#wriggling helplessly in the grass

[eruhamster]

not to be annoying but i do think a lot of people mischaracterize falin. shes got the most drastic canon v fanon thing going on. which i guess makes sense bc 1. we dont see much of her and 2. lot of the fan stuff are anime-onlies that have seen even less

but i think like a good 90% of the time i see falin-centric art or posts im like hrm hrm hrm thats all wrong no nope no-siree

she's just a cool chick that takes life as it comes, doesn't hold grudges even against a mother that apparently was trying to beat the magic outta her, finds her older brother the coolest person in the world, and has autism about observing life (and death, she loves the ghosts she has a connection to) and nature and taking care of things (including taking care of her brother, which is why she's even in the dungeons; she saw her scrawny mess of a brother and decided she had to fix that).

and i think my favorite part that people don't talk about is... she would have done the same for marcille or laios if it were one of them that was eaten. you could see it in her eyes:

it's what shuro misunderstands about her. it's easy to see her feminine, cute, good girl pieces and forget the rest of her. but she loves things to an ends-of-the-earth extent; the kind of caring that makes you a little insane. and that's how I think she and laios end up on the same page with their weirdness. they have different interests, but they are the same level of committed to those interests.

it's easy to love her, because she probably loves you just as much, if not more.

EDIT: for the love of god stop reblogging this only to add some comment or tag or reply saying 'op you forgot [BLATANTLY FANON INTERPRETATION]'. falin as we know her is not a pushover/people pleaser/infantilized, see this version of my post. also stuff like 'female shuro was in love with laios in the genderbent comic' and 'falin was going to marry shuro because she felt bad' are just things you made up in your head

[ldrfanatic]

hi!!! could i please request prompts l17 & r20 for theo nott? 🤭

good ones never wait

theo nott x fem!hufflepuff!reader

yesss!!

L17 - His hands around a cold glass make me wanna know that body like it's mine

R20 - Only bought this dress so you could take it off

05.30.2024

T Swift Lyrics Prompts

suggestive at the end but no smut!

theodore aurelius nott the man that you are 😌

works slytherin boys masterlist

your heart was pounding in your chest as you watched the scene unfold in front of you. theodore nott, your best friend, and also the man you were irreversibly in love with, had just finished the first quidditch practice of the season. despite his teammates insistence that you were only there to spy for your house team, theo had invited you to watch for some reason you had yet to figure out.

still, watching him wipe sweat, dirt, and god knows whatever else from his perfect face while he grinned with his mates did something to your insides. couldn’t your heart just be still for once?

after being friends with theo for nearly five years, you’d learned to tune out the butterflies for the most part. but crushing on theodore nott isn’t something that one just gets over. he’s the kind of guy that you’d spend your whole life helplessly in love with.

“sweet little puff. if you’re so infatuated, ask nott out.”

the voice of pansy parkinson in your ear made you jump.

after gathering yourself once more, you shrugged thoughtlessly at the idea. of course you’d like to think he’d say yes. but with theo there was no telling. he’d never had a girlfriend his entire time at hogwarts. in fact, now that you really thought about it, you couldn’t remember him ever even giving any of the numerous girls that asked him out a chance.

he was so well known for instant rejections that eventually even his most committed fan girls had simply given up.

“pfh.”

you made a noise of disbelief in pansy’s direction.

“sure, and ruin a five year friendship with my best friend. no thanks.”

“no, you’d much rather wallow in your feelings and never say a word about it to anyone except me apparently.”

she stood up from next to you and held out a hand. a silent invitation.

“the worst he could say is no, y/n. and at least if he does, you can start moving on.”

you grasped her hand and allowed her to pull you up, but inside you knew that there was no moving on from theodore nott. he would always have a place in your heart. you’d resigned yourself to that a long time ago.

it was a stiff silence as the pair of you made your way to where the boys were all shoving each other and rolling around in the quidditch pitch. you watched with amusement as theo shoved mattheo’s face into the grass with a playful grip on his dark curls.

as he noticed your approach, he looked up from his entanglement with a broad smile. “y/n!”

his temporary distraction gave mattheo the few vital seconds he needed, and a few moments later, he’d wrapped his arms around the taller boy’s waist and maneuvered himself to pin him.

“too slow, aurelius. distracted by your little girlfriend like usual.”

whatever theo said next was drowned out by mattheo’s rather unmanly shriek as enzo wriggled free of blaise’s grasp and flung himself at mattheo’s head.

pansy leaned over to you.

“at least come to our little gathering tonight. nothing big, just slytherin house. and of course, our little badger.”

“where theo is, i am.”

—

there was a part of you that wished that statement could be untrue for at least once in your life. you weren’t typically much of a party person, but since you were nearly joined at the hip with the nott boy, where theo went, you followed. and vice versa.

after forcing him into countless bookstores with you, it was really only fair that you join him for the occasional night of uninterrupted revelry.

especially since so many bodies in one room meant that theo would be practically on top of you the entire time.

you tugged at the green sundress in hopes that it was straight. you’d only bought it because theo said it would look good on you when you’d gone shopping together this past summer. but you hadn’t had an occasion to wear it yet and figured tonight was as good a night as any. softly clearing your throat, you spoke the password and watched in amazement as a snake seemed to appear out of nowhere, slithering to form the door to the slytherin common room.

the moment you stepped foot inside, music thrummed through your body. after a quick scan of the room, you found your serpents as they lounged across some furniture in a corner. yet, upon approaching, you noticed theo’s absence.

“your boy is getting you a drink.”

draco nodded to the drink table where sure enough, theo was pouring up some sort of concoction. you softly excused yourself and started your way towards him.

theo’s friends watched on as the boy completely lit up when he saw you. mattheo felt a plan began to hatch.

enzo, who apparently recognized the look on mattheo’s face, immediately began to shake his head violently.

“no. whatever you’re thinking of doing, don’t.”

immediately, mattheo’s face twisted into a look equal parts disbelief and exasperation.

“oh come on, don’t tell me you aren’t tired of those two dancing circles around each other.” he took a swig of his drink and then stood dramatically. “we all know there’s only one way to fix this.”

midway through a rather animated conversation with theo, you felt a large hand in your own. out of the corner of your eye you could see mattheo with his signature smirk.

“don’t hog her all night, aurelius. c’mon sweetheart let’s dance.”

before you could reject him, the boy had dragged you onto the dance floor and was yanking you in various directions while “dancing” with you. of course, mattheo was respectful of you and theodore’s albeit odd relationship and simply held your hands while dancing with you.

still, he knew that it wouldn’t take much to rile up his friend when it came to you. and having you ripped away from him while he was in the middle of admiring you would be frustrating no doubt.

and thus, no longer than ten seconds into your dance, mattheo was ripped away from you by his collar and dragged off by a rather irritated theo.

well, anyways.

pansy grinned knowingly as you made your way back to where she and the others were sitting. she clearly knew something. you pulled her from the couch by her wrist and out of ear shot of the boys.

“what the hell pansy?”

“mattheo has a brilliant plan to get dear little theodore to confess his feelings for you.”

“oh yeah. brilliant.” you say sarcastically. “one problem though. theodore doesn’t have feelings for me.”

she rolled her eyes at you, then fixed you with a stare so intense you were suddenly reminded of why she was in slytherin.

“yes he does. honestly, you like him too right? cause it doesn’t really seem like it anymore.”

you blushed at the thoughts that entered your head. you really shouldn’t be thinking these things about your best friend but there you were.

“his hands around a cold glass make me wanna know that body like it’s mine.”

pansy wriggled her eyebrows suggestively at you.

“well then you better go get him before he blows a blood vessel in his neck.”

she motioned behind you lazily. when you turned, theo was standing a few feet away from you and sure enough was glaring intensely at a grinning mattheo on the couch, looking as though he may kill the boy any second now.

deciding that mattheo’s death would be annoying for everyone to deal with, you approached theo timidly. yet, when his gaze met yours, you felt at peace.

your muscles relaxed involuntarily under his stare, and the closer you got to him, the more your mind seemed to clear. every thought jumped soundlessly from your brain to make room for the only thing that mattered: theodore.

"why do you let him rile you up theo?"

“he knows all the right buttons to press.”

“just ignore him.”

the brunette shook his head.

“i can’t do that. not when it’s you.”

your mouth fell open at his confession. thoughts raced through your brain but none of them actually tumbled off your tongue.

“you don’t have to say anything, bella. it’s okay that you don’t feel the same, i just needed you to know.”

your arms snaked up to wrap around his neck. electricity surged through the air and a grin spread across your face as you pulled the boy into a kiss.

“you’re so cute when you’re all dumb.”

theo’s thick brows sunk in confusion.

“i only bought this dress so you could take it off.”

—

@moonlightreader649 @thatdammchickennugget @helendeath @fandom-life-12 @bouquetolegoflowers @maryvibess @nighttimemoonlover

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Crash and Burn 1

Warnings: non/dubcon, power dynamics, and other dark elements. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

Character: Tony Stark

Summary: a powerful man comes crashing into your life. Literally.

As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging ❤️

Bang! The impact shakes you so hard you nearly drop your book. You sit up, wide-eyed, and look around. What the heck was that?

You stand and leave the book on the short bench squeezed in along the table. You go to the door and twist the latch. As you open it, dust mists in the air and the scent of smoke singes your nose. You step onto even ground and search for the disturbance.

You turn to face the trailer and the black cloud pluming up from behind it. The entire thing lurches as an electronic whir and zap cuts through the air. You dodge put of the way as the window bursts and shatters over you.

You scramble back on your heels, shielding yourself behind an arm, and cry out. Your neighbours cluster before their own homes and watch, caught in awe as the trailer shakes on its foundation. The wall burst open as a dark shape crashes through and lands in the patchy grass behind you.

You turn to stare down at the mangled metal. Broken tubes drip neon blue fluid and the lights flicker and die. Whatever it is, it's useless now. Just like the wall.

Another crash before you can investigate. Another window rains shards into the dirt and you slap your hands to your head. At least you have witnesses, though you don't know that they have any idea what's going on.

Another tremble before the door swings open. What looks to be a cyborg tramps down the stairs and dusts itself off. You grimace helplessly at the red and gold armour.

"Iron man?" A chirpy childish voice quavers from behind you.

No way? As if to bask in the recognition, the mask retracts and reveals a man's face. It is in fact the Tony Stark. He smirks beneath his goatee and winks at the kid.

"Hey, little guy." He shoots a finger gun as he struts over to the kid.

A long, loud groan comes from behind him. You turn back to the trailer as it starts to lean. Oh no!

Time slows as you watch the whole thing fold in on itself. You stumble further back as it sends up another plume of dirt and dusty. In a moment, you're swept away from the wreckage out of the way of a broken board flying in your direction.

Tony Stark, Iron Man, playboy, billionaire, and wrecking ball has his arm around you as he puts you back in your feet. You stare at the ruin of your home

Your entire life.

"Damn, good thing you got out of there," he snickers.

You shrug him off and step forward. "Hey, sweetheart, you're not gonna wanna do that. There's smoke and that means--" As he grabs you again, a crackle sounds and orange flames lick out from beneath the splinters and drywall.

"No!" You cry out. "What the-- the trailer-- you--"

"Relax, sweetheart, you should be thankful you didn't get trapped in all that. Could be a hell of a lot worse."

You wriggle in his grasp, "that's my home! What am I gonna tell me mom?"

"I'll buy you a new one," he rolls his eyes.

"A new one? That's not the point--" you scoff and stomp your foot. You face the heap again. There are things you can't replace and your mom will make sure to mention as much.

“I'll have my people get in touch.” He struts away and toes the mass of metal on the ground. “Gotta call in the big boys.”

He puts his hand to his ear and talks to no one in particular. You can't look away. The flames build and build as you watch it all go up in flame.

You peek over at the man in his red and gold armour. He grins as children crowd around and he signs their comic books and frisbees and action figures. He's all charm and cheer.

He has no worry about the mess he's made. He'll go home to his penthouse and his bank account. He says he'll buy you a new trailer but that's not going to happen overnight.

The police show up, and the fire trucks, then men in black suits. The lot is corded off with yellow tape as you stand listless on the sidelines. You don't know what else to do.

“Oh god! Oh god! What happened?” Your mom blusters up beside you. She's still in her work uniform. You look at her and shrug. You can't even put into words the chaos of the last few hours.

You look around and point just as Iron Man's helmet flips up and he flies off in a flash. You stare after him and drop your arm. You huff.

“I have no idea, mum,” you utter. “No idea.”

She shrieks and flags down an officer, “sir, I want to know what the hell happened to my home! Right now!”

“Ma'am. This is a matter for law enforcement. We're investigating–”

“Investigating!? My trailer is a pile of rubble!” She cries out.

Her shrill hollers fade into a murmur as your gaze zeros in on the ash. This isn't fair. He gets to walk away, well, fly away, and you have to figure all this out.

[sad-sweet-cowboah]

Secrets of The Moon

Summary: As much as you'd like to try, you just couldn't escape the hungry predator in the night.

Warnings: This post contains CNC, aka consensual non-consent. If you have any issues or triggers associating, please do not read any further!!

Word Count: 2,771

A/N: So....this is something that has been brewing in the back of my mind for a while and debated on writing it, well I'm certainly glad I did. Hope you guys all enjoy!

Howling winds tore through the underbrush, stirring the leaves. Snaps of twigs and dried bracken echoed against the forest floor. Hooves like thunder provided a quick melody, filling your ears to match your racing heart. 

Sweaty palms gripped the worn leather reins as you leaned forward like a jockey, urging your mare faster and faster the despite the difficulty navigating the barely lit forest path before you. Her mane whipped against your face as you squinted ahead, hoping the dense trees would allow proper cover. Your eyes watered, blurring any hope for a clear path. 

You blinked and shook your head in a desperate attempt to see once again. The effort proved almost futile; yet somehow your trusty horse knew where to go. She galloped between the trees effortlessly, even startling you with a jump—enough to allow you to miraculously get your bearings. 

It wasn’t until the hooves echoed loud, much louder than you anticipated—only to realize you were not alone. 

Your heart plummeted. Digging your heels into your mare’s ribs, she leapt again, clearing what looked like a large fallen tree. A split second of silence encompassed you, followed by the snort of another steed, in the distance. 

You didn’t dare glance behind you in fear of what you’d see, but you already knew. 

Still, you wanted to escape. Even when that window was narrowing with each passing second and the forest becoming denser was forcing your horse to dodge and veer. 

But by God’s grace, an opening manifested ahead. You steered toward it, hoping the straightaway would push more distance between you and your pursuer. Standing in the saddle and leaning almost completely against your horse’s outstretched neck, you could almost feel the moonlight on your skin. 

You broke through the tree line into what appeared to be a field. Even when it allowed better vision for yourself, perhaps you could figure a way to— 

“You ain’t runnin’ from me.” 

That voice shook you to your core, echoing through your bones. You hissed out a swear and pleaded for your mare to go faster, even with the roaring beast giving it her all beneath you. 

Within a few strides you’d reached halfway across the field, bathing in the silver moonlight lighting the forest like a beacon. All you had to do was disappear into the tree line for an advantage. The temptation of glancing behind you taunted you like a shadow, even though you knew your predator was hot on your heels. 

A literal shadow chasing you through the night, following your frantic footsteps nearly in-sync. Your hopes to get away diminished more with each fleeting second. 

Something passed over your gaze, and the next thing you knew, the splintering fibers of a rope tightened on your torso, ripping your hands from the reins. Your horse slowed immediately from the slack, and you wriggled helplessly in the saddle. One strong yank sent you tumbling off the side, the breath stolen from your lungs as you landed in the tall grass below. 

While you gasped for air, the soft thud of worn boots traveled through the earth beneath you. Rowels clinked within their holdings, stepping oh so slowly until his unholy presence loomed over you. 

Frantically, you flexed your arms in a last feeble attempt to escape, the twine of the rope digging painfully into your exposed flesh. It proved fruitless; gloved hands grabbed at your wrists, forcing them together behind your back.  

“No!” You cried out, so desperately trying to free yourself from his grip. Your predator was unfortunately much stronger than you, and could easily snap you like a twig. 

“Shut up,” he growled, your wrists bound tightly in his seemingly expert grasp. 

That voice, so dangerously low and snarling like a grizzly bear. A man not to be trifled with, a man that’d sooner bury a bullet in your skull than ask why you had the gall to look at him the wrong way. 

But if you were to die, you’d die fighting. 

“Fuck you,” you shot over your shoulder, mustering any sort of venom in your voice despite your position. 

From the corner of your eye, the man’s own beady eyes beneath the brim of his worn leather hat looked surprised. 

“Fuck me?” He drawled, a grin splitting his face. “Now that ain’t polite, lil’ missy.” 

“Fuck you!” You repeated, throwing your hips up in a feeble attempt to force yourself forward. Strong hands squeezed around your waist, dragging you back with what seemed like comically little effort. 

A tsk-tsk was heard, along with a dark snicker. “You gave me a lotta trouble chasin’ ya down,” he leaned over, his hot breath ghosting across your ear. “I oughta fuck you.” his torso pressed against yours, the unmistakable strain beneath his jeans painfully apparent. 

Your heart dropped, swinging your head back to give him a pleading look. “N-no!” you whined, every forethought of defiance leaving your system. “Just turn me in, please!” 

The grin he still held was sickening. A cat cornering a frightened mouse, quickly extinguishing any hope of running freely before facing their bitter fate. His right hand left your waist to caress the curve of your hip, the gentle touch nearly betraying his rough exterior. It only lasted a split second before he grabbed a fistful of your skirt, yanking it down to reveal your drawers. 

You squeezed your legs together as hard as you could, biting your lip to offer whatever resistance to prevent him from going further, even if it just meant for a few seconds. He didn’t like that, shoving his hands between your thighs and splitting them apart with ease, pushing them far enough to make you wince from the stretch. 

He was not so kind to your underwear, tucking his fingers beneath the waistband and ripping them free, the poor fabric never standing a chance. The cool air hit your exposed bottom like a slap, showing you to the world above. 

Your pursuer let out a breath of air behind him, no doubt selfishly enjoying the view. His fingers daringly intruded your slit, cold and thick and rough against your warm, velvet skin. 

“Oh my,” he purred. “Seems like you’re enjoyin’ this.” 

Your face burned. You wanted to deny it, wanted to shout another obscenity for even defiling you in such a manner, but your body betrayed you too well. Bucking your hips to free yourself only made his invasion much easier, his fingers easily welcomed into your soaked inner walls. 

“You takin’ me that well already?” he chuckled, his other hand holding you still while he began to pump his digits in and out. 

The sensation was oh-so delicious, your body trembled from the pleasure beginning to build, swiping away any higher thought of still attempting to escape this dangerous man. A moan bubbled in your throat, but you managed to staunch it before it passed your teeth. What were you doing? 

“You like that, ya dirty whore?” 

You kept silent. 

A swift smack on your ass made you cry out, the fresh sting making you wince. 

“Answer my question,” he growled, “Do ya like that, ya dirty whore?” 

You swallowed, closing your eyes in shame and burying your face into the grass. Finally, you uttered a soft, “...yes.” 

The hand holding you left its place to find your jaw, wrenching your head to force you to look at him. “I can’t hear you, girl.” 

His fingers began to curl, dragging against a particular sensitive spot that forced out an involuntary moan. “Y-yes!” you mewled. “Yes, I like it!” 

The look of satisfaction almost made you want to slap him in the face if you weren’t bound right now.  

“That’s what I thought,” he chuckled again, releasing your jaw to smack your ass again. 

You hissed in response, and quickly forgot about the pain the faster he went. Another moan escaped your throat, your hips quivering for more. The absolute ravage he bestowed upon you had you forgetting about the hunt, the chase, whittling down to the pure animalistic instinct. 

Your body was beyond harmonizing with your mind anymore, instead hurtling toward that blissful sensation dawning upon you with a rush of warmth deep in your belly. It was a losing battle; giving in to your dark, twisted desire. It coiled in your guts like a constricting snake, pulling you the precipice— 

The implosion was immense, erupting, spilling like hot lava throughout your nether regions. Your body tensed and shuddered, heart pounding wildly inside your ribcage. The sound you uttered would put a harlot to shame, singing only to the wilderness around you. 

“God damn,” 

The lewd slick of his fingers exiting your soaked entrance suddenly made you feel empty. Muscle spasms began to ease with the wane of your climax, leaving you both satisfied and utterly ashamed. 

A muted thud of something heavy hitting the ground pulled you from your quick bliss. Turning your head, the handle of his six-shooter gleamed in its holster, which now sat in the grass along along with the rest of his gun belt. 

He himself was already unbuttoning his jeans in haste. The bulge straining against the black denim finally released, revealing— 

Oh, lord. 

Your eyes widened in shock. He was certainly girthy; veins spidering along the length, tracing to the bulbous red tip, a pearl of pre-cum illuminated in the silvery moonbeam. “No…please,” you pleaded, mustering every effort to appease his merciful side, if that even existed. “Please don’t take me like this!” 

The chuckle that passed his smirking lips was all that told you your attempt was wasted. “Don’t think so, y’ little whore,” he grabbed your hips again, yanking you back to feel him prod your soaked lower lips. “Seems like you’re more than ready for me.” 

Before you could answer, he plunged himself in, your body giving no resistance. You winced initially, your walls stretching almost uncomfortably to accommodate his width, filling you to the brim. 

“Fuck,” he breathed, his voice nearly stuttering. “So damn tight...” 

You were once again robbed of a chance to respond before he pulled back and slammed his hips forward, sending forth a wave of absolute knee-trembling ecstasy. He soon picked up a rhythm as rough as his personality, driving himself deep with abandon. 

The force was driving air out of your lungs, your breathless gasps the only sound you were able to form. There was no hope; the remaining speckle diminishing the moment he invaded your body. He chased you down, defiled you, humiliated you with your own pleasure. Any sane woman would plead for an end. 

But you were at his complete mercy, even at your state of helplessness, you could not be more aroused. The way he thrusted, drawing out every inch of pure carnal desire once locked away. 

You moaned lewdly, closing your eyes and letting that same desire take over, a second climax soon on the rise. You hadn’t realized one of his hands moved until it snaked into your hair, knotting his fingers in it and yanking your head back. Your eyes flew open to stare at the night sky above. 

“C’mon now, you gotta be louder than that,” he hissed to you. “Don’t be shy.” 

And shy you were not. With a gulp of the cool air you made it known to the stars and heavens, surely carrying into the snowy peaks of Ambarino. Some small part of you was thankful you were away from any form of civilization. 

“That’s a good girl,” 

Those words. That hoarse, low voice, thick with sex and passion. The praise settled like hot coffee in your belly, warming and igniting and stirring, hurtling you toward another— 

It crashed upon you at an instant, a blast of energy bringing forth the intensity of the heated sun during midday of New Austin, rocking your entire body so hard that you would have melted into the Earth itself. The forest and its inhabitants were no stranger to your voice now, unashamedly announcing every bit of pure erotic, animalistic desire. 

Any minimal control you had over your body had been lost to the reaches of your orgasm, its ribbons allowing only a slow release. Recovery wasn’t an option as a finger immediately located the nub of sensitive flesh between your folds. Tears sprung to your eyes as the overstimulation hit, and you pleaded for an end. 

He was persistent. Evil, even. Your cries fell upon deaf ears the way he played you like an old fiddle. You writhed in his grasp vainly for an escape, only for your tresses to be released and you suddenly pinned down by his free hand without a break in his rhythm. “I know you got another in ya,” he huffed, leaning down so closely you could feel his breath again. “Show me.” 

Jesus, when will this torture end? 

Did you even want it to end? 

No. 

As much as you wanted to escape his touch, your body had other plans. Your third peak swallowed you whole, encapsulating you and filling your veins with fire. Your lungs weakly expelled a noise, having no chance of recovery from the previous. 

“That’s it,” he praised in that same tone, finally allowing you to recover despite still pile-driving you. His hand returned to its previous place on your hip, pulling you back and closer. With your legs now folded beneath your torso, the new angle was heavenly. 

His breath shuddered, his voice strained. He was close. The walls around this dangerous, tough man began to fall with the ascent to his own finish. All you could do was lay there, the muscles in your arms flexing helplessly, still tightly bound behind your back. The fibrous grass and gritty earth were rough against your face. 

The need for him to fill you up was desperate, a burning desire to hold every drop of his spend. The minuscule sanity you had left ought to be utterly disgusted, but at that moment, you couldn’t care less. 

“Arthur,” you gasped out his name, finally breaking from the character you’d so meticulously held together. You turned your head to look him in the eye. “F-fill me up, please!” 

Something snapped in the outlaw, the grunt he unleashed oddly vulnerable, negating the abrasive exterior he’d presented himself with. With one deep shove, his head jolted back towards the sky, appearing almost wolfish with the way he called out his peak. 

His hips stuttered against yours weakly, and then the air stilled. The roaring pounding of your heart finally subsided, and the melodic sounds of nature resumed around the two of you. 

Arthur slid out of you, the emptiness followed with a rush of hot fluid dripping from your abused entrance. You sighed at the feeling, resting your head against the ground. 

His eyes, no longer holding a glint of danger, softened as he gazed upon you. A small smile warmed his chiseled features.. “You okay?” he asked quietly. “I didn’t hurt ya, darlin’?” 

“No, not at all,” you assured him, although you were certain to be plagued with soreness in the morning, especially from being pulled off your horse. The sting of the rope on your wrists made itself known on your wrists as you failed to sit up. 

Arthur didn’t hesitate, reaching for his knife from the fallen gun belt and made quick work of releasing you. As soon as you were on your knees, his fingers ran down your arm, undoubtedly observing any potential wounds. Your eyes followed his and noted just some red markings and nothing more.  

You smiled, reaching to wrap your arms around his neck. “How’d I do?” you simply asked. 

“Amazin’,” he responded with a lopsided grin. “Real convincin’. Good thing it’s jus’ us two out here, or else I’m sure someone woulda come runnin’.” 

You hummed in response, satisfied with his answer. “Glad I can please, Mr. Morgan,” you were glad he’d agreed to this initially. At first he was hesitant, understandably so as not to harm you. But after much convincing, he eventually relented. 

Maybe now this would become a regular occurrence, if he enjoyed it well enough. “Did you like it?” 

The grin he sported turned hungry. He placed his hands at your hips and pulled you flush, seating you on his still naked lap. “Ain’t gonna deny, I loved seein’ ya all tied up n’ helpless...” his lips trailed along your jawline to your lips, kissing you tenderly for a moment before pulling back slightly. “Beggin’ for me to fill ya up, that’s somethin’ else.” 

Oh yes, it would be something to look forward to.  

[sillyromance]

Good day everyone!

The winner of the competition is TFE Bumblebee! So there is a funny story (Pred! Cybertronian/ Prey! Human) about him to smile at. Unfortunately, it's not as big as my other ones, but I hope it won't disappoint you...

I hope you'll enjoy!

🐝Bumblebee

Once in the morning...

- Hey, let me go!.. - You say sleepely, making poor attempts to get out of the cozy embrace of your cute yellow alien lover. - Please, dear, I have some work to do...

As always, you have awaken earlier than your boyfriend. It is a great weekend; the sun has just arose, washing up its glorious golden face in rose and blue of the sky, birds announce of a new day coming with their mesmerising songs, air tickles your nose with a warm smell of young grass and meadow flowers, combined with a slight echo of pine scent from the forest. You, being as cautious as you could, has crawled out of your nest between his arms and tried to slide down Bee's chassis which is where you dozed off last night, however he has caught you before your feet reached the ground.

- It's Sunday, honey. - Bee's gentle voice rumbles above you, softly resonating in his wide chest and your bones. He only tightens his grip. - And I want you to rest properly after the hard week we all had...

Loving concern in his words warms your heart. It's such a tempting alternative- to stay in his arms for an hour or two, listening to his comforting sparkbeat and chatting about some silly stuff until Alex comes to call you for breakfast; last evening the man promised it would be pancakes... Although, your sense of duty does not let you give up that easy; reluctantly you send laziness away and continue squirming, trying to push Bumblebee's massive manipulators off your body.

- I know... - You answer, panting. - But there are businesses I can't reject...

He chuckles and rolles his optics dramatically.

- Really?.. How many of them?

You sigh and wave a hand above the top of your head.

- ...Around this.

A loud "exhale" comes out of your lover.

- Well, then you don't give me another choice...

Before you realise what's happening, Bumblebee pulls you closer to his faceplate, gazing at you with mischief sparkling in his pretty blue eyes, then suddenly shoves you into his mouth. A hum of delight rings in your ears.

- Whoa! Not fair!.. - You laugh, tossed by his slick glossa. - Bee, stoo-o-o-p...

You struggle, clumsily avoiding his tongue eagerly wrapping around your tiny forms, demanding for more of your sweet flavour. But it's impossible to escape now; his jaws are shut firmly, you're already drenched in saliva from head to toe. It is getting harder to move with every new suck and lick he makes; at last, you stumble and fall helplessly on the pillowy muscle which willingly hugs your tired body - it's exactly what Bee has been waiting for.

- And - down you go! - You hear behind before your legs get securely trapped by soft muscles of the pharynx.

- No! Wait... - You shout but it's too late already. Bee slowly titles his helm back and swallows strongly, but carefully, feeling tingles of excitement wandering around his back as you enter his tight, warm esophagus. Your wriggles weaken as far as you get pushed deeper into his throat - no matter how much you are irritated, you wouldn't like your dearest to choke and harm himself. So, with some more gentle gulps you glide further with ease, pass his collar and soon curl up in the welcoming fueltank. Bee sighs in satisfaction, placing a servo on his slightly expanded stomach.

- Comfy, huh? - He smirks kindly as he feels you settle down in his abdomen. The belly lets out some quiet, happy growls as you touch tenderly the sensitive walls of your "prison" churning affectionately around an unexpected guest. - Now the only thing you can't reject is my company.

You give him a teasing kick.

- OK, OK, big guy! You're right, I surrender... - He grins even wider at your innocent sarcasm, fondling his middle soothingly with hope that it will calm you down. - But... - You pause. - Now, let me teach you a little lesson too!

At first your threat makes him just groan in annoyance, though after a few minutes he realises that it's very, VERY stupid to underestimate humans. When he thinks you have accepted your "fate", violent tickles attack his insides in such furious manner, that the autobot instantly crashes on the ground, giggling and moaning, servos clenched on his bubbling waist.

- Ha-ha-ha!.. Please, don't... I.. ha-ha... I can't bear it any longer... Ha-ha-ha!..Oh, Primus!.. Ha-ha-ha... - He begs for you while laughing up a storm.

- No way! - You respond with a villainous smile on your face soiled in slime, your hands with double energy running over every spot of his shivering tank...

It continues till Bumblebee is literally drowned out of powers. Then one apologizes to another and you give him some nice rubs to relax his tensed tummy.

Of course you don't mind day-offs... But who would you be without your stubbornness?

[drpeppertummy]

teeny teeny tiny little silly thing

[post-stuffing, tickling, hiccups]

Sunny stretched out on the grass, laying flat on his back with his arms folded under his head. He'd just eaten his weight in fruit, and his tummy poked out taut and top-heavy from his slender frame. He felt absolutely stuffed. Still, he was comfortable; his belly was tight but not sore, and the warmth of the midday sun was making him sleepy. Yawning, he closed his eyes.

Laurie watched Sunny, amused. It was a beautiful day, and the two had decided to walk to the park for an impromptu picnic. Laurie had made them each a sandwich, and Sunny had filled a backpack with fruit. It had been far more than they needed, but he'd reasoned that it would go bad soon, and, unable to stop himself, he'd finished off everything that Laurie didn't. Now, the backpack was empty and his belly was full. He looked positively serene, sprawled out on the warm grass with a sweet, sleepy smile on his face.

"Y'know, Sunny, you can be awfully cute sometimes," said Laurie, giving his round tummy a friendly pat. He looked up and smiled at her, his nearly-black eyes shining warm brown in the sun. Her hair, illuminated around the edges by the bright sunlight, almost appeared to be glowing.

"You look like an angel from here," he said, and there was a certain sincerity in his voice that caught Laurie off guard. "You're not foolin' me, though." There was her typical Sunny. She laughed.

"That's smart, Sunshine," she said, smiling slyly. "You should never let your guard down." Before he could react, she was upon him, tickling his full belly. He let an ungraceful squawk and tried to squirm away, but she pinned him down with her legs, dancing her fingers delicately across his bulging tummy and sides.

"Laurie," he cried, giggling hysterically. "Get the fuck outta here!" He wriggled frantically beneath her, trying to escape the attack.

"Not a chance," laughed Laurie. She tickled him mercilessly, and he laughed helplessly as he tried to break free. It was hopeless, of course; she was much heavier than him, and his overstuffed tummy prevented him from moving as easily as he'd have liked.

"Oh, Laurie, my belly hurts," he whined through his laughter, trying to push her hands away. Suddenly, his giggles were interrupted by a sharp hiccup. Laurie stopped tickling him, surprised. He hiccupped again. Unable to help herself, Laurie laughed, amused by his new plight.

"It's not f-hic-funny," he said indignantly.

"It's kinda funny," said Laurie. Sunny glared up at her, then hiccupped again. He groaned, holding his arms around his belly. The jolting contraction of his overstuffed stomach was an unwelcome sensation, especially now that it was sore from laughing so much.

"Mean," he mumbled.

"Alright, alright. Come here," said Laurie, moving off of him and opening her arms. He sat up, wincing as another hiccup jostled him, and leaned against her side. She placed her hands on his tummy, and she felt it tense up as he hiccupped again.

"Alright, listen," she instructed, gently rubbing his tummy. "You have to focus, okay?" He nodded.

"Breathe in." He inhaled slowly. "Now hold it." He obeyed, his tummy fully expanded under her hands. "Now swallow three times. Slowly." Focusing, he swallowed once, then twice, then a third time. "Now you can breathe." He exhaled with a soft sigh. He remained still for a moment, waiting for the next hiccup, but it never came. He looked up at her, astonished.

"Where the hell'd you learn that?"

"School," she said primly, patting his belly. He rolled his eyes.

"Well, thanks," he said. "Even though it was your fault."

"I'll get you again if you don't watch it," she teased.

[casspurrjoybell-28]

The Alpha's Addiction - Chapter 24b

*Warning Adult Content*

Away - Part 2 - Koa

Cyrus, the big old meanie, made me run four laps.

FOUR.

Around this giant ass clearing, without any encouragement other than a nod as I passed him standing as my end-of-lap marker.

"Do you enjoy making me suffer?" I moan at the impending soreness of my muscles.

I'm panting, lying flat on the grass as he brings over a canteen.

"No, I enjoy watching you increase your endurance and become stronger," he hands me the water and I take it reluctantly with a huff.

"You act like I'm gonna be racing through the woods 24/7."

"You need to be fast, Koa. You are an Omega and evading and recuperating is a better tactic than facing off someone who'll have a larger build."

"So you're assuming every potential attacker is going to be stronger than me? Rude," I glare, forcing myself to stand up to face him despite the aching of my limbs.

I know he's right but I feel like being resistant today.

I don't need to constantly be reminded that an Alpha could crush my skull with one hand.

Why the hell did the Moon Goddess make them so huge and strong? It's fucking scary.

"It is only truth, little wolf," he crosses his arms, his condescending tone infuriating me to no limit.

"Don't 'little wolf' me. I'm bigger than most Omegas."

He raises an eyebrow.

"In height, maybe. Not in any other aspect," his eyes not so subtly trail down my figure and my cheeks heat.

"Oh really? I'm not well-endowed anywhere? Not even the ass that you were staring at pretty much the entire night?"

I swear his face looks like it'll explode.

"Koa, we a-are talking about muscle mass..."

"And not these curves?"

I step closer, running my hands down my leather-clad waist to my hips, appreciating the tightness of the material and how it accentuates my figure.

He gulps, eyes wide as I leer up him.

I honestly don't know what's come over me but my wolf urges me on, tail wagging with horniness.

He's been wanting us to be bent over and spread for this man since day one and Moon Goddess, he must be rubbing off on me.

I've never been able to be this confident, to like being found attractive or desirable.

In the past, that meant unwanted attention from disgusting Alphas left and right.

But here and now, his eyes on me, on my body... I don't feel like an object solely for an Alpha's pleasure.

He looks at me with so much more than basic sexual need.

He looks at me like he wants me, not just any Omega with a body.

He has to tear his eyes away from my lower body, the veins in his arms taut with what I decide must be restraint.

Clearing his throat, he says.

"Don't tempt me."

"I wouldn't dream of it."

I clasp my hands together, pouting my lips in feigned innocence.

He sighs, mouth quirking up in a reluctant grin.

"What am I going to do with you?"

He shakes his head.

"Hopefully not make me run any more laps today."

"I won't. I recognize that you may find yourself in a situation in which you can't run. That is why we're going to practice more hand-to-hand. Specifically, how to strategically engage in close combat with someone much larger than yourself."

"Rub it in more, why don't you?"

I roll my eyes.

"Again."

"But Cyrus..."

"Again, Koa."

I whine but resume position in front of him.

He grasps my arm in his hand and it is my job to escape his hold.

Sounds easy enough, right?

Wrong.

First, he instructed me to use whatever means came to mind to get away.

That results in me thrashing helplessly, his hand still tight like iron around my arm.

Next, he gives me a few pointers.

A kick to the shin or groin or pivoting my body in a way that could aid in me slipping through his fingers. In this confined position, though, he's too damn tall for me to level a kick to the groin because my flexibility is laughably bad and the kick to the shin earns me absolutely nothing.

I wriggle and complain all I want but I physically can't get away.

When I hear a stifled laugh from above, I whip my head up and scowl at him.

"Is this amusing to you?"

"It's cute, seeing you try so hard."

This mother fucking... you know what, that's it.

Determined, I lunge forward, putting all my weight into it.

His eyebrows raise in surprise as I succeed in knocking him off balance, sending him falling back into the grass.

Consequently, I topple over after him and we land with a thud, him grunting beneath me.

I brace my hands on his chest, pushing myself up in triumph.

"There. I did it," I exclaim, proud that I've gotten my arm out of his grip.

I expect him to reprimand me for not using the correct technique or use a move of choice to restrain me again as an example that I haven't carried out the task properly. Instead, he just lies there, staring intently up at me as I sit there on top of him.

That's when I feel it.

The rock-hard bulge digging into my ass from where I straddle him.

I gasp, scrambling to my feet and recoiling in horror.

I don't stop until I'm a good distance away from him, legs trembling as nausea overcomes me.

My head swims with memories of the times Alphas would aggressively pin me, pressing themselves up against my body.

Their hardness the physical feeling of their arousal, prompting the bone-chilling awareness of what would follow.

How they'd force me down in some secluded area, taking turns having their way with me while I cried and begged for it to end.

Every part of me, painfully violated and battered around like a rag doll until I was bleeding and bruised.

I clutch my chest, hyperventilating as the flashes of the past stream through my brain, reminding me of what alphas are capable of doing to me.

Alphas... including Cyrus.

He is no different.

He wants what they all do.

"You're... you're disgusting," I blurt out.

The hurt that overcomes his face is like a knife to the heart but I don't care.

I can't... I can't be here.

My lips trembles as tears threaten to form and before I know it, I'm turning and running.

Running far away from him.

Away from the Alpha that he is.

[theodoradevlin]

Theo knew that look. She saw the hope shine in Felix’s eyes as soon as those round little beasts bounded towards them. Out of pure instinct, Theo automatically drew her wand out. It was well documented that Felix had a weak spot for four legged, fluffy, versions of their friends (not that she blamed him). Despite being admittedly adorable, these particular "friends" had teeth a little too sharp for Theo's taste and she didn't want them near him.

“Felix!!! Be careful!”

Her voice came out concerned, but as she took in the small yips and caught her friend’s amused expression, Theo also found herself suppressing a fit of laughter. It was impossible not to find the humor in everything when she was with Felix, and a horde of gourds was certainly pretty hilarious. 

Theo took a defensive position just at the other side of Felix’s back, hoping the 360 coverage would help them keep eyes on the blur of yippy beasts bouncing all around them, but they moved unnaturally fast.

 Natural born predators, these things. 

Theo vaguely heard Felix trying to coax them, and thought a nice compliment might help too, but she could barely mutter the words "adorable” before another pumpkin jumped into her face and nearly nipped her tie right off of her uniform!

 “Oy!!!!!” She shouted back in its face, “That was uncalled for!” 

At the same moment, she felt Felix fumbling to get away from his own small, round attacker. She scoffs helplessly in response to Felix’s question,

“Ideas? Clearly not flattery. I think being cute angers them honestly….” 

Theo danced around Felix again as he swerved to avoid another perturbed pumpkin, and as another crawled up his leg she ducked to try and pry the little thing off of him, “That’s not how we greet our friends!!!” 

As she wrangled it off of Felix, the small squash only nipped angrily in protest. This was not the sort of pumpkin spice she usually preferred. Perhaps they needed a little something to sweeten up.

Without warning, the pumpkin wriggled itself out of Theo’s grasp, using its root-like legs to scamper their way down Theo’s cloak. Reaching her pockets, the pumpkin let out a victory bark to find Theo's candy stash!! The pumpkin puppy’s vines greedily reached right in to help itself, shoveling the bits of candy into its mouth with some very undignified gobbling noises.

Then, as if alerted to treats nearby, the rest of the pumpkins flurried into chaos around them, bouncing up and down to bite at Felix and Theo’s pockets. 

“Felix, quick! Give them the candy!” She frantically called out to him, tossing him a bit of glittering gummies, and fizzing whizbees. As the handful of sweets flew through the air she cast a desperate “Engorgio”.

Theo exhaled a quick "Thank Merlin" that she had good aim as the candy grew to two times their original size. She didn’t want to squash Felix, but she only had so much candy! 

Her own hands were busy tossing the massive candy corns away from her and Felix to get the pumpkins off of the two of them. Some of the puppy pumpkins were now flying through the air, some glittering, some tripping over themselves as they bounded towards the candy corn to devour it like some rare type of spooky land piranhas. 

Theo heaved a sigh of relief as the pumpkins became preoccupied with gobbling up the candy. She sunk back down into the grass next to Felix, quickly checking him for any signs of injury. Thankfully it seemed they were both safe, saving Als from a visit from them...for today.

Once full of candy, the pumpkin puppies started to look drowsy, no doubt due to a sugar crash.. one by one, satiated and sleepy, a few stumbled their way back over to where Felix and Theo were sitting. One curled up innocently on Felix’s lap, while a second nuzzled into Theo’s side. She couldn’t help but smile at them, and then at Felix,

“Well… you have to admit, they're certainly much cuter this way. Let’s just hope there’s no shortage of candy at Hogwarts this Halloween.”

You and @theodoradevlin are out on a walk, like you usually do, anticipating an adventure, when somewhere from behind Professor Howin's hut you hear barking. Rounding the hut, you suddenly get attacked by— no, it's not puppy Seb, Felix, I am sorry by a swarm of barking pumpkins! What do you two do?

It was just another stroll through the grounds, crisp autumn air filling their lungs, the golden leaves crunching beneath their feet. @theodoradevlin 's and Felix' afternoon had seemed rather ordinary. Until now. A sudden chorus of barking erupted from behind Professor Howin's hut.

The Ravnclaw blinked, his stride faltering as he turned towards the noise. Barking? Here? There was a split second of confusion as he looked to Theo, brows knit together, but curiosity and hope tugged him forward. It couldn't be... Puppy Seb... right? The boy thought. But rounding the corner of the hut, the truth hit Felix squarely in the chest.

Small, round pumpkins with tiny, stubby legs bounced and rolled towards them, their shrill barks ringing out into the brisk autumn air. Each pumpkin, adorned with jagged smiles and flickering eyes, seemed to compete with the others to be the most fearsome - or the most adorable.

Felix felt himself stifling a laugh as they charged forward, little legs trotting along with the utmost determination. Their bark was hardly menacing, but the ridiculousness of a swarm of barking pumpkins left him momentarily speechless, unsure whether to flee or offer a pat on the head.

Felix took a half-step back, raising his hands in mock surrender. "Alright, alright!" he murmured under his breath, his voice low, as if addressing the pumpkin pack would somehow appease them. One of the pumpkins, slightly larger than the rest and with an unrelenting spark in its tiny eyes, gave a more insistent bark and lunged at his ankles. Felix managed a quick step back, barely dodging the little thing.

"Erm, got any ideas on how to charm our gourd-like comrades here?" he asked, half-joking but half-serious.

As another pumpkin tumbled past, Felix raised his hands in a gesture of peace, adopting his most soothing tone. "Easy there, mate. We're just passing through. No need to get al-" He cut himself off mid-sentence, sidestepping just in time as an especially eager pumpkin sprang up, snapping its jagged grin mere inches from his face.

"Theo," he murmured, eyes wide, barely managing to sidestep as yet another pumpkin collided with his knee with a determined, if slightly aimless, yap. "I... think they mean business." His words trailed off as a few of the smaller pumpkins began to wriggle up his leg, though their tiny root-legs made the attempt look more like clumsy wiggling than an actual assault.

[intheticklecloset]

1. “Are you laughing at me?” With ler Don and lee Norman from The Promised Neverland! 💖 Ler Don has so much potential and I love him so much!!

Order Up! Happy Hour Event CLOSED

~~~

“Are you laughing at me?” Don asked incredulously, peering through the now empty bookshelf at Norman, who had one hand over his mouth, trying to cover up his giggles.

“No, of course not,” he replied, though another snicker gave him away.

Don smirked. “What? Think this is funny?” He’d just been trying to grab one book from the shelf, but it was jammed in so tight that by removing it he ended up knocking nearly all of the books down with it, raining on him in a pile of flapping pages.

“No. I mean…” Norman shrugged, finally removing his hand to reveal his wide smile. “It is kind of funny. As long as you’re not hurt.”

“I’m not,” Don reassured him, flashing him an evil grin, “but if you think it’s so funny, I’ll give you something to really laugh about.”

Norman bolted as soon as he saw those teasing, wiggling fingers from the other side of the bookshelf, unable to control his excited giggles as he ran. He burst out of the door to the library and fled down the hall, nearly barreling right into Mom as she came up the stairs.

“Norman,” she scolded gently, “you know better than to run in the halls.”

“Sorry, Mom,” he replied hastily, glancing back to see Don hot on his tail and promptly ignoring her reminder. He ducked past her down the stairs, but his slight hesitation had been enough for his friend to catch up to him, and they barely made it outside before he was tackled into the grass.

“Gotcha!” Don cried, grinning as he plunged his fingers into Norman’s sides. “Take that!”

“Ah! Nahahahahahahaha! Wahahahahahahait!” Norman pleaded, spasming and curling up defensively, his giggles evolving into laughter while he squirmed helplessly. “Dohohohohohon! Don’t tihihihihihickle me!”

Don chuckled, aware that several of the kids who had been playing outside were now focused on the scene unfolding just beyond the doorway. “Why not? You know we all love hearing you laugh, Norman~”

Norman squealed and cackled even harder at that, trying to wriggle away to no avail. “Plehehehehehease! Dohohohohohohon’t! Don, stahahahahahap it!”

“What’s that? Don’t stop?” Don chuckled at his friend’s cry of elated despair and continued tickling as the other kids gradually bounded toward them, wanting in on the fun. “Whatever you say!”

[windygo]

Holy Matrimony (1/2)

Not long after scooping Meowth into their basket, the balloon hisses. Patchwork strips of duct tape give way under pressurized air: battle scars from Twerpish interference that's sent them blasting off more times than fingers on their collective hands.

"We're going down," James states. He barks a laugh. "Again."

Meowth sighs. "We really oughta stitch dis t'ing."

"Sure. I'll just pull a needle and thread out of thin air." Jessie runs her hand through her hair.

Their descent is slow - at first. But in the last stretch with maybe ten feet to the soil, a small hole suddenly becomes a larger one. They plummet like a lead weight.

The basket all but crumples. Bodies scatter. Meowth squeals as the balloon deflates on top of him and Jessie feels her elbow slam a rock. "FUUUU-!"

Somewhere at her side, her lavender-haired companion hisses. He's landed hard on his back and is motionless. For a horrifying moment Jessie wonders if he injured his spine, but then she sees the fingers clench on the wrist he's biting. Tears are springing to the corners of his eyes.

"You good, James?"

"Hnfffff," he huffs past his glove. Not a positive or negative response really. It takes an extra moment and Jessie's inching towards him to quickly blurt out, "Y-Yeah. I'm good."

The balloon wriggles. Meowth howls. Claws cut ribbons through the fabric. "Get this t'ing offa me!!"

"Weren't you just bitching about needing to stitch it?!"

"Then hurry an' help before there's nothin' ta stitch!"

Jessie springs to her feet, working the massive lump of cloth off the scratch cat Pokemon. Once James pulls himself up, he's right there at her side. Soon enough Meowth rolls into freedom huffing and puffing like he's recovering from claustrophobia.

"Jeez ... "

Jessie's eyes loll to the side. She snaps to attention suddenly, forcibly grabbing James by the shoulder and spinning him helplessly so that his back is facing her. His yelp is akin to a kicked Growlithe.

"Jess - "

"James what the fuck?!"

Betwixt the grass stains and mud patches on his normally pristine white overshirt are red blotches. They blot his clothes in random places.

"Did you clip a rock or something?!"

James is pulling away but Jessie's grip is a vice. "Just a scratch, it's fine!"

"My ass," chips in Meowth. "Jim dat's a lotta blood."

Jessie's hands are rough, forcibly removing the white Team Rocket shirt. A sharp breath hitches in James' throat and his entire body tenses - no, braces - and it makes her guts turn for reasons she doesn't understand.

"Stop." It's barely a whisper. A soft plea. But he doesn't resist.

The stains on the overshirt are nothing compared to the undershirt. "It's soaked."

There's crimson on her gloves fingers just from touching it. She carelessly yanks them and tosses them aside. Gently but firmly gripping James under the arms, she pulls him down on the grass.

"Sit."

He wordlessly obliges, teeth gritting while Jessie inevitably pulls the blood-drenched cloth over his head.

Suddenly her chest is hammering. Her mind could not comprehend what her eyes were seeing.

Meowth, with his fur bristled and his slitted eyes narrowed, sums it up perfectly. "Dat bitch."

James' back is pocket marked with long, deep grooves. Partially scabbed but presumably reopened from the fall, they stream rivulets of red. At least three appear on the verge of infection. His skin is hot to the touch.

"By Arceus ... ," Jessie whispers.

"More like 'by Jessebelle'," Meowth corrects.

James visibly starts at the name. His gaze is firmly planted on the dirt, lips tight and eyes vacant. Not a sound erupts from his mouth.

But there are old among the new. It briefly dawns on Jessie that she's never really seen James without a shirt before. Now it makes sense why. Her finger absently traces the ghost of a whip lashing from ages past - small marks that belonged to the small back of a small child. James flinches. So does her heart.

"That bitch," she repeats. "How long has she ... ?"

He doesn't answer. He doesn't need to. His listlessly gazing eyes are empty pools of green. James is tuned out - he's there but nobody's home.

No wonder he ran away. No wonder he joined Team Rocket. If arranged marriage to a psychopath wasn't enough, here was the proof of recurrent child abuse that his folks were okay with and ...

Jessie swallows hard. She's seen the room he was in when they busted him out. Chains ... Shackles ... Torture devices ... Ball gags ...

Jessebelle was definitely a dominatrix type. Was physical abuse not the only thing on the table? Sexual, too?

Had he been raped?

Recently? As a child, too? Questions she didn't have the stomach to ask. It certainly explained, well ... everything about him.

A burning hatred rose like an inferno in her chest. Jessie tore off her own white shirt and pressed against James' injuries - a little rougher than she intended, for he cried out and immediately bit it back. She repeated the action remorsefully, gentler this time.

"Got some antiseptic." Meowth had been rummaging through their balloon basket. "Ain't got any antibiotics tho."

"You wanna make a trip?"

The cat smirked. "Like ya gotta ask. Dere was a PokeMart not far from 'ere. Want chips too?"

"Sea salt, baby."

That at least earned a chuckle from James' otherwise statuesque form.

"Back quicker den ya can say 'worcestershire'." His curled tail twitched as he ran.

"Okay, so ... " Jessie leaned back to inspect his back. With a few more swipes of her jacket on his raw flesh, she was able to clean the bloody tear trails. She pressed it firmly against the wounds that were still weeping. "Keep your shirt off for a bit. Gotta air it out and - "

"Jess."

She waited for him to finish his thought. His voice was so soft and distant and it hurt to hear him speak with the fragility of glass.

But his mouth opened, then shut, then opened again. When whatever he wanted to say didn't tumble past his lips, James' cocked his head to the side and grimaced. Those green pools were swimming in fresh water.

And ...

The magenta-haired Rocket wrapped her arms around his chest, clasping them together above his abdomen. For a moment Jessie wondered if that gesture was a mistake, for James quivered against her as if unsure this was a good or bad touch. But she held firm, carefully pressing her chest to his back in a tender hug.

Eventually his voice came to her, cracking and broken. Something hot and warm fell from his face onto her bare hand.

"You're gonna get blood on you."

"Shut up, James."

He did.

[stiltonbasket]

Hi!! I love renouncement verse So Much!!! The balance of angst and fluff is just 👌 and I love every single prompt! In the one where the couple is comforting the bride, LWJ mentions a paperman. If WWX were to find it, what would his reaction be?

anon 2: I just read the ficlet with arranged marriage verse wwx and lwj talking to a nervous bride, and now I have to ask: does wwx ever find those paper men? Or any other keepsakes lwj might have of him?

Wei Wuxian finds the dusty box under Lan Zhan’s old bed.

As far as boxes go, this one is so completely unassuming that it practically blends in with the floorboards. It's nothing like the deep red wood that Wei Wuxian’s dowry boxes were made of, or the delicately carved chests that held his late mother-in-law’s old dresses. But Wei Wuxian has never been one to quash his curiosity, and Lan Zhan has often said that the jingshi and everything in it belongs as much to Wei Wuxian as it does to him--so Wei Wuxian gives in to impulse, and pries the little chest open with the point of one of his fingernails.

At first glance, the box seems to be full of letters. All of them are dated in Lan Zhan’s own hand, meaning that the chest had not belonged to Madam Lan as many of the older treasures remaining in the jingshi did; and Wei Wuxian flips through the unsealed envelopes one by one, wondering why his husband never sent them.

“They were for you.”

Wei Wuxian nearly leaps out of his skin. “Lan Zhan!” he gasps, as his husband’s soft lips brush the top of his head. “You startled me, xingan. I thought you were going to spend the afternoon in the nursery with A-Yu.”

“Mm, I was. But he wanted to play with San-shushu’s children, so I took him to visit Lan Li and Lan Yue. Third Uncle is watching over them now with Shufu.”

He goes gracefully to his knees at Wei Wuxian’s side and takes the box from his hands, setting it down between them before digging out a small grass butterfly. “A-Yuan had this in his robes when I found him in the Luanzung Gang,” Lan Zhan murmurs. “I put it here for safekeeping, since it was the only thing he had from that time save for his clothes.”

“It looks just like it did then,” Wei Wuxian marvels. The butterfly has been meticulously preserved, right down to the straw fringe on the battered wings and the dent at the bottom of the tail where A-Yuan always gripped it, so worried that his favorite toy might be lost somehow that he never learned how to hold it gently. “Have you kept it here all this time, sweetheart?”

“En, I did. Xiongzhang bought an identical one after he recovered from his fever, so I let him have that one instead.”

Casting one last reverent look at the grass butterfly, Lan Zhan returns it to the trunk and presents Wei Wuxian with what looks like one of his own red ribbons, folded away in a nest of dried mint leaves and lotus petals.

“You left this behind in your guest quarters when you stayed here during the lecture,” his husband explains. “That side of the compound survived the fires, and nobody stayed there after you did, so I found the ribbon in one of the drawers after we retook the Cloud Recesses. I meant to return it to you, but with everything that happened afterward...”

“Ah, I know. My Hanguang-jun was too shy to tell me that he went to visit the guest house I stayed in, just because I was the last one to visit there,” Wei Wuxian teases, bringing a soft flush to Lan Zhan’s cheekbones. “Lan Zhan, did you really carry my ribbon in your lapels all the way through the Sunshot Campaign?”

Lan Zhan nods. “Sometimes I wept, on days where it was plain that your cultivation was hurting you, and held the ribbon while I slept to keep nightmares at bay. And after--” and here his breath catches, as if the pain of their sixteen years apart were wearing on him still, even with Wei Wuxian alive and well in his arms. “After the Nightless City, I knew I would never have anything more of you even if I cultivated to immortality. So I put it away, and covered it with mint to prevent moths from chewing it, and lotus petals so that it would not lose the fragrance of your hair.”

Wei Wuxian trembles against him, sniffling helplessly into his shoulder as more keepsakes come forth from the box: the old drawing Wei Wuxian made in the library pavilion, one of the peonies he threw at Lan Zhan during the crowd hunt on Mount Baifeng, now dried and wrapped in white silk to protect it from crumbling, and even...

“You kept these?” he cries, as a pair of red papermen crawl out of the box. “And they still have a trace of my lingli in them! How did you manage that?”

“I preserved them in a spirit-trapping bag, because they kept trying to escape,” Lan Zhan says bashfully. “I did not know that would catch the spiritual power you put into them, but now and then I would take out the pouch, and...”

His voice trails off into silence, and Wei Wuxian bites his lip at the thought of it: Lan Zhan mourning him, wounded and in pain as he held on to the little qiankun bag to feel the tiny papermen wriggling inside, imagining that he was protecting a part of Wei Wuxian himself.

“I’m here now,” Wei Wuxian whispers. “I’m never going to leave you, Lan Zhan. You’ll never have to lose me again.”

Lan Zhan reaches out and brushes back a loose strand of his hair.

“No, I will not,” he replies. “But if I did, I would never survive it.”

I spent half a lifetime without you, is what Wei Wuxian hears instead. And if I could have joined you without leaving our son, or if I had gone to the Luanzung Gang and not found A-Yuan after the siege, the day I realized that you were dead would have been the end of me.

Lan Zhan is already aging again, Wei Wuxian knows. His own jindan is gone forever, his dantian and meridians so thoroughly damaged that he will never regain the ability to cultivate; but Lan Zhan’s body was about Wei Wuxian’s physical age when it stopped sensing the passage of time, and the first thing he did after their wedding was alter the flow of his spiritual energy, so that the both of them will age together with the coming years and pass on into death almost as one.

“We should fill another box. Perhaps more than one,” Lan Zhan says quietly. “One for A-Yu’s baby keepsakes, and A-Lan’s, and another for our wedding--and we can keep them here, beside this one and the chest where I saved Sizhui’s things. What do you think, Wei Ying?”

Wei Wuxian’s eyes fill with tears.

“I’d love to,” he chokes. “But not now. I’m going to spend today right here, in your arms, and we can start tomorrow.”

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

The Assistant 11

Warnings: this fic includes noncon/rape, cheating, creep behaviour, violence, anger. These warnings are not exhaustive.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: As an assistant at the Daily Planet, you’re rarely noticed. Until you are.

Characters: Clark Kent

Note: I expect we're near the endgame now.

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. Thanks to everyone who reads this one and thank you for all your energy.<3

Love you all like Lord Farquaad loves unnecessary vowels. Take care. 💖

🖊🖊🖊

Clark lands with an impact that makes your skull rattle. Your ears ring as the world around you smears. He lets you go and you stumble away. He keeps you off balance as he grabs you again, spinning you as you whimper helplessly.

He rips your hoodie down your arms, tugging it free only to use the sleeve to restrain your wrists. He keeps you facing away from him, forcing you to your knees as he shoves his knee into your back. He puts you on your stomach and bends your legs up, securing your feet with the other sleeve so you’re facedown in the dirt.

You heave as your tears spring out unchecked. He parts from you, his soles mulching the dirt as your sobs echo. You squirm until you fall onto your side, bound helpless as you let your horror mount to frantic screams.

“Help! Someone!”

He hushes you and bends to grip your jaw. You quiet, choking on your voice as you look past him. Canopies of leaves ripple above him, you smell water nearby, a freshness that lends a coolness to the air. He snarls and drags you across the ground, placing you against the brush along the jutting rock wall.

“Scream all you want. No one out here.”

“Please, Clark, please,” you plead through pathetic babbles, “I didn’t–why– why did you– Richard—”

“You promised you loved me. That you would never hurt me–”

“I was scared–”

“You lied to me,” he growls as he paces back and forth, “you betrayed me!”

“No, no, I was just afraid. I was afraid you’d hurt me, Clark, honey, I swear–”

“Hurt you?”

“You’re married,” you whimper, “I knew we could never be together–”

“I know.” He grits out as he stops to face you, his eyes glowing eerie crimson, “you know. Lois is dead. This was our chance and you ran–”

“Dead? Clark–”

“Stop lying,” he barks, “I can hear your fucking heart amp up every time you do. So stop.”

You sniffle and shudder in the dirt. Prickly vines poke at you as you give in to the futility. You’re not getting away this time. Your lashes are webbed with tears, adding a soft glare to your vision. You look up at Clark and pout.

“I can be better… please,” you beg. “What are you going to do to me?”

He raises his chin and stares up at the sun. You murmur and curl your fingers into your palm. You wait in the deafening silence of the moment. The chitter of birds and scramble of critters is dulled by your dread.

“Make you better,” he says as he spins to face the sprawl of trees.

He clutches his fists tight and a sudden rush of air blows over you as he zips up into the sky. It feels as if the earth lurches beneath the force of his departure. You fall back against the rock wall, leaning your elbow on it as you gape up after him.

“SOMEONE!” You screech, even as you know he’s right, that no one will hear, “SOMEONE PLEASEEEEEEEE!”

🖊

Your lungs burn and your throat turns raw. You have nothing left. Your fruitless screams die as you lay in the dirt, wriggling only a few inches this way or that. Twigs and pebbles jab through your clothing and the dewy patches of grass stain the fabric. 

This is it. This is the end. The sheen of disbelief slowly fades. That denial that it couldn’t be real. You are just an intern and he is just a journalist. A lonely man looking for company where he shouldn’t. No, he is a murderer. You witnessed it. You’ve seen the rage in him, you felt it, the insatiability that cannot be denied.

More than that, he is inhuman. He is something else. He is lauded as a superhero yet lurks like a villain behind the mask of Clark Kent.

You quiver and let out a deep heave. Breathless, exhausted, defeated. You let your head rest on the ground as the warmth of the sun pools over you through a gap in the branches above.

Sweat beads over your forehead and dampens your cheeks. It gathers beneath your clothing and trickles along your neck and back. You languish there in the beating of the summer heat and wait. For what comes next. For the inevitable.

As resignation sets in, your fate doesn’t seem so scary. Death is a finality. It is an end. It means that you will be free, even if that freedom is nothingness. There is relief in knowing that those weeks of torture have come to a head. You’ve met the climax and now you’re in the falling action, plummeting towards the finale.

A gust sweeps over you and the earth shakes. You let out a yipe at the flash of colour and the clatter left behind. In a second, he is gone again, whooshing up into the expanse as the din of the forest resumes. You look over at the large ax leaning against the cliffside, a hand saw beside it, and few other tools you can’t place. What?

He returns, surprising you again. The clunk of a heavy chest hits the dirt. You flinch and try to turn your body. The effort leaves you hollow as you manage to roll against the jutting rock wall. 

Several more hurtling trips and Clark finally stands still, curls mussed from the excess but otherwise unshaken by his efforts. He grabs the ax as you stare at the wrapped packages of insulation, the bucket of plaster, and litany of materials. It can’t be–

He approaches a tree and swings the ax. He cuts through the trunk with a single strike. He lifts the gargantuan tree with a single arm and tosses it behind him. It bounces and rolls to a stop on the soft ground. He does it again, and again, and again. He clears at least a dozen trees without a glance or word in your direction.

You linger in stupefied silence. He approaches the pile of trees and pulls one out. He is little more than a blur as he works at breaking them down into neat planks. This has to be a nightmare. The distortion, the unreality of the moment can’t be true.

You gulp and lower your head. It makes you dizzy to watch him. You listen to the furor of his labour. The zip of the saw, the crack of the ax, and the rhythm of a hammer. When you peek over again, vision hazy with the beaming heat of the sun, there is a foundation built.

You shudder and blow out through your dry lips. You try to wet your mouth but your tongue is arid. You will against the ground, crushing your shoulder as you clench and unclench your fists.

You’re stunned by a sudden grip on your jaw that brings your head up. You nearly choke as Clark puts a bottle to your lips and pours water into your mouth. Your body gulps it down greedily as your thoughts remain disjointed and distorted.

He backs up and pulls the stump of a log over to sit across from you. He drains the last of the water and brings forward a paper bag. He doesn’t say a word as he reaches inside and takes out a granola bar. He wraps it and leans forward to offer it to you.

You stare at him. He presses it to your lips. You turn your face away.

“Eat,” he demands.

You sniff and push your head back against the side of the cliff, “why are you doing this?”

He sighs and retracts his arm. He breaks off a chunk of the bar. He doesn’t answer you.

“Clark, what are you doing?” You croak.

He gets off the log and comes closer, nearly straddling you as he drops onto his knees. He grabs your skull, turning your head straight, and forces the granola into your mouth. You murmur as he holds your jaw in place and your stare up at him with wide eyes.

“Eat.”

You don’t resist. You chew and swallow. He takes another piece and jams it through your lips; he does it again and again until the wrapper is empty. He backs up and perches again on the log.

You watch him as he looks over at his work so far. A whole wall built. It's not hard to guess at the goal, but you don’t understand why. Why doesn’t he just kill you? Like Lois. Like Richard.

“I’m building us a home,” he says as he drops his head into his hands and scratches along his hairlines, “just you and me.”

He sits up and combs his hair back. He stands and dusts off his palms. He stretches and peels off his shirt, revealing his broad chest and thickly muscled stomach. The hair along his torso speckles with his sweat.

“It must be done by nightfall,” he declares as he marches away.

You turn your attention back to the endless forest. You stare into the daunting sprawl and deflate. It isn’t a home he’s building, it’s a prison.

🖊

The house is complete. Clark carries you through the front door and puts you against the wall, just beneath the window. The interior is barren. No furniture, only a gaping fireplace and a small hoop anchored in the floor.

He unties you and stands over you, watching you as you sit up. Your shoulders and knees throb from being locked the whole day. He bends and pulls your left leg straight, he closes a metal cuff around your ankle and pushes a bolt into place. You kick your foot in fright as he lets it go and a chain clanks loudly as he lets it unfurl.

He attaches the other end to the loop in the floor. You whine and get to your knees.

“Clark, please, what are you doing?”

“I can’t trust you,” he sneers, “it’s for your own good…” he stands and looks above you, to the window, “you would only get lost out there.”

“No, please, you can trust me–”

He raises his hand and you quiet. You sit back on your heels and clasp your hands together. He shakes his head and waves you off, striding away without another word. He goes through the open door as you focus on the chain, touching the links in dread.

He returns and unzips a sleeping bag, spreading it over the floor. He leaves again, coming back with pillows and another blanket. He backs up, hands on his hips and looks over the makeshift set up.

“Tomorrow I will find a bed. Other things,” he turns and approaches the fireplace, resting his hand on the mantle above, “I will start a fire for the night. It’ll be cold soon.”

You want to scream. You want to wail. You want to call him a monster, tell him that he’s insane. But you know that won’t make this any better. You let go of the chain and raise yourself on your knees. You crawl on the blankets and make yourself small as you sit against the pillows.

“Thank you, Clark,” you squeak as you pull off your shoes and place them to the side.

He keeps his back to you, bowing his head as he sighs. Slowly, he shifts and glances over his shoulder. His eyes meet yours and he drags his hand off the mantle. He faces you as you carefully recline.

“I’m sorry, honey,” he says grimly, “but it has to be like this. Just for now.”

“I know,” you say as you wince and rub your shoulder.

He sniffs and reluctantly turns away. His steps are lighter as he goes back through the door, returning with an armful of split logs. He stacks them by the fireplace before he works at starting a fire. You listen to his efforts and close your eyes. Only to hide, not to sleep.

The scent of the fire fills the cabin and he pulls the door shut. He nears and his shadow looms over you. He tugs on the blanket as he climbs down next to you and swoops it over you as he wraps an arm over your middle. He draws you closer, his breath fanning across your hair.

“I know you’re scared but one day, you’ll see,” he rumbles as he bends his arm, fondling your chest. Your stomach knots as he presses his pelvis flush to you, “I saved you… like you saved me.” 

His hand trails down and you hold your breath. His fingertips touch the top of your jeans and he pauses. He brushes his arm back up and embraces you again.

“Not tonight,” he resigns glumly, “I don’t forgive you yet.”

[someonestolemyshoes]

Summer Wine

This is my gift fic for the Levihan University servers Christmas in July event! My giftee was the wonderful _myunet on twitter and instagram - I went with the summer holidays theme, and we all know I’m a sucker for childhood friends, so... I hope you enjoy :) 

**

“This is a stupid idea.”

Levi trailed helplessly behind Hange as she shimmied along the crack of an alley between two barns, a narrow shortcut from the main yard to the back field that kept them out of view of the main house. She held a bottle of wine in one hand, cool from the fridge, condensation beading as the chill glass met the stuffy summer heat. It was getting late, the ghost of a moon and a smattering of stars decorating a purple sky overhead, while the horizon bled deep pink where the sun dipped below the skyline.

The set of the sun did little to temper the heat. The air was muggy and stagnant, heavy on his skin as Levi broke out at the end of the alleyway and trotted to catch up with Hange's longer strides. She twisted quickly to look at him, walking backwards past the lamb shed to shoot him a wicked smile, wiggling the bottle.

"It'll be fun!" She said brightly. "And it's not stupid if it's fun."

She turned before he had time to argue, dancing on her toes to keep her footing as they crossed onto the field. The grass had been clipped short and left to dry in the sun, and in the still, quiet night the crunch of it underfoot was deafening. Hange hummed absently as she picked her way over to the haystack, swinging the bottle at her side.

They were out of sight of the house, here, but Levi still felt a little uneasy. Hange's parents weren't strict, but this might just push the boundaries of their tolerance—clambering around the farm yard in the growing dark was bad enough, nevermind doing it with a belly full of wine they were both too young and too dumb to drink. But the day had been unbearably hot, and the wine was cool, and Hange's summer holiday had been filled with too much work, early mornings and busy days and not enough time to relax and enjoy a few weeks of academic freedom, and she'd watched one too many movies with underage drinking and maybe she'd felt envious, maybe she'd felt inspired. She'd texted Levi asking if he wanted to do something fun, and Levi had agreed without asking too many questions, and now here they are.

Hange was toeing her shoes off at the base of the silage stack. 'So we don't put holes in the plastic,' she'd told him, years and years ago, when they were almost too small to clamber up even one bale. She hoisted herself up with ease now, and Levi did the same, following her path up each layer of round, wrapped bales. The plastic stuck to the soles of Hange's bare feet ahead of him, tacking and squeaking as she climbed. The sun had shifted from the field hours ago, but the black wrapping was still warm beneath his palms, and the hay smell was overpowering, woody and still fresh. It will change, as the year goes on and the cut grass ferments into something sweeter, richer, more earthy, but the bales were freshly gathered, the summer still young.

Hange plopped down right in the middle of the top of the pile, sinking into the cleft between two bales. She wriggled to adjust until she was comfortable, dipped in a shallow V with her back against one bale and her legs against the other. She patted the space beside her, grinning, and Levi settled into it.

The air shifted some, this high up. The breeze was light and bare, but it felt refreshing after the oppressive stillness they'd endured all day. Hange unscrewed the lid from the bottle and took a tentative sniff. She winced.

"Smells awful," she said. And then she took a sip.

Hange's face screwed up the moment the drink hit her tongue, eyes squeezing shut and lips pursing as she struggled to swallow it. She shook her head, shuddering, and held out the bottle. "Your turn."

Levi eyed it warily. Hange nudged it against his chest. "C'mon, it's not so bad."

Levi raised a brow at her. "You look like you drank piss."

"It's fine," she said, and to prove her point she took another, bigger sip. She stifled her reaction, but Levi could see the way her throat bobbed reflexively, swallowing air, and the way her eyes watered behind her glasses. Levi rolled his eyes at her.

"Convincing," he said. Hange nudged him with the bottle again, and again, and again, until he grabbed it, if only to stop her incessant poking.

"I think this counts as peer pressure," Levi said, taking the bottle from her grip. Hange grinned widely.

"Absolutely. Drink."

Levi didn't dare smell it. He eyed the pale liquid warily for a moment, then sucked in a breath and pulled the bottle to his lips, tipping it back.

Hange was right. It wasn't bad. It was fucking disgusting. The drink was cold and flat, but it fizzed strangely on his tongue and burned as it slid down his throat, settling hot and uneasy in his gut. The taste lingered unpleasantly, tart and acidic. His expression soured uncontrollably, and beside him, Hange let out a raucous laugh.

"Tastes like drinking piss," Levi said.

"It's vile," Hange agreed. Still, she took the bottle from him, and drank another mouthful down. "God, how does mum like this?"

Levi shrugged his shoulders. The strangest thing was, now that the burn had settled, his stomach felt pleasantly warm. The bitter taste had abated into something mild, sweeter and a little fruity on his tongue. He took the bottle from Hange and drank again.

Hange settled back against the bale and rubbed her hands over her face, pushing her glasses out of the way to grind her knuckles into her eyes. She looked worn, tired. Her cheeks and nose were pink and raw from exposure to the sun, and her exhaustion had bruised her eyes, leaving the skin puffy and purple.

She sighed heavily. "This summer sucks."

Levi lowered the bottle, but said nothing. He had grown used to spending almost every waking second of the summer holidays with Hange—when they were small, too small to play without supervision, Hange had passed the summer days with Levi and his mother while her family worked the farm, and then when they were older, free to exore, they'd filled their time with play on the farm, Levi dutifully trailing Hange wherever she went.

Hange had always been a lively, extroverted kid, a stark contrast to Levi's quiet, insular nature, and at times he had found her boundless energy overwhelming. Too touchy, too loud. Too much. But Hange never minded that he rarely spoke, that he shied away from people, quiet and brooding to mask his discomfort, and with time, Levi had grown used to her. They fell into an easy routine with each new summer, finding new ways to fill their time—but this year was the first since Hange's brother had moved away, and they were one hand short on the farm. Hange had helped in the past, odd jobs here and there throughout the year, but this summer was intensive, task after task from dawn until dusk, with barely a moment to breathe. Levi had hardly seen her for the last three weeks, and likely wouldn't see much of her at all until school started up again. It was weird, too quiet and too still without her.

She let out a frustrated sound and plucked the bottle from his hand, gulping from it, this time. She looked ridiculous, puckering her lips when she lowered the bottle. "I want a day off. We haven't had time to do anything."

"We're doing something now," Levi said. Hange laughed, low in her throat, and raised the bottle as though to taste his word, before she drank again. With the moon high and full, Levi could see the colour in her face, flushed pink from the alcohol, and her eyes were growing glasses behind her lenses. He wondered if she was feeling the drink as much as he was—his head was light, a little woozy, but his limbs felt weighty and graceless, fingers fumbling to take the bottle back from Hange, wrapping clumsily over her hand as he did, and has her skin always been this soft? Her hand felt impossibly smooth beneath his fingertips, and when she laughed again, her voice rang brighter than usual, chiming in his ears. The effect was strangely dizzying.

"We are," she said, after a time. "We are doing something now. It's nice. I've missed it—I've missed you."

Levi hummed in acknowledgement. Things like this, they didn't come easy to him; words of affection fell from Hange's lips so often, without pause or debate, as though it was the simplest thing in the world, while Levi stuttered and stumbled in his own head for too long before inevitably saying nothing. He had missed Hange, had felt a little lost without her, bored and restless at home. Saying as much was hard. Levi held out the bottle for her instead, and watched as she tipped her head back to drink it.  

The alcohol made him feel weightless and floaty, absent, strange—so strange, but it wasn't a bad feeling. He watched the way Hange's lips pressed plump against the mouth of the bottle, the way strands of her hair had fallen from her messy ponytail, and curled loosely against her neck. An unfamiliar heat spread in his chest, his belly, his cheeks. He looked quickly away.

The bottle was a little over half empty when Hange set it to one side, reclining back against the curve of the bale and settling her hands on her stomach, staring up at the starry sky. They had so much space, up here, plenty of room to spread out, but Hange had moved until they were so close they were touching, pressed together at shoulder and hip and knee. Levi wasn't one for so much physical contact, but the wine made him warm and pleasantly heavy, and there was something nice about the way Hange felt against his side—comfortable, almost, but that isn't quite right, because comfortable would imply he was relaxed, and Levi didn't feel relaxed at all.

Touching Hange wasn't new to him. She was the most tactile person he knew, only content with her arm linked through his, her feet in his lap, her weight leaning on his side, some point of connection between them. She had been the same for as long as Levi could recall, and he had grown used to it. Sometimes, he even liked it.

But it never made him feel quite like he did now; restless, itching to press impossibly closer, to feel impossibly more.

"We could've done so much more though," Hange said. "We could've gone to the cinema—"

"—I already told you, I'm not watching the Shrek anniversary screening with you."

Hange dutifully ignore him. "Or the beach! We could've gone swimming in the sea, maybe, and—ooh, we could have had a 99, I haven't had one in ages."

"You'd shit your pants, stupid. You're lactose intolerant."

Again, Hange waved him off flippantly. "Ice cream is worth it. And maybe we could've camped some—remember when we used to camp in the front field?"

Levi hummed. "Never got any sleep. Too much sugar. Too many bugs."

Hange chuckled at his side.

"It was fun. Although, I think we might be a little too big for the tent now. It'd be a squeeze."

Levi thought about how close they were now, plastered to each other's sides as they stared up at the stars. It might not be so bad, cosy in the canvas of Hange's battered old tent, with a blanket to share and the leftover wine instead of fizzy drinks.

He had intended on keeping that thought quiet, store it somewhere private, but the wine loosed his tongue, and before he could think to stop himself, he said, "it would be nice."

Hange let out a long, rising hum beside him. "Yeah? Maybe I'll look for the tent tomorrow. We could tell scary stories like we used to, and you can pretend you're not frightened by the cows walking around in the next field."

Levi scowled up at the sky. "Just like old times," he said flatly. Hange snickered, digging her elbow into his ribs.

"So cute," she teased. "The only time you've ever been cuddly in your whole life, I bet."

"I was cold."

"It was like, twenty degrees."

Levi dug his elbow back at her. "Fuck off."

Hange squirmed at his side, wriggling away from his prodding. She laughed, breathless, and settled only when Levi stopped poking at her, sighing out a long breath.

"Remember when we tried stargazing?"

"Mm. You just made up your own shitty constellations."

"You believed me."

"I was nine, and stupid."

"Now you're sixteen and—" she cut herself off with a high squeal when Levi jabbed her side again, this time with his fingers, digging deep into the soft tissue beneath her ribs. He relented only when Hange begged him to, panting and strained, laughing loud and full.

Levi lay back to look up at the stars again. He could remember, vividly, the way Hange had pointed up at the distant sky, one long finger tracing nonexistent patterns in the stars. She'd had a lisp, then, still adjusting to her braces, words thick and clumsy when she said, 'See those stars there? There's a tail, and ears, and a big head with huuuuge teeth. That's Catticus Rex.'

Levi hadn't seen it. He had squinted with all his might, but the stars were just stars, random, disjointed. No Catticus Rex in sight. Still, he had said, 'yeah. Cool. What else?' And Hange had showed him Ursula ('like The Little Mermaid?' 'No, like a bear'), and The Big Duck, and one she called Jeffrey, and Levi had discerned nothing, but stupidly pretended all the same.

She was doing just the same now, though her arm was much longer, less weedy, muscle rippling under skin as she extended into his field of vision, drawing a shape in the air. Her voice was deeper than it was back then, and smoother. It sunk right into his chest as she spoke.

"That one is…..Hercules. See it?"

He didn't see it. He saw nothing more than flecks in the sky, swimming strangely in his addled vision.

"No."

Hange sighed, and dropped her arm. "Yeah. Me neither. Everything's moving too much."

Levi snorted. Hange talked on, naming constellations they should be able to see, but it's all purple sky and bright specks that blurred in and out of focus as he blinked, lids terribly heavy, and the way they shimmered made him feel a little nauseous. He rolled his head to the side to look at Hange instead, and—oh, she was close. So close, he could see the stars reflected in the dark of her eyes, and the way the wine had flushed her skin pink, the smattering of freckles over her nose. The breeze blew gently, and up this close Levi could see the way each individual hair on her head lifted and ruffled with it. He could see the length of her lashes and the shadows they cast on her cheeks when she blinked, long and slow; he could see the slope of her nose, her lips, caught in a stupid, absent smile as she stared up at the night sky. When did Hange get so pretty? It must have been a gradual development, but the last Levi could recall, she was a gangly pre-teen with stick limbs and a thin, rakish frame. She was still tall and still thin, but there were subtle curves at her hips that balanced out her broad shoulders, and the puppy fat on her face had disappeared, exposing the sharp line of her jaw and high, prominent cheekbones.

The heat in his chest can't be from the alcohol. They set the wine aside a while ago, so neither could he blame it for the restless energy bubbling under his skin, or the way his fingers twitched at his side, the urge to reach out and trace Hange's profile so sudden and his reflexes so sluggish and addled that his hand was already halfway in the air between them before he could think to stop it.

Hange's head lolled sideways to look at him. At some point, Levi must have shifted the impossible distance between them, for when Hange turned, their noses bumped together. Hange's fringe tickled his brow. He tasted the wine on her breath when she sighed out. His must taste the same, blowing hot over her lips, and her lips—

Levi never thought too much about kissing. He'd never had all that much interest, even now, as a teenager, when almost everyone around him seemed so charged, so eager to try all these new things they'd learned and discovered. Kissing sounded unpleasant, wet and messy and weird, and Levi had never once thought about kissing another person as much as he thought about kissing Hange now.

It must be the wine. That's what Levi told himself. The wine making his head a little fuzzy, his thoughts sluggish, bizarre, unfiltered. Hange was his friend, his best friend, and surely most people don't think about kissing their best friend. But his head was empty save for the way Hange's mouth looked, the way her breath felt on his skin.

Hange kissed him first. At least he thought she did—one moment they weren't kissing, and the next they were, and Levi hadn't meant to move but maybe he had anyway, maybe he had closed what little space was left and brushed his lips against hers, so soft, so light, he wondered if maybe he imagined it. He closed his eyes, head spinning, and Hange pressed her forehead clumsily against his own, resting there.

The world around them spun strangely in the darkness, time a fuzzy, frame thing, warping around them as Hange bumped her mouth to Levi's again and again, each time better and longer and more solid than the last.

And then the sky was a pale, watery blue, sunlight peeking over the distant horizon, as birds chirped loudly, screeching the new day. Levi swallowed, but his mouth was disgustingly dry, tongue like cotton behind his teeth. He blinked against the mild pounding in his head and shifted to ease the ache in his back, but something heavy laid over his chest and legs, pinning him.

Hange.

She lay at his side, contorted into the cleft of the bales, with one leg thrown over Levi's thigh and her arm sprawled across his abdomen. She snored softly in his ear.

Memories of the night rushed him; the picture of Hange under the moonlight, the blush of her face and the lilt of her laughter. The soft press of her lips against his. His face burned at the thought and he looked quickly away from her.

Trying not to disturb her, Levi shuffled, reaching to pull his phone out of the pocket of his shorts. 4:59am. He groaned, back seizing from the uncomfortable sleeping position, and Hange’s breath hitched and stuttered as she woke. She groaned, too, and turned to press her face into the bale, away from the glaring daylight.

“Time is it?” she asked, voice hoarse. Levi told her, and she let out a lamenting moan, rolling onto her back and wincing, unfurling her body and stretching her spine. She looked ridiculous, wrinkles on her cheek from the plastic wrapping and red welts on the bridge of her nose where her glasses had dug into the skin. “Shit. Mum might kill me.”

“Probably. You stole her wine and passed out in a field.”

“Can we count this as camping?” Hange said, laughing a little as she scrubbed at her face. Levi shrugged. He sat up, peeling himself away from the plastic and straightening out his wrinkled clothes.

They were quiet as they climbed down from the haystack. Hange hid the half empty bottle in the long grass by the wall, and led the way quietly towards the alleyway. Hange's quiet made him feel a little uneasy. He hadn’t drunk enough to forget what happened, and he doubted Hange had either, and he had hoped—expected, really—that Hange would be the one to bring it up, needle some kind of discussion out of him. He had relied on it. He couldn't mention it, not with his clumsy, crass tongue; he'd mess it up, say something biting, insulting, something that implied he hated it and that—well, that wasn't true at all.

They were almost at the end of the narrow alley when Hange stopped walking. She turned to him with a tired smile, shoulder-leaning the barn and folding her arms loosely over her chest. Levi shuffled his toe into the dry, crusted dirt. It was hard to look at her.

"I had fun," Hange said, after a short pause. Levi nodded. The air between them felt full, oddly charged, and Levi realised with a start that perhaps, for once, Hange was just as lost for words as he was. He cleared his throat.

"It wasn't bad," he said. Hange rolled her eyes, shaking her head.

"I suppose that's the best I'm gonna get, right?"

Levi swallowed. Hange scrutinised him for a time, eyes a little pinched as they scanned over his face. She made him feel terribly exposed, in times like this, when her gaze turned so analytical, picking apart every twitch of his brow or tick of his jaw. He stood, pinned, while she watched him, and then she nodded once, decisive, as though she had come to some conclusion.

She pushed her shoulder off the wall. Levi watched her step closer, her arms dropping to swing at her sides. Her eyes glinted behind her glasses and her face was set, determined, as she stopped with half a foot of space between them.

And then she bent forward, neck craning down to meet him. And she kissed him.

Levi stood frozen. Hange's lips felt dry and chapped, this time, and cooler with the fresh morning air, and there was a stiffness to her, an uncertainty that made her oddly unyielding. It was different to the kisses they'd shared last night; more reserved. Unsure.

She must have noticed Levi's matching posture, spine snapped straight and body held taut in surprise, for she pulled away quickly, straightening up and tilting her head a little to look at him.

"Sorry," she said. "Was that not okay?"

Maybe it shouldn't have been. The night before had been dreamlike, floaty and soft, timeless. He had melted so easily into kissing Hange then, all soft lips and warm breath and the tang of wine on his tongue. A stark contrast to this kiss.

Both made him stomach warm in the strangest way. Both made his heart rattle in his chest.

Both were good.

"It...wasn't bad," he said again. "Nice," he clarified when Hange's questioning gaze searched him once more. Her face broke into a smile, and Levi's cheeks heated.

"Yeah?"

Levi nodded. "Yeah. Your breath smells like arse though."

Hange threw her head back in a laugh that rang down the alleyway. Her eyes were bright when she looked back at him, narrowed by the swell of her cheeks as she smiled, and she leaned forward again. Levi was ready, this time, but Hange didn't kiss him—she opened her mouth wide, and blew hot air right over his nose.

Levi recoiled, and scowled over at her. Hange looked delighted with herself, cackling wickedly and skirting out of his reach when Levi made a grab for her, but the alley was narrow, and Levi was quicker, snagging the front of her shirt in his fist and yanking her back towards him and—

He had intended revenge. Pinching her, poking her, blowing right back because his own breath must smell just as bad, but it was all too easy, with the momentum, to haul her close and kiss her again.

It was incredible, how kissing Hange made him just as dizzy as the wine did.

She withdrew after a few lingering pecks, eyes bright and cheeks pleasantly flushed. "I really have to go."

Levi hummed. Hange seemed hesitant to leave, rocking from heel to toe and chewing on her lip, but then a noise sounded from the main house, the creak of hinges and the thud of a door closing, and she cursed quietly, grimacing.

"Wish me luck," she mumbled under her breath, and then, with one last quick wave, she took off towards the house. Levi watched until she rounded the corner before he skirted the front of the barn and ducked out of the yard, following the road for home.

He rubbed his fingers absently over his lips as he walked, and his cheeks pulled into a small, private smile.

The holidays so far had been boring, without Hange. Lonely. But, he thought, with the memory of Hange's kisses fresh in his mind, this summer didn't suck too badly after all.

[fateshaped]

It wasn't everyday that he had visitors that weren't on business. Whenever someone came knocking on his ranch's front door, he fully anticipated work to lay thick upon their tongues. That anticipation crowned his thoughts when his collection of oddly-coloured pokémon—grazing and floating about, cooing and humming—kicked up enough of a ruckus to tickle him out of his thoughts and draw him close to his window.

Prickles of anxiety, daresay fear, pinned his heart for a briefest moments—until he caught sight of that telltale cyclizar and, even more so, that gyarados helmet. Relief pulled apart the sloughs of paranoia from his chest and shoulders, inspiring a brilliant grin to tug and expose teeth.

Quick Scout was to remove himself from the innards of the ranch; to welcome his friend and his friend's partner. Before he could even get out a single greeting, did that beast gallop over and lunge.

Wait. Lunge?

The question wrote itself lavishly over his face for that split second before he was thrown gracelessly upon the soft grass beneath. It served to less the blow only a little—after all, he did have a giant, heavy pokémon thrust himself at him and cast him upon the ground like a blob of wet clay.

"Yes, yes, yes! Hello, hello Zephyr!" Scout managed to sputter out between tongue licks, some almost managing to flick between his lips and into his mouth, inspiring him to keep them firmly shut as he wriggled helplessly beneath Zephyr's weight.

Thankfully, his former academy peer sought to help him from his predicament. Pulled to his feet, Scout needed a moment to regain his lost breath before he could even consider mustering a proper response.

"I've been," he inhaled deep, though a pleasant, happy smile still remained smeared over his lips, "well! A bit drier, admittedly, but!" Another laugh, another chuckle as he proceeded to collect and flick away the salivary goop that the cyclizar had drenched his person in. Icky.

"How about you, Ignacio? I hope you've been well too!"

@fateshaped liked for a starter

It wasn't the first time he was spacing out while riding around the seemingly endless Paldean meadows, knowing he could allow himself a momentary lapse of attention as he trusted his Pokémon with his life. Zephyr however still felt the need to growl at him to snap out of his inner musings, right before he took a sharp turn off of their planned path.

Ignacio was quick to lean to the side and strengthen his grasp on the handlebars attached to his companion's harness, all while wondering why the Pokémon decided to veer so drastically off course. But he caught on fast, when he realized the route looked very familiar, and that an equally familiar ranch was coming into view.

As they came close to a fenced enclosure where a certain number of oddly-colored yet non-shiny Tauroses were grazing peacefully, Ignacio pulled on the handlebars, making his partner screech to a halt. He hopped off his partner's back, just as something caught the Cyclizar's attention and he ran off enthusiastically. Ignacio barely had time to register that the owner of the place was coming to greet them that Zephyr was already jumping on him, licking his face and smothering him with all of his reptilian affection.

Ignacio chuckled, as he went to help the poor man his partner so mercilessly assaulted back to his feet. He was glad to see his dear upperclassman had not changed at all.

"He really wanted to see you, it seems. How have you been doing, Scout?"

[cocobutnochanel]

The Kims | 18+

Genre: smut, angst, drama, au

Main Characters: Kim Minseok, Kim Junmyeon, Kim Jongin x Reader (oc: female)

Warnings: profanity, sex scenes, aggression, mature themes, slavery(not literally idk)

Summary: When you thought life wasn't a fairytale and you were no Cinderella, truth slaps you in the face when you become an orphan overnight and your step-family sells you off to the richest family in town.

Kink List: gangbang, double penetration, virginity, mention of tears, mention of blood, screaming, size difference, verbal degradation, uniform fetish, biting, leaving marks, dom!Jongin, masochist!Jongin

Part 2

(Part 1, Part 3)

Three days have gone and you have settled in the Kim household. Baekhyun guided you through it, all the things you must know and do. He also introduced you to the other two slaves in the mansion: Yixing and Kyungsoo. He was such a good friend to you, he made sure you never felt alone.

Nothing have really happened regarding the thing Minseok asked of you. The Kims were busy the past few days, Baekhyun said. Either way, you were thankful.

You often see Junmyeon walking around the house. It seemed like he was the brother that was home more, other than Jongdae who was married and had to stay home of course. You barely saw Minseok and Jongin. You were kind of thankful for that because you didn’t know how to interact with a grinning playboy and a scowling grumpy-pants. You were also grateful to the fact that Junmyeon hasn’t paid much attention to you.

After settling in your room, you help Baekhyun, Yixing and Kyungsoo in their jobs. Baek was the driver slash errand guy, Yixing was the gardener and Kyungsoo was the house chef. You were the only person there who felt like you weren’t serving any purpose at all. To let yourself feel better, you help the three in their respective roles.

“Oh, Baek!” You call out to Baekhyun who was now entering the house with tired eyes. “Hey..” He lazily greeted you, slumping back on the huge couch in the living room.

“I’ve been with Yixing all day. I helped him trim the grass outside.” You smiled at him as you drew yourself nearer to the boy who was resting. “Lucky you.” He sighed.

You sat beside him and patted him on the back. He laughed and leaned his head on your shoulder. “By the way, why are you so busy today?” You say, petting his head that was leaning on you.

“Jongin and Minseok is back. They got me to run around town to finish whatever business they left before they went abroad the last two days.” He rolls his eyes, tired at his bosses’ orders.

“It’s okay, Baekhyunie. We’ll survive.” You tried to cheer him up but he suddenly sat up. He shifted his position so he can look at you straight in the eye.

You raise an eyebrow at him, demanding an explanation. “They’re back and you won’t be so free anymore especially with Minseok around. Address them properly always. I think they’ll be home tonight.” He held your wrist tightly as if you’d die if you forgot what he just said.

“Stop worrying about me, Baek. I’ll be fine. I knew what I was getting myself into.” You gave him a reassuring smile yet it didn’t convince him that much. He still looked like he’d fall to his knees any second right now because of his worry for you. “Baek, I’ll be fine, I said!” You offered him another smile.

“Okay, if you say so.” He finally gave in, giving you a toothy grin. A dirty Yixing suddenly entered the house. “Baek, Minseok just pulled in the driveway. Y/N, be in your room.” Yixing informed you and Baek.

You quickly get on your feet to go back to your bedroom in the fifth floor. Baekhyun also rushed outside to meet Minseok. Your heart was pounding as you entered the mansion’s elevator and wait for it to arrive on your room’s floor. 

It was the first time Minseok was present ever since he assigned that ‘task’ to you. You quickly hurry inside your bedroom and take a shower, knowing Minseok would want to see you presentably when he arrives.

You briskly took a bath and dried off. He was already downstairs for sure. You pull out a sundress from your tiny cabinet. You barely saved some of your nice clothes from your old home.

You took your towel off, about to put on the underwear you chose for today but someone opened your door and entered your room. In a flash, you turn around without thinking about your current state which is you being unclothed. You see Minseok in a large hoodie and denim pants. He looked so different from the first time you saw him.

“What’s the point of wearing clothes when I’ll take it off you later?” His voice was husky as his eyes scanned your bare body. You wanted to cover it but sadly, he has seen everything already. You only squirmed in unease as his eyes continued to be glued onto you.

“Shy, aren’t you? By the way, I got you a gift.” This made you look at him in the eye. He gave you a sly grin that sent shivers down your spine. A pink paperbag was handed to you.

You accepted it with a shy smile and a mumbled thanks. You open the bag expecting to see souvenirs since he was from another country. Instead of souvenirs, you see shiny blue cloth and a tiny white string. You get it out of the bag and your eyes widened at the provocative piece of clothing.

You were a virgin but you knew what this was. It was a lingerie that somehow resembled a maid’s outfit. 

You bring a hand to your mouth to try to cover the shock that took over your senses but it was too late, Minseok already noticed. His eyes glinted with so much amusement as you scan the piece of cloth he called a ‘gift’.

“This isn’t your first time, right?” He tried to tease you but when you look at him in the eye with uncertainty, his jaw dropped and the amusement in his eyes glistened once more. “You’re a virgin?” He asked, disbelieving. “Answer me.” He commanded when you only blushed at the question. 

“Y-Yes, sir..” You bit your lip nervously. He chuckled, his eyes never leaving you. “Wait a sec. Put that on while I get back to you.” He holds up a finger and went out of your door. 

Tears immediately welled up in your eyes when you assumed he didn’t want you. You kept overthinking, biting your lower lip harder than you did earlier. But still, you slipped on the lingerie costume he bought you despite thinking he won’t even come back. He left because you were undesirable and had no experience at all, you concluded in your own head.

He walks back into your room, a smirk playing on his thin lips. Your eyes immediately meet his and his smirk grows when he sees you in the lingerie he bought. “If it’s your first time, you deserve more fun.” Minseok wriggled his eyebrows and you were confused.

Jongin entered the door, in a dashing suit but a tired look. You don’t know why but wearing this costume and having two pairs of eyes scan you up and down got you feeling funny in your stomach. It was a weird feeling you never had before.

“Hyung, she’s a virgin?” Jongin asked Minseok, licking his lips while looking at you. You shiver at his stare as the funny feeling intensified.

“There’s only one way to find out.” Minseok paced around you like a predator with hungry eyes. Minseok may have been the first man to come closer but Jongin was an untamed monster who claimed your neck without words.

His breath on your nape made all the hair on the back of your neck stand. It was hot, intoxicating and addicting. You couldn’t recognize your own voice as you let out your first moan when the tip of his tongue started drawing circles on your skin. 

You were about to moan once again when Jongin started to suck your sensitive skin but Minseok caught it with a kiss. There was a smile playing on the corner of his lips as he suckled on your bottom lip.

You wanted to moan and call out the name of the two sirs but their mouths were stopping you from thinking any further. All you could make out were incoherent groans as their mouths attacked even more, succumbing to your moans.

Jongin’s mouth traveled south and his tongue teasing your chest made you lose your balance. You fell to the floor, leaving Minseok’s lips in the air. The coldness of the floor hit your back and the feeling you were having down there intensified. However, despite falling, Jongin had his lips glued onto your left boob that barely fit the lingerie. He devoured it like the animal that he was as you arched your back and asked for more.

You could barely keep your eyes open but when an electric shock struck your core, you knew it was Minseok down there kissing the insides of your thighs. Your eyes rolled upwards helplessly as they claimed your sensitive spots you never knew you even had.

You felt Jongin’s teeth grazing your nipple and you couldn’t help but plead. You didn’t even know what you were begging for but you were sure that if you did, they’d give you what you want.

“S-Sirs..” You breathed as Minseok’s lips neared your femininity. His index finger was playing with the string on your pussy that barely covered it. Your eyes fluttered open as the absence of Jongin’s mouth missing on your body.

He sat up, looking at your limp body that was laying on the cold hard floor. “W-What’s wrong?” You stuttered, barely saying it aloud as Minseok teased your pussy by kissing your thighs and pulling your thong just to let it snap back to your swollen clit.

Jongin let his hand wander on your torso and you assumed he wanted you to beg even more. “Sir..” You breathed out. It felt like fire ignited in his eyes. Surprising you on purpose, he puts your nipple in between his index and middle finger and pinches it with so much intensity.

Your eyes roll back as the tingling in your femininity also heightened. You were all over the place— begging, moaning and gasping for them as they devoured your body with so much lust.

“You’re quite noisy for a virgin.” Jongin commented as you screamed when he pinched your twin peaks at the same time, twisting them with force. It was both pain and pleasure. 

You felt Minseok stop from teasing you down there. You wanted to ask and call them sirs but Jongin wanted to hear more of your piercing cries. He kept pinching your hard peaks as he looks at you straight in the eye.

“Jongin-ah.” Minseok called him out, stopping him from teasing you further. “Look.” He pulled Jongin beside him as he forced your legs to open even wider.

“She’s dripping wet..” Jongin met your gaze and he never looked as hungry as this. You were startled but at the same time, you don’t want anything more than surrendering to the wild man. 

Minseok helped you up on the bed and untied the tiny cloth that was the only thing covering you. Your naked body was now revealed as Jongin pulled your thongs down at the same time.

“Mmmh.” Minseok satisfiedly hum as he cups your breasts, jiggling them in his warm palms. Your back arched against him as you look for support. It was all too much.

Jongin took his pants off, his 8 inches springing to life. He brought you to his lap, giving Minseok the space to unzip too.

“You sure you can take this?” Jongin asked yet his eyes were so dark, it was impossible to say no. You just nodded. You heard yourself gasp at the sight of Minseok’s member. He was no smaller than Jongin. They were so hard, big and veiny. You couldn’t imagine taking it inside your barely five foot body.

Minseok was now facing you as you feel Jongin’s dick growing more and becoming harder than it already was. You gulp at the experience awaiting you but you couldn’t back out too. It wasn’t even because they were your boss but it was the fact that you would go insane if the two men didn’t satisfy you with their members already. They teased you way too much.

You feel Minseok’s tip teasing your entrance. You threw your head back as your hip moved on its own, letting his dick slip around your wet pussy. “Stop teasing. You won’t like it if I get worked up.” He warned with a deep voice yet it didn’t even catch your attention. You only grew hornier as Jongin teased your other hole with the wet tip of his cock.

“Fuck it, you whore. You wanted this.” You have never heard Minseok growl like this. It was usually Jongin who was aggressive but Minseok had enough teasing. He inserts his dick inside your hole, making you screech in pain.

You feel something break inside you as the pain and pleasure took turns on you alternatively. You knew something was coming out of your own vagina. Whether it was blood or you getting wetter, the brothers didn’t care as Jongin started to pound your ass too. You were riding two large penises for your first time, tears raced down your cheeks as the pain you crave pierce your two holes.

“Stop crying. You asked for this, right? You horny fucking slut.” Jongin groaned in your ear, speeding his pace up. You knew it ached, it even made you cry in pain but you also know that if ever they stop midway, you’d beg for it too.

Jongin gets more aggressive, pulling your hair down and holding your jaw up as you rode him. The pain that was attacking you, made your hips want to move in sync with their cocks. Minseok devours your whole boob as you continued to bounce on the two dicks: one in your pussy, the other in your ass.

You felt Jongin’s teeth sink into your shoulder. “S-S-Sirs..” You begged once again, feeling something coming to you. “You’re gonna cum, you filthy slut? Not before us.” You bite your lip in attempt to stop yourself but your thighs trembled and your eyes rolled back. You reached your peak as Jongin and Minseok also released inside you.

You look down at the mess on your bed. Blood, cum, tears. Minseok pulled his dick out of you as Jongin made you stand.

“Look at that mess you made, Y/N.” Jongin said, pointing at the sheets stained with blood and sin. “She’s even a squirter. I knew I made the right decision.” Minseok gave you a sly grin as he got off the bed, trying to zip his pants up.

Jongin shook his head at what his brother said and got off the bed. You were sore and walking was painful but you had to clean yourself and the bed up. But before Minseok left, he said something. “Don’t worry about cleaning the bed, I’ll send a maid.”

“Also, Junmyeon will be so happy about this.”

[concussed-to-pieces]

Stay Safe Part Three: Vibroblade Mettle

Fandom: The Mandalorian [Star Wars]

Pairing: Eventual Mandalorian [Din Djarin]/Reader

Rating: Holy shit M.

AN: Welcome one and all, welcome to what I like to consider my specialty: a good ol’ dustup. Also this chapter is very long, I do apologize. Enjoy!

Tag List: @wrestlingfae @toxiicpop @helplessly-nonstop @huliabitch @culturalrebel @literal-fand0m-trash @sinnamon-bunn @fioccodineveautunnale @hxldmxdxwn @lizajane3 @thewaythisis @nellyneko

Part One [Should Have Known Better]

Part Two [Tranquil Turmoil]

[!TRIGGER WARNING!: This installment contains graphic depictions of gore. Stay safe!]

The morning of the long-anticipated fracas broke blessedly clear. 

You wrapped the blanket around your shoulders and got to your feet, tiptoeing past the still-sleeping shock trooper. 

Someone had hung your clothes up to dry. A certain cape and flight suit were also slung over the indoor line, and beskar armor was laid out in uniform rows on a blanket off to the side.  

Your eyes fell on the form that was currently propped up beside the door, his arms crossed and the chin of his helm resting on his chest. All he wore at this point was a thin liner shirt and compression leggings; for some reason he had kept his gloves and boots on. Again, you were uncertain if he was actually sleeping, or simply being very still. You chose to err on the side of caution and carefully, so carefully, you crept to where your clothes hung. 

They were still a little damp, but you could definitely put them back on. The mud was gone as well. Rinsed out with the rain, no doubt. 

Risking another glance at the downright underdressed Mandalorian (he hadn't stirred), you yanked your threadbare intimates off the line and quickly shimmied back into them under the cover of your loaned tunic. Moving as swiftly as possible, you hauled up your pants and then jerked the oversized tunic over your head to trade it out with your own. There was a heart-stopping moment where your elbow got caught in the tunic's shoulder before you managed to free yourself without any excessive noise, stumbling slightly.

The whole process took maybe three harried minutes, but when you looked over to the doorway again you noticed with a jolt of horror that the Mandalorian's head was now tipped against his shoulder slightly, as if to turn it away from where you were standing.

"Sorry." You whispered, feeling silly for worrying when you received no reply. Your hands neatly folded the borrowed tunic and you tucked it under your arm as you heard the child wake up. "Good morning, sweetheart." You murmured to them, tracing a finger over one of their oversized ears while they yawned and rubbed their eyes. "Let's get some breakfast and leave these two to rest a little more. Big doings today. Need to be at our best."

The baby wriggled in their bassinet, tiny hands clasping at your tunic when you lifted them up. 

You turned to depart, but paused by the door curtain. "Hey, say goodbye to your papa." You urged them softly, freeing up one of their hands to flap it enthusiastically at the slumbering man on the floor. The baby giggled, clearly enjoying this new game. "He's working really hard, so we have to work hard too, okay?" You informed the child gravely, beeping their nose afterwards. "Can't be whining about Nevarro. We've got to be strong."

...

The Mandalorian took the child off your hands shortly after he emerged fully-armored from the barn. He didn't actually say anything, he just extended his arms and you got the gist. 

You watched him walk away, gloved fingers gesturing animatedly at the baby. It was as if they were having a conversation without words, the baby offering him contemplative noises in response to his motions. 

Winta, Omera's child, tugged on your sleeve. "Mama asked me to come and get you. She said you have a really important job tonight so she wants to make sure you're okay." The child relayed.

"Lead the way, kiddo." You replied, your brow furrowing in confusion. What could Omera possibly want with you?

After her child brought you to her, Omera sent the young girl on her way and then indicated for you to sit on the porch alongside her. You were silent for several minutes while the woman patched a hole in one of their sieve baskets, unsure if she needed the time to gather her thoughts.

"Winta's father, my husband, was a strong man." Omera murmured, her brown eyes far away. "He believed he could protect everyone, much like your Mandalorian seems to believe. But…" She inhaled, turning to look at you. "He was not invincible. A moment came where a choice needed to be made, and he sacrificed himself for the greater good."

"What…" You gulped, your words suddenly refusing to cooperate. "Wh-What happened?"

"A contingent of Klatoonians circled around to the hut that we had hidden the younglings in." The older woman said softly. "Winta's father made the choice to protect the children and provide them a distraction so they could escape."

Your heart ached for her. No wonder many of the villagers seemed to look upon Omera as a leader of sorts. Her husband had paid the ultimate price to save the future of their settlement, a price that left her counting the cost every day. And now…

The realization dawned on you that the reason for this conversation was...that future had been entrusted to you.

"Nothing and no one is getting past me. I swear." You promised her, meaning every word. "We've all trained for this. With Cara and the Mandalorian, and everyone's planning, I know that-"

"Are you prepared to make the same choice my husband made?" Omera interrupted, her question devastatingly pragmatic. "Are you prepared? What if one of your friends must make that choice? What then?"

"I…" you hesitated. Friends. "I don't really know. All I know is that I'm going to do everything I can to keep everyone safe. No matter what it takes." You clenched your fist. "You have to count the cost and take the plunge sometimes."

"Let's both hope that our costs will be low in the light of tomorrow's dawn." Omera extended her hand and you clasped her forearm, her own fingers cupping your elbow. "Your Mandalorian seems to care for that child very much." She observed, seemingly at random until you followed her gaze to where the armored man was sitting on a rock. 

He was shifting his weight back and forth, absently knocking out a rhythm on his cuisses. The child played in the grass at his feet, waving their arms as the man aimed more of those odd gestures at them. His fingers were strangely nimble for someone wearing such thick gloves. You wondered privately if it was some kind of secret bounty hunter code.

"If you don't mind me asking, was...was your husband good with children?" You queried.

Omera shook her head with a wistful smile. "Maker, no." She chuckled. "At least not at first. Until we had Winta, he was a nervous wreck around the younglings. But once she was born, he…" She trailed off, her smile fading. "Excuse me, I'm sorry. I'm still...it's-it's difficult to talk about him." She squeezed your arm apologetically. "Hold on to your friends for as long as you can. You're still so young."

A lump of uncertainty swelled in your throat and all you could do was nod in response. Could you even call them friends?

The Mandalorian suddenly barked, "spit that out!", the sharp order making both you and Omera look up. When you glanced over, the armored man was on the ground trying to wriggle what appeared to be the business end of a mudjumper out of the child's mouth. 

You snorted, struggling to stifle your giggles and almost succeeding. Until Omera erupted into peals of laughter, that is. The Mandalorian's shoulders shot up around where his ears would be, and he slowly turned to look for the source of the noise. As strange as it was to say, you could tell he was sheepish just by the little two-fingered wave he directed at you.

The armored man scooped up the child once the mudjumper crisis had been averted, long strides carrying him to where yourself and Omera sat. "You two see something funny?" He asked. Maker, was he being playful?

"Nope!" You squeaked. "Nope, nothing at all."

"Does the little one do that often?" Omera inquired, smiling again when the Mandalorian heaved a sigh and nodded rapidly. 

"Ask them, they're the ones that ended up keeping him from choking most of the flight here." He replied, tilting his head in your direction.

"He's young, everything is new and interesting." You surmised.

"He's fifty." The Mandalorian said flatly. "This is a little old man in nerf's clothing. Don't be fooled."

"No he's not." You crooned, taking one of the proffered tiny green hands and gently swinging it back and forth while the baby babbled happily. "With those eyes? They're just a sweet innocent little baby convor."

"With the killer instinct to match." The Mandalorian retorted. "Did you see that mudjumper? This kid has a slimy body count."

"Do you?" You asked the child, smiling when they shrieked in reply. "Have you got a body count, baby bird of prey?" 

"For tonight." The Mandalorian said, suddenly back to being all-business. His rapid changes of conversation would be the death of you. "I know you're stationed with the little ones. If everything goes as planned, you won't even see action."

"I can hope, but I'll be ready either way." You murmured. Omera's hand squeezed your arm again and the widow got to her feet, waving goodbye to the baby before she departed with her mended basket. "Her husband had my job and he…" You trailed off, swallowing. "I-I guess I'm a little worried." You admitted quietly.

"I don't want you pulling any heroics." The armored man grunted. "Enough of these people are hellbent on being the front lines. They've never been able to think about revenge before, and now that they are, well." He turned, actually looking at you. "You have the important job. Foundlings are...excuse me, younglings are the only way this place will live on."

"I understand." You hesitated, then asked, "can I hang onto that vibroblade for tonight? The one I've been practicing with?"

"It's yours." The Mandalorian answered firmly. 

"What, no, that thing's power cells alone probably cost a fortune. Just let me use it ton-"

"I said. It's. Yours." The man growled, propping his boot up on the porch. You got the impression that he was glaring. "You need it, you use it, you keep it."

"I hope I don't have to use it." You mumbled, wishing you didn't sound quite so scared.

"For your sake, I hope you can use it if it comes down to it."

…

I hope you can use it if it comes down to it.

You scoffed to yourself, pacing back and forth in front of the hut doorway. More than anything, you prayed that the front lines would hold. You prayed that everyone would stay safe and that you wouldn't have so much as a glimpse of action.

Your prayers appeared to go unanswered when you heard the crash crash crash of ground-shaking footfalls. The children began to whimper amongst themselves, one girl bursting into tears when a thunderous salvo went off. That would be the AT-ST.

You knelt beside the little girl, doing your best to soothe her panic. "It's just loud. Just noise. Like thunder, you know?" You reasoned quietly, relieved when she blinked back her tears and nodded.

There was the sound of running outside, and the guttural yells of the raiders began to reach your ears. That boded poorly. The barricades were supposed to funnel them to the villagers, had the place already been overwhelmed?

Your brow furrowed. "Stay put, and stay quiet." You instructed Winta, doing your best to keep your voice steady. "You're in charge of the others if I have to leave at some point. I'm counting on you, Sneaks."

The little girl nodded solemnly, holding the baby in her lap. The large-eared being blinked up at you with those enormous eyes, lower lip quivering slightly.

"Hey now, it'll be okay. Don't you worry!" You cajoled, rising to your feet with an easy smile. You turned on your heel to go check the doorway again--

You caught a fleeting glimpse of a hulking form and then the stock of a blaster rifle slammed into your stomach, crushing all the breath out of your lungs with a single, calculated blow. You crumpled to your knees, retching. The world spun in grayscale, a set of boots dizzily coming into your field of vision. 

The barrel of the blaster pressed against the side of your head.

The younglings.

The younglings! Move, damn it!

All of Cara's training rushed to the forefront of your brain and you lunged into the raider's legs, knocking him flat on his back. His shot went wide, blowing a hole in the ceiling overhead. In the breathless second before he comprehended that he had missed, you managed to draw the vibroblade. Swinging from the side with all your strength, you watched his face tear under the brutal assault of the steel.

It was terrible. It was so much worse than you could have imagined. What had you even been thinking, getting involved in something like this? This was nothing like the brawls you had gotten into over mining deposits or repair jobs. This was a thousand times worse.

A moment came where a choice needed to be made, and he sacrificed himself for the greater good. 

Could you make a choice like that? Did you trust yourself with a choice like that?

A soft whimper from behind you effectively put an end to your moral quandary and your eyes narrowed.

You staggered back up, sucking wind, your shaky fingers tearing the knife loose. Armed with the whirring blade, legs akimbo over the limp form, you weren't even afforded the time to move forward before another Klatoonian made their way through the door. 

You lowered your head slightly, gripped the vibroblade a little tighter and gritted your teeth. The raider foolishly wasted his opportunity to attack you immediately, deciding instead to leer at the terrified younglings behind you. That is, until he seemed to notice the body you stood over, his eyes widening and the blaster he held jerking upwards. 

At that point it was too late. You were already on him like a wild nexu, yowling and snarling as you used the momentum of your attack and lower center of gravity to tackle him backwards out of the hut. Your elbow rammed into his arm, knocking the blaster to the side before he could use it.

Half of the fight is the noise you make. If you're louder, you're stronger! You're scarier! Cara's instructions rang in your head.

You braced the pommel of your blade with your palm and shoved it home between the helmet and armor just like the Mandalorian had shown you. It was strangely simple, the raider gurgling and flailing their arms before collapsing.

You yanked the blaster from his limp hands, fumbling to find the trigger on the unfamiliar weapon. This was bad. They weren't supposed to have even gotten this far! Something must have gone wrong on the front lines. Had Cara or the Mandalorian been taken out? 

Focus. Don't panic. Focus. You inhaled, staggering a bit as another bombardment from the walker rocked the ground. That was the problem. They hadn't gotten rid of the AT-ST yet. No doubt all manpower was currently dealing with that issue, leaving gaps in the front line that the raiders were exploiting.

You tore your eyes away from the body in the dirt beside you, glancing around. The Klatoonian raiders appeared to have the upper hand. The AT-ST loomed in the distance, its two red viewports glowing like the eyes of a massive beast. Everywhere you looked, you saw villagers engaged with the raiders. It was chaos.

You pulled the trigger as a knee-jerk reaction when a raider rushed at you. The gun had more kick than you expected, bucking hard against your shoulder and the raider was still coming for you. You frantically fought with the trigger, realizing almost too late that the gun needed to be primed before it could be fired. 

You braced yourself better this time and your aim was true, dropping the raider what felt like bare inches away from you.

Count the cost and take the plunge.

Your back straightened up and you returned to your origin point, nervously shifting your weight back and forth on trembling legs. Despite your fear, despite your inexperience, you vowed you would not be moved from this spot. Protect the younglings. 

The fight felt like it just went on and on. You pulled the trigger again and again, your shots missing more often than not, and when the gun ran dry you fell back on the vibroblade. It didn't matter whether you entirely stopped the raiders that were running by the hut, you reasoned, as long as you took a chunk out of them on their way through.

It was not...particularly glamorous. Your knees were shaking, stomach rolling, jaw clenched. Nothing at all like the propaganda imagecasts, where there was always brilliant sunlight and wind blowing while someone gave poetic rallying speeches. This was an ugly fray in the dirt, a true skirmish, and you were scared out of your mind.

Nothing and no one is getting past me. Nothing and no one is getting past me. Nothing and no one is getting past me. The phrase cycled like a mantra, something for you to latch onto as you struggled.

Like you were doing the drills with the Mandalorian, you could practically hear him barking louder! and you obeyed, snarling and snapping your teeth when you engaged the enemy. You operated on sloppy muscle memory from all the training, all the instruction that had been crammed into the last few days carrying you through the fray. Several times you missed your openings and then you panicked, resorting to brute force to deal with the problem at hand. You knew you were too stiff, constantly flexing your fingers to keep them from cramping up. 

The vibroblade was getting hard to hold, its handle slick with blood and the sweat from your own palm, but you doggedly kept at it. 

Your arms were so heavy. 

How the hell does he manage this in full beskar?!

Several villagers came to your aid at different points, blaster fire briefly taking some of the paranoid burden off and reminding you that you weren't alone in this. You were grazed in the shoulder by a raider's shot when you missed another strike, the pain bright like lightning behind your eyes, but it wasn't as if it made your arm any heavier. Shake it off and keep going, rookie! The adrenaline will hold the pain!

You would take care of it later.

Right as your second wind was abandoning you in the dust, there came the high shriek of abused metal. The walker, it seemed, had finally taken the bait, toppling into one of the ponds. Not two moments later, it exploded spectacularly in a massive fireball.

Your ears still ringing from that, you almost didn't catch what happened next. You glimpsed a helmeted form climbing up one of the barricades, and then-

"Kote!" The Mandalorian roared triumphantly, slamming his gauntlet into the center of his beskar chestplate. The metal rang like a bell, echoing across the battlefield and drawing all eyes to him. Gods knew he certainly cut an impressive figure, silhouetted against the burning walker. 

The Klatoonians seemed to slowly realize that their largest advantage was now a smoldering pile of refuse, and the ones left alive began to flee back into the woods in a panicked rush. The villagers pursued, borrowed weapons and makeshift spears urging the raiders off of their land with deadly force. 

You dropped to one knee, your breath wheezing in your chest with every inhale. That whole event blew Cara and the Mandalorian's drills clean out of the water. You felt like you could sleep for a year.

Younglings.

You got back up. 

There were only six bodies littering the ground around you, but it had seemed like an insurmountable force while you were fighting. Now you were a little embarrassed at your level of exhaustion. Again, you wondered how in the world Cara or the Mandalorian managed while lugging their various armaments and protective gear.

You stumbled back inside the hut full of children, startled when two more of them silently crawled into your lap alongside the kid once you plopped down. "It's all but over. Few more minutes. You all did so great." You praised them, smiling tiredly and bumping their foreheads with your own. "I know that was pretty loud stuff, but you guys kept your cool. I'm very proud." Your throat burned, voice grating painfully from all the no-doubt incredibly intimidating noises you had made.

"Are they going to come back again?" One of the little boys asked, his eyes wide.

"I don't think so. Your parents did a fantastic job at keeping you all as snug as womp rats in a haystack." You bit your lip, a little overwhelmed with the myriad of tiny, tear-streaked faces staring pensively up at you. Maker only knew how bad you looked right now. "Hey, the words to that song I taught you all got spooked right out of my head. Can you guys help me remember it?" You asked, grasping desperately for something to distract and occupy.

"Will you pay, can you pay…" Winta trailed off uncertainly.

"Calamari flan!" Another child supplied helpfully, wiping their eyes. "Build a ship as best as you can." More variations. You felt yourself getting a little misty, but you chalked it up to a combination of relief and exhaustion. 

The children slowly curled up around you, little voices arguing sleepily over the lyrics in a matter of seconds. The baby snuggled into the crook of your forearm, their tiny thumb tucked into their mouth.

Stars, you were tired. 

Your eyes kept sliding closed only for you to jerk them back open seconds later. Your mouth was still dry and sour with leftover adrenaline, every muscle aching from the exertion of the earlier battle. The younglings drifted off one by one, their discussions dissolving into nothingness. 

When Cara shoved open the flap of the hut she looked fresh as a daisy, if a little damp. "Holy sh-stars." She whispered, just barely curbing her swear in time when she spotted the mangled raider. "How did you-?"

"Can you round up parents?" You requested softly, indicating downwards at your full lap. "I don't think I can move currently."

She nodded, retreating from the hut. You buried your face in the sleeping baby's robe, inhaling their clean scent in an effort to ground yourself. They were fine. The younglings were safe. You had succeeded. 

Somehow, somehow, you had succeeded.

The Mandalorian was the next one in, his dark and bulky form sparking a momentary rush of panic. You had your knife out and in front of you before you could even think, the vibroblade whining in your tight grip as you clutched the children close.

"Easy." The beskar-wearing man breathed, raising his hands. "Just me. Just me." He glanced around, then crouched and leaned in. "Parents are on their way. There's some wounded, but no dead." 

"No…?"

"Yeah." A sob rattled your aching chest at his affirmation. "Steady. It's over now." He rasped, easing the knife out of your trembling hand and switching it off. "I saw your work outside. You're really something, aren't you?" 

You were positive you were hallucinating the warmth in his tone. "Had to...keep them safe." You reasoned sluggishly. Then, "How do you move in that stuff? Feel like my arms are going to drop off."

"Practice." He replied. His helmet tapped your forehead and you realized you had dozed off for a second. "Stay with me, stowaway. We're almost done."

"Mmhm." You mumbled, obediently keeping your eyes open. He didn't move away though, simply maintaining the even pressure of his cool helm against your heated skin. It gave you something to focus on, something to help you stay conscious. 

Battered, weary parents filtered in one by one, children getting picked up or ushered out still half-asleep. Omera hugged you fiercely tight before she departed with Winta, her gratitude warming your whole body. 

"Sleep now?" You asked the Mandalorian hopefully as he rose.

"We need to know how much of this blood is yours." He muttered, pulling you upright. He grunted in surprise when you nearly collapsed, quickly grabbing hold of your belt to steady you. "Focus, stay with me. Do you remember getting hit?"

You cast your mind back over the disjointed memories of fighting, scrunching your eyebrows in thought. "My shoulder hurts." You remarked intelligently.

"Is that the only spot?" The Mandalorian questioned, his fingers already prodding.

In reply, you scooped his hand up and proceeded to thump it clumsily on the middle of your chest. "Burns to breathe." 

All you remembered after that was the way that the world tilted and your cheek pressed against his breastplate.

…

It was raining.

Rain was so rare on Nevarro, a gift and a curse. Places flooded rapidly, but the moisture farms would flourish for months. Divining was regarded with a healthy amount of superstition, for in the water witchery of dowsing rods one could theoretically gain enough insight to keep their wells from drying and their steads from peril.

You hummed sleepily. 

Rain was so, so rare. You should get up to watch it.

When you opened your eyes, you realized you were not on Nevarro. The memories came hot on the heels of your realization, the younglings, the fight-

You sat bolt upright, wincing in pain when your shoulder protested the rapid movement. "Ah, ouch-"

"Don't you even think about getting up." Cara's stern voice made you flinch guiltily, and you tucked your leg back beneath the blankets. The soldier loomed over you, a broad smile softening her features after a moment. "Glad you're awake. You snore like a bantha, y'know."

She passed you a tankard full of water and you hungrily gulped, the liquid dribbling down your chin. "Where's-" you rasped.

"Shush, you're so bad at this. Everyone is fine. Everyone." Dune stressed. "You just sit where you are and keep your shirt on." She settled down onto a small stool beside you, leaning forward and clasping her hands. The thick waves of her dark hair hung over her face as she joked, "It's good to have you kickin'. That baby's been gettin' on my last nerve. Oh, and the one with the big ears, too." 

"I'm sorry." You whispered, ludicrously feeling as if you had been shirking.

"Don't apologize." Cara chided you. "I'm sure Mando'll come breezing back in here with at least two brats in tow. You can feel sorry then."

"How long did I sleep?" 

"Through the night, half into the afternoon." Cara waved a hand. "Usual rookie nap. You probably blew through your calories for the entire week just from shaking, right?"

"How'd you guess?" You mumbled, a little embarrassed.

"You know, I haven't always been this much of a badass." She laughed at the incredulous look you sent her way. "I'm serious! I know it's hard to believe that I wasn't assembled in a factory, chiseled from the Maker's own marble to slay, but the truth is that I am human. I've been scared stiff loads of times." Her hand landed on your good shoulder. "The important part is still going to work, even when you're scared stiff. So I'd say you succeeded."

Your stomach growled, making you grimace. "Speaking of calories…"

Cara got to her feet, moving to the doorway. "Hey! Mando! They're awake! Stop playing in the mud and get me some stew!" She shouted. 

"How are the younglings holding up?" You asked.

"They're fine. Resilient little buggers. With some luck, most of the younger ones will think it was a nightmare." Cara sighed, her shoulders slumping. "They bounce back."

You heard steps sloshing through the puddles long before you actually saw the armored man, and you couldn't help your smile when he did come into view. He was covered in mud up to his thighs, his flight suit spattered liberally across the knees and elbows. 

"Good to see you conscious." He greeted you, handing Cara a steaming bowl. "The sleep after battle is the best kind."

One of the children dragged at his arm, their body also covered from head to toe in grime. "Come on Mando, we have to keep learning!" 

"Learning?" You asked curiously. "What are you teaching them?"

"Something important. It's," the Mandalorian hesitated, one large hand resting on the child's head. "It's a little like that song you showed them."

"Can you pay, can you pay, Calamari flan?" The child grinned, hammering out a rhythm on the Mandalorian's beskar-plated forearm. "Clean my ship as fast as you can!"

"Yeah. Like that. But different." The armored man shrugged, not seeming overly bothered by the little one currently beating a tattoo on his arm. "Rest up while you can. There was some significant structural damage during the raid, so we'll have our work cut out for us over the coming weeks."

Strangely, the implication that you would be staying didn't cause you distress. "I don't want to be dead weight, so you'd better not do too much without me." You requested, offering him a wry smile.

He cocked his head to the side, then nodded. "'Course." 

…

Over three weeks of laborious rebuilding later, you found out what he had been teaching the younglings. There had been some secretive fumbling, a few slip ups that had you suspicious, but you were just as surprised as everyone else when the children all filed into a line in front of the evening bonfire. 

The baby was there as well, held in the arms of one stoic Mandalorian. The children all bore old pots and pans, salvaged from the makeshift target range, and your brow furrowed as they dropped into strange stances.

"They wanted to learn." Was all the Mandalorian said, shrugging and carefully setting the kid down on the ground. Then, he raised his hand and struck himself on the chest like he had done during the battle.

The beskar rang out and the younglings started their performance, Winta carefully enunciating a string of words in a language you could only assume was Mando'a. The children stomped and reeled in unison, each one hammering enthusiastically on their own 'armor' and then the armor of the next child in line to keep time. 

Cara whooped and started clapping along when the Mandalorian actually moved with them, his greaves rattling as his boots scuffed their way through the motions of the dance. For a dance it was, wheeling and enthusiastic. His modulated voice quietly echoed Winta's, prompting her occasionally when she got stuck on certain words. 

The baby squealed and waddled around, waving their arms in delight at all the commotion while the other adults began to clap in time. The whole display had your emotions knotting in your chest. The younglings had clearly put a lot of time into learning all the steps of this particular dance, their little faces scrunched up in concentration. And overseeing it all was the sturdy form of the Mandalorian, his beskar glowing orange in the firelight while he chanted softly. It was beautiful, achingly familiar and yet alien all at once. Comradery, children at play, songs you didn't know the words to…

You watched his hands as Winta shouted, "Oya, oya manda!", realizing that his careful gestures were lining up with the cadence of the song. He was saying things with his hands. That was what he had been doing at the kid before! You felt a little stupid for not putting that information together sooner, but now you were seized with a burning desire to know. What other secrets did he keep close, tightly wrapped in beskar?

The kid wandered your way and you scooped them up, holding your palm flat so they could beat their tiny hands down onto it as if they too were clapping along. Their massive ears perked up and they babbled madly at you, making you smile anew.

When you glanced back up, you could have sworn the Mandalorian was looking at you. 

Then again, it might have merely been a trick of the wavering light on his helmet. 

...

It wasn't until much later in the evening that you finally mustered up the courage to enquire about the song. After you had tucked the kid into bed, you quizzed him on it. "What is that called? The song and dance, I mean."

"It's a piece of my culture." The Mandalorian informed you solemnly. He had posted up at the doorway by Cara, one ankle slung over the other in a relaxed pose. "The Dha Werda Verda. We're taught a few verses when we're young so we can learn how to move in sync with one another. If you step wrong, oftentimes that means you're punching your neighbor in the head. We try to learn how to avoid that early on."

"Oh. So it's kind of a training thing?"

"In a sense, yes. But at the same time…" He paused, brushing his thumb absently down the center of his breastplate. "It's tradition. The Mandalorian culture is not a peaceful one by nature; our expressions of art are made for war." He tilted his head towards you. "There are over seven hundred verses in the Dha Werda Verda alone. It serves as both poem and battle cry."

"And you just taught it to a group of younglings." You deadpanned.

"I taught them a little." He corrected you. "Just like your song that you taught them. They'll make their own versions of mine soon enough, and theirs will be associated with peace. With safety." He shifted his weight, staring off into the darkness. "I did not...I didn't have anything else to offer them." 

"I wouldn't say that. It's because of you and Cara that a lot of them still have parents." You pointed out. "I bet these people will tell stories about you two!"

The Mandalorian cocked his head, looking back at you. "It's thanks in no small part to you that they still have younglings to pass the tales along."

Well, that was a weighty thought. You silently mulled it over, concluding, "I don't need them thinking about me like that. I'm not really...well, you know. Heroic. Not like you and Cara."

Cara spoke up from her position on the porch, dryly saying, "take the damn compliment, will you? Not every day that a Mando wants to share glory."

The Mandalorian huffed, muttering something under his breath that had Cara reaching over to punch him in the arm. You chuckled at their antics while you watched them bicker with one another, a strange sense of peace coming over you. 

"So, what happens if you take that thing off?" Cara asked suddenly, her head tilted slightly to look up at the armored man. "They come after you and kill you?"

"No." He was silent for an inordinate amount of time and you thought that was the end of his explanation, but then, "You just can't ever put it back on again."

Cara raised an eyebrow at him. "That's it?" She sounded disappointed, and you couldn't really blame her. After the gravity of everything that you had heard regarding Mandalorians and their helmets, it was a little anticlimactic.

The Mandalorian nodded.

"So you could slip off the helmet and go settle down with that beautiful young widow?" Cara gestured outwards at the village with her bright blue glass of spotchka. "Raise your kid, sitting here sipping spotchka?"

You took a noisy slurp of your own spotchka for emphasis, grinning at Cara when she chuckled.

He scoffed, shaking his head. "We raised some hell here a few weeks back. That's...too much action for a backwater little town like this. Word travels fast. We might want to cycle the charts and move on."

Cara murmured, "I wouldn't want to be the one that's gotta' tell him." Her hand waved vaguely towards the bassinet where the child slept peacefully. "The kids love him, y'know."

"I'm leaving him here." Both you and Cara gawked up at the armored man, startled by his announcement. "Traveling with me...that's no life for a kid." 

It was a reasonable thing to do. Practical, even. He was a bounty hunter. That didn't exactly scream 'conducive to child-rearing', last you checked. But why did he sound so torn about it if he had already made up his mind?

"I did my job. He's safe. Better chance at a life." He continued stiffly after a moment.

"It's gonna' break his little heart." Dune's tone was faintly accusatory. 

"He'll get over it." The Mandalorian replied quietly. "We all do."

The three of you stared out into the darkness in silence for a good while after that. This felt...strange. On the one hand, you could understand not wanting to endanger the kid any further, but the idea of making them sad about anything...this concern was a new phenomenon. 

You had always been a firm believer in the notion that children were smarter than adults gave them credit for. It had made it easier to justify not saying goodbye to any of them when you headed off on your next grand adventure; you reasoned they would put it together on their own and really, there was no need for long, drawn-out farewells. 

But now, for the first time you could remember, the idea of leaving was...it made you anxious. And it wasn't even you that was preparing to leave!

"Wh-When do you want to-"

"Two days, maybe." He cocked his head at you, "I can't bring you back to Nevarro. But you don't have to stay here if you don't want to. I'm sure if I put you on a platform, someone can get you to Nevarro."

"I...can I think about it?" You implored, relieved when he nodded.

"Give me your answer tomorrow."

…

"Thanks for coming along."

"It's no trouble. About time I started pulling my weight in the security department anyhow." You checked your knife for the hundredth time and Cara grinned at you.

"Nervous?" She teased quietly. 

You winced. "Is it that obvious?" 

"Listen, you've got nothing to worry about out here aside from falling asleep due to boredom. I promise." Cara assured you, giving your shoulder a light tap. "I just walk the perimeter out of habit at this point. There's been no issues for weeks."

"I know, I just…" You were loathe to continue, certain that you would sound like you were whining to this veteran of a soldier. "I guess I'm still a little uneasy from the big, uh. Fight." 

"The first sip of real action usually leaves a bitter taste in your mouth." She murmured. "I'd be concerned if it didn't."

Oh. You glanced sidelong at her, studying her face. "Does it fade away after a while?" You questioned.

"Yes...and no." Cara seesawed her hand with a grimace. "Everyone reacts differently. Some people can process it, some people crush it down into a little ball until it explodes." She shrugged. "You never know." Her eyes focused on a point somewhere behind your left shoulder and she came to an abrupt halt. "Who…?"

You turned to follow her line of sight and your brow furrowed. It was not someone from the village, but it also didn't appear to be a Klatoonian. Not nearly bulky enough. The long-barreled rifle on their back caught your eye. 

"Stay close, we're following them." Cara whispered, already stalking forward. 

The two of you flitted from tree to tree, pursuing the oblivious figure. They had something in their hand, something that you could see blinking red every now and then, and they were heading towards the settlement at a steady pace.

They finally stopped at the edge of the treeline, slinging the rifle off of their back. It took them a few minutes to get set up, nimbly attaching a scope before hoisting the gun and beginning to calibrate the viewfinder. 

Cara motioned for you to stay put, the soldier slinking ahead to the next tree. You had a death grip on your vibroblade, finger hovering over the button. A quiet, persistent beeping noise drew your attention and you searched for the source, locating it a second later in the form of a tracking fob attached to the person's hip. It blinked red and you realized that this person was a bounty hunter. 

A bounty hunter. Did that mean they were after someone in the village?

A shot rang out and you cringed back against the tree, only realizing after a moment that it had been Dune who shot first. A commotion rose from the village, the sound of the blaster no doubt attracting the attention of anyone who heard it. 

You rushed forward to Dune's side as she rolled the smoking body over with her boot. The fob on their belt continued to blink and beep softly even after she yanked it free. "Who were you tracking, buddy?" Cara mused aloud, very clearly unphased by the fact that she had just ended this individual's life. That made sense, though. How many times had she done this before?

You heard a rattling sound that seemed to be rapidly approaching from the direction of the village. Beskar. "Oh boy." You said weakly. 

"What, what's-" Dune paused, obviously hearing the noise as well. "Oh. Well, brace for impact." She grimaced. "Mando drop inbound."

With a resounding crash! the Mandalorian stormed the treeline, not even bothering to break his stride so he could maneuver around the underbrush. He somehow exuded fury, his tense body language screaming danger danger danger! 

Unconsciously, you shifted so Dune was between you and him. She shot you an amused glance, standing her ground with her arms crossed. 

The armored man slowed only marginally once he appeared to notice the two of you, his shoulders slumping. "What happened?" He called, his voice rasping through his modulator.

"We caught a hunter." Cara replied, waving the tracking fob. "Fob doesn't sound like it's for you or me. Or for this lovely person who is currently cowering behind me." She ribbed you, making you huff in embarrassment and shuffle out from the safety of her shadow.

He obviously wasn't on the offensive anymore but Maker, he was terrifying when he was! The Mandalorian extended a hand to take the fob, moving in a slow circle and then halting when he faced the village. "It's for the kid. They're...they're after the kid." He gritted out a word you didn't know, "Osi'kyr," then dropped the fob on the ground and crushed it with one violent stomp. "I have to take him and leave." He said after a moment of staring down at the destroyed object.

"They'll keep coming?" Dune asked.

"Where there's one, there's more." The Mandalorian sighed heavily, "I know hunters." He pointed at you suddenly. "Choice?"

It took the barest split-second of thought. "I'm with you." You hesitated, then added, "I can help keep the baby safe."

"Good." He sounded like he was relieved, of all things. "We have to move fast."

Part Four