#you do not need to match i wanted to set the scene!!!

[604to647]

The Might of the Realm

8.9K / Din Djarin x Princess!Reader

Summary: Din Djarin, General to your father’s army, finds himself in the gladiator arena of a foreign planet fighting for the success of your diplomatic mission.

Warnings: 18+ Content (MDNI please). Established secret relationship (they are stupid in love), Mando'a nicknames (mesh'la, cyar'ika, cyare), the helmet comes off but reader is blindfolded, bath sex, fingering, unprotected PiV (Star Wars is made up and in space, so we pretend it's fine). A wee bit of angst if you squint.

A/N: Written for @beefrobeefcal's The Glandolorian challenge! This is the same AU that I imagined for my Kiss It Better drabble, with the same Princess!reader: set post Season 3, Carson Teva has dispatched Din to a New Republic stronghold planet to train and strengthen their armies; he becomes their General and falls in love with the realm's princess. I imagine this story to take place before Kiss It Better, when they are still sneaking around 🥰.

Many moons before another General (🤭) came on the scene, I outlined a long story for this AU that I'm not sure I'll ever write, so kindly forgive my self indulgent word count - I really took advantage of this challenge for a chance to write these two 🥰 Struggled a bit with the Dieter Bravo reference, but I think I found something that works (Thank you to @morallyinept for your invaluable character dialogue database!) Also got inspired by someone's Gladiator II premier look and snuck in one (1) The Princess Bride reference 🤭 / Dividers by @saradika-graphics

“No.”

“Princess, it will be fine.”

“I said ‘no’, Din.  We came to pay our respects to the new rule and to affirm that our established trade routes through Flavin 5’s space will remain intact.  We did not come to be participate in some archaic gladiatorial fighting match to assert dominance.”

Even through the blankness of Din’s visor you can tell he’s amused by your hiss of a retort but is holding back his reaction.  His stoic and impassive demeanor normally reserved for others, you know that if he’s being less than fully direct with you it’s for one of two reasons: 1) he doesn’t want to lie or 2) he doesn’t want to risk your ire.  You suppose it’s the latter in this case, and that thought alone is reason enough for you to calm your emotional response to this predicament and reassess.

Taking a deep breath, you rest one hand on your hip and mimic a stance you’ve seen your fearsome General make many times; with your other you gesture at Din to present his argument for voluntarily sending your guard, the top lieutenants of the army he commands, into a battle arena on foreign soil.

“Mesh’la, I know your instinct is to protect your people, but you know as well as I that our troops, and especially the men who have been deemed fit to accompany you on this diplomatic mission, are more than capable of handling themselves in any combat situation.”

Din almost chuckles at the way you tilt your pretty head ready to interrupt, his feisty cyar’ika; he continues hurriedly, but with the calm confidence he knows you respond to, “You diligently studied Flavian traditions and history before embarking on this trip – you yourself taught me all I know of these people.  Despite the new ruling family’s decision to resurrect this ancient custom, what is your sense of these people?  Do they seem barbaric?  Cruel for cruelty’s sake?  This isn’t the Petranaki arena on Geonosis.”

You would roll your eyes at Din’s perfectly level-headed analysis, if you didn’t consider his strategic and tactical mind one of his most attractive qualities; Din’s shrewd ability to consider all angles of any situation is one of your army’s greatest strengths, and one that never fails to weaken you at the knees.  He’s taking this situation as seriously as you need him to, and so, you consider your answer carefully - working through your thoughts out aloud, “No, they are not a cruel people – and you’re right, these gladiatorial games were never about execution or spectacle like they were on Geonosis.  The ancient Flavian events were meant to bring the people, no matter class or station, together to be entertained, usually in celebration.”

“Do you think that tradition is being respected?  Or do you suspect some hidden agenda?”

You remunerate on this, thinking back to the new Flavian royal family you met earlier today, “No.  I believe them to be sincere.  Their purpose in resurrecting this historic custom is, I think, to build a connection with their people.  Participating in the gladiator match would be a show a respect for the Flavian people and a celebration of the new royal family.”  You take a deep breath, “So, we should participate.”

“I agree completely, Princess.”

This time you do roll your eyes at Din, but there’s no arrogance in your expression, “Fine.  But Din, just because there’s no ill intent does not mean there isn’t risk.  We don’t know what to expect from such a fight – there hasn’t been one like it held in centuries.  Who knows what opponents our men would face in the arena?”

“No matter who or what our troops are pitted against tomorrow, Princess, there is no doubt in my mind that they will be able to handle it.”

Nodding thoughtfully, you have to agree, Din did train them himself after all, “I believe it.  Especially since they will have their fearless General there to lead them.”

“No.”

“Din, it will be fine.”

“I said ‘no’, mesh’la.  I cannot leave you unprotected and without guard in the Royal Box,” huffs Din.

Stepping into Din’s space, you lay your hands on the shiny beskar that sits across his expansive chest, swearing you can feel it vibrate beneath your gentle palm from his thundering heartbeat; tipping yourself towards the great warrior before you, you feel his big, gloved hands move to your waist to steady you just as you knew they would.  Giving Din your most innocuous expression, you coo, “There is no need for me to have a protective guard if we deem the Flavian royals to be of honourable intent; if it is safe enough for our soldiers to participate in the gladiatorial games, then it is safe enough for me to be alone in the Royal Box.”

Din’s smile at your cleverness and persuasive tactics is hidden beneath his helmet, but he’s yet not ready to show you he’s given in so he remains as silent and cold as the armour he wears.

You use this opportunity to loop one arm around your hulking General’s neck to bring him closer to you still, your free hand takes one of his from your waist and brings it up to his helmet in a silent request.  The familiar click of Din’s helmet unlocking is the only invitation you need - using your nose to lift the brim of his helmet slightly above his strong jaw so you can find his plush lips with your own, you feel the hint of a smile against your pout before you deepen the kiss.  Opening to let Din lick into your mouth, you melt against the hard metal that represents everything he is to you: extraordinary, flawless, indestructible.

And such a good kisser, letting loose a soft whimper you nearly miss Din chuckle something against your lips.

“What’s that, General?” you sigh dreamily.

“I said, Princess, I saw what you did there, and that was NOT the way,” chastising with no actual bite, Din lowers and relocks his helmet.

“I’m not sure what you mean,” flashing him that breathtaking smile of yours that always makes him forget himself, “I’m only following the logic you already agreed to.  Grogu and I will be fine watching you showcase the might of our realm from the safety of our spectator seats tomorrow.”

“Grogu will be with me in the fighting area.”

“No.”

“Cyar’ika, he will be fine.”

“He’s just a baby, Din!”

“And a Mandalorian apprentice.  You’ve seen what a formidable fighter he’s already grown to be.”

And so on, and so forth – the two of you, the General and his Princess, spiritedly discussing and debating matters that affect your realm.  The thought crosses your mind, not for the first time, that when you ascend the throne after your father you will need a ruling partner who challenges you like this: one who makes you wiser and forces you to expand your horizons, but trusts your compassion and tender heart, and who you trust to keep you and your kingdom safe.  And as you always do when this thought naturally lends itself to an image of Din by your side, tall and proud as your King consort, you push it away as far as you can.  It hurts too much to imagine something that seems to materialize so clearly and happily, as if it could actually become a reality, when you know it could never be.

The crowd in the arena is deafening.  Already amped from the opening entertainment acts, they’re now cheering loud, calling for the main event.

Sitting front row in the Royal Box, you scan over the floor of the arena – knowing that it’s unlikely, but still hoping for a flash of silver beskar from behind one of the gates that line the sides of the arena floor, behind which lay the holding areas for the gladiator fighters selected for today’s match.  Once or twice, you think you spy the sunlight catch something shiny from beneath the stands, but before you can look more closely, someone from the Flavian royal family will engage your attention.  Though your mind never strays far from Din and his, your men, you cannot forget yourself or your role - your purpose for being in this arena today: you’re here to secure the continued prosperity your kingdom and strengthen your realm’s relationship with a long-standing ally. 

If you’re honest, despite the trepidation that sits heavily atop your heart, you cannot help but be affected by the electricity of your environment.  The stadium thrums and pulses with the excitement of thousands of Flavian citizens who have come out in the hot sun to partake in today’s festivities – you see children of all ages waving noisemakers and colourful flags, men and women young and old already cheering for who they anticipate to be today’s victors.  Based on the chatter in your tent, the news of your General fighting today has spread like wildfire through the city – very few Flavians have ever seen a Mandalorian, never mind have the privilege of seeing one fight; today was going to be a day they remember for the rest of their lives.  As for your companions in the Royal Box, you’re happy to see that your and Din’s assessment had been accurate – there is no underlying bloodlust or malevolent show of power associated with these fights, everything is only in good fun; your royal cohorts are all in splendid moods, showing genuine enthusiasm akin to the original spirit of the same games put on by their ancestors.

You’re just chatting amiably with the new Flavian king about having some of the wonderful Flavian wine and fruit you’ve enjoyed in the tent sent up to your room later, when a fanfare of trumpets echoes throughout the stadium announcing the start of today’s fight.  The crowd quiets to a soft buzzing as the amphitheatre’s speakers announce the entrance of your fighters; the volume rises again as the audience goes wild when the might of your realm runs in through the gladiator’s entrance.  You can’t help but beam, chest bursting with pride at the impression they make on the Flavian crowd – a big, broad Mandalorian General, towering in his stance and intimidating in his majestic armour, flanked by your guard: five of the strongest, most formidable soldiers from your father’s army. 

You spy Grogu before the Flavian royals do, but it’s only because you know where to look.  A perch for him has been attached to the side of his father’s jet pack so he can remain secure at Din’s shoulder during combat, but have the flexibility to jump off and join the fray if needed.  The instant the Flavian prince spots him, he excitedly points him out to the others – and you take great pride in informing your hosts that they, in fact, have the honour of seeing two Mandalorians today.

With only a few moments before their opponents arrive in the arena, you take a closer look at your fighting contingent – they have been outfitted with Flavian weapons (swords, blasters, electro shields), the standard issue armament of your kingdom they normally carry nowhere in sight; the only exception is of course Din, who carries the gladiatorial weapons like the others and all of his usual weaponry – you chuckle to yourself, imagining the poor Flavian weapons master who tried to strip a Mandalorian of his religion.

A loud voice announcing the incoming fighters for Flavin 5 jerks you back to the scene before you.  The crowd thunders as a squadron of battle droids nearly a hundred strong marches into the arena, each carrying varying sized blasters or blaster rifles in addition to their own swords, a few wielding double ended electro staffs.  You barely have time to fret over how outnumbered Din and your troops are before the king is rising in his seat and giving the ceremonial hand gesture for the fight to begin.

You hear your General shout quick, decisive commands and his trusty men move swiftly into the desired formation, electro shields lit up and expanded in one coordinated movement.  They advance as a team, strong and sure, every aim of their blasters true – each man practiced at covering the comrades at their sides as the droids begin shooting back.

When your men are close enough to the front line of the remaining droids, the intimidating battle cry you hear emanating from Din’s helmet is repeated in response at tenfold the volume by his men, a signal to shift fluidly into a tiered offensive formation that you recognize from watching their training on the palace grounds at home.

The legion moves with precision and speed, the crouched soldiers providing the impenetrable shielding needed by the men who stand tall as a precision sniper team that can’t be touched; your Mandalorian the tallest, unphased by the droid fire that bounces harmlessly off his beskar armour.

The formation is far more effective than the static positions of the droids and in almost no time at all, your fighters have driven the remaining thirty or so droids back towards the entrance gate.  Answering another roared order, your contingent springs apart with an unrivalled ferocity to attack the remaining droids via direct combat.

Din cuts down mechanical fighter after mechanical fighter, mowing through the defensive lines of the Flavian droids that have none of his agility and lighting quick reflexes, bolstered by his trusted troops at his back who move with the confidence of men who have been trained by the best, used to fighting with the best.

Grogu has left his father, jumping from his perch onto and over droids with lightening speed - they shoot at him with their blasters only to miss their fast-moving green target every time and take each other out instead.

You watch their every move with bated breath – every bolt that connects with your realm’s armour quickens your breath, the clashing sounds of weapon on weapon too loud in your ears, and each hit or wound sustained by one of your men jolts a phantom pain through your own body.

When the last droid soldier falls, your men, your man, stand victorious at the epicenter of the arena; bloodied, exhausted to the point that the heaving of their chest plates can be seen from the Royal Box… but all standing.

You can hardly believe it - your heart exploding with pride, tears nearly springing from your eyes in relief.  Looking to your hosts, you half expect them to congratulate you and acknowledge the victory of your fighters, but instead, you see them still engaged with the scene before them, eyes trained on the arena floor.

They smile with genuine excitement and anticipation, and your eyes snap back to Din and your soldiers at the sound of the brassy, melodic fanfare now being played throughout the stadium.  The crowd rises to its feet with an ear-splitting roar as the orchestral horns continue to crescendo, announcing the coming of something.

You glance at the Flavian prince, his face alight with boyish joy – he’s excited in an almost childish way and when he sees you looking at him, he beams and points to one of the gates that’s now opening, voice elated, “Cliff beasts!”

Cliff beasts?!? You stand from your seat and rush to the edge of the balcony, gripping the railing and leaning as far as you can so you can see what new challenger is about to enter the arena.  You gasp when you see it – a woolly beast larger than Din and his men combined, trotting out into the arena on four stubby but powerful legs.  A magnificent horn, the length of which must span at least half of the creature’s massive body protrudes from its snout, thick and battle ready. 

A mudhorn??  Of all the beasts to have entered the arena, what where the chances it would be the beast of Din’s clan signet?  For a moment, you’re alarmed that maybe there have been unseen machinations at play and you’ve been blind to it all – that you’ve somehow failed in your diplomatic duties, failing your kingdom, your men, Din. 

You study the Flavian prince who’s now proclaiming to his father, the king, “These cliff beasts are so large!”  The two of them are enthusiastically waving and gesturing to the other attendees in the Royal Box, their chatter is of wonderment and genuine amazement at the sight of this creature that they’ve never before beheld on their planet - you conclude, with relief, that it has to be a coincidence.  Wait, what did he mean – these? 

Peering down into the arena again you see a second, smaller mudhorn ambling behind the first.  A parent and its child!  Your heart tightens, imagining how scared the two creatures have to be and how fiercely the adult will fight in order to protect its young.  You catch Din’s visor pointed up at you from the arena floor and you know that he understands the distressed expression of your face perfectly.

Immediately, your General gathers his men and lays out his strategy – unknowable to the crowds of the arena, but you can read Din clear as day: he won’t cause harm to another living creature if he doesn’t have to.

Din and his soldiers slowly fan out, purposefully ignoring the young calf while surrounding the adult mudhorn.  As expected, the mudhorn charges in attack.  Trying to blink as little as possible for fear of missing anything, you watch wide-eyed as your men deftly leap and roll out of the path of the stampeding animal.  When the mudhorn stops and turns back towards the perceived threat to its young, the soldiers surround it again – rocking on the balls of their feet ready to evade its charge again.  They aren’t always as lucky or fast enough – you cry out in anguish whenever the Mudhorn makes contact, sending your guard flying, landing with a sickening thud on the arena floor from the force of the impact.  The crowd gasps in worry, cheering louder than ever when your men get up to rejoin their brethren in repeating the same maneuver over and over.

Din’s plan is working, the mudhorn is getting tired. 

Part of you is relieved, the other hopes that its fatigue doesn’t make the creature desperate; though your men are still standing, you don’t know if any of them can sustain more injury to their bodies – an increasing danger that only grows as Din and your soldiers begin tightening the proverbial noose.  You spy Din protracting his fibercord whip from his vambrace by hand only seconds before he does what you suddenly realize he’s going to do.  The mudhorn is pawing at the ground, exhausted and angry while your men surround it, now each only about an arm’s length away, when Din uses a jetpack blast to leap onto its back - throwing the whipcord around its horn and pulling back on his makeshift reins.  The other men scatter and the crowd screams as your General rides the wildly bucking animal around the arena.  At their General’s direction, your men are now divided between two tasks: half shoot at the galloping beast that unwillingly bears their fearless leader and his son, their blaster bolts a distraction but doing little to the mudhorn’s tough hide; the remaining men tasked with capturing and restraining the calf – the seemingly easier task. 

Heart nearly in your throat, you watch as Grogu climbs down the front of his father’s arm and onto the mudhorn, quickly crawling to the top of its head where the massive horn joins the creature’s skull.  With one of his little green hands holding onto the cord his father holds taut and the other placed directly on the mudhorn’s woolly head, you see Grogu close his eyes in concentration.  Gradually, the mudhorn’s steps slow and its movements around the arena become unsteady, then wobbly, before it finally teeters and crashes onto its side fast asleep.  Din jumps off just in time to avoid being crushed by the animal’s huge body - Grogu does a dramatic flip into the air at the same time and lands perfectly in his father’s waiting arms.  The crowd roars its approval. 

The Flavian royals next to you are on their feet, clapping and cheering with astonishment and admiration – congratulating you on the victory of your men and thanking you for the fantastic show you’ve provided them today.  Clasping your hands in appreciation, they heartedly assure you that the documents confirming your planet’s trade routes will be completed and delivered to you tomorrow. 

You express your appreciation before turning your attention back towards the arena, heart full - relieved and proud of the men still on the fighting floor.  You have to admit they make quite the sight waving to the cheering crowds while standing next to a sleeping mudhorn, two of your lieutenants holding a makeshift leash with a smaller mudhorn standing docile at its end.  To the admiring masses, the large beast was subdued by these men, the might of your realm, but you know the truth.  You blow a little kiss to Grogu who pretends to catch it in his little hand before waving back, happy but somewhat tired.

Even with his helmet on you can read Din’s expression as he looks up to the Royal Box.  Where is my kiss, mesh’la?

You smile back a playful smirk just for the unseen eyes behind the dark T-visor.  Later.

You pace in the large, ornamental suite that your hosts have graciously provided – it’s beautiful, a true testament to Flavian luxury and craftsmanship, but you have no attention to spare for its finery.  Not when you’re straining your ears to listen for footsteps coming down the hall, eyes continuing to dart towards your door as if for some reason you may have missed hearing them come.

“Princess…”

Your lady’s maids, Olivia and Serine, pace right along with you, following your tracks around the grand room.  They’re as exhausted as you are, but you know their hearts to be as determined as your own; you give them the most indulgent look you can muster and any plea to ask you to rest dies on their lips.  The three of you continue to take turns listening intently for the telltale sounds of a soldiers’ march.

Finally, you hear something.  Faint but purposeful footsteps walking in synchronicity – the herald of well-trained soldiers with an intended destination.  Perked, you look to your faithful companions with renewed vigor and sprint to your door, flinging it open without grace and hurrying into the dimly lit hallway.

They’re still far enough down the hall that you have some time, even with your hastened steps, to study how your men appear to be faring; you know that when you ask, they will insist they are fine so not to worry you.

Two of your country’s finest are limping slightly, one of your lieutenants and a captain.  Your other lieutenant is walking fine, but he has a nasty gash on his forearm, dripped, half dried blood wrapping around his wrist like a terrible bracelet.  The armour of your realm that the legion proudly wears has taken a beating, covered in evidence of today’s bout – marked, dirty and bloodied, but none of the men themselves appear to be grievously injured.

But it’s the man at the front of the pack that you study the most sincerely.  Din’s gait is not too unfamiliar for you to suspect he’s hiding any serious injury - he would know better than that.  After the battle on the Fields of Planoor he had learned not to conceal his injuries from you, that you were so familiar with his body and the way it moves, you would know something was wrong without a single word from him.  As Din stalks towards your group, you can feel the hot gaze from behind his visor assessing you just as you assess him; your General holds himself a bit straighter, his massive frame puffing in pride.  He bears no sign of serious injury, a little sigh of relief escapes your lips as you continue to run down the hall, Olivia and Serine hot on your heels.  But his back is probably killing him.

The men stop to a coordinated halt as you reach them; their weapons sheathed, they each raise their left fists to their chests and bow, “Princess.”

You wave your hands in a graceful but frantic manner, dismissing this need for formality, “Please.  Are you okay?  Is everyone alright?”

Reaching for Grogu, your heart settles a little when he climbs down from his secured perch on his father’s shoulder and leaps into your arms.  Fussing over him, you check his fuzzy green ears and sweet face for injuries; when you run your hands over his limbs and body to do the same, he coos and giggles as if being tickled.  Resting your palm against the security of the beskar rondel he wears beneath his tunic, you exhale in contented relief and place a long kiss to his head.  He’s okay.

Those same words are now being echoed out loud in the low modulated rasp of the voice you trust most in this galaxy, “He’s okay, Princess.  Not a scratch on him, the little womp rat.  The Lieutenant could do with some fresh dressings for his arm, but the rest of us are fine – a bit banged up and tired, but nothing a warm bath and a good night’s rest can’t fix.”

Knowing that Din’s helmet will give nothing away, you study the faces of your countrymen, trying to ascertain if their beloved General is downplaying the damage for your sake.  Finding no deception in their eyes, and knowing that they know you would know, you relent, “Have you eaten?”

“We were given sustenance after our victory.”

You raise your eyebrow at this, suspecting that Din’s words answer only for his men, but not necessarily himself.  Nodding, you give your final charge for the evening, “Olivia, Serine, please kindly see our brave soldiers to their rooms, run their baths and tend to them as needed.”

Your ladies-in-waiting curtsey in assent at your words and intuitively, Olivia extends her arms for Grogu – there are no secrets between you and your closest companions.  Din nods at her and she takes her favourite little green playmate into her arms, happy to help clean him and put him to bed tonight while his father is otherwise occupied.

Din turns to face his men – similarly, there are no secrets between the General and his most trusted squadron, men who love their princess with an unyielding loyalty that rivals only his own.  Your father’s soldiers salute their esteemed leader, bidding their Princess and General goodnight before following Olivia and Serine to their assigned quarters.

Silently, you take Din’s hand and lead him back down the hallway to your room, careful not to hurry should he be much battered and sore, though the urgency in your chest is nearly bubbling over.  Your concern appears to have been unfounded because as soon as the door to your room shuts, Din sweeps you into his arms with a force that takes your breath away - crushing you to his chest so tightly that you can feel him deflate beneath the hard beskar as he exhales his own long held sigh of relief.

You chuckle, “You would have thought that I was the one fighting cliff beasts in the arena today.”

“Cliff beasts?” Din tilts his head quizzically at you.

“I’ll tell you later.  Right now, let’s get you out of your armour,” your fingers slide under his pauldrons, feeling for the familiar release mechanism.

“Cyar’ika, if you wanted to have your way with me, you only had to ask - you didn’t need to send me into a fight arena with a mudhorn,” jokes Din, wincing slightly from the stretch of his muscles as they contract and relax with the weight of his armour being lifted from his aching body.

You cluck your tongue in playful disapproval, even as you continue to make quick work of removing the rest of Din’s armour.  With now practiced precision, you lift off his chest plates and the attachment frame, unhook his jetpack, unclip his cape, slide off his vambraces, unstrap his thigh plates, unlace his boots, unbuckle his belt, unzip his flight suit.  The ceremony of this process is one you will never tire of, nor is its significance lost on you. 

Din, a Mandalorian, willingly lets you touch his armour and remove it from his body – trusting your delicate hands with his most precious property: the physical embodiment of his honour and creed, the very symbol of his people.  Not only that, but he allows you to strip him of protection and reveal his vulnerability to you, exposing him and his softness – he exists as the man beneath the beskar for you and you only.  You’re the most privileged being in the galaxy – the weight of Din’s trust in you is something you will never take for granted.

When Din stands before you in only his boxers and helmet, you begin your study of his body in earnest.  Dancing your fingers across his hard and tanned chest, you trace old scars in order to separate them from new marks; palming his torso and checking his thick arms with the same careful hands.  Rounding your warrior, you continue your roaming examination over his muscular back and listen intently for any change in Din’s breathing when you press down on his tense shoulders – relieved when you hear him groan in satisfaction instead of pain.  As you’re lightly scraping your nails over his wide thighs you hear the telltale unclicking of Din’s helmet – he beckons you.

Rising to meet his lowering face, you use your thumbs to lift the brim of Din’s helmet slightly, always keeping your eyes closed so you don’t see any of his face – not for the world would you betray Din’s trust.  Mouth finding his easily, you kiss Din gingerly – unsure of what injuries he may have sustained beneath his helmet; lightly pecking his soft pout and pressing restrained affection to the corner of his mouth.

“I’m not going to break, cyare,” Din grins as if he’s reading your mind.

Snapping down his helmet with a bit more force than necessary, you peer up into the black horizonal stripe of his visor and sniffle, “I can see some big bruises starting to form over your abdomen and on the back of your thighs.  And the muscles of your arms and back are overstrained and need to loosen or you’re going to be more sore tomorrow than you already will be.”  The emotions you held in all day now start to spill over your lash line; dropping your head, you cry softly at the toll today’s events have taken on your strong man’s body and how he bears it without complaint.  Contrite and indebted that he sustained these injuries at the behest of your kingdom - your behest, for you. 

Din gathers you in his arms and pulls you flush to his chest, tilting back his helmet again he kisses you lovingly, devotedly – with every stroke of his tongue, every nibble of your lips, he reminds you that it is not only his duty, but his honour to serve your kingdom, to serve you.  He would do anything for you, without you ever having to bid it.  It is not in him to deny you anything, his heart’s desire is to give you everything.

“I love you, Princess.”

“I love you, General.”

Not without some difficulty, you pull yourself out of Din’s embrace and lead him to the suite’s fresher, running the taps of the large tub and scenting the water with fragrant, healing oils.

“I can do that, mesh’la,” one of Din’s large meaty hands covers yours as you test the temperature of the water.

Shaking your head shyly, you bring that hand up to your lips and kiss its calloused knuckles, “Please. Let me serve you, Din.”

“That is not befitting of a princess.”

“I am not like other princesses.”

Tilting your chin up with two of his thick fingers, you can feel the smile behind Din’s next words, “No, you are not.  There is no one like you in the galaxy.”

“And I’m yours.”

The helmet, never having been relocked, is lifted again and Din sweeps you into a passionate, hungry kiss, different than the reassuring and devoted kisses of earlier – deeper, greedier.

“Get in the tub, Din,” you murmur against his lips while you can, before you forget your task and give yourself over to him completely.

Chuckling, Din can only acquiesce whenever he hears a direct request from your mouth – he never hears you command him as his sovereign, only ever as his love.  No matter – he would obey either way.  Stripping off his boxers, helmet still on, Din slips into the steamy water of the deep soaker tub, letting out a heady groan at the way all his muscles relax in reaction to the sudden heat against his rough skin. 

With a soft footedness that still surprises Din, so used to picking up every little sound with his helmet’s acoustic sensors, you reappear suddenly with a small tray table bearing various Flavian fruits and wine for Din and a thin silk scarf for you.

“I know you didn’t eat after the match,” you say matter-of-factly when Din tilts his helmet in question.  Neither did you.

“Will you join me, cyar’ika?”

“Of course, my love,” you begin to disrobe, perfectly understanding the double meaning of your General’s question.

Though he’s seen and worshipped your naked form more times that you can count, there’s always something about being unable to see the eyes that devour you which makes you shy.  Able to detect the rise in temperature of your face, your bashfulness amuses Din to no end – if only you could see his own expression; every time Din sees you bare before him is like the first time, he thinks you might even laugh at the slack jawed, awestruck expression hidden by his helmet – if Mandalorians were to believe in a literal afterlife, then Din could well be deemed a heretic for he’s sure he’s already seen heaven.

Stepping in the tub, careful not to trip over Din’s strong legs, you settle on your knees in the water near his feet; taking the wash towel from the side of the tub, you lather it up with your own luxurious cleanser, the scent of which you know Din loves and begin to wash his body.  With great care and affection, you wash and massage Din’s feet, calves and thick thighs, the two of you quietly chatting about your individual perspectives on what transpired in the arena today as you move up his body with your loving touch.

Din groans when you wash his groin area, and you smirk and pretend to throw him a look of disapproval even as you stroke his fast-hardening cock with the washcloth.

“Cyare…” he strains.

“Hmmmm?” Humming, you shimmy to straddle his lap and innocently begin to wash his hard chest and tree trunk arms.

“You’re teasing…”

“Not at all, I’m cleaning,” you giggle.  Rising onto your knees, you lean over Din’s mountainous shoulder to clean his back, dangling your wet, supple breasts right at helmet visor level.  Definitely teasing. 

Two can play at this game. Din’s modulator muffles his snicker as he makes sure you’re entirely engrossed in your task of scrubbing his back, concentrating adorably so that you don’t notice when his big paws reach for your chest, groping and kneading the pillowy flesh with hardly any warning.

You squeal and grind down on Din’s cock - in retaliation he zeros in on your already pert nipples, rough fingers roll and pinch, flick and tug your pretty peaks until you forget your work and bury your face into his shoulder, completely lost to the pleasure that only the General can give you.

“Din,” your voice a soft whimper, needy yet still regal and melodic, “… you have to…”

“What do I have to do, Princess?”

His teasing tone makes you gush; this man knows exactly what he’s doing – you try to claw back some semblance of control over the situation, “You need to let me tend to any injuries you may have sustained under your helmet.  And let me wash your hair.”

“Oh, do I?” 

Nodding in earnest with your eyebrows raised, “Yes, and then you have to rest.  Your body needs it.”

“My body needs you, mesh’la.”

Leaning back, your eyes follow the trail of your fingers as they rake down the smooth skin of Din’s broad chest, slowing over the various long-healed scars whose tales of origin you know by heart, you prepare yourself to argue your way.  But the truth is, you don’t want your way – you need Din, too.  Here on Flavin 5, there is no fear of getting caught, no need for hurried kisses or fleeting touches – the two of you have time.  Time to enjoy one another.  Time to let your hearts run rampant with affection and want.

Tomorrow morning is the last morning you can wake lazily in Din’s arms, like any other couple waking to just another day in the rest of your lives together.  Tomorrow you will return home and your love for your steady warrior will once again need to be tucked away close to your heart, safe from the prying eyes of the kingdom. 

So, you don’t argue.

“Injuries first, General.”

“I have none, Princess.”  You can feel Din’s shit eating grin radiating from behind the beskar.

Grinding down a little on Din’s hardening length as a warning, “I should like to see for myself, thanks.”

“Of course, mesh’la.  I would see you satisfied.”  Though still smirking, it’s with enormous feeling that Din picks up the scarf from the side table and with his practiced hand, covers your eyes; wrapping the silk around your head twice before tying it securely.  He doesn’t ask you if you can see, knowing that if you could you would volunteer it.  Sitting prettily with your hands clasped together, you wait for the welcomed sound of Din’s helmet being lifted and set down where you scarf previously lay.

Heart full, your hands reach out to gently touch Din’s face, fingers tracing over the most intimate part of the man you love.  His jaw relaxes as you stroke though his facial hair and his plush lips curl as your thumb brushes over them.  Din’s strong nose feels unbroken, thank goodness – your gentle kiss to the tip earns you a breathy chuckle that tickles your throat.  Mapping the strong lines of his forehead, you discover your first wound at Din’s hairline – the soft curls of his brown (or so you’re told) hair already matted and sticking with dried blood.  When your fingers caress Din’s temple, you find a small superficial cut by his left eye, and your heart tightens further upon feeling a nastier slice on the apple of his cheek.  Even without seeing and Din giving away no hint of tenderness at your touch, you’re sure there are bruises starting to form on the face you love.

Though you’ve never seen it, you know Din’s face – positive that you could pick it out of a crowd as surely as you could your own in a mirror.  It’s the face of the strongest warrior you’ve ever known, one whose honour and integrity is as unbreakable as the beskar armour that covers his body.  A protector who fights without fail to defend the weak, uphold justice, and push back against tyranny and corruption – no matter how hard something may be or the risk to his own self, the man who bears this face will never back down, always standing up for what’s right.  It’s the face of a man who loves fiercely – loves his Creed, his people, his duty, his son, his woman.  You.  You know the face of this man, the man who owns your heart, your body, your soul - wholly and completely.

You wash this face, carefully cleaning your discoveries.  Then, before you wash his hair, you cradle Din’s head delicately and check for bumps and scrapes, sighing in relief when you find none.  Lathering up a generous amount of your shampoo, you distribute it through Din’s curls, massaging his scalp as he groans in approval.  Your smile at the sound could melt even the steeliest warrior’s heart, Din is sure – it melts his.

When his hair is rinsed and face pat dry, salve applied to his wounds, you attempt to get Din to eat from the food on the tray.

“After, Princess,” Din’s voice somehow lower than when it’s filtered through his modulator.

“After what?” you pretend to be confused.

“After I have what I’m truly hungry for,” you can feel the sides of his face lift beneath your hands as the curve of his mouth pulls up into a wicked grin.

You flash him what you think is a mirroring smirk, “And what is that, General?”

Din takes an excruciating long time trailing his fingers featherlike down the column of your throat as an answer.  His massive hand skate over your naked breasts, pinky pretending to be caught on your pert nipple before catching up with its brethren that have moved on to tickling your soft tummy.  When his hand finally dips below the water, it’s no more hurried, no less teasing – knuckling down the front of you, his hand so big and wide, his thumb and baby finger stretch to slowly stroke along the apex of your thighs at the same time with no additional effort at all.  You quiver at your warrior’s languid and gentle touch – that these same hands are trained for weapons and brutality is not lost on you; how lucky are you to be able to feel them as they are now, so close to where you need them, reverent and worshipful.  Hands meant for building up and protecting, instead of tearing down and destroying - and yet you know them capable of both - and moreover, that they can and will do both to you. 

Leaning forward to press your lips tenderly to Din’s, you whisper, “Promise you’ll eat after?”

He knows the condition of the ask is empty - you need him as much as he does you, both of you hungry for more than the food your empty stomachs growl for.  The worry you felt for your Mandalorian every second he was in the arena today has morphed into a blazing desire now that you have him secure once again in your loving arms; even when he was facing blaster fire or the murderous glare of a mudhorn today, Din’s thoughts never strayed far from the moment he could return to your warm embrace.

But he plays along, because he knows you need to hear it, “I promise, cyare.” And then, because your well being is always as much on the forefront of his mind as his is yours, Din adds, “As long as you eat with me.”

“Promise.  Now touch me please, Din,” you’re trembling, not just from want but need, a need for the reassurance that he’s here safe, that the violence you saw in the arena did not touch him.

Even if he had not pledged his fealty to your kingdom, Din would submit to your request, to you – if it were up to him, he would spend the remainder of his days catering to your every whim, carrying out your will, doing anything and everything necessary to ensure your happiness.

He parts your folds with his fingers, finding you slick and ready for him.  As Din glides his thick digits along your seam, your soft moans fill the steamy room, “Ohhh Din, yes right there, please.”

“Such a polite little princess, isn’t she?” hums Din, loving how responsive you always are for him.  He kisses down your neck, nipping at your shoulder as you come to a rest against his chest.  You’re shuddering from the way he’s stroking your pussy, swirling infuriatingly at your needy hole but never dipping inside, teasing you with long broad swipes up to your clit.

Pressing his thumb against your already slippery nub, Din takes advantage of your lack of sight and surprises you by dipping his head down to take one of your breasts in his mouth at the same time – you cry out from this sudden double attack, body trying to run.

The old bounty hunter in him activated, Din chuckles and increases the pressure of his hand on your pulsing clit, and with his free hand, he holds you firm by the nape of your neck - face now buried deep in your cleavage, biting and sucking every bit of soft flesh his mouth can find.  Rolling your pert nipple between his teeth, he seals his lips over the sensitive peak and murmurs, “I got you, mesh’la.  Let me make you feel good.”

At his sure words, you immediately relax and willingly giving yourself over to your warrior, sighing in surrender as he worships you with his fingers and his mouth.  This is the only time that you allow yourself to be covetous of what is not rightfully yours – Din’s face you may know without having ever seen, but the lascivious sight of what he looks like when he loses himself in your pleasure remains a mystery.  You secretly long to see it – wishing to know how dark his eyes burn, how his lips wet and plump, how his brow might furrow or relax in reaction to your whines and whimpers. 

If you were his riduur – no.  No, you can’t let yourself go down that path of longing, it only ends in heartbreak. 

As if he can sense that your mind has started to wander, Din slips two of his thick fingers deep in your heat and curls them, beckoning you back to him.  You fly right back into the moment and to the space of devotion that he holds just for you, gasping for air at the stretch of his welcomed intrusion.

“Need to get you ready for my cock, cyare,” purrs your Mandalorian, bringing you back fully and binding your heart to his in the here and now.

Nodding almost mindlessly, you crash your mouth to Din’s.  The kiss is desperate, needy for so many reasons – your tongues licking and chasing, dancing to the song of perfect pleasure that strums along the electric current that connects you.  Din feverishly conducts the symphony of your body – grand upward motions of his fingers in your cunt send waves of bliss that crescendo through your core; the sweeping of his lips against yours keeps you in tempo with his own urgency; his rolling downward gestures on your clit coils the band below your belly tighter and tighter.

No one can play you like Din can – beneath the beskar armour he’s a master musician, lover.  Like the weapons he so deftly wields and handles, your body is an instrument he knows intimately – every shift, slight change or tensing is noted and adjusted for so he can optimize performance, maximize your pleasure.  Din knows you’re going to come before you do by the key in which your breath hitches, the cadence of your fluttering walls.

“Come for me, Princess,” he growls, biting down on your plush bottom lip.  Now it’s your turn to obey – you come with an arch of your back and a chorus sung to your General’s name, Din, Din, Din, Din.

Here you can be as loud for as long as you want and Din can fuck you through your high for as long as you need, withdrawing his fingers and licking them clean only when your cunt is complacent enough to release him, “Always taste so sweet, cyar’ika.”  You sigh at the filthy sounds of another forbidden sight you long, lust for.

Lips finding his again, you taste yourself on Din’s tongue and tease, “I thought we were eating after.”

This time it’s Din’s turn to act coy, repeating your question from earlier with a knowing smirk against your pout, “After what?”

In response, you reach between your bodies and even without the benefit of sight, easily find Din’s hard, throbbing cock.  Stroking his length with your delicate hands, you lift to line him up with your entrance and wordlessly sink down, “After you come, General.”

“As you wish, Princess,” Din groans at the way your pussy hugs him.  When you feel him shift beneath you to plant his feet on the bottom of the tub, you stop Din with a hand on his wide chest and shake your head, “You’re tired and your body needs rest, my love.  Let me do the work.”

Big, loving hands come up to cradle your head and a playful but reverent tone accompanies Din’s protest, “A General’s duty is to serve his Princess.”  You tilt into his paw and nuzzle; your Mandalorian’s affectionate touch and the feeling of fullness combine in making you compliant.  Leaning in close you ghost over Din’s lips, “Together then.”

Half awestruck, half groaning in agreement, Din slides his hands back down your soft body to come to a rest on your waist, holding you gentle and secure, “Together.”

It’s easy to find the perfect rhythm, your bodies already so in tune with one another.  Din’s slow upward thrusts meet your lighter bounces halfway, causing the water of your bath to ripple and splash against the sides of the tub.  It’s tender and patient until it isn’t – with no communication other than your soft whinnying and Din’s grunts and heavy breathing, your tempo and intensity remain matched, building together. 

Always together.  How you love being together with your Mandalorian.  How you love him.

You press yourself to Din, the rise and fall of his chest grounding you as your hips work in tandem with his.  Arms snaking around his neck, you cling to the General as your joint movements become more fervent and passionate, the water now choppy from your lovemaking.

Together.  Everything is better when you’re together.  You were able to get through today, together.

Love, relief and gratitude flood your pleasure wracked body as you crawl up Din’s broad mountain frame to find his lips.  Latching your mouth to your Mandalorian’s, you kiss him heady and desperate.  Every press of your plush and swollen pout thankful for his survival, of today’s fight and of all the fights that came before today so that he could come into your life.  A thank you to maybe that same mystical force that gives Grogu his unexplainable powers, for making the man that fills you so full at the moment the warrior, the father, the man is.  Thankful that he loves you.  For all of him.

Din meets every brush of your lips with the same devotion, somehow able to read the emotion behind your eyes without seeing them - the same way you’re able to read him even when he’s hidden behind his helmet.  He himself grateful for bringing his son and your countrymen back to you safe, for being the one to give you what you needed for the success of your mission.  A thank you to that same power than runs in his son’s veins and makes him a warrior far stronger than Din could ever be, for bringing him to you.  Grateful that a woman as regal, compassionate, and kind as you saw past his hard armoured exterior to the man beneath and holds him in your esteem.  And in your heart.

“Ni kar'tayl darasuum gar,” Din growls with a deep rumble of his chest that echoes off the walls.  I love you.

“Ni kar'tayl darasuum gar,” you cry back in the perfect pronunciation that Din taught you.  I love you.

Neither of you able to hold back your love for one another nor the crest of your bodies any longer – coming together, lyrical song sung loud and shameless.  The Princess and the General have nothing to hide here, tonight.

Later, after you’ve each eaten and drank your fill of Falvian fruits and wine, and you’ve massaged and kneaded Din’s sore muscles until you’re satisfied with the way his aches have melted away, Din guides you, still blindfolded, out of the cooled bath to the bed.

With Din protectively hovering over your naked body ready to take you again, you realize that as thankful as you’ve been feeling, you haven’t actually acknowledged those sentiments out loud to the man to whom you owe everything, “Thank you, Din.  Thank you for being the might of the realm.”

Though he knows you cannot see them, Din’s eyes fill with a love he hopes he can properly convey in other ways, “No need to thank me, cyar’ika, it will always be my honour to fight for you.  You must know - you are the might of the realm.  The realm prospers and remains strong because its Princess is brave, smart, good.  You’re everything, mesh’la.  You’re my might – I can only do the things I can because I do them for you.  I would do anything for you.”

You feel the scarf you wear across your eyes dampen as it absorbs your tears, “I know, Din.”  Happy, content, you welcome your General between your legs once more; and with the rare luxury of time and freedom that the two of you have been gifted tonight, you know it won’t be the last time.

[lucreziasredwyne]

where: one of highgarden’s feasting halls within the main keep of the castle when: following the first day of fasting for laytal-al-ikhlas, the sun had now set which allowed for followers of the old way to finally break their fast.

traditionally, it was the rowans of goldengrove who hosted the grandest and largest of celebrations for nights such as these. how often it seemed as though the first three weeks upon the isle of the arbor, where her home seemed more like home than ever, would fly by before departing for goldengrove’s festivities for the final few days. there was something regarding these nights that made her wish to devote herself to something more than prayer, but better practice: in the mind, and in body. 

it was during these days and nights that lucrezia redwyne felt the most at ease and confident in her own skin, with a clear purpose of what she wished to have achieved by the end of the holy month. and as she drank water now, quenching the thirst and the headache that had flared at the very back of her head, she was grateful. for the chance to reflect, to repent, and to embraced by their mercy. 

“does it not feel las though these halls feel more like home than ever before?” she asked across the table, reaching forward as she peeled at the pomegranate, her tone able to be heard over the sound of the strumming.

how peculiar was it, that the month always seemed to come when one’s soul needed it most; following the years of tension within the fertile rolling hills of the reach, there was nothing like the feeling of peace and serenity that came with wishing to find the goodness in humanity. there was no idealism behind her thoughts; it was clear to see how much they wished to help one another by the mass influx of giving to alms and charitable donations. and now, as the houses of the old way and the rhoynish reachmen sat within the very heart of the realm they no doubt helped secure and consolidate, there seemed to be elements from home. 

the lanterns were of those one would find within the bustling lanes and villages within goldengrove, old oak or the arbor, the smell of incense burning, the decorations etched with their old scripture. the sounds of their music, deep and meaningful from lutes, flutes and piano alike. 

the ironborn were gone, the war was won, and now it truly felt as though they would never be forced to flee from another home ever again. that night, during their communal prayers, she would pray for the souls of those lost against the valyrian freehold in the wars that sent her people to flee. she would pray for the souls of those who did not make it to see the paradise the gods had bestowed upon them. the souls of lord mustafa chester, his family, and their smallfolk. the lost souls of the osgreys. she would pray for mathis rowan, and pray his soul had finally found a sense of ease to be able to rest. 

“allaha şükür kötü günler geride kaldı.“ 

the souls of lord arlo redwyne, lady maria redwyne and the lord of the arbor, adnan redwyne. she remembered now more than ever before, how lucky she was to see another layat-al-ikhlas. the bards began to play one of her favourite tunes on the lute, and her hazel hues flickered behind her shoulders. the lady of the arbor was the happiest she had been in months.

[gallowsheart]

@alwaysxinxtrouble

Jesse had no idea how long the woman had been in the camouflaged pit. He didn’t have time to check the twins' traps every day and knew they weren't exactly diligent about it either, despite repeated reminders that rotten meat that had been dead for days was no good to anyone. He guessed it was anywhere from a day or two to only a few hours. He’d had to bind her wrists and ankles and gag her to haul her out, but he’d removed the gag once they reached the slaughterhouse.

Nobody was going to hear her from in there, and he liked having someone to talk to while he worked, even if the conversations could be sort of one-sided. She didn't seem reassured by his promises that he would kill her so quickly she wouldn't even feel it, or that it was lucky he'd found her before the twins did. They liked to play with their food, no matter how many times Abram raged at them that fear and pain affected the flavor. Conversations could be sort of one-sided with them too. Their listening skills were highly selective.

Blood dripped from the edge of a sharp knife while he carved up meat at the counter. He wasn't trying to scare her more, but it was possible he didn't realize what a frightening scene that was. He was waiting for one of his brothers to get home to help with her. Contrary to popular horror movie myth, it was difficult to single-handedly butcher and preserve the meat from anything larger than a pig. Not impossible, but they didn't like to waste anything. The whole process would be smoother with another set of hands. Though Jesse had a tendency to run his mouth, that was not a detail he'd shared with his captive.

He didn’t look up from what he was doing at the sound of the sliding door, assuming it was one of the twins come to check on their haul, until Jed's voice snapped through the space. He had that oldest brother talent of commanding instant attention and making him feel vaguely guilty, even when he hadn't done anything wrong. Or maybe it was just that he was already shouting.

"What the hell are you doing? Jesse, what the fuck."

Jed was staring at Robin, bound on the floor, filthy and crying and looking like she'd just been pulled out of a pit, which, he realized with a sinking feeling, was probably exactly what had happened. He knew the twins had traps set up all over the property, and none of the locals ever made noise about the occasional missing hiker. But this was bad. This was bad. Robin wasn't just some random hiker. Locals were off limits. They never killed people they knew, and he’d already been seen in town with her on multiple dates. They couldn't just kill her, as Jesse had clearly been planning to do.

But they couldn't just let her go either. It was plain at a glance that she'd already seen and heard too much. Jesse never did know how to shut his goddamn mouth.

"Fuck!" He was still yelling, his younger brother's voice competing with his.

"What are you talking about? She was in the trap!"

"That's Robin! That's the girl I'm going out with! Goddamnit, Jesse!" He shoved him hard, heedless of the knife in his hand. It was no threat to him. The Ashworth brothers might infight from time to time, but they always stopped short of actually hurting each other.

"Well what the fuck, Jed! How was I supposed to know?"

Jed ignored him, moving almost on autopilot to Robin. He knelt by her, reaching to loosen the restraints on her wrists. He didn’t like seeing her like that, helpless and terrified. It was still relatively new between them, but he’d liked her. More than he’d liked anyone in a long time. And they would probably have to kill her now. Robin would die for nothing, and her disappearance would bring unwanted attention to the family. Shit.

[charmwisp]

WHERE: DIY pop-up shoppe at rabbit creek; gingerbread house building table WHEN: 17th december, daytime WHO: anyone! ( @anchoragestarters ) CAP: FULLY CAPPED AS OF 14th JANUARY

On paper, this had seemed like the perfect opportunity for Rika. She'd been wanting to reach out more, to try and take part in the living breathing community of Anchorage instead of living as a shadow behind the beaded curtains of her room at the Raven House. The popup had a wonderfully festive atmosphere and the air seemed to Rika as though it hung thick with the excitement and curiosity of its guests and volunteers. As expected, the gingerbread station smelled pleasantly of sugar, spice and (of course) everything nice. This volunteering spot required a few things, of course; a hint of craftiness, a dash of creativity, a generous sprinkling of baking talent and a heaped spoonful of patience. These were standards Rika could meet easily enough, even if the patience required just the smallest stretch of extra effort. She'd known from the start that she would be a little out of her depths, lacking much experience with gingerbread houses due to their lack of a cultural presence during the holiday back home, but she'd gotten the hang of things quickly enough.

That wasn't exactly a good thing. Rika was good at getting carried away, at getting far too invested in the house she was putting together, and she may have gotten distracted from her role of guiding others through their own gingerbread creations. It was only her view of her work was darkened by the shadow of another person that she finally broke free from her spiced reverie. "I'll be with you in just a moment," she said by way of apology, whipping her head up with such abrupt speed that several locks of hair broke free from their loose ponytail binding. "I'm just trying to turn this...hmph, sugar glass into a window for my church." She grunted a little as she spoke. It was tricky work. Still, just as Rika said, there sat on the table before her an overly complicated little gingerbread chapel, still half-built. "Did you need any help? After all, that's what I'm here for!" A pause, and she tucked her hair back behind her ear. "Sorry, I guess I haven't made that very obvious so far, have I?"

[namenoted]

❝ well, here we are, ❞ he says, looking at the spread of books between them. ❝ man, where do we even begin? i guess ... at the beginning, right? ❞

he's putting it on heavy today. while there is nothing necessarily ominous about yagami, no shadow over his shoulder here (not in this world!), there is an air about him. he is a proper, well-put-together boy, and he is oddly helpful, well-mannered, and bred for success. the ultimate academic, an almost teen detective, and japan's top student —— and yet, here he is, sitting in his livingroom cross-legged with his hands on his knees, leaning back to stretch out his ribs against the lining of the couch's base frame and cushions. the tonkatsu he's pulled out is clearly expensive, and despite its use, has been well taken care of.

the general decor is a relative mix of traditional and western —— a nice house —— and yagami is obviously playing comfortable. maybe he really is? still, with company, it's best to keep up appearances. he can't be too comfortable. this person isn't keitaro*.

❝ hey, do you want something to drink before we get started? ❞ their introductory tea is empty, the small pot sitting near their discarded cups and saucers. ❝ water, soda? we also have chips if you want a snack. now that i think about it, i think i need a little 'brain food'. ❞ — @kuroyrii

[vicit-vim-virtus]

Starter for @deaddoveadventures // Curumë

The city had been torn asunder, as if a gargantuan dragon had ploughed straight through it, pulverising every building, every wall, every single brick and pebble in its endeavour to reach the other end of the city; it had waded through the metropolis as if it had been a mere, knee-high lake. Except that the dragon hadn’t come in the form of an actual dragon, but in that of a legion of goblins and orcs, collaborating to maraud and deplete the city of its wealth and provisions. The devastation was everywhere one turned their head, there was no escaping it. Houses had crumbled and were nothing more but a pile of rubble, streets were buried under mountains of debris, and slowly dying fires, the only living vestiges of the violence that had transpired last night, were, ironically, the only sources of warmth left. The stench of blood and burning wood permeated the air. These last seven days, most denizens had either lost their abodes, lives, or both, and yet their solidarity had united them to tend to the injured and salvage whatever they could find to make their loss slightly more bearable.

The barbaric and monstrous assault had deprived the city of its colour and vigour in a week’s time; everything was etiolated, insipid and reeked of death and decay. Decades ago, when he’d been in the employment of his late father, he’d often traversed to this place, as a merchant to trade. The streets used to be filled with ebullient laughter, boisterous conversation, and the smell of freshly baked bread drifted on the currents of a gentle breeze. Tall trees and exotic plants and flowers, vibrant and sweet, emblazoned the environment, adding to it a touch of nature and tranquility, making one forget that one was, in reality, encompassed by sturdy city walls, a rich assortment of architectural residences, and an enormous crowd of people thronging the roads and alleyways all day long. Now, none of that remained, not even a sliver; those images had been diminished to a mere evocation...

The road meandering up to Luran’s place of destination was impeded by rubble. They’d barely passed the disintegrated city gate when they had been forced to shed the carriage and continue on horseback. But even on their mounts, navigating the ruins proved to be a challenge. The beasts couldn’t find their footing, stumbled, fell, and snorted defiantly when spurs prodded their sides to coerce them over rock and treacherous terrain both rider and animal were cognisant of were unsound. Eventually, Luran dismounted and resumed his laborious journey on foot; the King’s knights, clad in their heavy, shining armour, trailed in his wake. Regardless of happening upon many civilians in need, none approached him — or any of the soldiers — to ask for aid. Presumably because they thought the King’s knights and his emissary weren’t here for them, and therefore, would never assist them. And they were correct. Luran had been sent to discuss financial affairs, among others, with the archbishop who governed the city. The King had no interest in supporting the victims, to alleviate their hardships, their suffering; he was only concerned with the archbishop and how the religious leader would compensate for the loss of gold and other riches.

The cold and desperation, which haunted him outside, were chased from his bones now that he was standing in the archbiship’s warm and luxurious office. Perhaps office wouldn’t do the room justice, atrium would be more apt. Paintings and frescoes adorned the walls and ceiling. Columns and statues were situated on either side of the cavernous hall, and a grand oval table with intricate carvings in its mahogany surface, stood in its centre. Several tall, arched windows, their frames embellished with heavy, gold and burgundy curtains, offered a view over the ravaged city — once a magnificent spectacle to behold, no doubt, but now, just a sad reminder of what was. The cathedral was still surprisingly intact after the bombardment of blazing boulders that had laid waste to the rest of the city. Granted, there were some dents blemishing its walls and a meagre layer of dust veiled its interior, but other than that, the House of the Goddess had remained unscathed. The advisor scribbled a mental note to himself to apprise the King of this particularly odd phenomenon...

While the archbishop rambled on about last week’s events and how tragic and pointless the loss of life was and how it affected him so, Luran stood, composedly, beside a slender window, his countenance averted from the other elf, hands clasped neatly behind his back. He regarded the people below, mere specs from his vantage point. He detested travelling, especially for long periods of time... He preferred the comfort and safety of home, and couldn’t wait to return. Alas, there were pressing matters to attend to.

The conversation that ensued was tedious, and throughout the ordeal, Luran felt an aura of insincerity, dishonesty radiating off of the archbishop. His words of sorrow, grief and loss did not reflect in his eyes. His histrionic comportment, his charade, was rather impertinent, especially when taking all the dead denizens into account. The King had found in this elf a kindred spirit: neither cared about their subjects, both were corrupt, blinded by power, greed and wealth and would go to any extreme to procure it... Repulsive...

Many hours sidled past in this fashion, before they were interrupted by the archbishop’s guards. Half a dozen came marching in, following their captain. Two guards escorted a man, digging the fingers of their iron gauntlets into his upper arms. The captain, herself, held some sort of artifact or statue in her arms — Luran couldn’t quite determine its nature from where he was positioned, but clearly, it did not belong to the... trespasser... thief...

‘What’s the meaning of this?’ the archbishop demanded irritably, gesturing to the scene that was now unfolding before his very eyes.

‘Your Grace. Advisor. My sincere apologies for the intrusion, but we caught this thief red-handed, stealing. The idol of the Goddess was in his possession,’ the captain explained pragmatically, shooting the thief a nasty glare.

Luran’s sapphire blue eyes oscillated between the archbishop and the captain; the archbishop suddenly appeared rather... perturbed. It was remarkable how his people being massacred had a less emotionally detrimental effect on him than some law offender nicking a stone artifact. However, had the advisor been familiar with the power harnessed within the idol, he would’ve understood the apprehension. The deceptively simplistic artifact allowed anyone attuned to it, to enthrall the masses and keep them subservient, obedient, as meek as a flock of gullible lambs raised for slaughter.

‘This man shall be punished for his crimes,’ the archbishop said, hastily taking the idol from the captain. ‘Throw him in the dungeons!’

‘The dungeons were obliterated, Your Grace,’ the captain commented resolutely.

A sigh of exasperation brushed past the archbishop’s lips, which elicited a flinch from the captain. Back at the palace, Luran had witnessed similar reactions manifesting in the royal guards whenever they were met with the King’s displeasure. And while the archbishop embarked on a tirade, Luran contemplated how he could be of service. His gaze swept over to the thief, scrutinising him for the first time.

‘We could take him back with us, to the City — he can stand trial there,’ Luran eventually suggested, his euphonious voice calm and collected, yet his eyes were cold and trained, unblinking, on the miscreant. ‘I’m fairly certain they’ve got a cosy prison cell left to temporarily accommodate this malefactor, until his fate has been decided...’

[fyrewalks]

It's a bad idea, he thinks when he catches Hangman's eye across the Hard Deck and there's a sparkle of something more. It's a bad idea, he thinks when they're quiet in the backseat of the uber, neither wanting to ruin the anticipation with pointless small talk. It's a bad idea, he thinks when his fingers start on the buttons of Seresin's annoyingly tight button-up once safely inside his temporary accommodation - except then Seresin's, Jake's, tongue is down his throat, and really, Bob isn't thinking at all, anymore.

As he's lying there, sweaty and sated, half drowsing, Jake's arm across his belly like he simply forgot Bob's there and is too tired to adjust, it's easy to rationalize the gravity of the situation away. Tomorrow, they'll all scatter back to their postings as if the detachment never happened. He'll go back to the Eagles, Jake to the Vigilantes; they didn't cross paths before at Lemoore, and there's no reason for them to now.

Bob is no stranger to one-night stands, temporary bits of fun. He knows the routine, but when caught attempting to make a quiet exit the next morning, he can't muster up the usual excuses or goodbyes. What's he supposed to say - thanks for the fuck, see you never?

Except, as it turns out, whatever rational thinking he employed that night, wasn't all that thought out. Back with the Eagles, it's harder to avoid Hangman than he assumed. Bob dodges him in hangars, at bars and hangouts Nat dutifully drags him out to. He absolutely does not think about how Jake kisses, or moves, or the way he tastes. Absolutely not. And just when Bob thinks he's got a handle on the worst of his intrusive, betraying thoughts, the orders come - they're all being recalled to Top Gun for the official formation of the Dagger Squad in a month's time.

A week into tense briefings, all of them frustrated and annoyed by the endless paperwork and ground time, Bob thinks himself foolish to think he struggled at all in Lemoore. At least then, Hangman had given him a wide berth too. Now, often stuck in the same room for hours at a time, Hangman's usual taunts feel sharper. If anyone's caught on to how he's singled Bob out, no one voices their suspicions. At one point he worries Natasha's caught on to something, but when she raises her eyebrows at Bob, he mutters something about Hangman being Hangman and that seems to satisfy any curiosity.

And then, Bob has the misfortune of finding himself alone in the locker room after a few miles on the treadmill. If the way Hangman corners him is any indication, he'd guess it's purposeful. Bob very carefully keeps his eyes on the next set of lockers, just to the right of Hangman's face.

"What - miss an insult or two in the classroom," he snarks, surprising himself. Admittedly, it's a little easier when Natasha is in the cockpit with him. Bob takes a breath, his eyes flicking to Hangman's eyes, his lips. Bob refocuses his gaze. "Don't you think it's a little obvious?" If it's not curiosity, it'll be a joke - one that skirts too close to the truth. After all, navy pilots are known for their crude humor. Bob knows himself; he'll struggle to shrug it off. // @a1truist

[hana-no-seiiki]

YANDERE HUSBAND x GN CELEBRITY!READER

— based off of a dream i had of a childhood friend/crush. hiatus not over tho lol.

— morally bankrupt reader. clingy husband. the usual yandere stuff.

YANDERE! HUSBAND who was your childhood best friend. Your parents shipped you two since you could speak.

YANDERE! HUSBAND who had a crush on you since forever. He doesn’t even remember a time where he didn’t get butterflies and an aching need to be the only one close to you

YANDERE! HUSBAND who’s the biggest flirt. He knows you the best. Although you were completely oblivious. He’d always try to be around you, compliment you, tease you.

He’d give you matching keychains, and would beg his parents to buy whatever gift he’d think you’d like.

YANDERE! HUSBAND who sadly had to move away for a while. He comes back during high school. And the first thing he asks while he’s there? To be put in the same class as you.

Now that you two are older, you finally started to notice how much of a tease he was. Always grappling unto a piece of your attention.

You acquiesce and begin to date him. Not necessarily feeling anything for the guy but thought it was high time that you finally settle down. It was the perfect storyline you could share once your ambitions were fulfilled.

That and cause your parents would only let you go to acting school if he married you.

Which you two eventually did before college. Was it rushed? Definitely. Did you even love the guy? Nuh uh. But you had places you had your sights set on. And he was the only path.

YANDERE! HUSBAND who drops out to be your full time househubby. His parents could always give him a job at their corporation anyways. There was no real pressure for him to study and get a job.

YANDERE! HUSBAND who almost always supports your acting career. Watching all your shows, movies, and interviews. Basically buying out all the merch you featured in. And paying advertisers across the globe to have your face plastered everywhere.

YANDERE! HUSBAND who unfortunately stops you from having any romantic or sexual scenes. Essentially blocking you from any roles that could be your breakthrough just cause it could have a tiny kiss or so.

Your anger at his blatant attempt to have control over you began simmering. Ever so slowly reaching the surface. Not improving at all when you found out he’d been trying out a job that his mother gave him.

Fuck the gifts. Fuck the yachts and cars he’d swarm you with. Why did he get to do what he wanted and you didn’t?

So you follow him to work once, only to catch him in a compromising position with a coworker.

You didn’t care about him or his business beneath the sheets really. So you had to thank the gods above that you knew exactly what and how to do the following act.

Cry. Scream. Throw things at them.

The coworker already left. Shuffling as they tried to hide from your anger.

Your husband is unresponsive. Catatonic. Even more of an excuse to hurt him.

You call him filthy, uncaring, the worst man to ever exist. Hell, even some of your true feelings come out as you yelled about how you regretted ever being with him.

You find out later from his mom that he had been framed. That this coworker was just trying to get money out of the heir.

Still, you wanted out. He had already served his purpose and you needed to expand your horizons.

A week later of radio silence from him as you prepared the divorce papers he walks in.

Covered in red his hands caressed your face,

“You called me filthy did you not? So I cleansed myself with their blood.”

[jarofstyles]

Cabernet

This can be read as a standalone I think, but! Here is a second part of Merlot! It's spicy and sweet so I hope you guys like it. Unsure if there will be any more parts (I’m open if you guys have more ideas!) but I do love a good dilfrry.

Check out our Patreon for early access and 200+ exclusive writings!

WC- 4.1k

Warnings- smut, age gap relationship, anal (for those who asked ur welcome!), unprotected sex, cumplay, Dom/sub elements

-------

Harry was by far the best man she had ever dated. 

Their age gap was evident at times, but not in a bad way. It was rather cute when he had been confused about videos she sent or his own excitement to show her the movies or books he was referencing. The added element of their dynamic was learning from one another. Harry had been teaching her about publishing and helping her flesh out the first draft of her book while she sat in his office some days, helping him out in return by getting him coffee or lunch or an occasional shoulder massage when he got particularly stressed. An unofficial assistant of sorts. 

“I feel like if I have to write the word ‘said’ one more time, my brain is going to explode.” She grumbled, pushing her laptop across the couch and leaning back on it. The leather seat in his office was by far the most comfortable one she had sat on and he happily invited her to come into the office to see him as often as she wanted. It was both practical and selfish on both ends.It was easier to work in a space like this and with the understanding that Harry really did have work he was doing, she focused on her own stuff. A quiet pair of people working in each other’s company. 

Add in the fact that he was the boss man, it made it much easier for her to come and go as she pleased. 

“Mm, sometimes authors get stuck with words in their novels. They’ll have phrases they repeat a few too many times, usually gets called out in editing and fixed. It’s not a bad thing. But with words that are action words like that, there are options. Y’know, depending on the scene and tone. Murmured, muttered, peeped, whispered, whined, moaned, huffed, grumbled. Those sorts of words.” He tapped his pen against the desk as he lifted his eyes to her. 

It didn’t get old. Seeing her pretty face sitting in his office looking the way she did, much more comfortable than the night they’d first met, but still appropriate for an office setting.

Sometimes he did let his mind wander into the roleplay aspect, wondering if she had been his real assistant if he would have made a move. If Y/N was the Y/N he knew now? Probably. Scandalous. 

Today she wore a pair of black flowy pants and a matching turtleneck, but on top she had a chunky knit cardigan that was utterly adorable. It had yellow moons and stars, a deep purple color with sleeves she had to push up so they didn’t hide her hands. His girl leaned into the office aesthetic when she came in so she didn’t stick out too much but with him or when they were at his place or out together, he loved seeing her dressed in her normal clothing. She looked soft, whimsical almost. Like a little fairy. 

“Hm. Good point. I need to write down all the synonyms in my notes app and defer to that because if I’m getting tired of writing it, I know whoever ends up reading it will get tired of seeing it too.” Her lips puffed to blow a strand of hair that had fallen from her bun, brows furrowed as she failed and made her hand ready up to tuck it behind her ear instead. 

Again, cute.

“Not necessarily.” He replied, leaning back in his chair. “We’re our own harshest critics. I doubt they’re paying that much attention to that. The majority of people will be paying attention to world building, character development, plot, sex scenes, all that fun stuff. The exact wording isn’t always the most important thing. But it shows that you care about quality.” He shot her a grin. “So you will be successful.”

“Mmm… and not because I’m fucking the publishing head?” She grinned as she stood up, stretching her arms out. 

“Well. That helps.” He wouldn’t deny it. She had a leg up, but he wouldn’t publish just anything. “If it makes you feel better, I don’t publish shit work. It isn’t worth the reputation of my company. Your writing is genuinely good, my sweet.” He knew the drill by now. Her heeled boots were kicked off by the couch and she made her way over to him, the tiredness starting to hit her as she happily perched herself on his lap. 

“Good to know.” She snorted before pressing a kiss to his scruffy cheek. The facial hair had grown but he was shaping it currently. She promised she’d be okay with whatever he did to it but didn’t want anything to happen to the mustache. That wasn’t allowed to go. “What are you working on? Anything fun?” 

“No, nothing incredibly interesting I’m afraid.” His hand squeezed her hip underneath the cardigan. “I was working on some contracts earlier but every so often I pick up some submissions and read through them myself. This one is very bland, unfortunately. There’s potential, absolutely. Their writing style is lovely, but the plot falls flat and the characters are one dimensional. S’like they chose a specific stereotype and did nothing to differentiate them.” It was unfortunate.” It was a shame he came across all too often.

“It’s obvious this person is trying but they’ve never observed or met someone with these traits. I don’t think you absolutely have to follow the rule ‘write what you know’, but I think a lot of the best works come from drawing from our own experiences. Romance, for them, doesn’t seem to be a passion. They’d do better with mystery with their writing style as it is, but they have to improve on other aspects first.” 

“Is it hard for you to see stuff like that?” She asked curiously, fiddling with the collar of his shirt. “I can tell you’re a little disappointed with it, so I have to wonder if it happens a lot.”

“It does. And it is hard when you see someone with potential not living up to it but I have faith that if we send them some constructive criticism notes that maybe they won’t see it as an attack but as a place of genuine care. I’m going to have someone meet with them I think, give them my notes and have them explain it in nicer terms than the plain ones I used. Maybe they can work on it again and add more and we’d have a best seller.” He shrugged his shoulders. “I can see they care about it in the way they put details in, but it needs more.”

There was something incredibly attractive about listening to him talk about it. It was always attractive to see someone care and talk about their passions; but Harry was on another level. She could see it on his face that he was disappointed and knew the person could do better. While it made it all the more nerve wracking for her own novel, she had him working with her along the way.

He never told her where to go with her story in terms of ideas, but how to improve the mechanics. Reading over bits and telling her to take away a certain detail and add more in other places, or giving suggestions about how things could flow smoother. He’d listened to her storyboard, after showing her the author equivalent of it, and gave his honest feedback from a publisher's point of view and then from a boyfriend’s point of view.

Sometimes it was more obvious that he was the one with miles more life experience in these instances but she couldn’t be upset about it when it only aided in strengthening their relationship. 

“I see.” She looked at the manuscript on the desk with the red pen of doom. “Oof. The red pen is out… and you’ve used it a lot.” 

“Well, there are errors.” He chuffed, kissing her cheek in return. “Did you get enough done?” The word count goal had been 3,000 for today, but he didn’t make it for her. It was all on her. He simply helped keep her accountable.

“I did more. I think… 4.5?” She tilted her head trying to remember. “Now my head feels like soup.” It did feel like mush right now. That was why the laptop was closed and abandoned and she was finding comfort in the man. It was like a reward. 

“That’s ace, my dove. Amazing.” He praised. The pride he felt for her was earned fair and square. She had been applying herself more now than ever. Since their first night together they hadn’t really separated, seeing each other at least a few times a week. Her work ethic was there as she had zeroed in on what she wanted. “Why don’t we finish this up and go back to mine, mm?” 

Harry had been holding off all week. He’d gone a bit rough one night and even though she said she was fine, he wanted to give her body time to relax. As much as he loved sex, he had wanted her body to enjoy it more than anything else. Not be overly swollen and sore the next day. 

Today was going to be the day to break that. A full week of nothing but heated kisses, and she was as needy as needy could get. He felt her perk up at the mention, sitting up straighter in his lap. 

“Please! Let’s go. We can get food on the way home but I think we have some pressing matters to attend to.” She sniffed, standing from him and offering a hand to help him up. “Chop chop. Get a move on, mister.”

——-

Two rounds in and he knew she could take it. Her poor cunt was a mess and he knew that as pretty as it was all drippy and swollen, she had been aching for him to get a try into her other hole. They’d had a proper discussion about it, and he had effectively been edging her the entire night. Fair? No, but she knew how he rolled. The promised pleasure first, experiments after. Just in case she wanted to stop, she got something out of the night. 

She’d been warming his cock for a bit as he held her in his arms, cooing soft praises about how good of a girl she was, how brave she had been to ask for something new tonight when he felt her get impatient. She didn’t need to say it. He knew her well enough now to understand what she wanted. Pulling his cock out and rubbing the tip against her asshole, pressing against it and spreading the sticky cum over the rim.  “Want me t’fuck this tight little ass too?  Fill you from both ends."

“Wanna try.” She nodded, panting as her cunt contracted and his cum dribbled out of her pussy. “You’re so big I… I dunno if I can take it. Go slow.” Y/N knew she was slightly cock drunk but she also trusted him. He’d made her feel good already, took his time with everything else why wouldn’t she want to test this with him?

“Okay, my sweet. Just relax.” Harry wasn’t nervous, but he was cautious. His girl was precious cargo, and he wanted to make sure it felt as good as it could. He’d done the work of stretching her with his fingers, but it was going to be a challenge to get him in there regardless. He slowly pushed his thick head past the tight rim of her back hole. Watching her face intently, his own contorted with pleasure. "You're doing so good, doll," he encouraged softly. "Just relax and let me in. You can take it."

The pressure was intense, and she hissed out a breath as he slowly pushed more and more of himself into her. His thick head stretched her wide, and he paused, letting her adjust to the new sensation. "Breathe." The reminder was whispered as he realized she was holding her breath, his hand carding through her hair tenderly.

"That's it, baby. You're taking it so well. Always do so good f’me." He praised, his voice low and soothing. He slowly pushed more of himself into her, inch by inch, his thick prick spreading her wide. She could feel every vein, every ridge, as he slowly filled her up.

As he slid deeper, Harry could feel the intense pressure and stretch around his girth. Her tight little hole was gripped tightly around his shaft, the muscles fluttering and contracting as he pushed his way inside. She felt like she was being split in two, her body struggling to accommodate his bigger size- but she was. Slowly but surely, he sunk into her fully.

She had done it. 

“Fuck.” She sobbed out, clinging to him as he got down to the base. Never in her life had she felt so full that way, so stretched. Only Harry could make her feel this way. It wasn’t just the physical feeling, but the emotional one too. She trusted him more than she trusted anyone else. His guidance was priceless.

"You're doing so good, You’ve got it all in. Jus’ gotta let it adjust." he soothed, his voice strained as he fought to keep control. Giving her a moment to adjust, his hands stroking her hair and her cheeks, his thumb brushing away her tears. "You feel so hot around me, doll. So tight. Knew y’would be."

“I wanna be… I want you to feel good.” She whispered, looking at him with wet eyes. “It’s just so big. I’m tryin’ to take it.” It surely wasn't a beginner cock but she wasn’t known for taking the easy way.

"You're doing so well, baby," he reassured her, his hands never leaving her. He slowly pulled out halfway before sinking in again, a little faster this time. "That's it... take me all the way in."

It was the fourth time he did it that she felt the pleasure. Both from the action and the thatch of hair at the base of his cock rubbing against her swollen clit, making her gasp. Her eyes fell shut as she leaned her head back, slowly relaxing into the bed.

He watched her face contorted in pleasure, his heart swelling with pride. "Look at me," he commanded, his voice rough. As she opened her eyes, he began to pick up the pace, his hips pressing against hers. "M’so proud of you. Look at you, taking every bit of me.”

Y/N sent him a blissed out smile as her hand slipped between them, rubbing her own clit slowly as he fucked into her ass. There was nothing rushed about it, nothing frantic, and it felt good just to be. Her muscles relaxed, making it feel even better as his cock filled her hole. Soft moans left her mouth as she curled her other hand around the back of his neck, pulling him down so he was close. “Are they the best holes you’ve had?”

Harry’s face was lax in his own pleasure as he felt her tight ass clench around his cock. “Fuck, baby,” he groaned, his breath hot against her lips. “They are. So fucking tight, so perfect. Can’t compare them t’anything else.” He kept up his steady rhythm, loving how her body moved with his. “You feel so good. Can never get enough of you.” He whispered, brushing a stray hair out of her face before stroking her puffy lip. They were so pretty. Kissing wasn’t something he’d thought much of before, but he hadn’t kissed Y/N. She had changed everything for him. 

“Better than that silly ex wife?” She prodded, watching with a little smirk as she watched him think it over. Y/N had a feeling she was by the way be was acting,  but she wanted to hear it.

"Way better." he grunted, his hips snapping forward. "Little minx, y’just need to ask that, hm? No need to be jealous. She never gets t’have me again. Only y-you." He stuttered as her hand moved around his neck and she squeezed down hard on him. "Her holes were nothing compared to yours, doll. Nothing."

Y/N giggled as she choked him a little bit, watching his eyes widen before pulling. It was obvious that while he was the big man in charge- she could have fun too. “That’s what I like to hear. I’ll tell you a secret, Harry.” Her lips brushed his as she kept the grip on his throat. Her lips were swollen and sensitive, the coarse facial hair brushing it and making her want to moan. “None of the boys my age have ever made me cum. They never fucked my ass. Never fucked me raw. And you did it all.”

"And I'm gonna keep doing it," he rumbled, eyes burning with lust as she kissed him. His hand tightened in her hair, tugging gently and pulling her deeper into the kiss. “You’ve got a man now, no need to think of those boys.You want me t’keep being nice to you? Keep making you cum?”

“If you keep fucking me like this, I do. Want my man to be so, so nice to me.” She gasped as he pushed all the way in, balls rested snug against her ass as he slowly humped into her, the comfort of the fullness making her fingers work harder on her clit. “Gotta- Gotta prove you can keep up with me, old man. That you c-can live up to the hype. I like the bit of silver at your temples but…” Her moan was broken as he pulled out and pushed back in, jostling her. “Gotta prove why older guys are b-better for pretty little things like me.”

"Oh, I'll prove it to you," he growled, picking up pace as he pounded into her tight ass. She had no idea just how badly he’d needed her to walk into his life. Thank god she had. This was everything he had ever wanted. "And right now, you need me to wreck this little hole until you can't walk straight. You need me to show you how a real man handles his woman. I'll give you everything you crave, everything you need. You just have to let go and trust me.” The man had every intention of proving how much better he could be for her than she could ever imagine.

"Fuck, look at this cunt." He muttered, reaching down to spread her dripping pussy apart. "It's absolutely soaked, just dripping down. Love it, hm?” The smugness in his tone would usually make her scowl but there was no denying it. The proof was right there. It was undeniable. “You're so turned on, baby. It's making it easier for me to fuck this tight little ass of yours." The glossy, hard flesh glistened with slick, dripping down onto the bed beneath her. His own cum intermingled with her own, making his movements smoother as he pushed in and out of her, coating her holes with their combined essence.

Her face was a mask of pure ecstasy, her eyes rolled back in her head as she whimpered in pleasure, her hands gripping the sheets beneath her. Her asshole clenching and unclenching around his thick cock with each thrust, trying to milk him for all he was worth. Her body was feeling tingly, her legs trembling as he fucking into her ass, the sound of her arousal and his hips hitting her skin filling the room. She was completely lost in the pleasure, her mind clouded by the overwhelming sensation of being thoroughly fucked.

As she reached the peak of her orgasm, he took over and began rubbing her clit with his own thumb, the sensation sending waves of pleasure cascading through her body. She cried out, her pussy gushing as she came harder than she would have imagined being fucked like this. She was so overwhelmed that she could only hold limply onto his arms as he continued to pound into her, his thick cock stretching her hole as it thrust through the waves of her intense orgasm.

His face contorted, vein bulging in his neck as he struggled to hold back. "You feel too good, baby. I can't... I can't hold back any longer." His heavy balls drew up close to his body, ready to unleash another load inside of her. The feeling of her taut muscles milking him, the way she clung to him with every fiber of her being, it was too much. He was sensitive himself, but he wanted to deliver everything she wanted.

"Please, Harry...Please,come inside me... I wanna feel you fill me up. Want it everywhere." She panted, her voice desperate with need. Half of the fun of sex was seeing him lose that control he so easily held in all other scenarios. She wanted to make him feel just as good as he made her feel. He deserved it.

His restraint shattered at her words.  "Fuck, you're gonna get what you asked for."

With a guttural groan, he buried his face in the crook of her neck and let go, his hot load pulsing into her hole in thick ropes. She felt each ribbon scalding her , marking her as his. "That's it, take it all... That’s m’girl.” He kept cumming, his cock twitching as he filled her. Ribbon after ribbon filled her up until she was overflowing with his load, almost overwhelmingly so. He finally slowed, his chest heaving, before gently pulling out of her ass, his cock glistening with the evidence of their fuck.

With a sense of possessive pride, he watched as his cum began to leak out of her stretched hole, dripping down her thighs. It was satisfying in the filthiest way. Primal and caveman in every sense of the word, he loved knowing that he had done it. He’d taken every one of her holes and made her his in the dirtiest type of way. He gently spread her cheeks apart, admiring the sight of his mark leaking from her. "Look at that... You're so full of me, S’that what you wanted?”

“Mhm.” She smiled, slightly drunk on the orgasm and the fact that he had pushed her further than anyone else had before. it was a good feeling in her body, the beginnings of soreness and the calming heat of his hands as he caressed her the way he wanted. “Exactly what I wanted. Think M’gonna have to keep you around so we can do that again.”

“I’d hope so.” He laughed tiredly, pushing back down to take her mouth for another kiss. “I’m far from finished with you, sweet little thing. But I think I’ve ravaged your body enough. Think you need a bath and some tea, get you ready to sleep.” 

Aftercare wasn’t something she’d experienced in any other relationship either, but she realized now it was probably a Harry exclusive thing. He was phenomenal at it. A lot of things, honestly. He experimented with her responsibly, took care of her after every round of sex, checked in on her, made sure she was eating proper meals, and helped her with her career. She’d lucked out with him. Whatever his ex wife was thinking, she had no clue- but she wasn’t about to waste a single bit of him.

“Do you have chamomile?” She asked softly, pecking his lips in return. 

“What do you take me for? Course I’ve got it.” He scoffed, pinching her chin. “But if I didn’t, I’d find some for you. Know it’s your favorite. Added it to the grocery list, along with your cereal, your rancid battery acid energy drinks, and the sweet and salty popcorn.” 

“It’s good battery acid, I’ll have you know.” She giggled, carding her fingers through his hair. He did have a bit of gray going on the temples but it was sexy. Just hearing how much he cared and put effort into the tiny things made her giddy. 

“Yeah, yeah. We can talk about your poison in the morning. It’s time to get clean and go t’sleep. Tomorrow may be the day you write five thousand words. You never know.”

[jasperxkuromi]

Play ideas for chronically ill, disabled, or otherwise bed bound/low energy littles

Hi all! I am chronically ill. I am not comfortable sharing my specific diagnosis, but I am more than okay with talking about disability in general. Everything below is based on my own personal experiences and activities I like to do while stuck in bed. Everyone's body and experiences are different. I may list some things that just aren't an option for you, and that's okay. You are more than welcome to add on to this post with activities you do too!

🐛 Open the curtains and cloud watch! I like to look for clouds that remind me of animals or characters and day dream a story about them. If the weather is nice, consider opening your window a little bit and letting some fresh air into your room.

🐦 Bird watch! I have a bird feeder outside my window that I painted myself from a kid's kit. There are also bird feeders that have suction cups that can be stuck right on your window. You can also make your own seed ornaments. You could pick yourself up a kids book or two on learning to identify birds.

🌷 Get a window planter. You may need someone's help to set one up, but once they are in place they are fairly easy to care for. I like pansies and marigolds because they remind me of childhood, and they are low maintenance and do well in containers.

📖 Audiobooks are great for middles who want to read chapter books. If you have a library card you can borrow tons of audiobook, ebooks, and comics through hoopla and Libby for free. There are some audiobooks for younger kiddo books, but honestly I think YouTube is better for that.

🖼️ Scrapbooks and journals! Being penpals with another little is also an option, but I do recommend using basic internet safety and common sense. (I don't think you should do this if you are under 18). You could always scan/take pictures of your letter and send it digitally to your penpal instead.

🛏️ If you spend a lot of time in bed, and have the money to do so, I really recommend getting items to make your time in bed more comfortable. Extra pillows, or even a reading pillow can be helpful. Lap desks or bed tables can give you space to color or set up play scenes with small toys.

🌟 You can also decorate the area around your bed to make it more child like! Fairy lights, glow in the dark stars, bed canopies, posters, and the like.

🪑 I have a floor chair I use for times I am playing outside of my bed. Being close to the floor helps me feel small, but not having back support hurts after a short while. I have an adjustable one that I can lay flat on the floor as a sleeping mat. Very helpful for the times when I need a quick nap after playtime.

🎨 Check the seasonal and kids sections at dollar stores and Five Below. I usually find fun craft kits that can keep me occupied for a bit for really cheap.

🧶 Do your own crafts! I like the knit and crochet. Some people can do them in bed, but I find it difficult to find a comfortable way to do that. However making friendship bracelets in bed works out pretty well. They make great gifts, even for non little friends. Or you could make matching ones for you and your CG or favorite plushie!

🪀 Make your own sensory bin! You can find tons of tutorials and ideas online. Bonus is you can get most of the items you would use at the dollar store. There are tons of other DIY sensory toys you can make as well if you look around. Glitter/shaker bottles are pretty popular too.

🐇 Cuddle with your stuffed animals. Tell them stories. Play pretend. Read to them. They will appreciate all of it.

🎮 If you have an old 3DS stuffed away in a drawer somewhere, pull it back out. 3DS are fairly easy to install homebrew and there are toooons of kiddo friendly games you could get (check 3ds.hacks.guide for this, do not follow tutorials on YouTube or random websites as they very well could be outdated)

💊 Decorate your medicine organizers with stickers. If you use mobility aids you can decorate them as well! Fake flowers are great for decorating mobility aids and there are tons of ideas you can find online.

🍼 I have stomach problems that makes it hard for me to eat enough. I often drink Ensure to make sure I am getting enough calories/nutrients. I get the strawberry flavor and sometimes put it in my sippy cup and pretend it is strawberry milk 😋

😴 If you need rest, rest! You deserve to get as much sleep as your body needs. Babies and toddlers take naps all the time! Trying to just exist with chronic health issues is difficult enough. You don't need to push yourself.

[jisungchan]

hot to go! | c.sn

or, when you meet one of your customers as a camgirl.

pairing/au: san and camgirl! fem reader, nonidol! au general content/summary: you meet (and fuck) one of your clients, emotions kinda talked about, hinting at wanting more, idk what else lmk, NO race specific descriptors (skin colour, hair texture, etc.), NO body type specific descriptors (size of reader body parts, BUT reader is alluded to being smaller than san i think, weight, etc.) genre: smut, fluff at the end

⚔︎ sexual content warnings (explicit): spitting scene (idk why these show up in all my fics...), bigdick!san agenda (always and forever), stomach bulge, raw sex (do NAWT do this), he does NAWT pull out (pls practise safe sex), f! and m! oral receiving, 3 diff positions because why not, three reader orgasms, marking and biting, a singular ass slap, soft dom!san, kinda sub!reader, a clit nibbling and pinching (i have no words), pet names (baby, sweet girl, angel, etc), a cutie lil aftercare moment, lmk if i forgot anything :D 

~6.1k word count nets: @mirohs-aurora-society and @illusionnet

a/n: thank u to the lovely folks over at @mirohs-aurora-society for helping me finish writing this !

do you ever think about how your life could be ruined in an instant? 

sure, the money and lack of a 9-5 job was glorious, but what would happen if people found out exactly why and how you were able to live like this? the lie you told your friends was that you worked as a copywriter. it was boring enough so there were no further questions asked, but also legitimate enough as to why you never go into an office. the truth is, you did work with technology, well, sort of. if you consider being an anonymous cam girl as working with technology, then, yes! you are still pursuing the traditional route, going to university to get your bachelor’s in some stupidly worthless major. your friends worked as waiters, baristas, uber drivers, and any other typical college job. you wanted an easy way to make money in the comfort of your own home, was that too much to ask for?

so, during one of the many nights you spent thrashing in bed, contemplating your life, you remember a remark one of your friends made to you years ago.

“why don’t you just become a pornstar?”

at the time, you laughed it off. there was no way you were comfortable putting everything out there for another stranger’s enjoyment like that. but, one lonely night, you decided to give it a try.

what’s the worst that could happen?

putting on the prettiest lingerie you owned, which happened to be a simple matching baby blue mesh set (what’s the need for lingerie when you barely have time for yourself?). you found a somewhat reputable website you stumbled across, and quickly signed up for an account. you put no thought into the username, simply opting for “blossomiebaby”, as you weren’t expecting this to last very long. you set up your phone on a tripod, one which you cannot remember why you bought, and started the stream.

at first, you were very awkward. if the 3 viewers could see your face, they would say you looked like a deer in headlights. you kneeled on your bed, whole body in view with the camera cutting off half way up your neck, keeping your face safely out of frame. 

the few viewers so far were giving you many compliments and also advice on what to do, how to pose your body, and other tips on helping you help them. after a few minutes, you grew more comfortable and started to move fluidly on your own, twisting and pushing your body to various positions that caused you to hear the donations pour in. you didn’t even undress, or do anything explicit, and somehow your first show did well. 

the next stream you did, you had a little extra preparation for. thanks for the generous donors in your first stream, you bought a new, actual lingerie set, a dildo, and some lube. the sex toy and lube sat out of view on your nightstand, you weren’t sure if you were ready to use it or not, so you thought it was best to leave that decision up to yourself. you slipped on yet another set, this time soft baby powder pink ruffled bloomers and a matching cropped dainty tank top, they both adorned bows in the centre and poofed out on your body beautifully. you felt a lot more comfortable this time around, expertly setting the camera up the way you like and laying on the bed. you laid on your stomach, rear tutted up and frilly lace covered feet swinging in the back as you teased your growing audience with a closeup of the lower half of your face. this time, your viewer count was growing by the dozens; it was near 100 when you climbed away from the camera, kneeling on the bed. your soft plush thighs splayed out as you sat on your knees, your thigh high socks stretching with the new position.

you toyed with the hem of your top, pulling it down to create a v-shape, exposing more of your collarbone and a bit of cleavage. you leaned forward again to give your viewers a close up, still hearing the steady flow of donation chimes coming through. this time, your head dipped to the bottom corner of the video as you displayed your deeply arched back and wiggling rear to the camera. 

that night, you hadn’t pulled out any toys, and even now that it has been about a year since you have started, you still haven’t shown much more. sure, you have gotten more generous with being a bit more revealing, but your private parts stayed private. what you do on stream those few days a week is seductively pose and fondle your body for your audience. however, you have upgraded to speaking to them now. you found adding the element of your voice has upped both your viewership and income. and some nights where you’re feeling extra nice, and needy, you tease yourself a bit through your bottoms, for both your relief as well as your audience. staring at yourself posing lewdly for hours sometimes makes you turn yourself on.  

another night, another stream. 

tonight’s outfit is something a bit spooky, it is the beginning of halloween month! tonight, you put on a sexy nurse costume. definitely basic, but also a crowd pleaser. the thin, tight white dress hugs your body perfectly, the red collar and details pop out against your skin tone. you also put on a pair of white lace thigh high socks, now a sort of staple of yours. you turn to set the camera up just the way you like it, hoping for another good night of work.

however, just before you start the stream, you notice a message from someone,

themountain: trick or treat? 

you giggle at the stupid line, but you would be lying if you said you weren’t curious as to where this was going. 

blossomiebaby: hmmm, treat? 

themountain: *$500 donation*

themountain: and if you want, i can still show you some tricks later ;) 

your jaw drops at the huge donation this ‘themountain’ user just sent through. the username seems vaguely familiar, but you don’t remember anything outstanding or specific about him. 

blossomiebaby: thank you mr. mountain man :) 

blossomiebaby: do you stream?

themountain: nah, but for you i’d do a private stream

and maybe it was the fact this man just dropped $500 on you, or maybe the fact that he seems so charming from the few texts, or maybe it was the fact you’re ovulating– but either way, you knew you had to take him up on his offer. 

blossomiebaby: are you comfortable with a two way stream?

blossomiebaby: wanna show my appreciation 

themountain: anything for you, baby

as you go on your laptop to invite him to the private stream, you feel insane. sure, you’ve had private streams for small groups of your highest paying customers, but nothing like this. with the two way stream, you would basically be on facetime with him. 

ding!

no turning back now.

the mysterious mountain user enters the stream, and you see the lower half of the screen flicker from black to a man’s broad chest and square shoulders. 

he sits in a very fitted black short sleeve compression shirt, it shows off his triangular stature as he waist disappears under the dim lighting. you can see a peak of what you presume to be grey sweatpants, typical manwhore outfit. 

you are sitting on your bed, knees bent as you press the heels of your feet into the mattress. you’re also at an angle against the camera, making your legs appear longer as you lean back on your hands set behind you. 

“awww, did i pull you away from streaming tonight?” the stranger lifts the camera up a bit, and you watch a dimple appear as he smiles while speaking. you unknowingly press your thighs together a bit to suppress the desire starting to flow through your body down to your core. 

you simply nod, too afraid to speak as your brain is slowly turning to mush. 

“i would say i’m sorry, but i’m happy to have you all to myself tonight.” he chuckles, those same dimples marking his face as he smiles. 

you giggle back at his comment, “so, what tricks do you have up your sleeve?” 

“hmm, well, it can be whatever you want. you seem a little nervous, so we can just talk.” this time when he smiles, there’s no playfulness behind it, it seems full of sincerity. 

you shake your head, but he tuts and starts making simple conversation. eventually, you move to a more comfortable position, sitting with your legs crossed in front of you as you drift off into conversation with him. 

it’s only when you get a notification that your laptop is about to die when you see the time, you had been chatting, nonsexually, with this strange man for over two hours. 

“i think i’ve kept you long enough, but i hope you enjoyed our conversation, it was nice getting to know you, blossom.” he says, his hands go upward to the mouse on his desk.

and you know it is definitely not the smartest move, but you can’t even think before you blurt out,

“can i give you my number?” 

a few weeks have passed, and you still do your streams. as it gets closer to finals season, you slow down a bit, wanting to focus on your academics and prioritising that over your income currently. however, the main thing that has now changed in your life is a constant you never thought would happen.

san

after he quadruple checked you were truly okay with giving him your number, he decided to give you his instead, in case you changed your mind. he said he wanted you to feel as comfortable and safe as possible, so he gave you the power to reach out to him instead. which you did, the next day. and ever since, you both have been texting and calling nonstop. and this is how you came to know more about the man behind themountain user, san. he also sent you a few photos of him, and wow, he is a gorgeous man. 

people always refer to women as beautiful and pretty, but san is the prettiest man you have ever seen. of course, his body is also mesmerising, but his face alone makes you think impure thoughts and pumps arousal through your veins. 

after a few weeks of texting, you still wanted more. but you were nervous, and you also didn’t know quite what you wanted from him. did you want to ask him on a date? he is local, but you also felt weird about asking him on a date, especially because of how you met. did you just want to meet up and hang out? but then, maybe he would get the wrong impression if you invited him to your place. i mean, it wouldn’t necessarily be the wrong impression, as you did spend many nights under your sheets thinking of him, but you thought that would be too forward, 

hey, wanna come over mine and fuck?

yeah, you definitely can’t say that. 

luckily, san was able to be on the same page as you. one night while you were studying, you got a text. you told him how you’ve been busy preparing for finals, and he respected you taking some time away from the internet. 

san: have you eaten?

y/n: no, been too busy studying :( 

san: that’s no good angel :( 

you smiled, as you read his texts, he was always so sweet to you and caring. it seemed like he cared about you more than just the nature of your job. it seemed like he saw you as a person, not just a body for his own pleasure. 

san: what do you want to eat? 

y/n: hmmm, i’ve been craving some sushi. maybe i’ll get some after i’m done.

you looked away at the time, it was starting to near 11:00pm, and you knew most places would be closing soon. in your mind, you already started thinking of what you could put together in your kitchen. 

san: that won’t do, how about i send some food to yours?

and if you thought san had made your heart skip a beat before, this time he truly did. you froze in place, staring at the message in the corner of your laptop until it swiped itself away. you open up the message thread and stare a bit more. 

san: i’m sorry, i can just send you some money to order it yourself, does that sound better sweetie?

it warmed your heart to think that he thought he crossed a line, but in your mind, it was quite the opposite. you looked over at your planner, you had finished everything due for the next few days, so you had a bit of time to spare. 

y/n: why don’t you just pick something up for us? i could use some company to distract me from school.

after hovering over the send button for a moment, you finally pressed down on it. you took another look at your message sent and shut your phone off, throwing it to the other side of the couch as you curled up and screamed. 

for someone who made a living off of seducing men, you sure didn’t have a lot of in person experience of dating and romance. 

and even though you threw your phone so you could escape his reply back, your laptop was still open, so you heard the ding! when he replied back 

san: just ordered it, send me your address so i can ease that pretty little head of yours 

another scream leaves your throat as you quickly send him your address before you can even think to change your mind. you stand up and shut the laptop, looking around your place. noticing the state of your home, you start manically cleaning up and trying to make things look as nice as possible. you didn’t know exactly where he lived, so you had to hurry in case he would be there soon. 

you ran to your room and did the same, throwing dirty clothes in the hamper and pushing it into your closet. you took a look at yourself in the mirror, the days of reading and being locked inside your place was evident on your face and body. you decided to take a quick shower, something you had been neglecting in favour of studying. after your place was straightened out and you threw on some more presentable clothing, which just happened to be an oversized tee and some soft shorts. even though san had likely seen a lot more of your body on camera, the thought of him seeing it in person sent shivers down your spine. 

and just as you sat back down with the recollection that he has never seen your face, you hear a 

ring!

shaken out of your thoughts, you shakily get up to walk toward the front door. you pause as your hand hovers over the door knob. once you open it, there’s no turning back. you open that door, and your identity is revealed, you’ll be letting a stranger come into your home which you have crafted to your safe space. after a few moments, you slowly unlock your door and turn it open. what if you’re getting catfished? what if this wasn’t some nice customer who you have befriended, but a crazed fan who’s going to harm you once you allow him in? it’s too late, the door is already cracked open, and all the person on the other side would have to do is fit their shoe in the opening to enter your place. but, much to your pleasant surprise, the door stays cracked. you can see a peek of the man on the other side, his physique seems similar to the man who you have been chatting with for the past few weeks, and it brings a small smile to your lips. he’s rocking on his feet, maybe he’s nervous too? 

“if you don’t want to let me in, i’ll leave the food here.”

there is a twinge of disappointment in his voice, but it’s mostly full of compassion. and just as you hear him place the bags on the floor and his heavy footsteps, you take a step back to swing your door open. 

“i’m sorry, come in san.” 

he turns back around quickly, just to see you bend down to pick the bag up and smile at him,

“it’s not like i’m going to eat all this food by myself.”

san follows you into your place, removing his shoes and hanging his jacket up. he stands awkwardly at your entrance as you place the bags on your coffee table and sit back on your couch. you turn around and giggle at his nervous state, it somehow puts you at ease to see him just as nervous, if not even more, than you. you motion him to come sit next to you, but he seems a bit frozen in place. 

of course, san knew you had a beautiful body, he would be lying if he thought otherwise. afterall, the way you two ‘met’ was through your body. however, after talking to you for the past few weeks, he has gotten to know you a lot deeper than just the lingerie you drape over your figure. he’s gotten to know more about your personal life, your likes and dislikes, your academic and career goals and endeavours, and everything else in between. he would be lying if he said he hasn’t fallen in love with you over these past few weeks. he genuinely wasn’t expecting it to happen, falling for a camgirl? before he thought that would be equivalent to falling in love with a hooker; it would take a fool to think they would want anything more than his money. but, he cannot stop the prominent beating in his chest as he walks over, seeing your face for the very first time.

seeing the last piece of the puzzle that was missing of you filled his body up with admiration. here you were, letting him in your home, seeing your face, and not in front of a camera. he’s seeing you in a state he never has before, actually covered in baggy clothes, hiding the figure he has only ever seen you flaunt. your face isn’t cut out of frame, but fully in front of his face, all just for him to go over and analyse each one of your gorgeous features. from the way your nose curves perfectly into your face, your eyebrows framing your eyes perfectly, and the small smile on your plump lips as he sits next to you as you open the bags up. 

“thanks for the food, and coming over. i’m sorry if it was a bit sudden.” you nervously say, shying away from his lingering fixation on your face. 

he stutters, “it’s no problem, i’m happy to help.” he smiles back at you, helping you untie the bags to get ready to eat. you reach for the remote as he lays down the food and drinks on the table. flipping through numerous streaming channels to land on the perfect thing to watch. your uneasiness quickly flows away from you, and it’s evident san is feeling the same. he’s no longer as tense sitting next to you, he rolls up his sleeves and relaxes into the cushions, widening his legs to get more comfortable. you can’t help but think how right this all feels. your thoughts no longer compile of anxiety and fear of the man sitting next to you, but instead morph into familiarity and comfort. you put on a random episode of the office and you both start eating the delicious food in front of you.

it’s quiet as you both eat and watch the show, only some small noises of you two enjoying the food leaves your mouths as you chew on the sushi and wash it down with drinks. 

the food is now long gone, and you both have somehow ended up lightly cuddling on the couch, eyes still glued to dwight and michael scott on the television. laughs and dry chuckles escape your lips at the stupid humour as you find yourself nuzzling into san’s chest with his arm draped around you. 

you both are made aware of your current position when netflix shines a notification on the screen,

are you still watching?

you scramble out of his grasp as you reach for the remote. however, in your haste, you drop both the remote and the remnants of your drink all over your shirt. you rush to stand up, droplets dripping from your shirt to your carpet. san stands up and rushes to the kitchen, grabbing some towels and water to clean up the mess on your carpet as you run to your bedroom. you close the door and stand against it, cursing for making a fool of yourself in front of him. you’re feeling flustered as you look down at your shirt, now stained from the drink and throw it off your now sticky body. you head straight to the bathroom, opting to take a quick shower so you don’t feel so gross. 

meanwhile, san has finished up getting the spill off your carpet, and the bit that was wasted on the sofa. he goes to the sink to wash the towels to his best abilities, and his mind starts to wonder what’s taking you so long to change. mindlessly, he follows the droplets to your bedroom door. he knocks, but when he doesn’t hear anything back, he gets a little anxious. you did seem quite upset when you spilled, so he doesn’t think twice when he opens the door to your bedroom after you don’t answer his knocks and calls. 

walking into your bedroom, he notices your shirt thrown on the floor and picks it up to place it in your poorly hidden, overfilled hamper peeking from your closet door. then, he hears a click!, and sees you walk out of the attached bathroom (which he wishes he would have noticed earlier), with your body naked and dripping wet. 

he hurriedly shuts his eyes, puts his arm over them, and turns away, just to be safe (as if shutting his eyes wasn’t enough). you quickly grab your towel off your bed and cover yourself with it. silence envelops the room as he stands there with his back toward you, and you can’t help but let your eyes traverse around the broad expanse of his back, his other arm dangling, sleeve still rolled up with veins running across up and down his forearms. you quickly and quietly dry yourself off and walk over to him, all logic escaping your mind as you nudge him to turn around. 

“i’m sorry, i just wanted to make sure you were oka–”

you cut him off with a gentle kiss on his lips. he just looked so cute standing there, like a deer in the headlights apologising profusely for invading your space. you didn't mind though, if anything, you’re starting to thank your clumsy self for knocking over the stupid drink. 

after san starts to realise what’s happening, his hands move to your waist, lightly groaning when he feels you’re still just in a towel. he presses your body impossibly closer to his, and you feel he strong torso against your chest as you strain your neck to kiss him back, hungrier this time. 

he pulls away from you for a moment, lust clouding his eyes as he stares at your face. instead of the admiration he had earlier, it has now been replaced with need and arousal, something dark takes his features over. but, before he can act out on them, he needs to make sure you’re okay with this. 

“you know, i didn’t come over here for this.” he whispers, his breath hot against your neck as he breathes in your freshly showered scent. 

“i know, which is why i want you.” you tug at his hair so he can look at you, so he can see how serious you are about this, about him. 

he wastes no more time as he gently shoves you to the bed, his body hovers over yours in a now heated makeout session. cleanliness is thrown out the window as you transfer spit from each of your mouths, desperate to feel him. you feel him poke in to explore your mouth, painting it with his tongue in every crevice he can find. one of your hands goes to his chest as the other goes back to his hair, tugging slightly to elicit beautiful groans from his mouth straight to yours. 

you’re starting to feel antsy, and as you’re wiggling around with need, your towels undoes itself. san pulls away again, this time shamelessly fucking you with his hungry eyes. wordlessly, he travels down your body, pressing wet kisses into your neck, chest, stomach, and thighs. you feel his hot breath fan across your growingly wet folds, and he looks at your pussy with such strong intent, you start to feel nervous. you go to shut your legs, but he uses his strong hands to pry them back open. he sticks out his tongue and licks a fat, wet stripe up from your pulsing hole to your throbbing clit. you moan and arch your back at the sensation. it’s been so long since you’ve had any type of real sexual release, and now that you’re getting it with the hottest man between your thighs, it makes your head swirl. 

he hooks an arm around your thigh and presses his hand onto your stomach, forcing you down to keep still as his tongue continues its assault on your leaking cunt. the way he sucks and nibbles on your clit has you seeing stars, and when he takes his other hand to barely poke at your hole, you cry out at the feeling. his thick digit presses in further into your fluttering hole, and you clench down at the initial feeling. having his mouth on you and his finger inside you feels so much better than your own, and even better than the firm silicone you’ve become accustomed to. he keeps his finger thrusting in and out at a steady pace before adding another. he increases his tongue’s pressure on your clit, large hand flexing as he uses his strength to keep your hips down. 

“taste so sweet, baby, wanna taste more.”

and with his delicate words whispered against your core, you come undone with one last suck on your clit and his fingers curling inside you. you throw your head back as he continues licking up all the mess you made from your orgasm, savouring the taste of you on his tongue. 

he sits on his knees before you, and you sit up on your elbows to watch him remove his top, putting his bare body on display for you. his strength was easily detectable even under his clothes, but now that he’s taken them off, you don’t think you can ever unsee him in this state.

he throws his shirt off, and his broad chest is rapidly rising and falling with his heavy breathing. a thin sheen of sweat glistens over his body, small droplets getting caught in the ridges of his muscles and expanding with his breathing. you follow a droplet down to his v-line, where the rest of him, the part you really want of him, stays barely hidden under his pants. you mindlessly go to reach for his bulge, already so prevalent, and you just know it’s bigger than any toy you’ve taken. your hand lands on his throbbing erection, and you feel it jump at your touch. san lets out a sigh or relief as his hips subconsciously buck harder into your palm. you go to undo his pants, anxious to see the rest of him. after hastily getting them off him, you see head on his cock slap up against his abs. it’s leaking precum, and its head is red with need. while he isn’t the girthiest, he is long. you sit up to trace your tongue along the veins that travel his shaft, ending up circling his tip with your tongue before you dive in to get a taste of his salty precum pooling at his slit. you wanted nothing more than to at least try to take all of him, but san has other ideas. 

“you’ve done enough for me, pretty, lay back.” 

you pout, still wanting to taste more of him as you push your head further down his cock. he hisses before pulling you back by the hair and shoving you down on the bed. 

“next time, but i need to feel you right now, baby.” he whispers into your ear. he’s on his elbow above you, your legs naturally split open to welcome his hips closer to yours. you feel as he prods his tip at your entrance, then he takes his fingers in a v motion to open you up prettily to him. he rubs the shaft of his hard-on between your folds, lubricating himself with your dripping arousal. you whine and reach a hand down, moving him back down to your waiting hole. he sits back up, understanding your silent pleas as he slowly starts to dive into you, inch by agonising inch. you flutter around him, not being used to being stretched out like this, and you witness as he throws his head back with a moan of his own. 

“fuck, no wonder you never showed this pretty little pussy of yours. so-so perfect.” san draws out, shallowly thrusting until he gets the okay from you. 

he looks back down to where you two are connected, and he swears he has never seen something as beautiful as his cock in you, how when he draws out a ring of arousal pushes up near his base. he puckers his lips as he lets a fat string of saliva fall from his lips, right onto your clit, falling as he pushes back in. you can only moan and claw at his muscular biceps, nodding your head fervently so he can start fucking you how you want, how you need him to.

“mm-mm princess. use your words like you do on cam, baby.”

and once san hears your small

“please”

there’s no more hope for him.

he grips your hips, thumbs pressing bruises into your pelvic bone as he wastes no time quickening his pace. his body is back on top of yours, and you feel the added stretch of your legs bending to accommodate him. the mixture of his precum, your arousal, and his spit, mixes together to make the loudest and nastiest noises you have ever heard, but you love it.

there is just something so carnal about the way he’s having you right now, thighs pressed against your chest and ankles around his neck. at this angle, you feel him even deeper, however that was possible. now, his hands move to cup your thighs, pushing them further into your torso like he was trying to break you. you feel the way his abs brush your skin every time he breathes, and his lips go to litter your face and neck with kisses and love bites. you feel pressure from everywhere, his large body barely hovering over you, hip lips burning their mark on your skin, his large hands pressing you deep into the mattress, and the way his cock fills up your poor cunt, who was trying its best to stretch for him. the way you feel the full extent of his force from both inside and outside of your body makes you feel like exploding, which is about to happen if he keeps it up like this.

all of the sudden, you feel a push at your calves, and find yourself being turned on your side, one leg straight and the other thrown at an angle to the side. most of your face is dug into the pillow as san keeps the same pace, thrusting into you over and over and over again. your body is contorted and twisted as you lay on your side, unfortunate for your hip that was supporting most of the damage. you throw an arm up to grip san’s forearm, digging your nails into his skin from pleasure. the new position has his hips slapping against your rear, and the echoes it makes causes san to lose all sense of reality. 

“fuck, you’re so perfect.” he groans as he takes a hand and squeezes your ass, then gives it a hard slap, causing you to yelp at the sensation. then, you feel both of his hands at your hips, manhandling you, once again, so you’re on all fours, all the while he’s keeping up his brutal pace. you however, cannot keep up, as you quickly end up with your face yet again buried into a pillow. san reaches down to take both of your wrists into one of his hands, pulling you up against him. he snakes down his other hand down to your clit while he peppers your face with his wet hot kisses and licks. you feel as he starts pinching and rubbing firm circles on your slit, and your body shudders at all of what he’s doing to you. 

“cum, please, let me cum.” you cry out, starting to buck your hips back to get you closer to the edge. 

he releases your wrists in favour of taking one of your hands to press down on your stomach. you can both feel the way his cock is rutting deep inside you, and your second release is oh so close once you reel in the feeling.

“go ahead, cum for me baby, want you to when you feel me cum inside you right… here.” he emphases his words as he forces your hand firmer on your stomach. you feel his thrusts starting to get more erratic, and you come undone just as you feel him sputtering deep inside you. 

he slows down, riding out both of your orgasms as you fall face first into the soft bedding below you. san releases your hips so your body lays flat on the bed, his seed starting to seep out of you. you turn on your side as you feel him nudge you to turn around. once you do, you find him fixated on your leaking cunt, threatening to spill on the (fortunately placed) towel under you. he takes his two fingers and pushes his cum back inside you, thumb already going to your clit as you thrash at the overstimulation. you start muttering out a desperate please please please, even though you weren’t quite sure what you were begging for. nevertheless, your third orgasm of the night comes quickly, as you gush all over his hand still pushing his cum back inside you. 

finally, san lays next to you on his side, caressing your body softly and whispering in your ear. 

“you did so well for me, sweet girl. let’s get you cleaned up.” 

you can only nod as he brings you to your bathroom, which he now knows is attached to your bedroom. he leans your back against his chest as he washes the both of you up. you turn around to help clean him off as well, a silent intimacy shared between you two in the steamy warmth of the glass shower. he dries you off, with a clean towel, before laying you back on the bed. he goes to your kitchen to grab some water for you both, encouraging you to drink a bit before cuddling up in his arms. 

he is the first to break the comfortable silence between you as he pulls the comforter over your naked bodies. 

“you know, i meant when i said that wasn’t what i came over for.” he smiles, looking down at you nuzzled into his chest. 

“i know, but i think we still needed to get it out of our system.” you laugh at him, considering the whole situation you have found yourselves in. 

“i’m just happy you trusted me, i promise i won’t ever break that.” he softly cradles your face in his hand, giving you a more loving kiss. a kiss that seals his promise, the promise that he cares about you as a person, not just your current profession. a promise that what is between you two is deeper than just his initial love for your body, but a love for you.

this was not supposed to be this long... but i think i am incapable of writing shorter things so... hope u enjoyed :D

[choochooboss]

Sketch dump! Vol. 5

September 2022 (Part 1/2)

The first piece on top summarised my cosplay rush for Tracon 2022! The second is an old idea for a charm.

"SURPRISE!!"

Back in 2022 I hosted an art raffle for reaching 777 followers on Twitter! The winner would get their submas themed idea realised (which was their friends throwing a surprise party for the twins!). I wanted to make a little comic and have the bosses walk in their office where depot agents, Elesa, Drayden, Skyla, Clay etc. would be waiting with decorations and treats and games.

Emmet is all smiles of course while Ingo gets so emotional he could only whisper a "super bravo".

Not really headcanons anymore but still funny ideas.

1. Emmet gets clumsy when off-rhythm! He starts walking in curves if there is nobody else around to match his rhythm with.

2. Emmet spaces out/forgets to say things aloud when someone speaks too long or when things go off-script! His thinking gets interrupted easily.

3. Ingo sometimes bumps into doors because he is too used to automatic doors!

4. When things go off-script Ingo speaks too much and rushes in straight lines"

Also my little inexpensive sketchbook & my trusty tools! Mechanical pencil and eraser pen are life when scribbling my skrimblos smaller than a postage stamp!

More Ingo~ I utilise a wide range of sources for references, including CSP's poseable 3D models, they can come really handy with perspectives and proportions!

The second piece is my very first attempt at cosplay in Tracon 2022: Blingo! I walked in with a sequin hat, leather jacket, leather pants and high heel patent leather boots.

The hardest part of cosplaying Ingo is remembering NOT to smile ahaha!

Some hairstyle tests

I drew these for a huge submas art collaboration over Twitter hosted by @/mimizukeii!! It was technically my first art collab before I started arranging them myself with Aggie/Magma.

While looking for train related songs I found this cute nursery rhyme to go with the marching:

"Over the mountains,

Over the plains,

Over the rivers,

Here come the trains.

Carrying passengers,

Carrying mail,

Bringing their precious loads In without fail"

I wanted to compare these silly twins, planning to do something more silly with them later. Also a sketch of @/fukurow's butler designs I never finished.. The capes compliment them so well, I love them!!

Prequel to this piece! Emmet is so confident in himself he thinks Pierce wants to learn from him but is invited for a duet on the stage instead!!

Emmet has really great voice actors in Pokemas! I especially love how his english VA gives him that bri'ish/posh/sophisticated vibe while also soft and melodic! I know for SURE this VA/Emmet can sing, I can show you later!

One of my favourite sketches!! I wanted to add a bunch of characters in the BG reacting to this sonic blast of emotion over a performance!

Heyyy it's the smile buddies comic!! I really hope Ingo gets to interact with Marnie in Pokemas one day!!

I feel Ingo's eyes in the mirror panel is a little off in the final comic, I meant to keep it softer like in the sketch!

It's Nimbasa trio!! Idea inspired by submas EX uniform colors. Might continue this later!

Some BG tests for this piece! Compositing is hard but absolutely worth the effort, it can make a huge difference in the appeal of your piece!!

Practise piece drawing over a photo I thought was cool! I want to get more experimental with lighting and perspective!

'How's it hanging bro?' Who hung him up there anyway??

Sketch for this arguing scene! Something REALLY BAD needs to happen for them to end up that tense! Even if I want to present them close to the canon material I still want to put them in really challenging situations to see how far I can push their emotions!

Thank you so much for coming all the way down here!! This set was pretty loaded, I hope you enjoyed scrolling through all this ahah!

Previous posts:

Sketch dump Vol. 1: April-June 2022

Sketch dump Vol. 2: July 2022

Sketch dump Vol. 3: August 2022

Sketch dump Vol. 4: July 2022 Part 2

[ajortga]

affection deprived

pairing: jenna ortega x fem reader

authors note: i do not like this but hopefully you do, please send more requests

word count: 1.5k+

-

based off this request!

-

where r asks emma to hold jenna's hand to see if she notices and the second emma held jennas hand she immediately knew it wasnt r's hand

-🥝

It was another filming day. You come in at least 4 times a week, rather if it’s to run a scene over, hair and makeup, a chemistry read or checking on costumes. 

As you get on set, you grab a coffee (that always manages to go untouched and goes cold) while playing a thumb war with your best friend, Emma Myers.

“Do they have strawberries today?” You ask while having your tongue slightly stuck out in concentration. “I don’t know where they get them from, but they’re always so perfectly sweet.”

Emma giggles, trapping your thumb as you squeal. “Gotcha! 1..2.. I think they do, I saw watermelons too if I remember correctly. 3… 4..”

You giggle, huffing when she wins the match. “At least those will make my day. Hey, your hands are so soft.” You begin playing with her hands, admiring how squishy they are.

“Thanks, babycakes,” the blonde jokes, holding your hand as you both swing back and forth while walking through set.

If anything, holding hands makes you think of Jenna. You haven’t been cuddly with her at the moment. You think it’s because she’s so caught up in work and how you always seem to hold her hand, that she doesn’t notice when you’re not. It’s like everywhere you go she automatically thinks her hands are intertwined with your warm ones.

“Hey, Emma. I wanted to ask you something,” you say, glancing into the distance as you see your girlfriend unaware of your presence far away, talking to one of the directors.

“What is it? You need me to help you with something?”

You nod, tearing your eyes away from the ones that weren’t looking at you to the ones that were. “You think you could help me out in trying to cast some spell on Jenna to make her realize that I miss her touches?”

“Oh yes.” The blonde says, making a small ‘pshhhh’ sound as she takes out her invisible wand. “Jenna Marie Ortega, I command you to snap out of your acting character and recognize your girlfriend’s needs!” She says, swaying up and down.

Your eyes roll, watching her be silly and take the opportunity to snap a photo. “Uh huh. I don’t know.. Okay. Jenna and I used to do this thing where I’d sneak under the table and cling onto her hand. It’s just been something that we’ve done ever since.”

In your relationship, you were the sucker for the people who knew you inside and out. Jenna was just that person. She’d rub your knuckles gently in a circle with her thumb whenever you grew nervous, always came home from her other film projects with something you’d like. 

Obviously she still does, you’ve just been feeling like you’ve had the lack of affection. “Which makes you grumpy,” Emma would say. You would sulk before filming a scene and Jenna would’ve noticed if hadn’t a distraction popped up. It was almost like you could see the small puzzles in her head would begin to turn then be interrupted. 

“So.. How is me holding your girlfriend’s hand going to do anything?”

“Hopefully it makes her notice how AFFECTION DEPRIVED I AM!” You almost yell. If she really thought Emma’s hand was really yours, you think you’d break up with her. (You would never be the one to break up first.)

-

It was Friday night. Some would say it was the night to party all night long. 

They were true.

Almost every Friday the Wednesday cast would gather at someone’s house, preferably Georgie’s because he had a trampoline and some dope snacks. You didn’t want to admit that when you and Jenna first saw how many good snacks he had, you slammed them into your bag. Jenna brought an extra tote bag smashed under the things in her backpack to push all the snacks in there the next time you went to Georgie’s house.

You stare down at your hand, chatter filling the room as everyone talks while eating. You wonder if it’s any special. You’re not sure why it matters so much to you. It's just like every other hand, right?

No one knows you better than Jenna, maybe you should just be straightforward with her and the lack of affection you’ve been feeling lately. 

“Ems?” You holler, looking around. You find her on the couch across from your girlfriend, in a deep conversation with each other.

And when Jenna turns to you with those sweet brown eyes, you feel like the happy giddy feeling in your chest. The feeling that lingered when you had a silly, puppy loved crush on the girl for the first time. You were a bundle of nerves, squeaking whenever you talked to her, cheeks flushing easily. 

And she was yours. Except that feeling just popped up again. Your eyes dart the room, opening your mouth to say something, then shutting it. Instead, you give an awkward wave and run out.

Jenna gave you a smile, eyebrows furrowing as she watched you dash out.

“I think my baby is scared of me.”

Emma rolls her eyes, looking at you go, “An affection deprived baby.”

-

“Okay Agent Double Two x Five thousand and Sixty Two, it’s time.” You whisper, you and the blonde eyeing the target in front of you.

Like two partners in crime.

“Roger that.”

Emma crawls under the table and you almost break your facade, a silly smile threatening to plaster on your lips as you see her bump her head on accident. You can see Jenna, talking to Hunter as she brings her drink to her lips. 

You look away, looking down at Emma’s current journey.

As she keeps talking, Emma counts the hands to be able to reach the right one. She approaches the brunette, where her hands are against her lap, and lightly taps it. A stupid grin forms on your face when you see your girlfriend’s face contort into confusion.

Jenna processes what’s going on as her hands roam around. She lightly catches the hand and feels it. Assuming it was you, she intertwined her hand with yours.

It doesn’t take 10 seconds before she feels like something is out of place. The hand is soft, but it’s too soft. Yours is just the perfect amount of soft. She rubs her thumb over the person’s knuckles and the pattern isn’t familiar.

She immediately tugs her hand away and looks under the table to see a goofy Emma Myers looking back.

“Emma? What the hell are you doing under there?”

“I was actually looking for my ball that I dropped.” Emma backs herself up, shoving her hand into her pocket and bringing up a neon green ball with a smiley face. “Oh wow! It was here all along! Thanks!” 

The blonde crawls out as the other girl blinks and watches her walk off. Something about realizing it wasn’t you made Jenna feel disappointed. She hasn’t held your hand whenever you nudged it while walking down the streets together. She’d brush it off thinking that you did it by accident. 

The events of the endless hours of filming caught up to her, she had been neglecting you with her lack of affection. All the signs were in front of her, yet she didn’t notice.

She excuses herself and looks around for you, peeking her head into the living room to see you scrolling through your phone.

“Hey, cutie. I missed you.” The brunette says softly, catching your attention as she squeezes next to you. You don’t respond, making grabby arms. She almost feels how twitchy you are as you cling onto her, her fingers thread through your hair, hoping she can make you feel a little better.

Your hands touch something soft and you feel hers nudging into yours. The perfect amount of softness. She didn’t realize how much she missed your touch until you’re curled up to her like a koala.

“I’m sorry I’ve been neglecting your affection needs. I just feel like filming messes with my surroundings. I would never do it on purpose, okay?”

God you missed her. You missed her cuddles. You missed her hugs. You missed-

“Y/N.”

“You swear?”

“I’ll swear on.. I don’t know!”

She wraps her arms around you tightly, lifting you up on her lap as she presses her lips to your cheek. "I want you to tell me whenever you feel this way, okay? I can’t survive knowing that I let you feel a certain way you don’t like and I don’t even notice.”

“Okay. I will, I’m sorry. I didn’t want you to think that I’m too affectionate.”

“Never.”

A small grin comes upon your lips, “Now can you teach me how to distinguish people’s hands?”

For the rest of the night, Jenna lets her scent comfort you, your hand laced in hers for almost the rest of the party. When you see Emma, you give her a goofy smile and a thumbs up. She grins and does a two finger salute.

Let’s just say that all the days after, you were woken up with kisses and hugs, and definitely a bit too spoiled on set with a showered affectionate girlfriend. She even tied your shoes. Maybe it was too much, but you didn’t want anything less. Too much made you feel like the happiest girl in the world.

[hearts4hughes]

tied up - rafe cameron x fem!reader

warnings: master manipulator!rafe ; mentions of violence ; sexual innuendos towards the end

a/n: the second i saw rafe tied up and sweaty in this episode, i KNEW i had to write about it. this is probably the first of many writings relating to this scene.

the ship rocks gently beneath you, creaking in time with the water lapping against its sides. you step carefully, feeling the weight of the metal plate in your hands, warm against your fingertips. the scent of food mixes with the salt air, thick and lingering, though you’re sure he won’t touch it. rafe sits a few feet away, hands bound to a pipe in front of him, his head drooped forward. he doesn’t look up as you approach, but you can feel his awareness.

you pause, just out of reach, and the light catches his profile—a bruise blooming darkly his eye, his lip split and red, dried blood marking his mouth like some careless stain from when jj knocked him out. he lifts his head slowly, almost deliberately, and his gaze finds yours. his eyes are sharp, narrowed, an intense blue like broken glass in sunlight, calculating and unreadable.

the plate feels heavier in your hands, like it’s suddenly full of something fragile. you set it down, the scrape of metal on wood cutting through the silence like a match. he doesn’t move, just watches you with that unblinking look, like he’s trying to measure how much of you he could break if his hands were free. the thought chills you, but you don’t step back.

“eat,” you say, trying to sound calm, detached, but your voice feels too loud in the confined space. his mouth twitches, a hint of something that might be a smile, but it’s too cold, too hollow. you can see the strain in his shoulders, the pure anger in the way he holds himself, but underneath it—something else. a flicker of vulnerability he’s trying hard to hide.

“so, they send you down to try to convince me to eat? think it would soften me up or something?” his voice is rough as it echos through the confined room. “i already told sarah that i’m not eating until they untie me.” he says with pure defiance. his eyes bore into you as if he’s trying to study you.

you turn your head, your gaze diverting to the dusty floor. “actually, no one sent me down here. they could give a shit if you starved or not. it would be doing everyone a favor.” you avoid his eyes, afraid that your confidence would melt if you met them.

for a second, you wonder if he’s about to say something, something meant only for you, and the realization tightens in your chest like a warning.

“then, why are you here?” he asks harshly. you look up to meet his haunted eyes, a chill runs down your spine and butterflies settle in your stomach. “what happened to never wanting to see me again, huh? what happened to ‘i love you forever’ ?”

his words command a flood of memories to rush through your head. your breathing becomes heavier as you remember it all; the lingering gazes, the sweet nothings, and finally, the way the absence in his eyes as he shot sherif peterkin.

“you know what happened, rafe,” you warn, your voice cracking slightly. he smirked, almost as if he could sense your anxiety. “you know why i left you.”

rafe’s smirk deepens, twisted and bitter, and he leans forward as much as the bindings allow him. “left me?” his voice is low, mocking, but there’s something raw in it too. “come on. we both know you didn’t leave me—you never really left me.”

the words cut through you, sharper than you expect, and for a moment, you can’t breathe. he watches you, waiting for a reaction, relishing it, and maybe even needing it. his gaze is relentless, pining you there like you were the one in restraints.

you force yourself to meet his eyes, even as every instinct screams to look away, to leave the room, and to escape. “i did, though. i left you because you weren’t the man i started dating. you were this,” you gesture to his bruises, his dried blood, and his hostility shimmering in his expression; the man who seems like a stranger and yet is all too familiar.

“you’ve always been mine.” he mutters more to himself than to you. “and i’m- i’m trying to change, y/n. i’ve been trying to change.” he says sternly, almost as if it was obvious, but it wasn’t. “y-you people don’t understand that i can change. i can change just as easily as you and sarah did when you started hanging around those goddamn pogues!” he raises his voice, jolting forward, and causing you to jump back.

when he notices you flinch, his gaze softens. he take a deep breath and sits back. you swallow harshly as he shifts from 0 to 100 in mere seconds.

“i’m just trying to change for the better; for you.” his voice is soft, not like what it was before. you can hear the sadness and the desperation dripping from his mouth.

it’s a trap. it’s all a trap. you’ve known rafe long enough to sense when he’s being manipulative, and he’s at his peak right now. you don’t respond, shaking your head, and going to grab the plate of food. as you grab the mental dish, his hands clasp around your wrist. the plate drops to the floor with a clatter.

“don’t- don’t go.” he whispers softly. his eyes search your face for even an ounce of reciprocated feelings. you bite the inside of your cheek as you ponder the possibilities. “stay here with me… please.” he isn’t speaking anymore, no, he’s begging.

your guard completely falls, leaving yourself vulnerable, and raw to his manipulations. when he senses the sudden shift, it’s as if he latches onto you, stringing his webs tighter around you.

you relax your shoulders with a sigh, not saying yes, but not leaving. he smiles and his eyes fall to your plump lips. his grip tightens around your wrist, fingers wrapping around your pulse. his breath is shallow and ragged, as if he’s afraid you’ll drift away.

your pulse quickens, a silent thrum that feels too loud, too obvious. his thumb moves softly, tracing small circles against your skin, a touch that’s barely there but enough to send a rush of warmth up your arm. you could pull away, break the moment before it goes any further, but you stay still.

rafe’s eyes drop to your lips, his jaw clenching as he takes a steadying breath. he’s drawing you closer, erasing the distance you swore to keep. “you don’t have to stay,” he murmurs, but his fingers tighten, betraying his words. “but… I don’t want you to leave.”

he inches closer, his face barely a breath away as his scent fills your senses. you can feel him hesitating, struggling against something, something that holds him back as much as it pulls him forward.

thousands of thoughts, warnings, and memories flash through your mind like blinding headlights, but they quiet under the intensity of his stare. then, he leans forward, closing the final sliver of space between you. his lips press softly against yours, and as if surrendering, you begin to kiss him back. the kiss begins gentle and sweet, but quickly turns into something desperate and fiery.

his tongue teases your mouth, slipping against your bottom lip. he’s frantic, raw, almost as if he’s afraid of losing you again, like he’s trying to make up for everything that happened. your lips slot against his like a puzzle piece.

you pull away breathlessly and stare at him. he lifts his arms that are bound by rope just enough for you to slip under them, now straddling his lap. you settle on his lap, something hard presses against your ass.

he smirks, “feel what you do to me, baby? i’ve missed you so much.”

the way he stares at you then and there tells you that you’ll be his forever. that there is no escape from him, even if you allow yourself to believe so. you’ll eternally be stuck in his web as he dances around you, only adding more silk to restrain you.

“calm down and untie me.” he says with a twisted grin. “let me take care of you, sweet girl.”

[babbymochiiii]

⊹₊ ⋆ᯓ★ street racer mark lee

❤︎ ໋𓈒 street racer!mark x afab!reader; you can ride me...or you can ride with me.

ʚ warnings: not proof read, ngl i'm pretty lazy with the smut here...so bare with me cause i was losing the creative juice for it 💀, some boob loving, oral/fingering (f), p in v, unprotected sex (pls...use a condom), mark is drunk on pussy 🤷🏽, creampie x2, possessive mark, dub con, backseat sex, johnny being an asshole of not respecting your space, screaming match between mark and reader, and lots of curse words being thrown around one another. won't lie the second smut scene might make some of my readers uncomfortable due to the content it has and how mark just handles the situation, so i will be putting a little warning sign between the dialogue so if you wish to skip it you can, i don't think you need to have full context of what happens as i feel like the dialogue that comes after explains itself. 

ʚ to hear that songs that lowkey had some inspiration to this fic, here is the link to the spotify playlist i made; click here for street racer! mark playlist!

ʚ author’s note: yes this is me adding more about street racer mark from my first ever post here…but with a bit more fun >:) enjoy! originally, i did want to get this out before mark’s b-day, but my bf was in town from school and we’ll all writing plans went out the window and i had to take advantage of my time with him 😩🫶🏼 other than that note, i have been writing here and there for this post as much as i could or really come up with on the spot cause my brain is in a little :P mood for a while now so… ✨motivation is fast and furious ✨

ʚ word count: 7.4k words

❤︎ ໋𓈒 if you haven't read the past parts to this series, here is the series m.list!

street racer!mark who loves the adrenaline rush he gets every time he races.

street racer! mark who is honestly pretty cold and straight forward with people but is a honestly a golden retriever with his tight circle. (He’s a Doberman basically)

street racer! mark from the first moment he saw you, he knew you were his.

street racer! mark who was ready to bash his opponents head into his steering wheel for even looking at you the way he did when you were set up as their flag girl (though he knew he couldn’t but that wouldn’t stop him)

street racer! mark who honestly catches johnny off guard when he acts all sweet and nice to you after you helped start the race he just finished (and won)

street racer! mark who realized he lowkey made a fool of himself when he asked you to be his sugar mama, but couldn’t help but feel his soul sore when he heard you laugh at his rambling

street racer! mark who knew the moment that you agreed to hanging out with him after his two races, you were meant to be his

street racer! mark who honestly cornered your friend into a corner and convinced her to give him your number after not seeing you for a month (he’s quite convincing without doing much)

street racer! mark who feels like a hormonal teenage boy feeling extremely nervous when texting you due to the fact that he wasn’t sure how your relationship with him stood

street racer! mark who the moments he sends the first text he throws his phone onto his bed before shoving his face between his hands because he knows that you have him whipped after one interaction

street racer! mark who jumps at the sound of his phone signaling that he had a new text message, and with a racing heart, grabs his phone and instantly felt his face heat up in ecstasy and a small laugh of embarrassment for not explaining that it was him in the first place when you asked who was texting you

street racer! mark who invites you out to the races tonight, shooting a blank bullet knowing it was hit or miss if you came out tonight or not; but to his delight you ended up saying yes causing him to jump up and let out a “HELL YEAH!” in the process while gaining a weird look from haechan as he walked passed his door

street racer! mark who watches your interaction with johnny from afar, his jaw set as he tries not to storm over. but the moment he sees johnny reach towards your hair and pull it out of the make-shift low bun you had something within him set ablaze and he started to make his way towards you.

“y/n! there you are!” he called out as he was close enough to be in your ear shot. “mark, hey!” you said as you turned and looked at him with a wide smile. “so I was thinking, do you possibly want to get in the car with me for my next race?” he asked you as he looked at you with a look that he knew you couldn’t refuse his offer. you have a look of hesitance. “i mean is that allowed? like dude, I’m not trying to break any rules that says I’m not supposed to do this so like—“ you rambled as you looked between mark and johnny for reassurance (it bothered him you looked at johnny with that look on your face and not just him…) “nah bro, you good. besides it’s sort of really freaking rare if someone sat in the passenger seat with the driver unless that person is on their team.” he made sure to reassure you as he placed his arm around your shoulders and bringing you to his side. you looked up at mark and gave him a wide smile of excitement, that to him, makes your eyes sparkle with said emotion. “then, yeah I’ll go ride with you.”

street racer! mark who can’t stop laughing at the way you scream his name out as he speeds down the roads. several squeals leave your lips as you also laughed out as he could tell was your adrenaline causing you to react in that way.

street racer! mark who can’t help but feel the pride swell in his chest as you cheer him on for winning the race.

street racer! mark who can’t help but hold in his laugh knowing that he caught you off guard with his slight flirt comment.

“all thanks to you.” “dude, you’re flirting.” you said as mark watched your jaw drop slightly in shock. with the small silence that falls between the two of you, makes you both laugh out over the moment.

street racer! mark who doesn’t think twice about leaning in (nor did he care) as he watched you lean in as well with hooded eyes.

street racer!mark who was ready to end johnny’s life as he knew he purposely slammed the car’s hood and squeezed in between the two of you for conversation.

street racer! mark who was trying his best to keep his cool in front of you as he continued the conversation.

“you should’ve heard how she was screaming at the top of her lungs.” mark said as he laughs about your reaction. “yeah i bet she was pretty loud.” johnny said with a cocky smirk while looking down at you.

street racer! mark who was picturing 1,000 ways of his killing his so called friend after the comment he made, but of course that didn’t stop for either of their slip up in front of you as they glared at one another with a knowing look.

street racer! mark who despite the fact he said goodbye to you with glee, he turned around back towards johnny, who he too was turning towards mark, losing the smile on his face as an intense silence falls before them.

"what are you getting at Suh?" mark said getting straight to the point. "don't know what you mean, Lee." johnny said with a smirk as the situation wasn't obvious. "you know i'm going after her." mark said as he felt his anger starting to take over him. johnny scoffs. "it's not like you laid a claim on her just yet mark. she's free game."

street racer! mark who knew with the way johnny smiled at him meant nothing good, and knew that if he wanted you to be his and only his, he had to find ways (and he always found a way)

street racer! mark who coincidentally bumped into you on college campus and somehow convinced you to hang out with him outside of the car meet (anything to get the upper hand)

street racer! mark who couldn't stop staring at you when he took you to a diner that is a couple miles out of town; you were scared of course, but mark reassured you that everything was going to be okay with him beside you (and dude has a gun with him so really yall are fine-)

street racer! mark who somehow convinced you to go with him to a tattoo/piercing shop with him.

"you're getting your eyebrow pierced?" you asked with an intrigued tone lacing around your question. "yeah, i mean, why not? been wanting to get one honestly." mark said as he gave you a quick glance as he continued to drive down the road towards the shop. "i think you'll look good with it." you said softly as you felt yourself blush at the thought of mark having an eyebrow piercing. suddenly, the thought was more than just innocent thought. mark is a very good looking man, you couldn't deny it as you felt yourself attracted, but for some reason the thought of mark having an eyebrow piercing....it makes you squeeze your thighs together. you tried to be discreet about it, as said man you're fantasizing about it right next to you.

street racer! mark who doesn't miss the way you clench your thighs together as you continue savoring the thought of mark having an eyebrow piercing. his free hand runs along the bottom of his bottom lip as a smirk stretches on his face at the thought of you getting turned on. the hand on steering wheel tightens slightly at the thought of you in such a way for him to the point that his knuckles turn white, before he let's go of his grip to calm himself down as you both have arrived to the shop.

"ready?" you asked mark as you both walked towards the front door of said shop. "ready than never, baby." mark said lowly in such a sultry tone, that it visible made chills run down your spine and for a slight blush dust on your face and neck, as you tried to look away from him, but he could read your body language by now and it only made him chuckle to himself.

street racer! mark who sits down on the chair the body piercer has in their room as they prep everything for the procedure.

when mark look's toward you he swears you're more nervous for him that he is for himself. "you okay, baby?" he asked as he couldn't help but smirk at you, but still took hold of your hand in his in a gentle hold. "y-yeah, just...you know. it's a big needle." you mumbled as you look down to where his thumb was rubbing gentle circles on your knuckles to distract you from your own nerves. "i'll be okay, don't worry too much for me baby." mark said as he gave you a small squeeze of reassurance.

street racer! mark who couldn’t help but feel his ego swell due to the fact that you couldn’t stop looking at him with his new piercing.

“you okay baby?” mark asked as he gave you a quick glance in the car before looking back towards the road. “huh? oh— uh yeah, i’m fine!” you squeaked out embarrassed as you looked at your hands resting at your lap. your nails are looking really interesting right now. mark smirked at your reaction before he continued to drive to your dorm complex.

street racer! mark who makes sure that everyone knows that you are his. does not give a flying fuck honestly at how people react when you’re with him, he knows has to stop it and doesn’t care how he’s gotta get them to shut up. but of course, there is johnny…who doesn’t know what isn’t yours, you shouldn’t touch.

street racer! mark who is fed up with johnny’s bs of blatantly flirting with you in front of him. to which he takes measures into his own hand and asks you out on an official date with him tomorrow night.

“on—on a date?” you asked him as he saw the way your face and neck started to flush in a delicate red shade. “yes, thought i’d make it official.” mark said as he leaned in slightly and tucked a stray piece of hair behind your ear. “i— yeah i would love to.” you mumbled softly to him as he let his hand linger softly on your cheek, causing you to flush deeper. “great i’ll pick you up, baby.” mark said as he placed a quick, tender kiss on your forehead. when mark stood straight, he looked behind you and saw the way johnny was sending him glares towards him, that mark couldn’t help but smirk at him before he took your hand and brought you to his car.

street racer! mark who goes all out for your first date with him. he was honestly a nervous wreck, but was pulling though seeing how brightly you were smiling at him, and just how your eyes caught the light just right...it made his heart go into overdrive at the sight before him.

street racer! mark who is such a gentleman throughout the whole date that you honestly can't help but make the first move on him when he dropped you off at your dorm room's door.

"i had a good night tonight." you said softly as you looked up towards mark with a small smile on your face and with a knowing blush resting on your face. "i'm glad you enjoyed it baby. anything for you." mark said as he looked down at you with a boyish smile playing on his face. something about the way mark looked in front of you had you in a daze. his black hair in a messy slicked back hairstyle with some strands of hair falling in his face. the classic leather black jacket he wore, this time with a white shirt underneath the jacket, black belt wrapped around blue jeans, as he wore black boots with his whole outfit. your mouth was honestly watering at the sight in front of you. "do you want to go on a da—" mark started but was cut off with the feeling of you taking hold of his shirt in your hand and pulling him down to your level. "—date?" "shut up and kiss me mark." you commanded softly as you eyed the way he licked his lips. without saying a word, mark leaned in and delivered one hell of a bruising kiss. nothing about the kiss was delicate like he was treating you all night. the kiss was straight passion that was breaking through the restraints that held around mark as all he's been wanting to do was devour you whole. there was some teeth clash, but neither of you cared as all you both wanted was to get closer to the other as you tried to fight for dominance in the kiss. you instantly gave up in trying to win for dominance when mark's tongue grazed along yours, causing you to whimper in the kiss as you felt yourself melting at the taste and feeling of him.

street racer! mark who was trying to be a complete and utter gentleman when it came to wanting to take things further with you, but didn't want to push things further if you weren't willing to push at the boundaries as well.

"baby." mark mumbled in the kiss before pulling himself apart, as much to both of yours protest. "i don't want to do anything you don't want to do." mark said as he felt your hands wrap themselves around his neck and find the length of his hair and pull at it, causing for a groan to escape his lips. mark felt himself twitch in his jeans as tugged again at his roots, causing him to bite his bottom lip and look down at you. "mark please...i need you" you muttered your plea as you looked up at him with such doe eyes and a small pout that mark knew that he was completely at your mercy.

street racer! mark who the moment you opened your door and walked inside, he had you pinned against the closed door.

"are you sure you want to do this?" mark said as he looked down at you where you were caged between his arms. "yes." you breathlessly moaned out as you arched your back where your chest grazed his, just to show him how willing you are. "fuck..." mark mumbled before he placed his had at the back of your neck and pulled you into another throb-inducing-kiss. clothes started to come off between the two of you as you walked towards your bed, where mark wanted everything to be comfortable, mostly for you. you were only left in your underwear as you laid so pretty under the dim lighting of your bedroom. mark swore under his breath as he watched the way your chest rises and falls in quick breathes. his eyes travel over the expense of your exposed skin. it didn't take long for mark to find himself between your thighs. he captured your lips into a gentle kiss, completely different from before. inviting as the kiss was, it quickly turned harsh and hot when you bit mark's bottom lip. mark led his kisses down your neck in open mouth kisses, leaving blossoming bruises on the juncture that was between your neck and shoulder. as mark's lips traveled down your sternum, you started to release more breathy moans as the ticklish sensations over your flushed skin. mark took hold of your plumped breasts into each of his hand and gave them a slight squeeze, earning a delicious moan from you. encouraged, he takes one of your hard nipples into his mouth and suck on them lightly while tracing the tip of his tongue over it. you started to mumble curses as mark began to stimulate your neglected nipple between his pointer finger and thumb. he pulled on the nipple as he simultaneously bit down softly and tug on the nipple in his mouth causing for you to arch your back off of your bed and moan out loudly. with a lewd pop, mark started to kiss down your navel leaving slight nips in his path. once he reached down your clothed cunt, he started to place small, quick pecks where your clit lays. seeing the way you reacted. without wanting to wait to devour you any longer, mark rips your underwear in half with a rasped promise; "i'll buy you a new one baby, don't worry." was the last you heard before a moan rips through you as he placed a hard press of his tongue between your wet folds. mark starts to eat you out in a rhythm-ed pace that his tongue and fingers followed as they went inside of you, curling the front of the digits against your gummy walls. as mark continued, he felt you clench around his fingers and tongue. with one last push and curl, he had you arching your back off of your bed with a loud moan as you came. mark helped you ride out your orgasm with slow thrusts of his fingers. as you came calmed down from the intensity of the orgasm, you failed to notice mark pulling down his pants freeing his hard, aching length from it's death trap. mark gave himself a few pumps before he leaned above you. he lined himself up to your gaping entrance, but wanted to distract you due to the fact he feels like he didn't stretch you out enough with his fingers.

mark placed his lips on yours in a searing kiss, that made you fully pull your focus into the kiss. as he continued to kiss you, mark pushed himself into your first ring of resistance. you whimpered at the sensation of the stretch, while mark moaned at how tight you felt around him. mark slowly pumped himself in and out, slowly, resting the waters a bit to see how you would react to his movements. as mark started to pick up his pace, you both completely lose yourselves to the sensation you were feeling. mark was completely weak in the knees as he felt the way your gummy walls milked him with each stroke. not realizing how lost he was in the feeling, mark speed up to such a delicious pace it had you rolling your eyes back and curling your toes. you could hear mark mumbling incoherent sentences, but you were able to catch some of the words that slipped out of his mouth; “so fucking tight.”; “she’s sucking me in so good— fuck.” ; “that’s it baby, take me just like that…”;“listen to her, she’s fucking talking to me.” with each sentence that you could catch beyond your moans and his grunts, caused you to clench around him uncontrollably, that only causes mark to keep losing the little resolve he had left. "baby, if you keep clenching me like that...i'm not going to last long." mark said as he felt himself just continuing his brutal pace that had him grazing against your cervix in such a delicious way, that you swore you would give this man whatever he wanted if it meant that he could keep making you feel the way you do right now. "mark, please...please i'm so close! i—" you choked out a moan as he started to go in such a much faster pace than he was before (that was surprising you in all honestly) that your legs were practically on his shoulders at this point for the way he kept leaning against you to kiss between the valley of your breasts, along the juncture of your neck and jaw. you could feel the long, burning tell-tale of your orgasm fast approaching, especially if mark kept up with the fast pace that his hips where sending against yours. making your entire body jump up against his thrusts. "fuck, baby you're so beautiful taking me the way you are and how you're looking at me." mark grunted out as he whipped a strand of hair that was clinging to your sweaty forehead. "so beautiful — shit — and all mine." mark said, and in that moment it was as if something officially snapped within his mind because if he was going fast now, he was going in faster (that you swore wasn't humanly possible but he was proving you wrong.) "say it." he said as his hand went down your navel, and pressed his thumb down hard onto your throbbing clit, causing you to arch your back at the sensation mixing in with his ruthless thrusts. "say it for me baby, please i need to hear it." mark moaned out, that sounded like an a whimper by the end. you knew then and there that he was close to his orgasm as much as you are as he wanted that one finally push and his hips started to stutter. "m-mark, i'm all yours!" you squealed out as mark started to rub his fingers in a messy side-to-side matter against your clit that without warning you came loud and hard. mark swore he was in heaven the moment he felt you clench his cock in such a vice grip that it was almost impossible to continue thrusting himself into you. but along with you, mark groaned as he let out his load inside of you (not really thinking of the consequences it could bring of course.) mark rode out his orgasm, while helping you through yours.

street racer! mark who watches you with such tender expression that it hurts his heart knowing how quickly you came into his world and took him off of the course he was on. (he's in love with you)

street racer! mark who slowly removes himself from inside of you with a groan, before quietly leaving your side to go to your bathroom to grab a soft towel to clean you up with.

you felt something gently graze over your sensitive entrance that caused you to let out a small whimper at the sensation. "hey...sorry i don't mean to hurt you baby. just trying to clean you up so we can go shower and sleep for the night." mark said gently as he lifted himself up and started to place sweet, gentle kisses on your face as he watched you slowly lift up your hooded eyelids that were heavy with sleep. "okay..." you said softly as you gave mark a small smile. you and mark looked at one another with such tenderness that you honestly felt like you were gonna go into some sort of cardiac arrest at the way your heart was beating out of it's normal pace. "hi." you said shyly as you didn't know what to say to him. mark chuckled as he saw the shy blush carry itself across your face and chest. "hi, baby." he said softly as he placed a kiss onto your forehead. "come on, lemme help you into the shower." he said as he placed his arms around your neck and the back of your knees.

street racer! mark who was absolutely incredible at aftercare that honestly made you want to cry due to the fact he paid such attention on your needs, that you just felt so loved.

street racer! mark who after your shower, gives you a shirt he found in your closet and brings you to bed. makes sure you drink your water, and that you get all the cuddles in as you both get some much needed sleep.

street racer! mark who hasn't seen you in a while due to you become busy with schoolwork as it became one of the busiest week of the school year.

street racer! mark who is excited when he steps out of his car in front of your school campus as he goes to the other side of his car to lean against it, to surprise you with a pick up ride from him, when the smile he had on his face falls as he sees you walking out with some guy at your side.

street racer! mark who can see the way you're smiling at him and tilted your head back in laughter, by the way your shoulders shook up and down, from what he said. whatever he could've said, couldn't be that funny.

street racer! mark who watches the way your eyes lit up at the exact moment that you looked forward again, that he couldn't help but feel reassured in himself when you left with a quick goodbye to the guy behind you and made a full sprint towards mark.

"mark!" you squealed out in happiness as you opened your arms open as you jumped into mark's waiting arms for you. mark spun the two of you around quickly as he held you in a tight hug that he wasn't quite ready to let go of you. "hey baby." he greeted you before he placed a kiss onto your lips. "what are you doing here?" you said as you looked up at him with such an infectious smile that he couldn't help the way his smile grew wider. "wanted to surprise you baby." he said as he tucked a stray strand of hair behind your ear. "ooh! a surprise, are we going somewhere?" you asked as you bit your bottom lip in excitement. "you could say something like that." mark teased you as he opened your door for you.

street racer! mark who lowkey disassociates as he drives on your way to your shared dorm room. he couldn't help but think about what he saw when he picked you up. something possessive paced within his chest, that honestly was slightly unsettling to him but he couldn't help but let the feeling grow and manifest inside of him.

street racer! mark who takes a detour from the original route that he usually takes to your place. he tried not to pay attention to the look you gave him from his peripheral vision.

⚠️CAN SKIP SCENE IF YOU WISH⚠️

"mark? why are we going this way?" you questioned quietly as you looked around the trees that were starting to surround you and the car. you were met with silence as you looked at the far out expression on his face. the silence felt so loud for you as you waited for mark to react to your question. as you opened your mouth to say something, mark suddenly breaks his car in the middle of the off-the-beaten road. silence once again takes over the two of you, creating a suffocating atmosphere in the car. you were about to speak up, but mark beat you to it. "surprise." he said in a mono toned voice. you felt a shiver run up your spine at the way he spoke to you. you've never heard him use this tone to you nor around you. it felt like a completely different person beside you. "surprise?" you questioned, afraid to add more to your question not knowing how his response is. "this is the surprise i have for you baby." mark said in a tone that was too overly sweet and it was starting to make you feel uneasy. "mark..." "who was that guy baby?" mark asked you as he tilted his head to the side, trying to seem innocent and curious. you studied mark's expression as much as you can as you tried to find some slip up on his end. seeing that he was being consistent with the front he is having, you sighed. "he's in a class of mine." mark hummed out as he looked past your shoulder with a small nod. "a guy from your class..." he mumbled out, still having that far out look on his face. when mark looked back at you, the look in his eyes almost made you flinch if he didn't reach over to you grabbing the back of your neck and pulling you forward. "why were you all smiles with him? don't you know you're mine? i don't get it." mark said as he looked down briefly before looking back at you. "why were you smiling at him?" he asked as he pouted at you. you honestly felt like you were gonna get whiplash. "i was being polite?" you questioned yourself at this point cause you didn't know how to approach it. mark just stared at you as the grip on the back of your neck tightened slightly as he adjusted his fingers. he reaches over with his free hand and grabs hold of you face, squishing your cheeks together to create an embarrassing pout on your lips. "get in the back seat." mark said with a side gesture of his head. you looked towards the small section of mark's car that he called his backseat. you didn't know what to make head or tail of. one part of you wanted to go cry about this cause you weren't sure where to put your emotions in, but the other part of you...she couldn't help but feel turned on by the situation you were in with mark. the way he let his possessive side show in such a raw way, made something primal rise within you. seeing that you weren't moving fast enough for him, mark repeated his command. "get in the back seat, baby." with a small gulp of uncertainty and of anticipation, you started to head towards the backseat. once situated in the backseat, you couldn't help but feel the tension rise as you saw the way mark was looking at you. a predator looking at it's prey. mark looked at you with such a predatory look in his eyes, pupils completely darken over with lust, it made you shudder and clamp your thighs together. he soon hoped over to the back seat with you and without missing a beat, he took hold of your ankle and yanked you down the seat to where he was above of you. a gasp leaves your lips as you looked up towards mark with wide eyes. without saying anything to you, mark takes holds of your hips and turns you around; ass up and face down. “mark can we please talk properly!?” you cried out as you tried to push his hands away from your hips as they tried to hook around the waist band of your skirt. "shh s'okay baby, i'm going to make you forget completely about your classmate." "mark! please..." you moaned out as you started to feel him play with your sensitive nub. "we're talking baby." mark said as he preoccupied himself with taking his half harden length out of the confines of his jeans.

“this isn’t how it’s supposed to be mark!” you cried out as you felt him push your panties to the side and start to rub himself against your slightly glistening folds. "i'd say this talk to going the way it's supposed to baby." was all he said as he continued to rub himself against your folds to the point where it was fully hard and dying to get inside of you. "besides you want me just as much as i want you. can't you feel how wet you are for me baby?" mark questions as he starts to tease your entrance with his swollen tip. you were completely torn. you didn't know what to do considering mark was not going to have an actual conversation regarding the situation the two of you are in. he just wanted to fuck this whole argument out of your system to get it over with and it just isn't supposed to be like that...you know this. but why was he making you feel so good about it. mentally you knew this whole ordeal was wrong but...physically you wanted him. you wanted to cry as you felt such intense and confused emotions, you just didn't know what to place what to what anymore. you truly couldn't find your voice in this situation, and it frustrated you to no end that you felt tears starting to sting your eyes. "please mark..." you whimpered out as you felt yourself starting to dissociate. "fuck baby, anything for you." mark said as he started to insert his length inside of you. as mark fully inserted himself inside of you he let out a pleasured moan, while you let out a whimpered cry. nothing that was happening to you felt real. absolutely nothing. mark continued pleasuring himself and you were completely disconnected. you weren't even sure if you actually came or you just faked it so it could be all over with. all you knew is that mark came inside of you, pulled out and covered you once again with your panties. letting his come ooze out of you and fall onto your panties, creating an uncomfortable feeling. "you're so good for me baby." mark whispered into your ear as he pushed your hair behind your ear and placed a chaste kiss on your temple. tears fell from your eyes as utter disgust consumed your entire being.

street racer! mark who has been noticing things have been rocky between the two of you since he picked you up from your class two weeks ago. but still has high hopes for the two of you as he sees that you are still reaching out to him in the best way you can.

street racer! mark who brings you to the car meets after the two weeks of rocky tension, to which he is completely happy and his "normal self" around you while he goes and does his races. and completely misses the way johnny watches your every move so he can have a chance to talk to you.

you were standing off to the side of the crowd in your own world as you waited for mark to finish his set races today. you were in your own world for so long, that you didn't notice that johnny has approached you until he waves his hand in your face. "oh..." you said softly as you blinked your eyes before looking up at johnny with a awkward smile. "hi, johnny." "hey sweetheart, you alright? i'm seeing you all alone and wanted to see how you're doing?" johnny says as he looked at you with a concerned look on his face. "oh i'm fine. just a bit tired from school and all." you said softly trying to shrug johnny off of you. "and mark's got you out here late? he should've just let you rest at your apartment." johnny said as he frowned his eyebrows. "yeah he wanted me to stay home and get some rest but i wanted to come out and support him since i know he has quite of few races set out for him tonight." you lied through your teeth as you gave johnny a smile. "you know..." johnny trials off as he rubs his hand on his chin before his gaze turned up on you. "...if you were my girl this wouldn't be happening to you." "excuse me?" you questioned as you felt a scoff leaves your lips as you looked at him in disbelief of what he just said to you. "i could be a better boyfriend than mark can be to you sweetheart." he said a he went to go and graze his hand on your face. you gently swatted johnny's hand away from your face before it made contact. "mark's not my boyfriend johnny." "oh really? he never made it official. this whole time i thought he has for the way he acts around you." johnny says as he rolls his eyes at the mere thought that mark has been with you for two months and hasn't grown the balls to make it official with you yet. "well...i'm not rushing him for making it official, johnny." you said as you took a step so you could create a space between yourself and johnny. "why are you even waiting when he's clearly comfortable in the position you guys are in." johnny says as he takes a step towards you, closing the space between the two of you. you rolled your eyes at him as you took a step backwards still trying to keep a good distant between him. not liking the fact that you keep distancing yourself from him, johnny takes hold of your wrist. "i could be a better boyfriend than him, angel." he whispers into your ear. "let me go!"

street racer! mark who finishes the first half of his races and looks for you the moment he parked his car. as he looked for you amongst the crowd, finally landed his eyes onto your figure. but what he saw was making him see red.

street racer! mark who sees the way you and johnny are both cozy against the other, as johnny holds you close to his form. even though he fails to see the obvious discomfort on your face, mark comes up with 1 to 1 million ways that this is you moving on from him and he just couldn't have it that way what's so ever.

street racer! mark who races towards the two of you. pushes johnny off of you and taking hold of your wrist in his hand and dragging you behind him to his car. damn the rest of the races he had planned out for the rest of the night...he wanted to deal with you.

"mark! slow down!" you cried out behind him as you stumbled on your steps as he was moving too fast for you to catch up to him. you were met with silence from him as he continued to drag you behind him. the only response you got from him was the hold on your wrist tightening to the point where it started to pinch your skin in between his fingers. the sensation causes you to wince. mark slightly faltered at the sound of your pained grunt, but continued pushing through the crowd towards his car. one you both made it to his car, mark opened the passenger's door and pushed you inside before he slammed the door shut. this causes you to flinch at the sound and the sudden jerked motion the car had due to the force of the car door slamming shut in your face. you honestly didn't know what was going to happen to you right now. you've never seen mark this mad before. yes...there was the instance with your classmate but this...this was a different mark. this wasn't the mark that you got to know. mark got into his side of the car with slam of his car door as well. without saying anything to you, he starts the car and has the car moving faster before you could get something into the tense air between the two of you. "mark—" "why do you do this!?" mark yells out as he starts to speed down the dirt road that leads out of the car meet. "do what mark!? what did i do?" you cried out as you felt tears sting the corner of your eyes as you felt yourself get frustrated as you knew where this was going to go now. "why the fuck were you so close to johnny? of all fucking people, him! you know how he makes me feel!" mark yells out as he slams one hand on the steering wheel. "mark...johnny was trying his usual shit on me yes! i was trying to get out of the situation but he wasn't letting me!" you said as tears started to fall down your face. "i don't fucking believe you." mark said with a scoff and a roll of his eyes. you felt your heart sink at the declaration he made about you. "are—" you cut yourself off as you felt a laugh bubble in your throat, letting yourself know that you are starting to fall into some sort of shock. "—are you fucking serious right now mark lee? do you FUCKING HEAR YOURSELF!?" you screamed out as more tears started to fall down your face in pure blistering anger. "i wouldn't be surprised if you've thrown yourself at him. i've seen the way you look at that motherfucker." mark says as he presses down on the gas peddle causing the car to jerk faster down the road. you looked towards the car's speedometer and was met with '100 mph' in bold, bright lettering. "mark slow down." you said as you stared at the speedometer and towards the outside of your window to see the dark sky and trees in a complete blur of speed. "mark slow down!" you cried out again. "just SHUT UP!" mark screamed out as he looked towards you with such intense anger in his eyes that you swore this man hates you from the way he is just treating you. you opened your mouth to say something but the next thing that you remember hearing was the sound of shattering glass and a gasp leave your lips, before your world goes completely black.

street racer! mark who groggily wakes up to intense bright lighting in his eyes, and he thinks that he simply left the lights on of his room again, until he starts to hear the slow beeping sounds around him.

street racer! mark who fully opens his eyes and takes in his surrounding to see that he is laying in a hospital bed, and his right arm is in a cast and a sling. he starts to wonder what happened, but all he can remember was the argument in the car with you and then everything went blank from there.

street racer! mark who gasps finally realizing that you were in the accident too and started to feel himself panic seeing that you weren't near him nor in the same room as him.

"you're finally awake." mark heard a voice say at the foot of his bed. mark looked towards the standing figure of his bed and recognized your best friend. he noticed the blood shot and puffy eyes she adored and couldn't help but assume the worst. "is she...is she—" "she's fine and thankfully very much alive, no thanks to you." she snaps as she gave him a look of pure disgust. mark rolls his eyes at her tone, but continues the conversation as if she never even spoke. "i want to go see her." he said as he tried to sit up but winces due to the sharp pain at his side. "you have bruised ribs, so i would lay down if i were you." she muttered as she sent daggers towards mark. "besides, i'm not letting you seeing her." she said as she crossed her arms across her chest and raised an eyebrow towards him as if daring him to challenge her. "the fuck? i can see her if i want. you don't get a say in that!" mark said as he started to feel his anger get the best of him. "you are the reason she is in a hospital bed right now! you are the reason she has a fucking coma!" your best friend yelled out as she pointed an accusing finger towards him as she tried to hold back the tears that are stinging her eyes due to the pure anger she was feeling. "a c-coma?" mark said as he looked at her with wide eyes. "yeah, a coma. the doctors don't know when she will wake up...the chances are low."

street racer! mark who felt his entire self being shatter at the thought of you not remembering anything that has happened.

"a coma..." mark muttered to himself as he felt himself start to zone out due to the shock the news brought him.

ʚ a/n: to be completely honest with you, i wasn't really expecting to take it this way but i honestly like how it turned out because it adds a bit of drama to this fic and truly shows the persona i created for mark in this au. just wanted yall to go through what the reader goes through in seeing his true persona! lemme know your thoughts!!  

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[lemonlover1110]

Hello! I hope you are doing well 😌 you are my fav writer and I just wanted to to throw out this crazy brainrot request to u bc I am SICK over it

So Florence nightingale syndrome right? Toji is like a professional boxer or whatever something athletic bc he's a fucking beast and he gets hurt, like his leg or something, and you become his at home occupational therapist. So you're like taking care of him and he's getting feelings for you while also being a stubborn ass bc u push him constantly so he can get better. and he's super hesitant to accept his feelings bc he's a Playboy of course.

I'm just picturing this one scene where you're helping him up and he's leaning on you and he says something like "are you sure you can handle me princess?" Idk I'm insane I'm sorry 😭😭😭😭

Pairing: boxer!Toji Fushiguro x f!caregiver!Reader

Warnings: Fluff, frustrated Toji, Florence nightingale syndrome, Toji has an injured leg and is a little bitch for a bit

*This was so fun to work on and now I'm having thinking a little too hard about boxer toji (I'm ovulating) sofjsof enjoy!

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Toji never really thought he’d be dependent on someone, yet now he can’t even take a shower standing up. After an unlucky boxing match, Toji ended up in a cast and crutches. That’s what he gets for not listening to his son who told him it was around time to retire.

“I’m not a fucking skeleton, I’m good in my field. I can do this for a couple more years.” How he wishes he could swallow his fucking words. He thought that after getting the cast off he’d go back to normal, and he’d have no issue with mobility. He shouldn’t have an issue moving his fucking leg again, he’s been moving it for more than thirty years, why should three months of not moving it change much?

Apparently he can’t do anything, which is why he has someone with him all day every day, helping him so he can get better. Toji’s main issue? He gets frustrated when someone tries to help him. 

“Be careful, it’s hot.” You smile at him as you put his dinner in front of him. He has a scowl on his face as you set it down in front of him. He tried to help make dinner but he couldn’t stand for too long. He’s mad, but not at you. He could never be mad at you. 

Toji wasn’t necessarily fond of you when you started working with him; he hates being dependent on someone else, and he knew that he would have to depend on you for pretty much everything. You try to help him though, and he should be more appreciative of you because of it, but in reality he feels like a fucking baby. He’s grown to like you though… A little too much for his liking. 

You leave him to eat, going to wash the dishes since he can’t do the task yet. Perhaps his own bowl and spoon, but not everything that needs to be cleaned. You watch him from the counter, watching his refusal to pick up the spoon and eat the soup you made him. Earlier he was so prideful, telling you that he would help you every step of the way during dinner, and he couldn’t even finish one third of it. You were proud of him regardless.

“It’s really good, Toji! The potatoes you helped peel really added a touch to it.” You’ve gotten close enough to be on a first name basis. You see each other every day, you stay in the same house, of course you’re close enough to talk to each other so casually. It doesn’t mean you should though. You’ve always managed to keep a very professional relationship with patients, but there’s just something about him that makes it hard for you to be normal around him.

“Don’t talk to me like I’m a fucking kid.” He says, pushing the bowl of soup away. He’s not hungry anymore. Toji stands up, his hands holding on to the table to support himself before grabbing his crutches. 

“Toji, if you’re not eating it, can you try to bring it over to me, please?” You ask. You know the soup has cooled down, if he spills it, he’ll be fine.

“If you want it, pick it up yourself.” Toji is clearly mad. You don’t take it to heart though, because you know it’s with himself and not you. 

“How about we go to the park tomorrow? It’s supposed to be a nice day out.” You talk to Toji who tries to watch a documentary. He’s not all that interested in what he put on, caring more about what you have to say. He might not show it, and he tries to deny it, but he has the biggest soft spot for you. “We can also get some ice cream, if you’re in the mood!”

“Hey… I’m sorry about earlier. I was just—” It’s hard to get an apology out of him, but sometimes he knows he’s in the wrong and he feels the need to apologize. He doesn’t want you to be mad at him, even though you’re clearly not upset with him. You’re so understanding and patient with him, he feels like he doesn’t deserve that.

“You’re fine, Toji.” You reassure him with a smile, your hand going over his balled up fist. You feel your heart skip a beat as you touch him. You’ve crossed the line past a professional relationship, and you should set some boundaries within yourself– But his other hand goes on top of your own before he brings it up, softly kissing your knuckles. It’s hard to set boundaries when he feels the same way.

“I’m tired.” He tells you, and you stand up to help him get up. Toji usually denies your help, but this time, he has no problem accepting it. You just want the best for him, and there’s some things that he can’t do completely alone. He has to take baby steps. He’s using you for support, and he’s scared that he’s too heavy for you. He asks you, “Are you sure, princess? Can you handle me? I know I’m pretty big.”

“You’re fine. I can handle you.” You reassure him, and you begin to walk to his bedroom. His room was previously on the second floor, but ever since his injury, he’s moved his bedroom to the first floor. You get him to his bedroom, helping him on the bed. You smile at him before saying, “Let me grab your crutches. You left them in the living room, right?”

Before you can walk away, he grabs your sleeve. Toji’s slowly realizing that he can’t fight off the feelings that consume him when you help him, and he’s usually not a fan of them. Toji’s been tied down once before, he certainly doesn’t want that again. But with you, it’s different. He doesn’t mind the idea.

“Will you lay down with me?” He asks, and you suck in your bottom lip between your teeth. You shouldn’t. He caresses your cheek with the back of his hand before he prompts himself up to kiss the corner of your mouth.

“Toji, you know this isn’t something I can do.” You tell him as he looks lovingly into your eyes. “I’m here to help you get better.”

“You can help me get better by laying down next to me.” Toji responds. You grab the hand that so lovingly touches your cheek and kiss it, before bringing your lips down to meet his momentarily. He swears he hears fireworks when your lips meet, even after you pull away.

He’s most definitely in love with you.

“I’ll go get your crutches. Good night, Toji.”