can feel the old steel walls creeping back up around him, raising to shield him from any emotional hurt. 

But shutting down doesn't make everything easier like it used to. Instead, it makes him ache with a loneliness that is both biting and raw.  

Now begs the question, what exactly was his plan? Could he really go back to being a mercenary for Tenchi? What else could he do besides run? His life was always about survival in the end. 

With a metallic clatter, he drops his knife onto the table. He decides that going back to Tenchi isn't an option. He'd rather die than become that man's pawn again. 

Running though... It is all he knows. A life of constant movement and evading trouble. But this time, running meant running away from Ren and Bennett too. The sheer thought makes him falter for a moment before forcing himself to stand up, pacing restlessly around the room. 

The paths he walked on were never easy but this feels like walking barefoot on broken glass. Why does choosing survival this time feel like he's killing parts of him? 

Shadow stays locked up in his hotel room, these dark thoughts swirling around him while he paces anxiously before eventually laying down in bed, struggling to fall and stay asleep. He never used to rest much until recently anyway. 

---------- 

The world outside Shadow's hotel room moves on with everyday life, unbothered and unaware of his inner turmoil. The familiar motion of sharpening knives is the only thing that holds some semblance of order in his chaotic mind. 

His body feels heavy from lack of sleep, eyes stinging but unable to close for long periods because every time he did, he saw their faces. He gives an ironic chuckle at how far gone he really was. They've become his fucking weakness. What has Ren done to him?    

He looks up at the sound of loud rapping on the door. Couldn't be one of Tenchi's men. That would be too obvious. He ignores it, focusing on his monotonous task until the door is eventually kicked in by a very pissed off looking Ren. 

Shit, worst-case scenario. 

"What the hell are you doing here?" She closes the door with a loud thud, storming up to him and looming over his form. 

Shadow feels his heart leap into his throat at the sight of Ren, her fierce eyes blazing fire. His instinct was to soften up and let himself be swept away by her presence but he forces himself to remain impassive. 

"Ren..." He greeted stoically, sounding dry as bones as he studies her, making no move from where he sits. 

A small part of him wonders whether she tracked him down out of concern or to chew him out. 

She shoots him a venomous glare, her voice low and dangerous, "Bennett said you packed up and disappeared. Why?" 

He shrugs nonchalantly, returning his attention to the knife in his hand, replying coolly, "Just felt like it." 

But inside, her presence was causing an upheaval, her question stirring emotions he had locked away tightly. Her proximity was making it harder for him not to care.  

"Shadow, what the hell is going on?" She questions him, her hands clenched into fists at her sides. 

"Nothing, Ren," Shadow lies blatantly, his gaze fixated on the knife he's sharpening. 

He can feel her scrutinizing him, looking for answers. It was a battle within himself to not spill everything. His heart pounds in his chest as if trying to blow its cover. He can't let her find out just how fucked up he is right now. She won't understand. Actually, she shouldn't have to. 

"You're a bad liar," She barks out, swiftly grabbing the weapon from his hand in a bold move, "Is it because of what happened with Ember?" 

He considers disarming her, every cell urging him to fight back, but he let her hold onto the knife because he didn't want to hurt her. He just has to bear with this for a little bit longer and then he can push her out of his life. God, why does everything have to be so difficult with her? 

"No, Ren. It's not about Ember," Shadow answers truthfully, looking at her for the first time since she arrived. His maroon eyes were hard but there was an undeniable unrest in them. 

"Shadow, just tell me what's going on," She presses him, sitting down on the edge of the bed by his chair, "Come on, this isn't like you." 

He smirks sardonically, shaking his head, "You really think you know me?" He asks her with slight bitterness lacing his voice. 

Maybe it was time to accept the truth. Maybe this was exactly like him, running away when things started feeling too real. 

"I..." She falters before steeling her resolve and stubbornly biting back, "Yeah, I do. You're annoying and stubborn. An idiot, but street smart. You're fast and you're skilled. But more importantly, you're Shadow," She lets out a breath, adding, "I'm not sure what's going on with you but I know that you care about your friends, me, Bennett, and Carter." 

Shadow's breath hitches at her words, part of him wanting to believe it while the other laughs cruelly. He looks away from Ren again, clenching his jaw. He should have known she wouldn't back down. 

"How do you know I'm not just using you?" Shadow challenges her bluntly. After all, people were always used against each other in his line of work. 

"Because I know you," She answers assuredly, "Better than you realize. And besides, if you were using me, I'm sure you would have put me down by now." 

He chuckles gruffly at her words, a sarcastic smile playing on his lips, "Yeah, I really should have done that by now." 

But it was far from the truth. He could never hurt Ren. The mere thought of causing her pain made him feel sick. 

"Let's just talk, Shadow," Her eyes watch him intensely, "Tell me what's going on. I want to help." 

Rolling his eyes, he scoffs slightly, "Help? You really think you can help with this mess?" He retorts, gesturing to himself. 

"Wouldn't be the first time, would it?" She teases with a chuckle in an attempt to lighten the tense mood that occupied the room. 

"Yeah, and look where that got you," Shadow remarks flatly, his tone devoid of its usual playful sarcasm, a sheer reflection of his inner turmoil. 

Ren seems unfazed by his response, instead imploring, "Shadow, please just talk to me. I know this isn't what you want." 

"And what if it is?" Shadow shoots back defiantly. He feels frustrated with himself and with her relentless attempts to dig deeper. 

"You're a bad liar." 

The dark-haired man huffs out a cynical laugh, looking at Ren with darkened eyes, "Am I?" He challenges her verbally but his steady gaze is pleading for understanding and patience. 

He wishes she would stop trying to see through him. It was getting harder to keep up the facade. 

"it's about Tenchi, isn't it?" She interrogates him, hitting the nail on the head. 

Shadow's gaze hardens, his defensive walls shooting up, "So what if it is?" 

"So what?" She presses him bluntly, "You're just going to go back to him?" 

"I don't know, Ren!" He explodes, his patience snapping as his tone comes out harsher than intended, "Maybe I am! What do you care anyway?"  

"Over my dead fucking body," She spits out, her tone dripping with venom. She stands up, looming over him while unsheathing her dual daggers from her waist holster. 

He watches the fury in her eyes and feels a pang of guilt, "I don't need your damn permission!" He hisses back at her, rising to his feet as well.  

"Well, the only way you're leaving this room is if you're coming with me," She demands, taking a defensive stance with her weapons held out in front of her.  

Just like old times. 

Shadow sighs, rubbing his temples before glancing at her, asking in a mocking tone, "Are you threatening me, Ren?" 

"Yeah, I am. What are you going to do about it?" She asks with narrowed grey eyes, gripping her daggers tightly. 

He smirks despite the situation. He eyes her weapons and then meets her defiant gaze again, shrugging, "Guess I'll just have to deal with it." 

"Fine, if this is how it's gonna be then..." She hurls one of her daggers at the light switch, knocking out the lights and making him lose his advantage over her. 

"Oh, you sneaky bastard," He chuckles darkly in the sudden darkness. Now this was more like it, Ren using her cunning to even out the odds.  

"I'll knock your stubborn ass out and drag you back home against your will," She breathes out with a chill in her voice, as if every word was coated in frost. 

Shadow laughs, feeling his body bracing in anticipation, "Can't say it won't be fun watching ya try." 

God, she's so hot when she's pissed... No, focus! 

"Idiot..." Ren mutters under her breath. She conjures her missing dagger back in her hand, rushing towards him hastily and moving to attack. 

"Quite possibly," He chuckles, sidestepping her charge with ease.  

The darkness only seems to fuel his senses, making him feel invigorated. She's not going to make this easy. Picking up his knife from the table and skillfully counter attacking, Ren avoids his strikes with fluid grace and skill. 

"Just quit being difficult already," She growls out. 

"Where's the fun in that?" Shadow retorts, lunging at her with a smirk etched onto his face. He always had enjoyed their little dances. Somehow, in some sick and twisted way, he missed this. 

She blocks his swing with both of her daggers, metal clanking against metal, "Shadow, be serious. Just let me help dammit. Quit being an asshole." 

"Helping is not your job, Ren!" He snaps back, pushing her away roughly before regaining his composure. Hell, he should be the one protecting her. 

Recovering hastily and nearly striking him, she barks back, "You don't get to decide what my job is!" 

"And you don't get to decide what's good for me!" Shadow hisses in response, blocking her strike just in time. 

"Then tell me what the hell you think is good for you," Her tone is cold and cutting, slicing through the air like a knife, "Going back to Tenchi? Running from him for the rest of your life? Which is it Shadow?" She asks incredulously. 

He falls silent at her words, his hands clenching around the hilt of his weapon, "I don't know!" He yells finally, letting out a frustrated growl. 

"If you don't know then just come back home already!" She argues with an indignant huff. 

Sighing, he lowers his knife slightly, muttering cynically, "And then what? Live happily ever after?" 

Ren takes the opening to attack, him barely blocking in time, "Yes, obviously! You were having your laidback lifestyle remember? Why give it up?" 

She always did fight dirty. He respected that about her. 

Shadow grits his teeth as he deflects her strike, the impact resonating through his arm, "That ain't life, Ren... That's just playin' pretend." 

"You're so goddamn dense," She spits out before disappearing abruptly, reappearing behind him in an instant and kicking him in the back. 

He stumbles forward at her unexpected assault, barely managing to keep himself upright, "Always full of surprises, aren't ya?" He grumbles, turning around and readying his knife again. 

Her daggers clash against his knife, her face only inches from his as her eyes gleam vehemently, "What is this really about? At least tell me that!" 

Meeting her gaze, the intensity of Shadow's own maroon eyes mirrors hers. He snarls back, "It's about me not dragging you into my shit!" 

"Are you fucking serious??" Ren's voice rose sharply, laced with disbelief and frustration, "We're already in your shit, you idiot!" She hits him square in the gut with the hilt of her dagger, "If we cared about being dragged into your shit, we wouldn't have brought you home with us!" 

He grunts when her dagger connects with his abdomen. Stumbling back, he clutches at the painful spot on his torso and glares up at her, wheezing out, "And what if you get hurt? What then, huh?" 

"There's a simple answer to that," She spins her daggers with a flourish, a confident grin forming on her face as she remarks, "I won't." 

The dark-haired man shakes his head, chuckling despite the pain, "You're so damn cocky," He retorts, trying to push himself back up. 

"Yeah, so are you. Just listen... Give it up. Come back with me and Bennett. We can talk something out," Ren says as she points a dagger at him, the tip of her blade only inches from his nose, "You're not alone in this anymore, Shadow. Maybe you don't want that but it doesn't matter. You have friends now. You can't be selfish and just go off on your own. We won't let you." 

He watches her, his maroon eyes softening. He feels an uncomfortable twist in his gut. Fear... and relief. 

"I don't deserve you guys," He mutters more to himself than to her. 

"If that was true, we wouldn't be here, would we?" She muses with a grin as she holsters her weapons, holding out a hand to help him up, "Come on. Come home." 

Looking at her extended hand momentarily, he sighs and takes it, "You're gonna be the death of me, Ren," He comments as she helps him up. 

"Good. Now quit being stubborn and let us in. You're human, remember?" 

A chuckle escapes his lips as he shakes his head, "Remind me again why I like you?" 

"Because you're an idiot?" She teases with a smug grin. 

"Ah, right. That must be it," He jokes back, a grin forming on his lips despite the situation. 

Ren takes her phone out of her pocket, typing out a message as she explains, "I walked here and didn't tell Bennett where I was going so, I'll ask him to come pick us up." 

Shadow can't resist laughing out loud at her recklessness, "You have a very interesting way of making plans." 

"Honestly," She admits as she looks up from her phone to meet his gaze, "I was so pissed off when I heard you left that I stormed off without thinking." 

A smirk dances on his lips as his ego feeds off of her confession, "So, you really do care about me then?" 

"Don't act like you didn't know that," She says while rolling her eyes. She glances at the broken light switch that her dagger had struck, "Don't think you're getting your deposit back." 

He chuckles, his gaze following hers as he shrugs nonchalantly, "Like I give a shit about that now." 

She sends Bennett a message, slipping her phone back into her pocket before placing a comforting hand on his shoulder, "I'm glad I didn't have to knock you out." 

Shadow tenses for a moment before relaxing into Ren's touch, which was something like a soothing balm to him right now, "Don't think I would've let ya, killer," He replies coolly. 

"Cocky asshole. Don't act like you were winning." 

He sets his hand on top of hers, conceding with a closed-eye smile, "Alright, alright. I'll admit ya got me good." 

Ren peers up at him, maintaining steady eye contact, her tone laced with honesty and warmth as she speaks genuinely, "We'll figure this out, Shadow. Depend on us." 

"Depending on people... Isn't exactly my forte," Shadow admits, looking back at her with a serious glint in his eyes, "But I guess I can make an exception for you two." 

"And if you even think about trying something like that again..." Her eyes darken considerably, "I'll kill you." 

He smirks upon hearing her venomous words and seeing her icy gaze, "I wouldn't expect any less from ya, Renny." 

[ohbuckie]

A BOY FALLS IN LOVE WITH A GIRL | B.B.

bucky barnes x fem!reader

summary: bucky simply shows you how much he loves you.

warnings: fluffy smut, unprotected sex, oral sex (f receiving)

word count: 1.4k

[listen]

He licks his lips after he kisses you. He’s always done it—always wanted to taste your chapstick, to guess what flavor it is.

“Mint.”

You only smile and cup his cheeks, pressing your mouth against his again to give him another taste. His hands find your waist and he pulls you into his body, rubbing small circles into your back with his thumbs. Your arms snake around his neck, your nose pushing out a long exhale against his cheek.

He’s mastered the art of kissing you over time. He knows which way you’ll turn your head when you first lean in, he knows that you like his bottom lip between your teeth. He knows that he’d kiss you all day—until your lips were swollen and sore—if you’d let him. He knows that you always put on chapstick after you brush your teeth, and that your lips are a much better delivery system for him than the tube on the nightstand is.

You arch your back into him, desperate to feel closer, and feel him grin against you. That big, stupid, toothy smile that only comes out when you’re alone together.

“Stop smiling.” You mumble against his cheek. “I’m trying to kiss you.”

“Sorry.” He chuckles, taking your chin in his hand and positioning his mouth over yours again, softly pecking your lips.

It’s been too many days to count, and he still makes you weak in the knees. His lips meet your cheek, and then your chin, and then your jaw, and they soon make their way down your neck, nibbling and sucking gently, though not hard enough to leave any marks.

He smells like coffee beans and cucumber body wash, which has grown to comfort you over the years. His hands are calloused, his lips unusually chapped, his hair perpetually messy. He cups your breast in his hand, pushes your (his) shirt above her chest, finds the clasp at the back of your bra and pulls it from your shoulders. His lips wrap around a nipple, sucking gently while his thumb rubs over the soft skin covering your ribs. He’s never been shy of giving attention to your chest, and it makes you smile how predictable he can be.

You twirl his hair around your fingers, close your eyes to feel him above you, wrap your legs around his hips.

“Bucky.” You whisper, arching your back up into him. “James.”

“Yeah? You okay?”

“I’m perfect. Just want to get to the good stuff.”

He smiles. “Be patient,” he kisses the valley between your breasts, “I’m getting there.” Another kiss. “And don’t call me ‘James.’”

Early morning sun pours through the open windows, breeze circulating through the messy room, chirping birds shouting at nobody in particular. Bucky doesn’t seem to hear them, though, when both of his hands push your sweats down your hips and he kisses the newly exposed skin, making you shiver. He’s gentle in his actions, even with the rough skin of his hands, and the scratchy stubble that covers his chin.

The air outside is cold, and raises bumps across your arms and legs. Bucky rubs his warm hands over your chilled skin once your pants and underwear leave your ankles, and he works his way up. Inner thighs, lower stomach—he kisses delicately and lovingly, staring up at you with adoration.

His tongue touches you, warm and wet, and trails over your most sensitive area, the one that only he really knows how to operate. You feel his breath over your legs, his lips wrapping around you. He sucks, licks, rubs—does everything just right, as always. A moan escapes from plush lips that have been robbed of their chapstick by greedier ones, and your fingers push through his soft hair, making a fist around it and pulling lightly.

With a tongue slithering inside of you and teeth grazing your sensitive bud, your mouth falls open in a silent prayer, one that asks whoever’s listening to never let him leave you. Your eyes close and your hips push your core upwards, hungry for more.

A stripe up your center, a finger dipping into you, a thumb against your nerves; he moves them how he’s supposed to, slowly and smoothly, with purpose and precaution. He’s a puppeteer and you’re his doll, reacting to the way that he pulls at your strings exactly how he expects you to, your expression of ecstasy stuck in one position, much like the ceramic face of a play-thing.

His manipulations are unmerciful, and you quickly fall apart in his hands, letting him observe how you cry out and then crumble into yourself. Your bottom lip is painted with the blood that you’ve summoned with your teeth, and you only notice it when you taste it, your tongue darting out and retreating back into your cavernous mouth bearing the gift of metallic flavor and red-tinted saliva.

His underwear falls to the floor, and he’s ready for you right away.

You’ve been doing this for years now, over and over again, but he still looks at you like you’re the only woman he’s ever had, though you both know that that’s untrue. The look on his face is nothing short of mesmerized as he rakes his eyes down your body, hardly even blinking, as if he might miss something.

The stretch of the two of you joining together is familiar, but still feels as good as it did the first time, which wasn’t anywhere close to as sweet as this moment is. He falls over you, holding himself up by his arms, which allows you to kiss along the scar that joins his metal arm with his flesh. He pushes your chin up with his nose, kisses down your throat, sinks his teeth into the fragile skin of your collarbone. You inhale sharply when he rolls his hips, exhaling slowly while you get used to it.

“Okay?”

You nod. “Perfect.”

He usually has a routine, but now’s not the time for that. Right now, he’s more focused on being close—being loved, being happy—than he is on how many times you finish.

You accept what you’re being given, however many inches out of his eight, and a gentle pace that, despite its softness, is more than satisfying. He holds your hips down with his large hands, pushes down hard enough that you can’t move unless he allows it, not that you want to.

You watch his triceps harden and his abs tense as he works towards a climax—his first, your second. His jaw tightens and his lower lip is offered to his teeth, who hold it tightly and threaten to unleash his muffled noises if he lets go. He’s hypnotized by the way that he disappears into you with every push, and the way that he’s returned to the world with every pull.

Nothing could ruin this moment in which he is silently worshiping you, studying the way your body moves, both inside and out. You clench around him, mostly by accident, when he pulls one side of the knot in your stomach and it nearly comes undone.

“I’m right there.” You warn him, and he nods, picking up his pace only by a little bit until bliss washes over you again. It’s less intense than last time, but far from tame.

He mutters out a string of curses when he loses the tempo he’s been conducting from the start and spills into you, stilling, holding himself against you until it’s over. He takes a breath and leans down to kiss you. It’s full of affection and sentiment, and his lips seem to melt against yours instantly, falling into the pattern that they always do.

He withdraws, leaving you empty, except for the seed that he planted inside of you, and wipes you with a cloth, dampened with warm water from the bathroom. He throws it and lets it hit the wall near his hamper so that he can crawl into bed beside you.

“I love you.” He kisses you, still staring at your lips even after he pulls away.

“I love you too.” You start to sit up, pulling the shirt that still hangs from your shoulders back down to where it’s supposed to be.

“Nuh-uh, we’re not doing that today.” He insists, catching you by your shoulder and carefully pushing you back against your pillow.

“Doing what?”

“Getting out of bed.”

[recklessmark]

mine

—when the bodyguard your dad hired is your long lost rival.

Pairings: bodyguard Mark x mob-boss Reader

Words: 2.4k

Warnings: unprotected sex (be safe!), dirty talk, rough sex, oral sex, spanking, slut shamming, orgasm denial, mark is possessive but cute at the end.

The sounds of your heels clicking against the ground filled up the silent patio. You stormed into your house after receiving a text from your dad, basically demonstrated that he had sent you a new bodyguard since your job had been getting more intense lately. This should be the umpteenth guard that your dad hired, how are they supposed to protect you when every time you get into trouble, they can’t even take care of themselves.

You locked the door, kicking your shoes off before walking inside. Noticing a figure of a man sitting on the couch, you frowned. One hand holding the gun holster, the other finding the light switch. But they immediately fell onto your mouth when the man in question himself turned around due to the sudden light in the room. Your eyes went widen, still not believed in what you saw. He stood up, a coy smirk displayed on his face as he slowly approached you.

“You miss me?”

You looked him up and down, confirming that you were not dreaming, “M-Mark Lee? You’re alive?”

Your back is against the wall as Mark pressed his body on you, your faces were an inch away from each other. You’re babbling, dying to know how it’s possible for your long lost rival, Mark Lee, revitalized from his death and now standing in your house. Mark had been on the back of your head since the day you heard the news of his death from a combat. Apparently you’re supposed to hate him but that period of time was the darkest of your life, you practically couldn’t live without him.

He leaned in, his nose was brushing yours, “If I knew my appearance can earn that reaction from you, I would accept the job offer sooner.”

You tensed under his muscular body, his face plastered with arrogance. You squinted your eyes at him, “So you’re the body guard that my dad hired?”

Mark nodded, “Didn’t know that my death make your career path a lot easier. You’re the boss now huh?”

You pushed him away, you needed to go since you’re melting into his touch and that’s definitely not a good sign. You fixed your clothes before walking away.

“You can sleep on the couch or in the room next to the balcony. We’re going to the estate tomorrow.”, you called behind your back, “And don’t even think about breaking into my room at midnight.”.

You remembered that time you saw Mark sitting in front of your house with blood everywhere. You did let him stay at your place since he was terribly injured with two bullets in his shoulder and a gash on his ribs. He was super lucky to magically survive after that much damage, and you thought you could be a surgeon that you were phenomenally able to save him with some basic medical skills. Mark stayed with you for two weeks and literally broke into your room every night despite of your death threats and the locks on your door that you only bought because of him. You pathetically had no sleep at that time, how were you supposed to sleep peacefully when your hot enemy was pressing his chest against your back. You sighed, Mark Lee is the first bodyguard you didn’t kick out on the first day and the only bodyguard you let staying at your place.

—

You’re questioning yourself about the faith you put in Mark, your used-to-be enemy, that you actually allowed him to be your bodyguard and now you’re guiding him to your estate. What if he’s preparing for a terrorization?

“So why did you fake your death?”, you asked, only loud enough for him to hear clearly.

Mark glanced at you as he’s trying to find the perfect vocabulary for the situation, “The boss thought I’m a threat to the gang so they attempted to kill me many times, unsuccessfully though.”

“That you’ll murderer that coward and replace him? What in the mysterious novel is this?”, you laughed almost choked on your spit.

Everyone eyes landed on you and Mark when you stepped inside the building, the faint smile on your lips had soon faded away. They respectfully greeted you as you made your way to the office.

“What are you involved with?”

You heard him question when you’re in the elevator. Your fingers tapped on your lips,

“Pharmaceuticals”

“Drugs”

You darted your eyes at him as the word fell out of his mouth. “God, I’m trying to make it sound legal, no need to say it out loud like that.”, you gave him a warning look before continued talking.

“Automotive recovery and repair”

“Grand theft auto”

You’re not bothered to yell at Mark or whatsoever, as if he hadn’t done all that things.

“Defense trading”

“Selling illegal weapons”

You stopped a bit, looking at the number on the monitor screen of the elevator.

“And contract execution.”

The elevator was finally on the highest floor, which only has your office and the meeting room. You stopped at your track when you see a gap on your office door, you always remember to lock it up before going home, except it’s...

“Y/N!”

You almost passed out, you should’ve mentioned that you totally hate surprises. How do people find it’s funny when they scare the fuck out of somebody?

“Lee Haechan? When did you get here?”

You lost your balance when Haechan jumped on you for a hug, “Last night.”

You fumbled on your feet as the weight on you hardened your breathing. “God, do you always have to cling on me like that?”

His arms wrapped around your waist, he rested his head on the crook of your neck as he noticed the man that had been standing at the door frame.

“Who’s this? You better not cheat on me!”

You frowned, pushing Haechan away, “Cheat your ass! He’s my bodyguard.”, you turned around to look at Mark.

“Hey, you should go check the new people. If they mess up, I’ll kick your ass.”

You asked Haechan to leave before he continued making something up. You don’t know why he has a thing for pretending to be your boyfriend, sometimes cousin or even worse is step brother. He always knows how to get you into trouble and never take responsibility for that. You don’t know how come he’s your best friend and your assistant.

You locked the door after he already left, not care about Mark still froze at his space. You sat down, reorganized the stacks of papers on your desk.

“He’s your boyfriend?”

Your eyes flew up only for you to see that Mark was hovering over you, his hands pressed on the desk.

You looked back down, “Why would you care?”

He remained silent, you shrugged, unbothered by his question. Neither the two of you broke the silence first until you completed all the work, it’s already night time outside. You glanced at Mark, who’s sitting on the couch next to the window with his gaze focused on you. You flustered, wondering if he had been like that for 4 hours straight since you came to work after lunch.

“Let’s go.”

—

You’re walking to your car in the parking lot when someone familiar drew your attention.

“Jaehyun!”

You hollered while running towards the man. He caught you in his arms as you peck on his cheeks, which was not become unnoticed by Mark. He recognized the man, Mark had a few combats with him before.

You noticed the expression on Jaehyun’s face changed lightly when his gaze shifted. You knew what’s it about.

“He’s the bodyguard my dad hired, I’ll explain but I have to leave now okay?”

You gave him a small kiss on his lips before turning around, pulling Mark with you.

—

“Get out!”

Mark snarled when he finally pulled up in the garage. He walked out, leaving you confused in the car. Did he just yell at you? You gasped as the door beside you flung opened, he recklessly took off your seat belt before pulling you into the house.

“What the hell Mark?”

You asked when he pressed you against the door, still could not comprehend what’s happening.

“Shut up!”

He groaned into your ear, his head was on the crook of your neck, you squirmed as his hair tickled you.

“Have you done flirting with every man you meet? You want to be a slut so bad don’t you? You want Jung Jaehyun to fuck you right? And either whoever the man in your office was!”

Your body tensed under his, his breath hit your skin giving you some feelings. Both of your hands attempted to push Mark away by his shoulder but he didn’t move an inch. He left your neck to face you, his eyes gave you death stare.

“Mark take a fucking breath, okay?”, you muttered out. His eyes were still boring holes into you as you continued, “Haechan is my assistant and Jaehyun”, you stop, “I like him.”

“That jackass? That? Him?”

You frowned, “He’s not a jackass.”, you debated.

Mark grabbed you around the waist, “He doesn’t ever touch you again. Understand?” His tone was venomous. “You’re mine.”

You stood in silence as your brain functioning his words. His proximity to you was turning the heat in your veins from anger into something else.

“Oh yeah, Mark? I’m yours?”

“Mine.” His face was mere inches from yours.

You narrowed your eyes. “Fucking prove it, then, asshole.”

He tightened his grip around your waist and practically threw you onto the couch. You turned and tried to crawl away but he pulled you back down, forcefully, and slammed his hips into your ass. You could feel his erection straining against his trousers as he ground into you. You braced your hands on the couch as he kicked your legs apart and shoved your dress up around your waist.

“You want me to fucking prove it?”

He cupped your ass in his hands and squeezed hard before ripping off your lace panties and throwing them on the floor. One hand snaked around your waist to keep you from escaping while the other ran along your slit. Mark placed his finger in his mouth tasting you groaning lowly and then pulled it out with a pop. He kneeled down and ran his tongue along your slit before digging in. His tongue circling your clit before darting into your hole then going back. You moaned, your hands gripping the edge of the couch as you felt your orgasm fast approaching.

"M-Mark..." you whimpered as your legs started to shake. He groaned against you as he kept going, the vibrations making your mind go blank. "I-I-I'm... I'm go-gonna..."

He pulled away in a moment, leaving you undone. You whined, desperate to come. Instantly his hand came out and wrapped around the back of your neck pulling you close to him and smashing his lips into yours in a sloppy kiss, his tongue dominated yours as you can taste yourself on it. His other hand ran up your thigh until it reached your ass and he gripped a cheek roughly causing you to moan out.

“Do you think you deserve to cum? You acted like a slut so I treat you like one.”

He started to kiss and bite along your neck stopping every so often to leave some marks. You heard the metallic click as it was unfastened and then his zipper as he freed his cock. Then, in one motion, he slammed into your cunt.

“How about this, huh? Do you like my cock inside you?”

You gritted your teeth and nodded, Mark smacked your ass, hard. “Answer me, goddamnit. Do you like my cock inside you?”

“Yes,” you breathed.

“Say it.” He began a slow but punishing rhythm, pistoning into you as hard as he could. “Fucking say it, Y/N.”

“Yes–Mark....” He punctuated each of your words with a deep thrust. “I – like – your – cock – inside – me – ”

“You like it when I fuck you hard?” he growled as he began to speed up.

“Yes… yes… oh God, yes,” you moaned, giving yourself over to the pleasure.

“You filthy fucking slut… you like it when I fuck your pussy from behind like this?”

“Yes! Mark, yes!” you could feel your climax already approaching as Mark reached down to rub your swollen clit with his hips slamming into you nonstop.

“Are you mine, Y/N?” he roared.

“Yes, Mark, I’m yours!”

With that, your orgasm tore through you, your back arching as your body pulsed around him. You had barely come down from your high when leaned over, “You should be grateful that I let you cum. Turn around, dirty girl. I want your mouth.”

Mark pulled out of you and you turned around kneeling in front of him, still feeling boneless. He grasped your hair and you let your jaw drop open; he bucked his hips forward and you could taste yourself on his cock. You sucked him greedily as he thrust forward.

He groaned as he emptied himself into your mouth; you swallowed everything Mark gave you before slowly licking him clean. He fell flopped himself onto the couch, shaking from the force of his release, before wrapping his arm around your naked body.

For a few long minutes, the only sound was your labored breathing as you tried to recover.

“Do you actually like Jaehyun?”

Mark mumbled but loud enough for you to hear, his breath was still heavy.

You leaned in to rest your head on his shoulder, your legs curled up, pressing against your bare chest. “Yes, but I guess it doesn’t matter anymore.”

His hand brushed your hair comfortably, “Why?”

“Didn’t you just claim me like two minutes ago? You can’t change your mind.”, Mark couldn’t help but giggled, he pressed his chin on your head. “Since when you have feelings for me?”, you looked up only to see his sharp jawline, his signature scent filled up your nostrils.

“I don’t know dude, may be that time when you held a dull dagger on my throat or when you attempted to shoot me with no bullet loaded in the gun.”

You slapped his arm playfully, “That was an accident!”

The room went into silence again, your eyes stared into the city outside of the wall of windows.

“Do you know when I figured out my feelings?”

Mark traced your fingers with his thumb, waiting for your answer. “I kissed Jaehyun because it’s the last kiss, I thought you don’t care.”, you intertwined your hand with his, “But I know you’re my everything the moment you I saw you sitting here, that my long lost hot rival is alive.”

©️  DREAMYKRAM. ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

[smellslikemultifandomimagines]

I have a request for a smut for Mitch Rapp and a fem!reader: basically enemies to lovers. They (think they) hate each other but in reality they just REALLY wanna shag each other (Stan kinda suspects it). The seggssual tension between them grew to the point where neither can take it anymore and they shag! That's it for the plot. Feel free to make it the filthiest piece of filth that has ever seen the filth of day. They can punch the other, kick the other, pull the others hair! I am a okay with either of them getting staped. Biting and scratching are on the table. They can use fire... I hope you can turn this to a smut for me. I really enjoy reading your smuts!

also:

pairing: mitch rapp x fem!reader

warnings: smut → seggsual tension that can be cut with a knife, oral (male receiving), degrading kink, rough penetrative sex, unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it).

word count: 1.4k

a/n: ahh omg i love the b9-9 reference!!

+ i've added this other request here too bc they had the same vibe to it - hope that's okay anon!

++ also [y/l/n] means your last name (but i think we've all read fanfics long enough to know that lmao)

•:•.•:•.•:•:•:•:•:•:•:• ☾ ☼ ☽ •:•.•:•.•:•:•:•:•:•:•:•

requests for the sleepover are open🖤!

request guidelines here✨!

smut night masterlist

🌻masterlist🌻

taking in Mitch’s attire for the first time that night, it was apparent to you that Mitch was quite the attractive man.

But Mitch rapp was anything but attractive. He was repulsive. Rude. Had nearly gotten you killed so many times on a mission due to his inability to stick to plans, especially if they were made by you.

His tie hangs lose around the white collared button down shirt. His blazer thrown onto the couch that he planned to sleep on. Stan suggested that you share a room, never knowing nor predicting when the bad guys could attack. It was better, and safer, for the two of you to stay together.

Slipping the tie from around his neck, he throws it to wear his blazer lays, his eyes darting up to you. You, sitting cross-legged on the bed, quickly averted eye contact. You hear a slight huff of amusement coming from him, which only makes you roll your eyes. God, what you would do to share a room with literally anyone but him.

Your pj shirt hung low on your chest - almost a little bit too low. Mitch, for only a second, glances at your cleavage. His mind wanders into places he’s never really though that hard about before. He wanders what it would be like to suck those perfect tits of yours. If it wasn’t for the tv, he would’ve made an awkward coughing sound to release some of the built up tension in the room. You can feel the tension too. Building and building. The room getting hotter with each breath you took. You stand from the bed, going over to the small tea station to turn on the kettle.

“Want some tea?” You ask, not daring to look at him. For some unknown reason, you’re afraid to.

“sit.” He demands, his eyes glaring into you with such intensity. You return the glare, clenching your jaw as he nods to the bed.

“Why?”

“We need to talk about what happened today-"

“We have nothing to talk about. You did your usual shit and I did mine.”

“Don’t speak to me like that.”

“Like what? At least I’m not the one trying to get us all killed,” you spat, folding your arms over your chest. Mitch stalks over to you, his eyes dark with lust.

“Say that again. I dare you,” his voice is so low, you’re not sure if it scares you or turns you on.

“You always try to get us killed. That’s why your plans never work." you try so hard not to falter your voice, but he’s making it so difficult when he’s standing in front of you, with such a dominant demeanour, you thought you might as well submit to him now. He knocks your legs apart with his knee.

“Same could be said about you. Just remember that,” he growls in your ear. Without thinking, you grab him by the collar and thrash him down on the bed beside you. You stable him, pinning his wrists beside his head.

“Now, miss feisty. Might want to save your energy for tomorrow,” he chuckles, not even the least surprised that you’ve just done that.

“Don’t patronise me, rapp. You’re lucky I don’t just kill you now,” you purr in his ear, feeling his hips knock against yours. The feeling of his hardening cock poking at your thigh is something you’d never thought you’d ever get to experience with him.

Mitch flips you over, you know the grip on your wrist is going to bruise. "don't forget that i'm just as capable, darling."

roughly, he pushes off you, unzipping the pants of his suit. His jaw clenched, skin so hot and heated you can see the veins protruding through his hands.

"suck." he demands through gritted teeth. Your jaw drops as you just stare at him. he couldn't be serious? His eyebrows raise in anticipation - the same look he gives our targets when they try and plead their case to let them live.

You sigh, pushing yourself off the bed and onto the floor. Your hand pumps his cock up and down slowly, wanting to test the waters a little bit - or so you told yourself.

"[y/n], dont." he spits out, roughly gripping your hair in a makeshift ponytail. Without needing to be told twice, you take him in your mouth, gagging as he thrusts into your mouth. he couldn't even for a second let you be in control. typical man.

You bob your head faster, moaning around him at the tight grip he still has in your hair.

"you like when im rough with you, huh? you dirty little slut." His jaw clenches as you clasp your hand around his wrist. "get up."

you do as you're told, and stand on your feet. Roughly and hasty, he practically rips your pjs off before pushing you on the bed.

"don't make me get the tie, [y/l/n]," he smirks as he hovers over you. You gulp and wrap your arms around his neck, pulling him down into a rough kiss. He may be on top, but you can still be in charge.

HIs hand snakes down between your bodies, teasing and toying at your clit. He pinches it gently, clenching his jaw to restrain a dark laugh as you breathe heavily against him, not wanting to make a sound. you were not about to give him that satisfaction.

his calloused fingertips circle heavenly around your clit. He wants you to at least let out one moan, and he was going to make you do it - whatever it takes.

He leans back, eyes burning into your soul as he watches you. You bite your tongue from within your mouth, restraining every ounce of your body to not contort in pleasure.

"i could make this easy for you, you know. you're choice," he arches an eyebrow in amusement, his finger slipping into your entrance with such ease.

"oh please," you scoff, rolling your eyes in annoyance - although you're sure it was from the pleasure rather than his haughtiness.

"fine," he practically rips his hand away, you bottom lip immediately receding into your teeth to control the whines that wanted to come out. He wasted no time in lining himself up at your entrance. You look at him with pleading eyes, to which he catches before he slides in.

His thrusts are slow at first, wanting to tease you as much as possible.

"oh come on. even i can do better than that," you challenge, pushing him off before straddling his hips. You sink down on him, his hands on your ass. He kneads them before slapping hard as you bottom out. An unexpected yelp slips from you, followed a dark chuckle comes from him.

You bounce roughly on him, leaning back on your hands as they rest on his thighs. His hands trail all over your body, wanting to explore very inch possible. He'd never admit it, to himself or especially you, but he's always wanted to do this. So of course, he's not wasting any opportunity. as far as you've both silently agreed, this is a one time thing.

Mitch slaps your breast, causing another yelp to escape from your swollen and desperate lips. You sink all the way down on his cock until he's completely inside you, before gyrating your hips. Both of you moan loudly, the pleasure feeling all too right to not let out a sound.

Roughly, mitch picks you up and places you on the bed next to him before he holds your legs up to his chest. He thrusts into you and fucks you hard - slow, but hard.

"fuck, oh my god," you give in to the pleasure, his cock feeling all too good not to.

"see, that wasn't so hard was it?" Mitch's malicious teasing causes you to roll your eyes but once again let out a moan. the wall takes it from the bedframe, thumping intensively with each hard thrust of his hips. Both of you couldn't control your moans, and it was only a matter of time before the next door guests came knocking on the door to complain.

The two of you are close - much closer than either of you liked to be. Mitch knew it too, from the way you clenched around his cock, you moans becoming louder and more high-pitched. He spreads your legs apart, which you gracelessly wrapped around his waist to draw him in closer. His hand, once again slips between you both and rubs your clit in circles.

"mitch..." you breathe, scratching your nails mercilessly down his back.

"let it go, babygirl," he grunts before leaning down towards you ear. "at least i'll have the satisfaction of making you cum."

"don't get too cocky now. I'm still not finished with you yet."

[jamie-leah]

Traitor

Bucky x Reader

Oneshot

Summary: Everyone thinks you're a traitor but Bucky isn't convinced.

Word: 2592

Warnings: Swearing, action stuff, hints at abuse and violence at the end.

A/N: I had a half formed daydream that turned into this. Starts strong, ends weak, enjoy!

Oneshot Masterlist Series Masterlist

Steve throws your file on the desk in front of Bucky. Bucky just stares at your face on the front of the folder, pinned by a silver paper clip.

Silver was your favourite type of jewellery. Bucky remembered storing the information away for when he bought you a silver necklace for your birthday not long ago.

“I’m sorry, Buck, but we had an operative confirm everything I just told you. Y/N is a contract killer, an assassin and she was sent here to infiltrate and kill. Namely, all of us.”

Bucky hears the words coming from Steve’s mouth, but he can’t understand them. Images of you flash in his mind. You laughing at one of his lame jokes, you crying in his arms from a nightmare, you underneath him moaning his name as he kisses a trail down your neck.

Bucky shakes his head, “I don’t believe that Steve, I can’t. Who’s the source? How do you know they’re legit?”

Steve picks up a remote and points it at a screen in the room. It blinks to life on a still image of you in a restaurant, kissing the cheek of one of the most prominent mob bosses in the city and known Hydra agent.

Bucky stands so fast his chair cracks on the floor as he tears out of the office at full speed. He skips passed the elevator and takes the stairs, missing steps in his rush.

He keeps going and going until he hits the lowest level underneath the tower and storms passed all the guards. None of them challenge him, too afraid of the former Winter Soldier to get in his way.

As Bucky gets to the cells, he grabs an agent by the scruff and grinds out, “which cell?”

They all knew who he was talking about. Everyone would be talking about this for a while to come. The agent points into the open space of cells and stutters, “its, c-cell 203”.

Bucky drops the agent and stalks through the cells until he finally comes to 203. He steps into view with clenched fists and doesn’t pause before he asks, “why?”

You sit on the edge of the cot, elbows on knees, staring at the grey wall opposite. It takes you a moment to build up the courage to look at him. You never intended for this to happen. You never wanted to get feelings involved, but as you look at Bucky, you know it’s far too late for that now. Now you have a mess on your hands.

You debate how to play this. Do you keep up the contract killer façade or do you confess, tell him everything you’ve ever wanted to tell another human being before?

“Barnes, I should have known you would pay me a visit sooner rather than later.”

Bucky felt like you had struck him in the face with the way you addressed him, but he holds firm, “why?”

“Why what? I’m afraid you’ll have to be more specific”, you reply coolly as you stand to face him.

Bucky changes his question, “is it true? Are you a contract killer?”

It takes you a few moments to keep the mask in place, “yes”.

You watch the pain flash across his features for the briefest of moments before he locks it away to be felt in private. It breaks your heart, but you’re so used to the feeling it never shows on your face.

Bucky goes to turn from you, wanting to get away, the sight of you too much to bear. You throw a question out into the void between you before he can retreat, “are you really going to leave without asking me the question you’ve been dying to ask me?”

Bucky never turns back to look at you, but he whispers, “was any of it ever real?”

Despite knowing this was the question, despite hearing it from a few people across your lifetime, it was the first time it ever hit you in the gut with such force you had to take a silent gulp of air before choking out, “no”.

He leaves without another word.

You wait a few days. Working out the routine of the place before you wait for your next move.

You wait with your back to a small portion of the concrete wall next to the cell door. A blind spot. And when the guard brings your food and slides it under the metal bars, he looks up to find you missing.

Just as he steps closer to look, you strike. You shoot your arms between the bars and pull so hard his head bangs into the metal and he crumples, out cold.

You drag is body parallel to the door and you sweep his body for keys. You start to lose hope when your hand flits over cool metal and a little jingle rings out.

You wait fifteen minutes until lights out and the use the keys. You drag the guard into the cell, swapping your uniforms before closing the door and locking him in. You check all your hair is tucked until the cap before heading for the locked door between freedom and your prison.

You rap on the metal with your heart beating furiously against your ribcage. But the door opens without a problem and you have to stop yourself from sprinting down the hall and up the stairwell.

Once you make it up one flight of stairs with no alarms raised you start to sprint. Before you leave, you have to make it back to your room for your go bag. You can’t leave it when it has all the information you need for what started this all off.

You run and run and run. You run until your lungs burn with a fire that’s been flowing in your veins since you were born. You run until your legs scream at you to stop and just when you don’t think you can take any more flights of stairs, you make it to the top.

You stop. Your hand on the handle, taking a moment to get your breathing under control. You push the handle down slowly and open the door a crack to find the hallway in darkness.

You slip through and creep on the tiles without a sound as you make it to the first spare room in the hall.

You get into the room no problem and let out a breath when you realise no one knows you used this room to stash your information.

You waste no time in grabbing your go back from the closet, checking everything you need is in there before heading for the door again. Three steps from the exit and alarms scream out, waking everyone from their slumber. The alarm is followed by a female robotic voice, “alert, alert, prisoner escape. Alert, alert, prisoner escape.”

You swear under your breath as you rush out the door to see Bucky, Natasha and Sam at the end of the hall, near the stairway. Your only exit.

They spot you seconds after you spot them, and you take off running in the opposite direction. You can’t afford a hand to hand with all three of them. As confident as you are in your abilities they have just as much, and you don’t want to hurt them.

They shout in your direction, but you ignore them as you unzip your bag and rummage around for a miracle. You get to the living space when you finally feel it and a flimsy plan comes to mind.

You turn, gun in both hands as you drop the go bag. Bucky, Natasha and Sam all creep into the room, guns pointed in your direction as yours is in theirs.

“There’s nowhere else to go now, Y/N,” Sam says in his calm way.

You hold firm, the sofas keeping the four of you apart. You look in Bucky’s direction as you talk, “things are more complicated than they seem. And I’m sorry you were caught up in it. I’m not a good person and I’ll get what I deserve, but I have something I need to do first.”

“And what’s that? Kills us?”, Nat asks.

You shake your head, still looking at Bucky, “If I wanted to kill you, I could have done it three times over. You’re not my mission.”

“Then give yourself up and explain.” Sam tries to reason.

You lower your gun slowly, “it would take too long, and you may never believe me. I can’t afford that, and I’ll never get a chance like this again.”

Bucky remains silent throughout the whole exchange, but you study each other the entire time. You try to convey that you lied earlier before reaching up your arm with lightning speed.

Two shots and the chandelier that Stark insisted on installing for the living room crashes in front of the three as you turn and shoot the glass window. As the glass spiderwebs, you drop the gun and run at full speed. You have a moment to acknowledge that throwing yourself from the top of the tower is the dumbest move you’ve ever made as the air rushes to greet you.

You twist with a hand in your pocket and throw upwards, watching and praying for your miracle to work as the rope and hook catches and you plummet.

You fall down the building on the rope watching the ground and unclip at the last second, rolling with the momentum as the impact jars through your bones.

Bucky couldn’t believe you threw yourself out the window. He was the first to recover, leaping over the lights and the sofa to dive head first after you. He digs his metal hand into the concrete and slides down after you.

He sees you roll and run immediately like the pro that you are and wastes no time pursuing you.

You dart between traffic and glance behind to see him behind you. You growl in frustration at the stubborn solider, having to change your plans once again as you head for the roads.

You instinctively feel Bucky gaining on you with the serum pumping through his veins so when you spot a cargo truck coming on the road below. You don’t hesitate to jump off the road you’re on and slam into the truck underneath.

Your lungs scream for the third time that night as all the air leaves them, but you pay no attention as you look up to find Bucky staring after you.

You walk in the quiet of the night, looking down at the folded piece of paper. You check you have the right address when the empty warehouse finally comes into view. You slip in without any problems and head over to the machine where you stashed more stuff.

Just as you go to reach for the bag you hear the click of a gun. You freeze. You turn slowly, with your hands visible and find yourself staring into the face of Bucky and the barrel of his gun.

You resist the urge to roll your eyes and sigh, “how did you find me?”

“Please, do you really think I don’t know you after all this time? After our talk in the cells, I checked all the spare rooms. Found your go bag and the addresses. This was the closest one to the tower”, Bucky replies with an easy shrug.

You nod your head, “but if you found them, why did you leave them there? Why didn’t you tell anyone else?”.

“Tell me what’s going on, Y/N”, Bucky dodges the question.

You knew there was no other way out of this now. You had to tell him if you ever had a hope of getting this done tonight.

“Look, can you put the gun down-“

“Not until you tell me what’s going on. I can’t trust you.”

You pretend like his words don’t hurt, though they’re warranted, “okay, okay. Look, most of it is true. I am a contract killer. Long story short, I was born into a mob family. Mum died giving birth to me and left me and my older sister with my piece of shit father, the “use you as an ashtray type father”. At least he did with my sister. She took the brunt of his shit…anyway, when I turned 13 and had my first period, he sold me to a man. That man? Was the mob boss I know you saw me with, Joe Selene. I’ll skip passed all the torture and right to the part where he trained me as a contract killer for him and bided my time. My father had gone underground and with my limited access to resources I couldn’t find him.”

Bucky lowers the gun as you go through your story, his features softening at your tale of tragedy.

“I swore to my sister that I would come for her but I needed to gain the trust of Selene so I could get the resources to find my father. That was when he got involved with Hydra and they asked him to take you out. I agreed, knowing that you would have all the resources I needed to find my father and my sister.”

Bucky shakes his head, “why didn’t you tell me, us, any of this? We could have helped you.”

You look away from him, “because about a week after I got to the tower, I read my sisters name in the obituary. All the people I had killed to get to my sister was for nothing. She died alone, waiting for a rescue that never came and I knew…I knew that I was going to kill that bastard for everything that happened. I also knew that none of you would let me. You would reason about justice and doing things the right way. But I know what’s right and that’s that bastard six feet under and in hell.”

You look back up at Bucky to find him already watching you. You square your shoulders and jut your chin as you say, “so, you’re either with me or against me and so help me God, if you try to stop me from leaving this building and killing that piece of shit, I will not hesitate to put you down. I told you that you’re not my mission, but I will damn make sure nothing gets in the way.”

Bucky nods, “I’m in.”

You turn back to your bag and pull out the knives to strap around your body. You hand a few to Bucky and he takes them without a word.

As he turns to head back out of the warehouse you throw the question out again, “are you really going to leave without asking me the question you’ve been dying to ask me?”

Bucky turns to look at you this time. He captures your eyes with his as he stares into your soul and whispers, “was any of it real?”

You reply without hesitation, “yes. Every single word.”

Bucky takes a few long strides before grabbing your face with his hands and crashing his lips to yours in a bruising kiss. You return with the same ferocity, gripping his shirt in your fists to try and bring his body closer to yours.

When you can no longer breathe, you break the kiss. You both pant as Bucky brings his forehead down to meet yours. He whispers, “after we go drop a few bodies, what do you say we go take a trip. Just you and me?”

[thegirlintheswivelchair]

Deep, Disastrous Love || H.H

Pairings: fwb!harry holland x crewmate!reader

Summary: You decided to amp up the meaning of a booty call and surprise Harry at the club. Little do you know, Harry’s struggling with how to deal with your fwb set up.

Wordcount: +3.2k

Warnings: SMUT (like so much of it y’all…it’s pwp), thigh riding, oral fem receiving, unprotected sex (wrap it up folks!!!), super brief mention of alcohol, Angst (it gets angsty folks...sry), readers a tease and in complete denial, some swearing, and overuse of ellipses, aand I wanna say that’s it. (let me know if I missed anything)

A/N: Ok, so this turned into its own thing real quick. I meant for this to be a small little smut fic I could throw out there while I’m slowly making progress on everything else I’m writing! Jokes on me, this turned into its own monster and essentially I made pwp...lol I tried to do something here that I’m not entirely sure if it worked characterwise. So any feedback would be greatly appreciated! Ok, much love, and thanks for reading, liking, and reblogging!

MINORS DO NOT READ. +18 ONLY! THANK YOU!

----

The moment the elevator doors shut, your chest began to tighten as a certain anticipation and fear worked its way around your lungs. Butterflies raged in your stomach, and you felt your heartbeat pick up. 

You had never done this before. You had never surprised Harry. Not at a club, a party, heck you’d never even surprised him at his own door. It had always been a texted booty call or a drunken shag after a night out. That was the way your relationship worked when you weren’t just hanging out as friends. 

This, however...This was new territory. This was you showing up uninvited, purposefully teasing him, and hoping he’d take the bait.

You turned towards the mirrors that surrounded you and looked yourself over. The makeup you’d chosen wasn’t exactly dramatic, but it was smokier and sexier than you usually wore it, and like any fantasy you’ve had about a night like tonight, you rocked a deep, delicious red on your lips. 

Your hands found their way to your dress as you smoothed it out over your figure, making sure everything was perfect. It’s black fabric clung to your body, accentuating the right curves while forgiving others. It was the type of dress that made you feel invincible, and tonight you needed that.

Seeing the numbers steadily tick up to the rooftop where the club was, you turned back towards the doors and took a deep steadying breath in just as the last chime rang. 

Showtime.

The vibrations from the music thrummed through your body as you made your way towards the bar. Your eyes were already scanning the place, looking for the mop of curly red hair you were so familiar with. You didn’t see him until you had gotten your drink--courtesy of a gentleman down the way--and were sipping on it.

Harry was surrounded by a few of his friends, drinking what looked like his usual beer, and sporting a white t-shirt and jeans. You noticed he’d cut his hair. It was shorter, much shorter, than the last time you saw him. His curls were still there, but away from his forehead, no longer loose and running into his eyes. It was a clean cut, and there was something about the new look that had you biting your lip just thinking about what you might do to him tonight, given the chance.

Having found him, you knocked back the rest of your drink and started making your way towards the part of the dance floor closest to Harry and his friends. 

Alcohol and your focus on giving a show kept the self conscious feelings of dancing alone away, and the more you got into the music, the better you felt and the freer you moved. 

It wasn’t long before you started attracting attention. You felt eyes on you, saw the looks some people were giving you, watched the calculations being made for how they would approach you. 

But there was only one pair of eyes that mattered to you. When they finally found your figure, it was like fire licked over your skin. Starting at your feet, gliding up your legs, and wrapping around your torso the flames followed where his eyes traveled. 

You saw out of the corner of your eye, his whole body turning towards you, his tongue darting out and licking his lips. A smirk played on the corner of his mouth as his expression darkened. You could tell he knew what you were up to, and the thought alone added fuel to the fire burning across your body.

Not wanting your game to end just yet, you made it seem like you hadn’t noticed. You turned away from him, still dancing, pretending to be lost in the music. Your hips swayed, and you moved to the rhythm until you felt a pair of warm hands slide across your waist and pull you against a firm chest.

The hands guided you to keep moving as a low murmur made its way to your ears, “Didn’t know you were coming tonight.”

You smirked and murmured back, “Thought I’d spice up the meaning of a booty call.”

You felt his chest rumble as he chuckled, “Spice is right. Showing up here looking like this...” His voice trailed off as his hands slowly slid up and down your sides, and you felt the ghost of a kiss on your neck. The fire that followed his touch was beginning to pool at your core, and you wondered how long you could keep the act up.

“You like it?” you asked as you grind into him, your smirk growing when you heard him hiss. 

Like it? Was that even a question? Harry had seen you look sexy before, but it was never for him. Tonight though, you’d come here looking drop dead gorgeous, playing for his attention, and you ask if he likes it? If he said that didn’t make his heart do a somersault, he was lying through his teeth. Not that he would admit this to you. You were just playing a game...Thankfully, games he could do.

“Yeah, I do.” He said, his voice getting somehow lower than before.

He spun you around so your chests were together, and you looked into his eyes. Their usual warm brown was already darkening, and the glint you saw in them made your panties wet. “Why don’t we go somewhere I can show you how much I like it?”

A smile grew on your lips despite yourself, and you nodded, biting your lip to suppress the grin just a little bit.

----

Harry barely had you through his hotel room door before he was pushing you against the wall. One hand was on the back of your neck, the other dead bolted the door as he crashed his lips into yours. His body pressed against you, your chests moving together as you breathed each other in. He smelled of beer and something musky that you’d always attributed to being him. The familiarity comforted you and sent your heart racing, but that might have been from Harry’s wandering hands.

“This is a new dress isn’t it?” he mumbled in between kisses.

You nodded, “I bought it just for tonight. Just for you to take off.”

Harry moaned at your answer. He wanted nothing more than to rip the dress off you, but he didn’t want the night to end that quickly, not when you were in his arms again, and certainly not when you looked like this.

“Such a naughty girl…” He murmured before his tongue licked along your bottom lip, asking you to open. You gladly let him in as he slotted his knee between your legs, pressing against your core. Sparks erupted in your belly as you melted into the feeling of him all over your body, your arms encircling his neck, one of your hands finding his hair, the other pulling him closer.

Lost in the moment, tongues exploring each other, you almost missed the way his thumb caressed your jaw in the heat of it all. The gentle touch shot to your core, and your hips involuntarily thrust against Harry’s thigh, a little whine coming from the back of your throat.

You felt Harry smirk into the next few kisses as he slid his thigh back and forth underneath you, making you whimper as he gave you the friction you wanted.

Both his hands dropped to your legs, traveling up and under your dress until they stopped at your ass, massaging and squeezing as his leg kept moving against you.

He broke away from the kiss to look at you grinding on his leg, his own cock hardening at the sight. Your head was thrown back against the wall, lipstick starting to smear over your swollen lips, and eyes closed as you felt the pleasure building in your stomach, “Fuck. Look at you in this dress, riding my leg, making a mess of it.” He said softly, licking his lips as he thought about tasting you. Oh god did he want to taste you. He wanted to fucking eat you, make you squirm and come all over his mouth.

He felt your legs starting to quiver, and he leaned forward, kissing and nipping his teeth up your neck until he reached your ear where his voice whispered, “You’re already close aren’t you?” 

“Yes,” You gasped, unable to say much else as the knot in your stomach tightened.

“Go on then, lemme see you fall apart on my thigh.” Harry said as he kissed along your jaw, his mouth swallowing your moans as he reconnected your lips  just as you came. 

Even as the pleasure flooded your system, you knew it wasn’t enough. You wanted more, you needed more. 

“Harry,” you breathed into his lips, his hands beginning to roam your body again, finding the zipper on your dress and tugging.

“Mmm?” He hummed as his lips moved to your shoulder, sucking at the soft skin while his hands slid the dress straps off your shoulders. The dress pooled at your feet, and all that covered you now were Harry’s arms and the flimsy lace thong already ruined by the night's activities. 

“I want you,” You said. The ache was building in your cunt again as you tugged on the hem of his shirt, wanting to get rid of all his clothes so you could actually fuck.

“Needy tonight, huh?” He teased as he pulled away, letting you remove his shirt. He stopped you as you made to undo his pants, his hand covering yours. You looked up at him, your mouth forming a pout, but he only smirked in response saying, “Not yet.”

He led you backwards towards the bed until your legs hit the edge.

“Gonna give you the attention you asked for.” 

He said this casually, but the look in his dark eyes made your breath hitch. You had really only aimed for a good energetic fuck, but it seemed you might have sparked something deeper tonight. 

Harry told you to get on the bed, so you crawled up to its head and watched as Harry climbed after you, situating himself between your legs. His hands smoothed their way up your thighs, and found the band of your panties and pulled.

Once they were gone, Harry groaned at the sight of you. You were fucking divine, every part of you. He kissed the inside of your knee and slowly, methodically began kissing his way towards your center until he reached your throbbing core.

He kissed gently around your clit, frustrating you until you whined, “Harry, come on.”

“So impatient,” Harry chuckled, and you could feel his warm breath on your folds, hovering right where you needed him. 

You were about to whine again when you felt his tongue dash out, lapping at your clit. You jolted at the feeling, your hand immediately flying to his hair, wanting to secure him to the spot, make sure he wouldn’t stop. 

As if he could have stopped...Once Harry tasted you, there was no going back. He hummed with pleasure, and licked at your folds again. He licked from your entrance to your clit, tasting your sweetness on his tongue, and began to swirl his thick muscle around your clit, sucking it into his mouth, savoring every whimper and cry of his name he heard you utter as he ate you. 

It was embarrassing how quickly you were reaching your climax again having had barely any control with the first one. Something about the way he was moaning almost reverently, murmuring praises about how good you tasted, and how beautiful you were was sending you flying to your next orgasm.

“So close, Har,” You mumbled.

“I know.” Harry hummed into your core. He could feel you getting closer as you tightened your grip on his hair. It was almost painful how tightly you held him, but the pride of how fast you were rising and the sheer hotness of you chanting his name had him licking and sucking like he’d starve without you. It wasn’t long before you came all over his tongue and chin.

A proud smirk curled over Harry’s glistening lips when he finally let go of your clit. You watched him move up your body, never losing eye contact until he was hovering over you, licking his lips absently. You barely gave him time to wipe the come from his chin when you pulled him down into a searing kiss. He met your lips and matched the passion with which you were kissing him.

You tasted yourself on his tongue, and you felt yourself clench around nothing. You couldn’t take it anymore, you needed him in you. You wanted to feel every part of him inside you. You wanted his chest pressed against yours and your legs to be wrapped around his body as he ruined you for tomorrow. It was why you had come out tonight, and you were going to feel him, every inch, every vein.

Your hands made their way to his pants, and this time he let you pull them down. His cock sprang free, erect and already leaking, making you even more aware of how empty your pussy was. You immediately went to pump it, but Harry caught your hand before you could.

“‘M not gonna last at all if you do that.” He said breathlessly, removing his pants all the way.

“Then fuck me already,” You answered back with a quick but pointed kiss.

“Gladly,” He said, an amused smirk playing on his lips as he lined himself up with your entrance.

A deep moan came from both of you as Harry pushed in, barely slowing as he bottomed out. You breathed an ok, letting him know you were ready, and he started thrusting lightly into you, but you both needed more and the pace quickened.

The sounds of skin on skin filled the room as Harry slammed into you, his own panting and moans mixing with yours in an off-kilter duet.

“Fuck, Y/n/n, you feel so good.” Harry muttered into your neck.

You barely managed more than his name in answer before your words turned into a cry of pleasure when he shifted your leg just enough to find your g-spot, hitting it over and over and over again. 

All you could feel was Harry, all you could think about was Harry and the way he made you feel. It was all too much to process, and something you didn’t want to process as your high raced to its peak, so you let your pleasure drown it out, getting lost in each thrust of his cock.

Your hands pressed him closer as your nails dragged down his back, no doubt leaving a mark in their wake. That did nothing but drive Harry closer to his own edge, but he wasn’t sure what was sending him faster, the sex or the stupid complicated feelings that were beginning to course through his veins right now.

Having you this close, thinking about you coming here to see him, and the way you were saying his name...It all felt like a jumbled mess of thoughts, and he didn’t know why...No, he knew why, but he wasn’t gonna think about it…

He changed positions one more time, finding an even deeper route through your slick walls as he hammered into you. Both of you moaned in unison, and your walls fluttered around him--a telling sign you were reaching your climax. He was so close himself, the knot just waiting to snap. 

Harry leaned down and kissed your neck, before panting softly, “Come with me, Y/n.”

You hummed and nodded, too far gone to answer with words, and together white hot pleasure explode and rushed through your bodies. Your lips once again found each other as you rode out your orgasms.

When you were finally too sensitive to take anymore, you gently pushed Harry away. He stilled his movements, but didn’t immediately move away, hesitating. It was so tempting to just roll onto his side, taking you with him so you could continue cuddling, but he knew that’s not how this worked between the two of you. You teased each other, kissed, fucked, and left. Falling asleep was certainly a possibility, but you were always gone before he woke. Always making sure what happened in the night, stayed in the night.

Harry looked at your face, absolutely fucked out, with a soft smile playing on your lips as you lazily blink back up at him. He returned the smile, before sweetly kissing your cheek and carefully getting up to grab a warm washcloth.

The cool of the room engulfed you when his body left yours, making you cringe at both the loss of him and his warmth, but you were entirely too tired to care. Even when Harry was back, and you felt him gently cleaning you up, you were already half way asleep, thoughts of him moving in and out of your consciousness.

He was so good at making you feel good. He knew you like the back of his hand. How had you gotten so lucky? You weren’t sure, and frankly you didn’t want to question it. You weren’t going to complicate what you had when it was going so well. Clearly, your gamble had paid off tonight, but it meant nothing--Well not nothing. This was one of the hottest hookups you’d ever had with Harry. You smiled to yourself at the thought. You might just have to do something like this again if it got Harry this riled up.

When the bed to your right dipped down, and you heard the covers shuffle and slid over you, you instinctively turned towards his warm body, nuzzling into his chest and sighing with complete contentment ready to sleep a few hours before finding your way back to your own bed.

Surprised, Harry didn’t immediately wrap his arms around you. He wasn’t sure if he should, knowing full well they’d be empty again in the morning. 

But you won. You always did. If he was going to keep doing this with you, not knowing when he’d have you in his arms next, then he was going to take every chance he had to hold you close. Besides, you were still one of his best friends and a fellow crewman on set. He’d see you tomorrow, and the day after that and the day after that. An empty bed in the morning didn’t need to mean anything...

At least that’s what he kept telling himself when he felt you stir later that night and get up, giving him your habitual goodbye kiss on the cheek. And it’s what he told himself when he heard the sharp click of the hotel door closing, his hands automatically grabbing the other pillow to hug. And it’s what he told himself the next day when he saw you flirting with another guy on set while your eyes flicked to him and winked.

Yeah. He’d told himself it didn’t matter. So why couldn’t he stop himself from falling for you. Because he was, and it was turning into a deep, disastrous love.

----

tagging some moots that might enjoy... (you can always let me know if you don’t wanna be tagged ☺️)

@harryhollandsgirlfriend @cocoamoonmalfoy @greenorangevioletgrass @violetlilysunshine @thsquad @hazofmyheart @hollandsmushroom

[stolen-pen-name23]

“it’s nothing. it’s just a bruise.” with Obi-wan?

Hello again, my friend!! Thanks you for the prompt!! This onee kinda got away from me so I posted it on Ao3, but you can read the whole thing under the cut too!

Read on Ao3

Anakin didn’t really know this Obi-Wan person all that well yet, but he could tell there was something wrong with him. Well, something wrong besides the quiet mourning he was clearly trying to keep hidden. He wasn’t all that successful, but Anakin wasn’t going to call him out on it.

Of course, Anakin was sad too. As if it wasn’t enough that his mother could not come with him, the man who had finally managed to free him was dead.

But Anakin knew that Obi-Wan was feeling the loss more acutely. Anakin could sense that Obi-Wan had held great respect, admiration and love for his late Master. He could also sense his grief, even if he was skilled at hiding it behind walls.

That didn’t matter right now. What mattered was the way Obi-Wan was pale and shaking slightly underneath all of his robes. He was sitting hunched forward on the little couch in their quarters, his elbows on his knees. His gaze was unfocused, and as far as Anakin could tell, he hadn’t eaten anything recently either.

“Mr. Kenobi sir?” Anakin said shyly.

Slowly, Obi-Wan’s gaze turned to Anakin. He looked like he was trying to focus his eyes. “I told you that you can just call me Master or Obi-Wan if you prefer,” he said softly.

“Obi-Wan,” Anakin corrected. “Are you alright?”

Obi-Wan nodded the affirmative, but Anakin wasn’t convinced.

“You’re not looking so good.”

“I’m fine, Anakin.”

“Do you want me to get you something to eat?” Anakin actually had no idea how he would acquire food for Obi-Wan. He didn’t know where anything was, and even if he did, he didn’t know how to cook anything. But if Obi-Wan wanted something, Anakin would do his best to get it for him.

“No, I’m fine. Not really hungry.”

Anakin frowned. “Are you sure you’re alright?”

Obi-Wan nodded sullenly. “I’m sure. I’m going to go to bed though. I know it’s early for you. You can stay out here and watch the holo if you want, I guess. Just… Don’t wander alone in the halls yet. I don’t want you to get lost.”

Anakin didn’t want to get lost either. The temple was huge and this morning when Obi-Wan had given him the tour, the other padawans stared at him. Even some of the knights and masters stared at him. No, he had no desire to leave the safety of their quarters just yet.

Anakin couldn’t help but feel a little disappointed. This was officially his first night in the temple. They had arrived from Naboo this morning and they had gotten situated in the small apartment. He’d hoped Obi-Wan would have wanted to spend a little more time with him, getting to know him and all that.

“Okay, Obi-Wan,” Anakin said quietly. “Goodnight.”

“Goodnight, Padawan,” Obi-Wan said, but the look on his face indicated the word felt weird on his lips. He shook his head. “Good night, Anakin.”

Anakin nodded at him as he took his leave.

Anakin sighed and flipped on the holo. He’d never had a holo before, but he quickly figured out how to work it. He stared at the moving images in wonderment, flipping through channel after channel, never settling on one thing – just content to watch the moving images.

He didn’t know how much time had passed before he heard shuffling from the hallway behind him. He turned around and saw Obi-Wan stumbling towards the fresher. Anakin flicked off the holo and raced after Obi-Wan.

When he got to the fresher, Obi-Wan was already there, leaning heavily over the toilet and heaving into it.

“Obi-Wan?” Anakin asked nervously. “Are you okay?”

Anakin cringed. Of course he wasn’t okay. It was a dumb question, though it didn’t seem to matter. Obi-Wan couldn’t answer him at the moment anyway.

Anakin tried to remember everything that his mother had ever done for him when he was sick. He remembered his mom rubbing his back. Slowly, Anakin approached Obi-Wan and laid a gentle hand on his back.

Obi-Wan yelped and jumped sideways as far as he could in his weakened state. Anakin yanked his hand back in alarm.

“What—”

Obi-Wan was breathing heavily and his eyes were squeezed shut.

“What’s wrong?” Anakin asked, his voice coming out smaller and squeakier than he would like.

“It’s nothing, it’s just a bruise,” Obi-Wan said. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you.”

“A bruise?”

“On my back,” Obi-Wan panted.

Anakin took a step closer to him. “Can I look?”

Obi-Wan looked a little unsure. “Yes,” he finally said.

With careful fingers, Anakin slowly lifted up Obi-Wan’s shirt. He gasped at the dark purple bruising all over his back. His stomach sank. He immediately turned and looked at the contents of the toilet and then back at Obi-Wan. It was only then that he realized there was blood on his lips and his chin.

“Obi-Wan, you need a healer,” Anakin said, panic rising in his voice. “You… you’re throwing up blood that’s not… when the slaves would get beaten too hard they…”

“Shhh, Anakin, it’s alright.”

“No!” Anakin shouted. “No, you’re… you’re dying and I—”

“I’m not dying,” Obi-Wan said. He put his hands on the ground and moved to stand up. It was an ill-conceived attempt. He fell back down to the ground with a soft thud. He looked up at Anakin but his eyes were unfocused. “Okay, maybe that’s not a good sign.”

Obi-Wan coughed and blood spluttered out of his mouth. “Yeah, not a good sign,” he murmured.

Anakin’s panic rose. “What do we do?”

Obi-Wan lay down fully on the tile floor. He glanced up at Anakin. “Go find a healer.”

“What?”

“In the halls of healing. Remember, I showed it to you this morning when I took you around the temple? Go there and find someone. They can help.”

Anakin nodded. “Okay,” he said, trying to make his voice sound even and sure. “Just stay here, don’t try to get up.”

“Don’t think I could even if I wanted to.”

From the look on Obi-Wan’s face, Anakin could tell that he meant it to sound light-hearted, but it only added to Anakin’s worry. He gave Obi-Wan a parting glance before darting off into their quarters and out the front door. He ran in the direction of the halls of healing, or at least he ran in the direction he thought the halls of healing were in. The more he ran, the less familiar everything appeared. Anakin paused when he entered a great room with large pillars and beautiful art on all the walls. He had no idea where he was and his eyes welled up with tears.

“Hey little one,” a female voice said from behind him. “Are you okay?”

Anakin whirled around and came face to face with a tall, pink-skinned mon calamari woman. “Um.”

“You must be Anakin,” the woman said. “I’ve been very excited to meet you. Where’s your Master?”

The tears welling up in Anakin’s eyes spilled over.

“Hey, hey, what’s wrong, little one?”

“Obi-Wan is hurt and he... he sent me to get a healer but I— I don’t know where to go,” Anakin said around choked sobs.

The woman’s face turned serious. “He sent you to get a healer?”

“Uh-huh.”

“Well, it’s your lucky day. I’m a healer. Come with me,” she said. She reached out a webbed hand and Anakin took it, grateful for the direction and the physical comfort of it.

They made their way back to Obi-Wan.

***

An unshakeable feeling of heaviness was what greeted Obi-Wan when he woke up. He groaned and fluttered his eyes open. A figure stood before him, and his eyes focused to reveal Master Che. He groaned again.

“Glad to see you’re still with us,” she said. “Thank the Force Anakin was able to find Bant and they got to you when they did.”

“Huh?”

“You had your new Padawan worried sick. Poor kid,” Vokara said, shaking her head.

“‘kin?” Obi-Wan asked. “Where?”

“He’s fine. He’s with Bant right now. She’s showing him her medical instruments.”

“Oh. That’s good. What happened?”

“I was kind of hoping you would tell me that,” Vokara Che said, fixing him with a glare. “You had internal bleeding, Obi-Wan. Your kidneys were failing. There were massive bruises on your back. How did you even get those?

Oh. Oh yeah.

“During the fight with the… with the Sith. I fell off a catwalk and landed on another one below it. Landed on my back,” Obi-Wan said weakly.

“Obi-Wan that was three days ago,” Vokara said. “You’re lucky it wasn’t initially too severe.”

“Initially?”

“You would have been fine if you immediately got medical treatment.”

“I was busy,” Obi-Wan said simply. It was true. He had to tend to the hasty funeral arrangments and then the parade and then he had to take Anakin back to Coruscant and then he had to convince the Council to let him keep him and then… well then his body had started to give out on him. Vokara gave him a sympathetic look. He felt small underneath it.

“I know. But you need to take care of yourself. You have a Padawan now.”

Obi-Wan’s breath hitched.

“Oh, Obi-Wan,” Vokara Che said. She squeezed his shoulder. “It’ll be alright.”

He put his face in his hands and stifled a sob.

“It’ll be alright,” Vokara Che repeated. “Trust in the Force.”

Obi-Wan nodded, sniffed and steeled himself. “Right. Right. I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be. You’ve been through a lot, young Kenobi.”

He didn’t know what to say to that, so he offered a simple nod.

“Is it alright if I go get Anakin?” Vokara asked. “He’s been dying to see you.”

“That’s fine,” Obi-Wan said. Vokara turned and left, presumably to retrieve Anakin.

In truth, Obi-Wan wasn’t sure he wanted his brand new Padawan to see him like this, but he knew it was important for the boy to see that he was okay — that he still had someone in this strange new place to stand by his side.

“Obi-Wan!” Anakin shouted as he burst through the door. Obi-Wan winced.

“Oh, sorry,” Anakin said in a whisper this time.

“It’s alright.”

“Are you okay?” Anakin asked.

“Yes, I’m fine, Anakin.”

“That’s good. I don’t really know anyone else here. Well, actually, I know Miss Bant now and she’s really nice, but I don’t really know anyone else and I like you and I—”

“Anakin,” Obi-Wan said softly. “Volume.”

“Sorry,” he said sheepishly.

Obi-Wan played with a loose string on the edge of his blanket. He ripped a few of the stitches but stopped before he could do any more damage to the innocent garment. He could feel Anakin hovering awkwardly next to him.

“You don’t have to stay here, you know? You can go back to our quarters if you want.”

Anakin shook his head vigorously. “No, I can’t!”

“Why not?”

“I– I don’t know how to get there.”

Oh. Right.

“Well, I’m sure Bant or one of the other healers would be more than willing to—”

“No!” Anakin said quickly. “I don’t want to go. I want to stay with you.”

Obi-Wan couldn’t help the little wave of warmth that filled his chest. “Okay,” he said. He then patted the bedsheets and nodded his head. “Come on then.”

Anakin gave a wide, toothy grin before he climbed up and snuggled himself into the cramped little space right next to Obi-Wan.

“Are you sure you’re alright?” Anakin asked.

“Yeah,” Obi-Wan said. “Yeah, I’m alright. Let’s just get some sleep okay?”

“Okay,” Anakin said softly, his eyelids already fluttering closed. “Goodnight, Master Obi-Wan.”

“Goodnight, Padawan.”

[magpie-to-the-morning]

On Fire from Within

Rating: Explicit (18+ ONLY)

Pairing: Din Djarin x Fem!Reader

Wordcount: 3.8k

Tags: Self-Indulgent, I Can't Believe I Wrote This, the helmet comes off, Blindfolds, Sex Pollen, Dirty talk, Mostly in Mando’a, Hand Jobs, Oral Sex, PiV Sex, Din is soft and a mess, and so am I, so much Mando'a because I cannot be stopped, Please let me know if I missed anything

Summary: Reader is a newish crew member on the Razor Crest. She was helping out on a bounty hunting mission when she got hit with a laced dart at a shady brothel. It's a sex pollen fic lads, you know how this goes!

Read on Ao3

“Fuck,” you swore softly, pulling a small barb from the back of your neck. It’s only a little thing, a geometric pattern of angles and sharp points. Odd for a piece of shrapnel, but surely nothing to worry about. The small wound wouldn’t be worth the Bacta gel. You tossed it away before walking up the ramp into the Crest.

“Everything ok?” Mando stepped away from the controls of the carbonite chamber. You hadn’t realized he was so close, and startled when you heard the question crackling through his modulator.

“Yeah, it’s nothing. That bastard frozen yet?”

“Just about.”

“Good. That place made me want to scrub the inside of my skin.” You’d just finished helping Mando drag a bounty out of a local bar running an illegal “pleasure house.” It certainly hadn’t deserved the name, and you were more than happy to provide an initial distraction so Mando could come in for the kill. (The metaphorical kill, sadly. You would have been happy to leave the owner of that awful establishment a smoking crater on the floor of his bar, but apparently that was “not following the brief” and “wouldn’t bring in as much money for fuel.” Pfft). There had been a little static on the way out, and you assume that’s when you’d picked up that bit of metal. “I’m going to hit the refresher, unless you need it first?”

The bounty hunter shook his head and moved towards the ramp. “No. I’m going to trade in the puck and get us out off this rock. You go ahead.”

--

You checked the controls of the shower. Again. You’re sweating, and as much as you try, you can’t get the water cold enough to soothe your burning skin. You arch your back, moaning when the stretching movement sends a dart of pleasure straight to your aching cunt. Fuck, why are you such a mess all of a sudden? You slip a hand between your legs and are shocked to discover that you are already dripping wet. You rub the back of your neck and it hits you- that wasn’t shrapnel. It must have been a dart laced with something, and knowing the type of place you were in, you’d bet any amount of credits it was a nasty aphrodisiac. “Those bastards…”

You drag your hands through your hair and take a steadying breath. Ok, you can handle this, pull yourself together… Nice empty ship and a hot shower. Nothing you haven’t done before. You let your hands drift lower, massaging your breast and tweaking an already pert nipple. You’re already so close…

__

An hour later and you’re sobbing from want. Why can’t you just. Fucking. Come already? You’ve tried everything, every fantasy, every technique or touch, and nothing. You try again, stroking your clit and spiraling towards release before it slips away again, a jolt of pain rebounding through you. “Damn it!”

“Y/N? What’s wrong?”

You freeze. You hadn’t realized how much time had passed, of course Mando is back. What had he heard? “Um, nothing, it’s fine!” You wince at how falsely this rings, even to you.

There’s a pause. “Open the door.”

“… no? I’m not-“

“Open the door. Or I will break it down.”

Shit. You have a second to grab a towel before the door clangs open. Mando is through the door and into the tiny room in an instant, hand on his blaster. He checks all the corners which, takes about 2 seconds, before turning that implacable, visored gaze on you. “What’s going on with you?”

“Jeez, Mando, I-“ you try to bluff your way out of it for a moment before giving it up for lost. Even if you could explain away everything else, you know your flushed cheeks and glassy eyes will give you away. “Fine, just, promise you won’t laugh?”

“Is something funny?”

“No, it really isn’t.” You sigh. “So, I didn’t realize until we got back to the ship, but someone back at that hole in the wall hit me with some kind of dart. I think it was drugged.”

“Show me.”

“I chucked it just before I got on board, but this is where it hit.” You pull your wet hair back to show him the mark on your neck. Mando crosses the floor in one step, and you feel one of his gloved hands steady your shoulder as he takes a closer look. That small touch is enough to drive you wild, and you bite back a groan, leaning into his touch.

“Dank ferrik.” Mando pulls his hands away like he’s been burned, and your cheeks flame again, this time in embarrassment. “There are red marks at the injection site. I’ve, uh.. I’ve seen this before.”

You grit your teeth, finding it easier to talk about when you’re not looking at him. “It hurts, Mando and I can’t make it stop. How long am I going to feel like this?”

“Until it runs its course. Usually, a few hours. And it will get worse.”

You swear again, tears of frustration slipping down your cheeks. Mando stands there for a moment, flexing his hands and looking unsure of what to say. Finally, you hear a deep breath and, “let me help you.”

You startle, sure you’ve heard him wrong. It’s only been a few months since you signed on as his only crew member, a live-in mechanic and occasional extra pair of hands for certain bounties. You’d thought about it, of course. At first you’d seen this as just another short term gig. Some light repair work, the odd stint of standing lookout or patching up his wounds or acting as a distraction for a tricky bounty. The longer you spent with him though, the longer you started to see the man beneath the armor, his dark humor, his unexpected kindness, his tendency to throw himself into harm’s way for the sake of a code you can’t begin to understand. Stars, and that voice… but you knew he would never return those feelings. The idea of him offering himself to you now, out of pity or worse, obligation…

“No.” You move to shoulder past him.

He grabs your wrist. “Look, Y/N, I know I may not be your first choice but-“

You whirl around to glare at him. “Not my- damn it, Mando!” You kick the waste bin in sheer frustration. “I’ve wanted you for weeks and just because I don’t want you to feel cornered into sleeping with me you have the fucking gall-“

“Close your eyes.”

You blink in confusion. “Wait, what?”

“Do it. Now.” You shiver at the steel in his voice and comply without another thought.

There’s a soft hiss, and the clang of metal set down on metal. He couldn’t have. He wouldn’t… You start in surprise, feeling his leather-clad fingers cup your face and tip your chin up. “Are you sure you want this?”

You laugh, a little shakily, amazed to hear how deep and rough his unmodulated voice still is. “Are you?”

The next thing you know, he’s got you backed up against that wall. You gasp, reaching to pull him closer. His mouth slides over yours, lips warm and surprisingly plush. You deepen the kiss and moan, needing so much more. He responds by reaching down, pulling you up to straddle his waist. Trapped between the wall and a cage of Beskar, you’ve never felt freer. You card your fingers through his hair, marveling at the curls under your hands. Mando gasps, already sounding ragged. “How do you want me?”

You drag your nails down his scalp and lick your way up the column of his throat. You taste salt and pant into his ear, “in the cockpit chair.”

Mando groans. “You have been thinking about this, haven’t you, sweet girl?”

“Less talk. More chair sex.”

He huffs a laugh against your neck and pulls you from the wall, carrying you through the ship like you don’t weigh a thing. You make it through the corridor, with only a few brief stops against walls and doorways. Mando sets you down once you reach the cockpit and you whine at the lack of his touch, but still keep your eyes closed. He kisses your forehead. “Patience, sweet girl.” You give up the last shreds of your dignity and moan, rubbing your thighs together. “Can’t, I need you to touch me now.” You hear a few soft clinks, and realize Mando is removing his armor, piece by piece. Not wanting to be outdone, you toss your towel aside. Your eyes are still shut tight, but you add a hand to cover them, afraid you’ll forget yourself. You may not understand his beliefs, but you are damn sure going to respect them, even now.

There’s startle at a ripping sound, and Mando asking “Do you trust me?”

“Yes,” you breathe.

“Good. Keep your eyes closed.” Mando pulls your hand away, pressing a kiss to your palm before knotting a blindfold around your eyes. You feel yourself pulled down to his lap. You twine your arms around his neck and lower yourself until you’re straddling his hips, grinding as close to him as you can.

“Tell me what you need.”

“Touch me.”

He’s eager to comply, and you shiver as you feel his hands (his hands, not the gloves, stars) skim up your sides. Mando cups the back of your head, drawing you closer as he kisses and licks his way into your mouth. You immediately open your lips to his, stroking his tongue with your own, teasing the roof of his mouth to egg him on. You’re rewarded with a small groan, and Mando palming your left breast. He strokes your nipple with his thumb, rolling and pinching it to make you arch your back. “What else?”

“Maker, that’s so good… talk to me, Mando, don’t stop touching me.”

“Never, mesh’la.” Mando rolls his hips and makes you squirm against him. You can feel his arousal, pressed so close to your own, separated only by the canvas of his trousers. You mewl and buck your hips against him.

“Oh gods, yes…”

Mando chuckles as your breath speeds up. “You’re so gorgeous, Y/N, going to take such good care of you. Going to make this so good for you.”

He bends his head and sucks one of your nipples into his warm mouth, and you nearly black out. The sheer relief of such a touch when you need it so badly nearly undoes you completely. “Mando…”

“Din.” The word is muffled against your chest, and you have to ask “what?”

He rests his forehead against shoulder. “My name, Din Djarin.”

“Din,” you taste the short name, adding it to what you’ve learned about this man. This capable, dangerous, surprisingly gentle Mandalorian. How can such a hard man be so… This train of thought is interrupted as another wave of desire bowls you over, making you shudder with need and pain. “I need more, Din, please…”

You don’t even need to finish that thought before you feel his rough, calloused fingers drifting down your belly and lower, lower… You lean back to give him easier access, his other arm coming to rest around your waist, holding you up. You gasp when he strokes your folds. “Me’bana? You’re so wet, mesh’la. Is this all for me?” He doesn’t wait for a response before slowly fucking two of his fingers deep inside you, dragging the pads over your G-spot over and over. He’s a quick learner, adapting to touch you harder or softer, quicker or slower, as you gasp and buck your hips. “So good for me, so wet and ready. Do you want me to make you come?”

“Yes, yes, please Din, I’m so close…” you whine.

Din rubs your clit while fucking his fingers into you. He bites down on your earlobe, whispering, “Then come for me, cyare.”

You do. You cry out as you feel yourself coming apart under his hands, your hips thrashing despite you as you moan and call out his name. When you drift back to yourself, you’re grateful for his supporting hold as waves of pleasure continue to roll through you. Din strokes you through all of it, only backing off when your breathing slows and pressing a kiss to your forehead.

__

You exhale slowly, taking stock after that release. “That was… whew…” Now that you have a moment to think clearly again, you can feel your mind spinning up to overthink this. Will you ever be able to look at your employer (partner? friend?) again? Not that you can ever look him in the eye anyway, but what if he’s completely disgusted with you after this? Your racing thoughts pause when you hear what can only be Din sucking your slick from his fingers.

“Maker, you taste as good as I hoped you would.” Thoughts: gone. Brain: empty. There can’t be any room for overthinking when your head is suddenly full of HE THOUGHT ABOUT TASTING ME?! “How do you feel?”

You force yourself to consider this. You can already feel the fire in your core roaring back to life. “Good, but, I can already feel it ramping back up.” You blush. “Not that I didn’t… I totally did, but.. sorry…”

“Shh, k’uur. I get it. Just relax and let me take care of you.” He stands up, depositing you gently in his seat. You only have a moment to wonder at this sudden shift before feeling him kneel down in front of you. Without even thinking about it, you let your legs fall open to him. “That’s it, sweet girl, let me see that pretty pussy.”

If you weren’t already positive you were running a fever, that would have tipped you over the edge. Din runs his hands up your thighs, his breath ghosting over your throbbing core. “Ibac’ner. Ni copaanir dinuir gar ner lalat akay gar jair.” Is he… praying? You’re past the point of caring, all you want is for him to stop sucking marks into your inner thigh and finally move to where you need him most. You nearly scream when he drags his tongue up your slit. He flattens his tongue against you, humming appreciatively as your roll your hips. He wraps his arms around your thighs suddenly, jerking you closer towards him. “Jatisyc, ni larayc teh gar.”

You are glad of the blindfold because you are so far beyond controlling your face. Din’s tongue feels like it is everywhere at once, tonguing your cunt like it was your mouth one second, then laving your clit the next. You curl your toes and howl when he sucks your clit into his mouth and you feel the barest hint of teeth around you. “So close, so close” you chant, reaching down to hold his head right where you need it.

Din releases your clit, licking circles around it instead. “You liked that, didn’t you cyare? Do you like it a little rough?”

You shudder, thrilled to have been caught out so soon. “Gods, yes.”

Din chuckles and you hope you haven’t slipped up by confessing quite so enthusiastically. “Oh this is going to be fun. I am going to ruin you, mesh’la.” He dives back into your pussy, licking and sucking and nipping at your thighs like a wild thing. You whine and arch your back.

“Hold. Still.” Din’s arm clamps over your waist like an iron bar. “How am I supposed to finish you off, if you won’t stop writhing around, you etyc dala?” When you push your luck, trying to squirm free, you feel a sharp slap to your thigh. “Are you going to be a good girl and let me make you come? Or should I leave you here by yourself?”

“No, please, I’ll be good for you I promise!”

“Damn right you will,” he snarls. Without warning, Din shoves two fingers into your cunt and wraps his lips around your clit, sucking hard. You come in a rush, screaming his name.

__

You’ve barely come down from that high before chasing your next. While your first orgasm left you with some temporary relief, this one only stokes the fire even higher. You seize Din’s face from where he was resting his cheek against your thigh and pull him to your mouth. Reticence is a distant memory and you devour the taste of yourself from his mouth. When Din leans back and groans from this spectacle, you palm his length, spear-straight and hard as Beskar under your hand.  Din shudders underneath you, and you can almost see the effort of restraining himself.  You trace the shell of his ear and murmur “Why are you still wearing pants?”

Din rushes to his feet, pulling you from the chair and pushing you up against the nearest wall in one smooth motion. He holds you in place with one arm across your breastbone, panting with effort. “Hang on, I don’t want to rush you.“

You wish you could look at him, to show you the burning desire in your eyes, how much you truly want this. Alas. You settle for dropping to your knees and fumbling blindly with the fastenings of his trousers.

“Dank ferrik…” a muttered oath somewhere above your head. Din reaches down to help you, drawing his cock out. Once again, you wish the blindfold wasn’t necessary. You can feel the velvet-soft skin of him, trace the head of his cock and stroke up and down the length of him, but you wish you could see him. You breathe over him and, holding his shaft to help guide you (and madden him), lick just under the tip of his cock. You run your tongue around the ridge and lick your lips before taking him as far down your throat as you can. Din hisses and unleashes a stream of Basic and that same tongue he’d been speaking earlier. “Fuck… ori jate, ori jate, yes, Y/N. Parer, ke’pare, ah!”

You hum around him, loving the sound of him absolutely losing it. “Too much?” you ask, all innocence.

Din actually growls. “Yes. Don’t stop, please.”

You smile, hoping he can see you amidst his unraveling. You bob your lips over the head of his cock, once, twice, before sliding down the length of him as far as you can take. Din’s fingers tangle in your hair and you can feel him jerking his hips, holding back from fucking your face like he clearly wants to. You pull back again, letting go  of his cock with a wet pop. “Don’t hold back, baby, I want all of you.”

This is more than Din can stand. He hauls you roughly to your feet, kissing you with abandon. “Say that again?”

“I want you Din, please. I fucking need you.”

Din grabs one of your legs and holds it over his hip. He teases your entrance while you beg him, rubbing against your folds. You moan in relief when he finally thrusts home, stretching you and dragging against your walls. You rake your nails down his back, biting at his shoulder. “Gods, yes, that’s so fucking good. Don’t hold back. Unh, yes, yes, yes…” He is pounding into you now, setting a brutally quick pace- just like you need. You try to kiss him but you’re getting sloppy and your kiss is more just dragging your open mouth along his jaw, panting as he fucks you. “Din, I’m so close…”

“That’s good, you’re so good at taking this cock aren’t you, mesh’la? Me'copaani? Do you want me to tell you how I’ve fantasized about fucking you over the console almost since you came on board? Do you want to hear how good it feels to be buried in your cunt, with your tight pussy around me? Because it is good, Y/N, and I am going to fucking destroy you.”

You scream his name. “Gods, Din, I’m gonna come!”

He seizes you by the throat, not hard enough to cut off your air but more than enough to let you know who is in charge now. “I want to feel you come on my cock. Come on, cyare, give it to me. Come. Now.”

It’s the full on bounty hunter voice command that slams you over the edge. You come hard, shaking in Din’s arms and soaking his cock. You absolutely would have fallen without him holding you up. He fucks you through it all, and as the aftershocks roll through you, you realize the screaming urgency has finally quieted. You can just about remember talking him through his own release before slipping below the cool depths of unconsciousness.

—

“Y/N? Here, drink this.”

You blink awake and feel a cold glass pressed into your hand. You take a sip. The icy water grounds you, and you take stock of your surroundings. You’re curled up in the captain’s seat, warm under a slightly tattered woolen blanket, or maybe a cloak? It takes you a moment before you realize what else is different. You can see again. “Din?”

“I’m here.” His voice is distant, slightly fuzzed. You look around, seeing him once again hidden beneath the helmet. “How do you feel?”

You’re still restless, like some distant part of you needs to get up and run or fight or fuck, but your limbs are feeling a bit heavier now and it’s easier to breathe. “Better.” You lift the glass again, drinking the rest of the water like you’ve never tasted anything so sweet.

Din lays his hand on your cheek, and you’re relieved to find that at least this bit of him has not been covered up again. “You’re still running a temperature but it feels like it’s easing up.” He takes the empty glass from you, setting it aside before taking your hand and drawing you up. “Come on, let’s get you to your bunk.”

You rise, unsteady on your legs after several rounds of fairly vigorous sex. Din steadies your elbow, guiding you out of the cockpit. “Sick of me already?” You’re aiming for a light tone but you know you missed the mark.

Din turns you to face him and studies you for a moment. “Yeah. Probably going to drop you off on the next planet we hit.”

You narrow your eyes at him, looking at your own skeptical face in the reflection of his visor. “Oh yeah?”

He presses his forehead to yours, stroking your cheek with his thumb. “No, ner kar’ta.” You couldn’t tell before, but now you’re almost sure he’s smiling. “I think you’re stuck with me for awhile.”

_________________________________

Mando'a Translations mesh'la beautiful

Ibac’ner. Ni copaanir dinuir gar ner lalat akay gar jair. This is mine. Going to give you my tongue until you scream.

Jatisyc, ni larayc teh gar. Delicious, I (am) drunk from you.

Etyc dala dirty girl

Ori jate so good

Parer wait

Ke'pare wait (emphatic)

Me'copaani? What's this?

Ner kar’ta My heart