#I just read the words “my companion flushed with pleasure

[dog-botherer]

Ok why did no one tell me how gay the original Sherlock Holmes stories are. I though BBC Sherlock was just gay out of nowhere, I didn’t realise it was just following the source material

[sinfullyrosey]

General!Lilia Vanrouge X GN!Reader

Warnings: Doggy Style, Rough Sex, Creampie, Dom!Lilia

Mild spoilers for the recent chapter because I am very limited on exactly what is happening. I just saw General Lilia and read some of his translated dialog and my brain responded as such.

Fairly short like Lilia

Just imagine General Lilia pulling you aside and away from Sebek and Silver in order to “interrogate” you. He takes you somewhere private and secluded, while Baul serves as a distraction for your Diasomnia companions.

The old fae can’t quite put his finger on it, but you and that other human bring out certain feelings in him. Feelings of deeply rooted affection and the instinctual need to protect. This only makes you all the more suspicious in his eyes as he feels hotter and more primal around you in particular.

He doesn’t know that Silver is to be his adopted son, and you, his future partner. Right now, you both are just suspicious strangers.

You make him feel weak, like he can be open and relaxed around you. He feels like he can let his guard down, despite you being a human and a stranger. It’s as if all his ingrained training just melts away when he’s near you.

And he doesn’t like it.

So, you find yourself pinned down by him, one of his hands holding your arms behind your back, the other around your throat, keeping your upper body pressed into the ground. Your uniform pants are pulled down, ass up, and his hard cock pressing against your tight entrance.

He asks you again who you and your friends are and what you want. And again, you tell him you’re not the enemy and are only here temporarily. And once again, Lilia couldn’t help but to believe your words are true.

You squirm in his hold, unintentionally rubbing your bare ass against his length and making yourself squeak at the familiar sensation against your awaiting hole. The movement makes his dick twitch and him grunt.

You felt so hot and bothered, wanting him to just shove his dick in you like he’s done so before. Despite the current situation at hand and despite your friends being not too far away, you were desperate and this younger, more serious version of Lilia was sending sparks of pleasure straight to your core.

“L-lilia…” you whimper.

At your needy call, the fae general found his instincts take over and finally slide his whole cock all the way in, stretching out your hole in order to accommodate his full size.

“O-oh! Oohhh~” You moaned, his tip grazing along your spongey sweet spot, making you see stars.

God, he filled you up so nicely.

Lilia didn’t waste anymore time, being just as horny as you, and began a brutal pace. He pounded into you, tight and unprepared, yet not unwelcomed. His thrusts were rough and precise, making you moan and beg incoherently.

Lilia had never been this harsh with his lovemaking before, preferring to be sweet and playful with you. Not like you were complaining about this nice change of pace.

With every sharp thrust of his hips, he brought you closer to your release. His dick reaching so deep into you, you couldn’t help but get lost in the euphoria, eyes rolling back and mouth agape as you drooled out praise and pleas.

Lilia just couldn’t get enough of you acting so adorably needy for him, watching you unravel so eagerly before him. Maybe not all humans were so bad, at least, not you anyway. 

And with one final, harsh thrust, the general releases inside of you while you squeezed around him from your own orgasm. Your vision going white as he fills you up with his creamy cum.

Once he was empty, he slid his now soft member out of you, watching as your hole winked at him, leaking some stray cum. Your face was flush and body disheveled underneath him. Truly a wonderful sight after he conquered your weak human body.

Lilia never cared much for taking any spoils from war, but if you were included in it, then he’ll gladly take you home if it meant getting to fuck you into submission like this again.

[qingxin-dream]

“Whiskey”

summary | he likes this side of you. vulnerable. honest. eager to please. who is he to deny you in your time of need?

warnings | not proofread, profanity, possessive, smut [18+, MDNI], dubcon, female-bodied reader, reader wears a skirt, lots of teasing, edging/orgasm denial, overstimulation, grinding/panty-fucking, degradation + praise, rough sex, a sprinkle of dacryphilia, creampie

genre | smut (happy valentine’s day❤️‍🔥)

word count | 2k

pairing | wanderer x reader

✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧

𝓗umans are truly fascinating.

There’s this innate sense of wonder in those reflective violet eyes of his—one which begs to be satisfied. You can tell just by the way he looks at you with an imperceptible quiver of his soft lips that he may be debating on lashing you with another sarcastic remark.

You find yourself more enamored by the possibility the puppet might be persuaded to throw caution into the wind and finally give you that taste of him you’ve been so obviously craving. The slight aroma of whiskey piques his interest further.

After all, alcohol has a tendency to remove a human’s superficial barriers in expressing their true thoughts. Some even claim it to be an aphrodisiac.

Wanderer’s mouth curls up in amusement, enjoying the predicament you have presented before him.

Here you are, his precious little companion who guards her heart with awkward excuses and shy apologies, all tangled up with him against the wall. If you were a bit more sober, he’d delight in your typical reply—a small shriek of embarrassment followed by a deep, pink flush of your whole face.

This time, however, you are the one to plead for his touch.

“Scara… I mean, W-Wanderer,” you whine into his collarbone, beginning to grip his white robe just above his belt. You liked feeling the contours of his body, but not openly. No, you’ve tortured yourself with a game of accidental touches and fleeting brushes of skin. Every time it’s as if you get another piece of the puzzle to his silhouette, sparking your imagination as to what the full picture might look like.

“What? A little alcohol and you can barely call me by my name,” Wanderer muses in a low tone, his hand drifting to the dip of your waist where it perfectly slots into your form. His other hand is presently preoccupied, nearly pinned to the wall behind him and fingers lazily intertwined with yours. “I never cared for titles anyway, but… Master has a nice ring to it.”

“Dick,” you curse instinctively, rolling your eyes. Your displeased scoff trickles over his sensitive collarbone. Out of spite, you seriously consider sinking your teeth into his neck to leave a bruised mark on his pretty skin.

Archons, you don’t even recognize your own impulse anymore.

“Not yet,” he tuts, unable to resist the smug grin tugging at the corner of his lips. The hand on your waist slips away, taking his warmth with it. Wanderer leans in close enough so your noses are nearly touching, a newfound fire in his eyes. He waits a beat, his words drawn out in a slow, breathy whisper in an attempt to mask his own desperation. “I want you to cum all over my fingers first.”

The puppet’s eyes are trained on you like a predatory hawk, reveling in all the ways your body responds as he hooks his fingers on the hem of your underwear, yanking it down just below your skirt. Before you can protest, his long, slender fingers dipped into your needy hole, dragging your wet slick towards your clit to lubricate your folds for him.

Your knees practically buckle on the spot with a little cry of pleasure and surprise. Blissfully unaware, you whimper and try to lean in further to silently beg for some semblance of affection. Something to keep your mind from reeling like crazy. Even just a kiss will do. As much as you hate him for reading you like a book so often, you couldn’t be more turned on by his willingness to indulge you.

Merely the thought of his cock filling you to the brim has your hole fluttering with anticipation and he’s only touched you once.

“Mm, it’s so good,” you whimper with need, slowly bucking your hips in rhythm with his fingers circling your clit. When you have the strength to open your eyes again, Wanderer is marveling at your delectable expression. Within seconds, he captures your lips in a gentle kiss that burns like a candle—patiently but passionately.

A soft moan escapes you, swallowed eagerly by Wanderer’s tongue slipping into your mouth. He wants to hear it again, though the sound of his fingers in your pussy is a close second. He grunts with a bit of laughter as a particularly delicious thought crosses his mind. The puppet keeps rubbing your puffy clit at a steady pace, occasionally slipping two fingers barely at your entrance.

The instant his fingers teased your core, you melted into him, chasing after that sensation once more. “Oh my god… it’s so fucking hot. Please…”

“Please what, baby?” Wanderer coaxes you with a tender but playful undertone, feigning innocence to your question. He quiets you with a few more decadent kisses, maintaining that pressure-building pleasure concentrated on your clit.

You struggle to maintain what little composure you have left. You’re trying your damnedest to be good for him, but you can’t help the shaky whine purring deep in your throat. It takes you a moment to gather the courage to say it. “F-fuck me. Please.”

“Mhmm,” he moans freely and heavily onto your lips, nodding into another kiss with excitement. The puppet hears you. He knows you are beginning to feel a wave swelling in your lower stomach at his ministrations, ready to crest over in a magnificent release. “But what if I want you to cum all over your panties, hm? I want you to earn it first.”

Wanderer pumps the tips of his fingers into you just to bring you closer to the edge before quickly returning to your overly-sensitive nub. You can’t take it anymore, you’ll do anything to convince him otherwise. Biting your lower lip, you mewl, “Why don’t you cum in them instead? I-I just need to feel you…”

He chuckles lightheartedly at you, finding your desperate state to be cute. The glassy look in your eyes as if you could cry at any moment is the cherry on top. Perhaps he is feeling merciful today. You yelp with surprise when the puppet replaces his index and middle finger with the wet slap of his cock against your pink folds, grinding it between them.

“Fuck, yes,” sighing heavily, you relax against Wanderer, sucking in a breath with each thrust of his tip that reaches your entrance. You’ve completely surrendered to the intoxicating image of his cock pushing into your tight hole, cursing under your breath. All your needy moans are his for the taking, swirling his tongue against yours in a steamy exchange.

“You’re so fucking wet for me, it’s pathetic,” the puppet chuckles, but his words are hardly degrading. Rather, his low baritone is steeped with lust. Without warning, he removes your panties entirely to lift you by your hips, pressing your back flush to the wall and sheathing the leaking tip of his cock inside your warmth repeatedly. “Is this what you wanted? Huh?”

“A-ah!” your mouth forms an ‘o’ shape at your lover’s unexpected but very much welcome intrusion, looking down at how your pussy is taking him in by the inch. There’s already a ring of fluids beginning to gather around his tip. “Yes, mm, please… more. Fuck.”

A snicker resounds from his throat as he slowly sinks himself into you, watching with utter fascination as you struggle to adjust to his girth. Cooing sweet nothings into the shell of your ear, Wanderer shifts so that you’re pressed to the wall entirely by his pelvis. Your spongy walls flutter and throb around his thick length, spurring him to grab your face firmly by the jaw. “You’re doing so good for me, baby. Look at you, so pretty for me. Kiss me.”

Little did you know that the sweet relief of his plush lips on yours was but a distraction. While you wrapped your arms around his neck, Wanderer slides his cock out to your wet entrance, fucking just the tip inside you. The moment you began to show signs of protest, he plunged deep into your pussy with an audible smack of skin. You let out a cracked yelp.

“What was that, baby?” he moans into your mouth teasingly, a hand squeezing lightly on your jugular. It was just enough to make you a little dizzy and drunk on his cock. That much was evident as the puppet pulls out for the umpteenth time to overstimulate your hole.

“I-I…” you stutter out breathlessly, clinging to him like your life depended on it. Your mind was empty. Only the tantalizing sensation of his cock dragging against your walls could make your world turn once more.

With a sinister giggle, Wanderer silences with you with another sloppy kiss. When he buries his cock into you abruptly this time, you babble incoherent nonsense about cumming. He takes advantage of it, thrusting his hips at a fast pace and practically fucking you into the wall.

“Yeah? You wanna cum? Fuck… you’re gripping me so tight,” his voice morphs into a hiss as he attempts to delay his own impending orgasm. Your head rolls back in ecstasy, on the brink of release as Wanderer drills your cunt wildly, ripping loud moans from your parched throat.

Just as you were hurtled toward the precipice of your orgasm, Wanderer lifted you off of his cock and the pressure in your stomach dissipated. The emptiness inside your walls was unbearable. Marching into the bedroom, he positions your ass up on the bed and immediately splits your pussy open with his throbbing cock again and again.

“Shit, shit, yes. I fucking love it. I love you so much,” you growl into a pillow raggedly, a dreamy, fucked-out look in your eyes as he pounds into you.

The puppet yanks the pillow out from underneath you, wrapping your hair around his fist so he can make sure you don’t dare stifle your praise and moans from him. “You fucking like that? Being my little cocksleeve, yeah? Lemme hear you say it, baby. Mine… all mine.”

You are completely dazed by Wanderer’s cock fucking you as if he wanted to make a permanent impression of his curve in your soft pussy. He was ready to pump you full of his cum. His fingers tighten on your hair slightly, and you’re reminded that you were given a command. “Mm, mhmm! Y-yours…”

“My what?” he presses further, mesmerized by the ripple of your skin every time he thrusts into you from behind. His hand smacks your ass as a warning.

“Y-your cocksleeve!” you blurt out with tears beginning to pool in the corners of your eyes. The overstimulation at this point is the perfect concoction of pain and pleasure, driving you to the edge. Your eyes start to roll back a little, succumbing to the hypnotic sensation of his veiny cock burying itself in your core.

Wanderer releases your hair, possessively planting his hands over your hips to deepen his thrusts. “And what do good cocksleeves do?”

“T-take… your cum… a-ah, fuck. That’s it. That’s it. I’m gonna cum!” you reply with the last remaining ounce of your willpower. Your entirely body tenses and spasms with pleasure as a litany of profanities and prayers spill from your lips. You’ve never had an orgasm as intense as this, you can’t control your own bodily response.

Wanderer immediately pulls you in, his muscular chest pressed to your back, cooing and shushing you gently as he succumbs to his own orgasm. You can vividly feel his cock pulsating inside your warmth, spurting hot, thick ropes of his seed across your gummy walls. “That’s okay, cum for me, baby. I love you so fucking much, yeah. Shhh…”

The room is filled with heavy breaths and the smell of sex. Your lover’s grip never falters. Instead, the puppet gently kisses the crook between your neck and shoulder.

“I’ll take care of you. I promise. You’re my good girl.”

thanks for reading! reblogs are appreciated! my masterlist.

[bullet-prooflove]

Distraction: David Hale x Reader (NSFW)

Tagging: @kmc1989 @hatersaremymotivators @bennykk @kelpies-shed

Companion piece to Graffiti and Crime Wave

David is a distraction.

A big one.

You can feel his gaze on you as you transition into warrior pose, arms stretched up above your head as you shift your weight to your left leg, the one that’s positioned in front of you.

Currently he’s sitting in your bed, the sheets pooling around his bare hips as his back comes to rest against the headboard. The newspaper he was reading rests in his lap, forgotten.

“You’re hard again aren’t you?” You murmur, the edges of your lips twitching up into a smile as you hold the pose for ten seconds.

“Maybe you should come over here and find out.” He suggests with mischievous look in his eyes.

“After I finish this routine.” You promise and he exhales audibly as you move into the dancer.

This is his favourite pose, the one that really gets him going and he shows you how much by wrapping his hand around his cock and stroking it slowly. Already you can feel the heat building between your legs, the seam of your leggings rubbing in just the right place.

“You aren’t playing fair.” You say as you hold your pose, counting down the seconds.

“Neither are you.” He comments, his voice a little rough as he thrusts up into his palm.

There’s a flush creeping up his neck already and fuck, it gets you off seeing him like this. He knows it too, it’s in the way his chin juts up as he meets your gaze, his teeth biting down on his lower lip.

It’s a test of wills, who breaks first.

His jaw clenches, his head tipping back against the wall as he watches you.

“Fuck, you see what you do to me?” He mutters as his cheeks turn pink. “Don’t even have to be touching you and I’m about to come all over myself.”

It’s those words that make you crack, the knowledge that you can do this to him, that he lets you. He smiles as you approach him, that shit eating grin that says he’s won and it isn’t until now that you realise just how much you’ve come to love it, how much you love him.

He has you on your back, his lips on yours before you’ve barely climbed on to the bed. Every one of his kisses feels like sunshine on your skin as his calloused palms chase over your body, undressing you until your naked underneath him. He grabs the base of his cock, guiding it to your moist core, the tip positioned in just the right place.

“Are you ready for me?” He whispers, his lips brushing over yours.

It always comes down to this, that moment where he asks because for David this is always about you,  your comfort, your pleasure.

“Always.” You murmur and he sinks in slowly, filling you until he’s buried all the way to the hilt. His mouth covers yours, stifling the moan that leaves your throat. Your fingers entwine as he begins to move in long, slow strokes, every single one raking over that deviant little sweet spot.

The ecstasy, it crashes through you in waves, each one washing over you, drowning you until the only thing you can focus on is the sensation of David inside you, loving you.

When the fall comes it’s all consuming, it steals away your breath, your sanity and everything else in between as your thighs tighten around David’s hips, drawing him deeper. He moans into your mouth, his release spilling inside of you as you grip him so fucking tightly it feels like he’s losing his mind.

His kisses are messy, languid, his hands caressing you every inch of you because he knows it’s intense when you’re with him, that you need to feel grounded in the aftermath.

The men before him, they never cared for you, they never loved you, not the way that he does. He tells you that as he lays there tangled up in you because he can’t hold back any longer. He can’t imagine a future without you in it.

“I love you.” He whispers, his thumb ghosting over your cheek as he looks into your eyes. “I have since the moment we met.”

Love David? Don’t miss any of his stories by joining the taglist here.

Like My Work? - Why Not Buy Me A Coffee

[galebrainrot2024]

GalexTav Enemies to Lovers Part 24

Summary: Gale and Tav are childhood rivals who find their paths crossed once more to defeat the absolute. Fluff and angst content ahead, mutual pining, some tragic timing ahead. Mature content ahead, Enjoy! Gale's POV Word Count: 7.7K

Master List | Read on Ao3 | Part 23

Every night after dinner and after a majority of their companions dwindled to their bedrolls, Gale and Tav would slip away. They would never wander far, just past the small waterfalls- and would lie within a small, rocky entrance obscured by the undulating waters. 

The roar drowned out their voices, filtered them away from where the nestling warriors slept. Gale wasn’t quite sure why they felt the need to creep away into the night, but there was something thrilling about it all. 

His heart thrummed with trepidation and anticipation, endlessly sifting how he would tell her. These moments were built for it, and yet his words caught in his throat every time he tried to reveal the truth to her. The more days that passed, the worse the gnawing in his throat grew. As insatiable as the orb itself. 

What often stopped him was a look or a caress. Once it was because she let out a cross between a sigh and a yawn that made a pitiful squeak that made his heart flutter. Another time it was because her leg was finding a bit… too much friction between his thighs. 

Often they would lie their, tracing mindless patterns across one another’s clothed bodies or faces, he would caress her hair as they lay in blissful silence. The other night she animatedly shared a story from their youth that made Gale’s desperation for her infinitely deeper. 

He had asked her, after he shared a foolish story of his youth, for her to return the favor to lessen his embarrassment. Although, he wasn’t embarrassed telling her the story - but he found self-deprecation useful in moments of vulnerability. 

“Oh, well… before gym, me and my friends would play this game we made up… Howling Cleric.” 

Gale cocked a brow and a grin curled his lip, “Howling Cleric?” He felt his stomach lurch as her cheeks flushed and eyes danced in the moonlit waters light. 

“A game where one of us would cover our face with our shirt and cry out like a ghost to tag each other.” 

Gale had broken out into such a fit of laughter that tears pricked his eyes and she pouted in jest. He had pulled her into his lap, pressing his face into her neck. He brushed the skin away to kiss across her shoulder. Apart from light, relatively innocuous kisses he hadn’t allowed himself to go farther with her. Not yet. “I do apologize.. that’s just the most absurd game I’ve ever heard of, how did you come up with such a thing?” He planted his lips where her ear met her neck, “I love getting these glimpses into that abstract mind of yours…” 

He had intended to tell her after the fit of laughter subsided that night but when she began to sigh heavily and press her hips against his lap as he brushed his lips across her supple skin… his mind was still having trouble recovering from such moments, especially as there was no relief just pent up need that grew by the day. 

Tonight, when her head was nestled in his chest, he was prepared to tell her everything. Unfortunately for Gale, the day had been difficult - they barely managed to escape with their lives after a disagreeable run in with a Thorm. Tav was in a fowl mood that radiated off of her worse than cloud kill. 

Tav did not seek him out that night and when Gale approached her tent she poked her head out and held up a hand, “I love our time together,” Gale’s stomach dropped and he felt heat creep up his neck, “and tonight I need to be by myself - I need to blow off steam.” 

“I can certainly help with that,” Gale said, though immediately regretted his choice of words. He had promised himself he wouldn’t, not until he told her what he had done - not until he could show her pleasures of mortal flesh and more. Panic rose in his gullet, the acid tearing his esophagus until he saw her shake her head. 

Despite his panic there was still disappointment that flooded him alongside the instant relief of her refusal. He was gripped with a sense of unworthiness, at her declining his advances until he felt her fingers pull him closer to her. She gazed at him with wanton yearning and the lustful pink on her cheeks gave away her intentions. She leaned forward to whisper in his ear, “I’d rather draw this out…” Gale felt sick with desire. He felt himself thrum with arousal and shifted as blood rushed between his thighs. “Think about me tonight instead… while I think of you.” A soft groan spilled from his lips when her lips grazed his neck. “It will be our secret.” 

Abruptly, she pulled back and smirked at him before retreating into her tent. Gale swallowed hard, unable to turn around and face his companions yet. He thought about the worst things he could imagine and still the tidal wave of lust did not break. 

When he was able, he returned to his tent, grateful the rest seemed otherwise occupied. Her words wrap through his veins and the corners of his mind with wicked euphoria. 

He thought of her writhing in her bedroll, shaking and touching herself as she thought of him and it was nearly enough to force him to rupture. The need was too great. Tonight, he would do as she wished. 

*** 

The next morning as Gale prepared breakfast, he felt fingers trail along his shoulders and felt his resolve crumble. “Did you manage to blow off any bit of steam last night?” Gale’s husky voice gave away his extreme hunger for her and he was glad no one was around to hear. 

“Hm…”

“Hm?” Gale rose a brow and turned to face her and was struck with the same love sickness when their gaze met. Oh no. 

How was he meant to tell her? How could he? He was so close to having her and yet impossibly far. It shouldn’t be this difficult to share this with her, surely. He felt the words hot on his tongue and still, they would not come. He turned and shook his head, trying to settle his uneasy mind. 

“Did you?” Her voice against the back of his shoulder was too much, he was off kilter, starved for her. 

Gale cleared his throat and gave a slight shrug. “Perhaps I did.” She scoffed and felt her jolt away from him as Astarion’s voice cut through their thick tension. 

Astarion’s eyes narrowed and he pursed his lips, though there was a devious glint in his eye. “Good morning. Far be it from me to interrupt the two new lovers.” Gale glanced at Tav who averted her gaze, turning red. “Oh, darling, I don’t hold it against you,” Gale’s stomach gnawed, the tentacles of envy poising him as he watched Astarion brush her hair back in an overly familiar way. “I wouldn’t want to be in a love triangle with,” he rolled his eyes, “Gale.” 

“Astarion,” Tav hissed, taking a step back. 

“Surely, you’ve told her?” Astarion’s lips curled and he stalked towards Gale, one wrist idly rolling as if he were stretching. 

“Tell me what?” She flicked her eyes to Gale, alarmed. 

Gale froze. All air left his lungs and his spirit left his body. When Gale spoke he was underwater. “What?” The words croaked out, his mouth barren.

Astarion didn’t know. Gale’s flight or flight was just overreacting. He couldn’t possibly know. 

“Come now, don’t be coy Gale -“ Astarion hummed as he stepped closer, holding his chin in his hand and then his eyes widened as the fiendish grin spread across his lips. 

The world stopped. The sensation that washed over him was worse even than when he presented Mystra with the piece of Weave. Worse than the orb. “Astarion -“ Gale tried, but black spots dotted his vision and nausea roiled through him. 

“Oh, don’t worry, I would hate to spoil the surprise. I guarantee it will be quite the spectacle.” 

[mydarlingem]

till this moment, i never really knew myself

hi besties!! i return from the fucking depths of hell to bring you diluc as mr darcy because my brainrot will not let this go unwritten. ty for reading i missed writing!!! im gonna be writing more again i promise! requests/thirsts open as always. i kinda hate this now that im reading it again but its too late!

cw. fluff, just the cute stuff

diluc x fem reader

800 words

it was another dull day, in a dull week filled with a dull month. your only source of excitement it seemed was the ball tonight, the filthy wealthy of the town were to attend, so your mother requested you attend as well. most noteworthy the newest man to arrive in the countryside was kaeya alberich, you had heard whispers in the town of his both wealth and beauty, and his grumpy companion diluc ragnvindr, far wealthier but less sociable. your best friend had heard of mr kaeya alberich and desired more than anything to wed him, "oh but think of the life i could live" she would say to you, giggling under the sheets as you talked about his beauty and his awkwardness.

the next day you found yourself pacing a bit, were you anxious? the weight of the night, to find a man who fancied you had its anxiety but it was something else, you couldnt quite put your finger on it, spending time overthinking would just be a waste. so you saw yourself ready, hair styled and perfect, the best perfume oil in the house applied on your inner wrists, dabbed onto the small spot behind your ear, the fabric of your dress framed your figure beautifully, you looked radiant.

you met with your friend at the ball, the giant mansion decorated beautifully, an entire room just filled with the most exquisite statues, carved out of only the finest marble, however one caught your eye. sat in the corner was a sculpture of a man, with a sharp jawline and kind eyes, he was truly so handsome. you smiled to yourself as you pictured what he would look like in real life, surely the sculptor made him look more attractive, they always do.

you made your way back to your friend in the dancing hall as you were walking in your eyes fell on her, dancing with mr kaeya alberich. you smiled as you made eye contact with her and gave her a little wave. oh he looked entranced with her, she looked simply stunning, how could he not be. your plan had worked, it was time to focus on yourself. as you walked out you ran smack into someone.

a very large man stood in front of you, his soft red hair tied back, his eyes widened as he met your gaze. "a thousand apologies sir" you stammered out, it was the man from the sculpture, and they simply did not do him justice in the piece, he was even more beautiful. "oh i am incredibly sorry miss, i did not watch where i was going", he bowed to you then, your actions followed his. "and you are?" he asked firmly, trying to appear calm and collected.

you announced yourself, ah yes he knew your father. he had heard all about you, a smart and witty girl, though they had seemed to leave out that your beauty would make him weak in the knees. "i am diluc ragnvindr" he stated, forcing himself to not smile as your cheeks became slightly flushed. "do you dance mr ragnvindr?" you asked with a smile.

"not if i can help it, but i couldnt let this chance go to waste" he softly grabbed your hand and led you to the floor. the rest of the night going by in a blur, all you remember is how good he smelled, how smooth he danced and how he listened to you talk for hours. and this is how it was for months, every event, big or small you would meet, and dance and talk.

you watched your beloved friend become engaged, your heart was so full for her. however, your heart longed for diluc, to run your hands through his hair and feel his lips on your own. approaching footsteps took you out of your trance. "my lady" his voice sounded anxious. "mr ragnvindr to what do i owe the pleasure?"

he smiled at that, the first smile you had seen from him that seemed genuine. the scent of the soft morning dew mixed with his natural cologne made you feel comforted. "it has been devouring me from within and i wish to live in this agony no longer, you have bewitched me body and soul and i love you, i can no longer carry on without you by my side". you reached for his hand, placing a gentle kiss on his knuckles before he spoke again. "take my name, take my life take everything i am worth, take it all".

you smiled, a bright and beautiful one, one that made his heart hurt a little. "i can think of no greater honor than being mrs ragnvindr, though i wish for you to only call me it when you are completely, perfectly, and incandescently happy. "then will you allow me the honor of kissing you mrs ragnvindr?".

[fuure01]

From the Depths | ממעמקים Part 1: Abyssal Plain

Chapter 2: Ships in the Night

Authors: @fuure & @piedelune

Fandom: Pacific Rim

Relationships: Hermann Gottlieb x Newton Geiszler

Rating: Mature

Chapter Summary: Hermann's behaviour following their kiss leads to clashes in the laboratory. When they meet at the grand memorial for those lost in the Kaiju War, he has a chance to make amends, but every step he takes forward, Newton takes back. Excerpt:

Newt Geiszler could be sort of a gentleman when he wanted to be. Who knew?

Hermann had another glass of water set in front of him while they waited together. It helped to soothe his acid-scorched throat, bringing a little more clarity to his foggy mind. He remembered to offer the handkerchief back in the cab on their way home, and did so with a very clumsy gesture.

«I meant to give this back to you... after that time,» he apologised in their native tongue, too drunk and sleepy to summon the words in English, pressing the rag into Newton’s hand after a couple of misses. 

«Sorry, it's…»

His surprised colleague gave it a long look, then chuckled.

“Danke, Herms."

Leaning upon Newt's shoulder, the older male then rested his heavy eyes for a moment, and the next thing he knew, he was being helped out of the car at their destination. After they’d made it back to the K-Science officer dormitories in the Shatterdome, Newton had seen Hermann safely to his doorstep. 

"I'll see ya tomorrow," the younger replied, tapping him briefly on the arm and stepping back.

He was met with a blank stare, as words would not come to his disoriented companion. 

"...Well, night," Newt eventually chuckled, but as he turned to leave Hermann finally snapped to his senses and found his words again. 

"Oh — no, wait!" cried the physicist, lurching towards the other. But his wobbly legs didn't take the single doorstep well, and he fell straight into Newton's tattooed arms. His cane landed after him with a clatter that reverberated down the concrete-lined hallway. 

"Oof— whoa!" Newt exclaimed, bending only briefly as he took Hermann's weight with ease. "H-hey, I got you, man. You alright?" 

Hermann remembered staring dazedly up at him, mumbling a soft, flushed apology as he straightened himself up to his full height. Beneath the buzzing lights, there in Newton's arms, their chests brushed and they became still. 

"I… I just… wanted to say…" he whispered, "I haven't kissed another man before… but I'm glad… that you were my first."

Newt's face grew pink this time, and he let out a small laugh. "Hey… my pleasure. Could even do it again sometime, y'know~" 

As if to prove it, his lips connected to Hermann’s forehead, warm and soft, and he grinned when he drew back. Hermann was doe-eyed and pink-cheeked. Their eyes still locked, he retrieved and returned the older's cane to him.

“Rest up, big guy,” he said softly, closing Hermann's fingers around the mobility aid, their noses almost touching again. “Take an aspirin, too.”

They bid each other good night.  

☣️🌊 READ IT HERE ON AO3! 🌊☣️

[sirowsky-stories]

The Flowers Always Know

Chapter 12 - Fuck Around and Find Out

Description: Going back to work proved to be a bigger challenge than expected, when your new partner decided to get on your nerves.

**Beware! Author chooses NOT to display warnings on the individual chapters of this story. Read at your own risk!**

Rating: Explicit 18+ONLY Word Count: 4819 (2106 words added) Masterlist (this story)

   Of course you’d fallen asleep without setting any alarms. Murphy’s Law had been your constant companion for a while now, so there was no reason to think you’d catch a break anytime soon.    And of course, it was Anita who got to have the singular pleasure of not just knocking, but banging on the bedroom door at 7am, hard enough that it threatened to fall off its hinges, to announce you’d overslept and were going to be late.

   Office hours were 8 to 5, and HQ was a half-hour drive from the Moreno residence depending on traffic, and that was without dropping Missy off at her school on the way.    She was training to be a Heroic with all her friends, but the school for the super’s children was separate from their parents for safety reasons. Everyone in one place would only make it easier for an enemy to try and hurt them all with one strike.    In any case, you were definitely going to be late, all because Anita hadn’t felt like taking pity on you and woken you just half an hour earlier.

   You startled at her voice behind the door, instinctively clutching at Marcus who was still nestled into your side, while hoping it was all a dream and you’d get to stay in bed for a while longer, because somehow you still weren’t nearly rested enough.    Your partner just grunted something unintelligible in response to the intrusive noise, but based on the tone it was probably something like “go away, mom”.

   Then he stretched his arms further around you to hold you closer, as if trying to block out the rest of the world by letting his senses detect only you.    And although you begrudgingly became more awake with the slight rush of adrenaline which always kicked in whenever you were late anywhere, you found yourself ignoring it, in favour of just looking at this gorgeous man for a minute.

   You were laying on your back, and he was on his side, his whole body flush against yours, with his left arm slung over your waist and his left leg draped over your right, while his head rested on your right shoulder.    He was so warm and soft from sleep, and you wanted nothing dearer than to just close your eyes again and forget all about work and stress and pressure. But you’d already been doing that for too long.

   It was time to grab this fucking bull by the horns and throw him to the ground.    So, you kissed your partner on the forehead, earning a sweet little purr of endearment in return, and then you started trying to pry yourself free from him.    But the little bastard decided that this was the right moment to utilize his extra strength to keep you from leaving. His arms and legs simply would not budge, trapping you underneath half his body.    You laughed a little at his boyish antics, but cute though they were, you really didn’t have time for them.

   “Marcus, we really are gonna be late,” you said, but he didn’t even react, so you tried a softer approach. “Honey? You’re gonna get me in trouble.”

   Not so much as a flexed muscle. And while it was still sweet, you were getting seriously stressed now.    But you’d never be able to move him against his will, so you took a second to consider what might get the strongest reaction out of him.

   “Oh, Marcus the Great, leader of the Heroics, father of the best little girl in the world and fucking love of my life,” you melodiously chirped, before letting your voice drop into a warning growl, “let go of me right now, or I will leave this house without breakfast on our first morning together.”

   Sure enough, that got his attention. He twitched with what you assumed was mild shock as he took in what you were saying, before lifting his head off your shoulder and turning it to look at you.    He was so damned cute when he was this sleepy, with drooping eyes and a slack jaw, that you actually had no confidence at all in your ability to resist his charms.    But he didn’t know that.

   “You wouldn’t…” he whined, obviously unwilling to believe it, but he also knew you well enough to know you never threatened what you weren’t prepared to make good on.

   “Try me,” you cautioned, and felt him surrender in how the pressure of his limbs eased up.

   He huffed a disappointed sigh, but then he untangled himself from you, letting you drag yourself out of bed and reluctantly move to the bathroom to turn the shower on.    After emptying your bladder, you remembered you hadn’t gotten around to unpacking your toiletries yesterday, so you walked back out into the bedroom to grab them from the duffel-bag.

   Marcus was up by then, and sporting an impressive morning glory which had your insides tingling in an instant, and you subconsciously clutched your legs together while you rummaged through the bag still sitting on the little bench at the foot of the bed.    But of course, he noticed your reaction and came up behind you, letting his erection rub between your legs as he wrapped his arms around you and pressed himself against you.

   “Oh, hermosa, you’re killing me with how quickly you heat up for me,” he heatedly mumbled in your ear, and he was right.

   You were already gushing all over his length, trembling with pleasure in his arms, so eager for more now that you knew how good of a lover he was and how thoroughly he would always satisfy you-…    Catching yourself trying to come up with excuses for letting him continue, you cut off that train of thought, because there really wasn’t time for this.

   “Marcus...” you warned, and even though there wasn’t nearly as much conviction in your voice this time, he heeded it.

   He nibbled your shoulder a little, but then let go of you and headed for the closet, while you hurried into the shower before you caved to your most basic instinct.    You were quick when you needed to be and when you stepped out of the shower just ten minutes later, he was by the bathroom mirror, having tended to his moustache and stubble, styled his hair, and brushed his teeth.

   He threw you a quick glance and a sweet smile, and it seemed like he was so pleased with the whole situation.    You, being there in his home, using his shower and towel, and just looking generally comfortable with all of it. Even your morning-grumpiness seemed perfect to him.    Was it really only yesterday you’d gotten together?

   This time, you were the first of the two of you to emerge into the kitchen, unsurprisingly finding Missy and Anita by the table with their empty breakfast plates in front of them.    You were wearing an elegant and figure-hugging knee long dress, petrol green and sleeveless but cut high under your collar-bones, so it was still tasteful, with white ballet flat shoes and a white purse to match.

   Your hair was pinned up into an elegant figure-eight on the back of your head and your make-up was simple. Just mascara and a little touch-up of your brows. You’d never bothered to learn how to do full-face make-up, and you weren’t going to. Your own skin had never bothered you and you were never gonna get up half an hour earlier every day just to cover up some wrinkles. It just wasn’t who you were.

   “Good morning, Missy,” you said as you walked into the room, heading for the kettle while closing the clasp of your wristwatch.

   Anita merely got an annoyed glance from you, but from what you saw she looked mostly amused, which only further soured your mood towards her.    You set about making some tea, while already trying to map out how you were going to apologize for being late when you arrived at work, and making your heart do a doubletake when you visualized the pile of papers which were undoubtedly stacked on your desk.    But then Missy broke your concentration with an approving whistle.

   “Wow. I mean, I know you were seriously unwell the first time I saw you but… Wow!     You look amazing,” she praised, making you smile and forget all about your worries.

   “Thank you, sweetie, that’s very kind of you to say,” you timidly replied, feeling a bit awkward since you weren’t used to getting compliments at all, let alone from the honest perspective of a child.

   But then you remembered who’s child this was and how she related to you right then, and suddenly you were internally stressed again, wondering if you were even allowed to call her nicknames yet.

   “Uh… Sorry, I didn’t mean to assume… Is it okay if I call you that?” you asked, to which she smiled and shook her head at you.

   “Will you stop worrying about me, already. I told you, I’m cool with you,” she reaffirmed, waving a nonchalant hand through the air before turning her nose down into a maths book she had opened on the table in front of her.

   You chuckled at yourself for being so insecure as you got back to your tea, and at Missy for having the guts to call you out on it. She really was a great kid.    About a minute later, her father walked in, wearing his usual informal suit attire, which he always looked good in. Especially with the leather jacket.    The way the kitchen was shaped, with you standing by the coffeemaker and kettle in the corner closest to the main hallway, he never saw you as he walked straight up to the kitchen table to greet his family.

   “Buenos días amores,” he chirped, standing with his back to you as he kissed first Missy’s and then Anita’s cheek. “Mamá, will you take Missy to school?”

   “Why do you think I stayed the night? I assumed there’d be some hassle this morning,” she replied, sounding much too self-assured for your taste.

   “A hassle you could have helped us avoid, by the way,” you reminded her, while putting some bread in the toaster and shoving the lever down just a little too harshly. “If you were just gonna let us oversleep anyway, then why bother to wake us at all?”

   “For my own entertainment, obviously,” his mother smugly admitted, so to keep yourself from starting an outright argument with her, you just rolled your eyes and got back to finishing your brew.

   But in your periphery, you’d noticed how Marcus had kind of frozen when he’d turned around at the sound of your voice, seeing you for the first time since you’d left him in the bathroom.    He’d still been in the shower while you’d done your hair and make-up and he hadn’t emerged from there yet when you’d finished getting ready and left the bedroom.

   “Uhm… Are you sure you wanna wear that today, hermosa?” he asked, and he actually swallowed nervously, which made you nervous.

   “Why? What’s wrong with it?” you wondered, looking down at yourself, trying to see what the problem could be.

   You looked up again just in time to see him shoot a very quick glance at his daughter, who had momentarily abandoned her homework, probably to find out what her father was about to say concerning your attire.    Given how she’d praised it herself, the look of defiance you saw brewing in her eyes was probably her gearing up to defend the dress, should it become needed, and that really boosted your confidence.

   “Nothing, it’s perfect,” Marcus hurried to explain, likely seeing the same defiance in his daughter’s eyes as you did when he glanced at her a second time, equally nervously. “It’s just that it’s… really perfect. Which is… tempting.”

   Oh. Well, now his nervousness made a lot more sense, as you realized he’d been trying to find a childproof way to explain just how much it turned him on to see you wearing something so flattering to your figure, while also highlighting all the things he loved to touch.    Your nervousness evaporated and you smiled wickedly at him.

   “In that case, I’ll make sure to visit your area a little extra today,” you teased, and he just closed his eyes and shook his head, before moving over to the coffee-maker to pour himself a big cup, probably looking for some extra strength to see him through the day.

   Missy and Anita left shortly after that, and you and Marcus ate some toast and talked about how you would keep yourself from getting too stressed with your workload, while you noticed he was trying his best not to look too much at you.    In fairness, you hadn’t dressed this nicely for work before, but only because you’d been too stressed to care about it. This was as fancy as he’d ever seen you, and it was surprisingly lovely to discover it pleased him so much.

   This particular dress was one you’d never worn before, because it had never fit you all that well. It was the right size and all, but every time you’d tried it before, it had just looked like a piece of fabric hanging over you.    But now that you were heavier and more muscled, you filled it out in all the right places, and you’d decided to utilize the fact that it made you more confident on this first day of your new life.

   There had been so many changes to your circumstances recently that you’d started thinking of all this as a new beginning, and that way of thinking had actually begun a while ago, after you’d left the medical ward and gotten back home.    You’d had a lot of fun one evening at your house, with trying on every piece of clothing in your wardrobe to see which one’s had become too small or didn’t look good on you anymore, and it had felt like a fresh start. From then on, this had been your new life.

   The dress in question had been an impulse-purchase, and you’d always regretted it. Mostly because it had been part of this fantasy of yours, where you were a different person who had a richer life with more friends and better social skills.    You’d bought it as a way of telling yourself you could be that person if you wanted to, but it had only ever felt like a reminder of how separate you truly were from that fantasy.

   Not anymore, though. The looks your partner was stealing at you from the corner of his eye were already the highlight of your day. Just like the little innocent touches he stole while walking out to the car later, made you feel so desired and beautiful.    Even without having to drop off Missy, you arrived at HQ twenty minutes late, walking in through the foyer together, hand in hand.

   But you worked in different departments and had to go your separate ways once you reached the stairs. You’d be going up while he would be continuing down the hall.    Getting there, he turned and snagged your waist and then kissed you. But while you thought it would be a simple goodbye peck, he instead turned it into a bedroom kiss, complete with hands wandering down to your tailbone to push your hips into his, right there in front of dozens of people.

   “I blame the dress,” he whispered in your ear, and then simply let go of you and sauntered off, leaving you standing there, aroused and embarrassed in equal measure, just watching him walk away.

   It seriously ticked you off, and you glared at the back of his head while you began to formulate a plan.

   “Oh, the day has just begun, honey. I’ll have you begging before lunch,” you whispered back, low enough that even the people closest to you couldn’t hear it.

   But even though he was already way too far away, you saw how his head twitched to the side as if he was listening, and then he stumbled slightly before carrying on, clearly trying to pretend nothing had happened.    Yeah, he definitely had super-hearing. At least when he wanted to.

   The first thing you had to do was fix the damned proposal for the schools, which meant finding another designer with a good eye for repurposing materials.    That took about two hours, most of which were spent on the phone, interviewing potential assets and trying to determine if they’d be a good fit for this particular project.    However, since you were on your work-mobile, there was nothing stopping you from walking whilst talking.

   So, when you got bored with just sitting in your office, you decided to take a walk over to the Operations Department.    You were in the middle of a discussion concerning a special kind of silicone which only one person knew how to make and whom you’d received samples from last week, when you knocked on Marcus’s door and then walked in after he answered.    A quick glance told you he was sitting by his desk, working on the computer, so you kept your gaze on the floor, but your peripheral vision still informed you that he straightened in his chair when he heard your voice.

   “Yeah, I know, I’m just not happy with how the grey one turned out. Do you think you could make it…” you paused, looking for the right word while approaching him and leaning against the desk right next to him, “…harder, for me?”

   You turned your head to meet his eyes just as you’d said it, and had the satisfaction of seeing his eyes darken and his right hand drop into his lap, subconsciously looking for something to rub himself against.    Opening your legs a little wider, you let your free hand fall down between them, using just your fingertips to rub little circles on the inside of your right thigh, making the dress ride up as you slowly moved upwards.

   “Oh, that sounds like exactly what I need,” you said to the person on the phone.

   But your eyes were locked on your lover’s while you brought your fingers all the way up to your underwear, letting them brush lightly over the damp fabric before lifting them to your mouth and then licking them slowly.    He could barely keep himself in his seat by that point, and just when his hands twitched towards you, the person on the other end of your call gave you the news you wanted.

   “Really? That sounds perfect. I look forward to meeting you,” you brightly replied, while breaking eye-contact and pushing off the desk before he’d had a chance to even grace your skin.

   You walked back to the door without so much as a glance in his direction, or giving any indication you intended to help him with what you already knew was a huge problem throbbing in his pants.

   “Let me just get back to my office, and I’ll check my schedule for an appointment,” you carried on, seemingly oblivious to his discomfort as you closed the door behind you.

   Next, you had meetings with two department heads, the second of which was with Public Relations, your least favourite.    Thankfully though, you were in luck this time, because they had a visitor accompanying them, in the form of a young female foreign diplomat, who was actually a very interesting person to talk to.    And after about an hour of showing her around and having a nice conversation, she revealed that she was a big fan of and really wanted to meet the Heroics up close.

   “Unfortunately, they’re in the South China Sea combatting a deep-sea dragon right now, and we don’t expect they’ll be back until later this evening,” you explained, before it occurred to you that this might present another opportunity for you to mess with a certain someone. “However, Mr. Moreno is in the control centre at the moment, coordinating their efforts, if you’d like to see him?”

   As it turned out, your boyfriend was her favourite of all the Heroics, so she was over the moon as you offered to escort her back to Ops.    The team had managed to subdue the dragon by the time you and the diplomat entered the control room, so Marcus was just dealing with their usual bickering when you quietly slipped inside and waited for him to have a moment to spare.

   “Guy, stop being a dick and help the others get that thing into containment,” he sighed into his earpiece shortly after you’d settled into the back of the room behind him.

   “Oh, come on Mo, Lava was way out of line. We do not make fun of each other’s uniforms on this team, and especially not mine!    Make her apologize, or I’m not helping!” Miracle whined, and you saw Marcus’s shoulders slump in what you interpreted as disbelief that he actually had to have this conversation with a grown-ass man.

   “What are you, five years old? I’m not your frickin daddy, deal with it yourself.”

   “But you’re the leader, she has to do what you say!”

   “Oh, really? Since when? And if so, wouldn’t that apply to you too?” your partner griped, running a tired hand over his face.

   “That’s different, I’m special!” Miracle all but screamed through the comms, which was apparently the last straw for the team leader.

   “Oh, you’ve got that right, you motherfu-…”

   “Mr. Moreno, sir!” you loudly cut him off before he could finish. “You have a visitor.”

   He whirled around with a start, to find you and the diplomat approaching him, and quickly scrambled to mute the team before he met you both, since Miracle was now throwing a full-blown tantrum on the other end.    Plastering his “official duties” smile on, he greeted the guest, who was ridiculously happy to meet him.

   He did his best to accommodate her, giving her an autograph and letting her take a selfie with him, but his eyes were constantly darting to you, raking over your form, and you could see him struggle to concentrate.    Especially since you were staring right back at him, remaining absolutely still six feet away with your shoulders squared, hands clasped in front of your hips and your feet close together. Every part of your body-language saying you were unavailable.

   But with your eyes you were saying the exact opposite, and it was as though the contrast only made him that much more enticed, knowing you’d shut him down if he tried anything, but also that you wanted him every bit as much as he did you.    And it probably didn’t help him to know that if not for the eight analysts and operators in the room, he could’ve had you twice already. Because that was the only obstacle to your availability, and he damned well knew it.

   Once the diplomat had gotten enough of his time, you ushered her out, and shot him a final look of pure heat before you disappeared from his view.    Salt in the wounds, perhaps, but he had still not shown any remorse for his actions that morning, and you weren’t gonna let up until he did.

   It was nearing 1pm when you’d finished your second meeting, and by then you were starving. And since you’d promised Marcus you wouldn’t skip meals, you got up from your desk and headed for the door.    But before you could get to it, it slowly swung open and the man himself walked in.    He closed the door behind him and leaned against it for a moment while he stared at you with eyes as dark as night.

   “Please…” he begged, remembering your words from the foyer and probably hoping that if he did what you’d warned you’d make him do, you might take pity on him.

   You walked up to him, stopping just out of his reach, because you still hadn’t heard a word of apology.

   “That depends,” you cautioned, and he quietly waited to find out what you meant. “I haven’t been torturing you all day just for the fun of it. I’ve been trying to teach you a lesson, so whether you get to have me or not depends entirely on whether you learned what the lesson is.”

   “I won’t embarrass you like that again, I’m so sorry,” he hurriedly replied, and since that was pretty much exactly what you’d hoped to hear, you let yourself soften and gave him a warm smile as you closed the distance between you and hugged him.

   “I’m heading out for lunch, wanna join me?” you asked when you pulled back, expecting him to be at least a little proud of you for thinking of your health, but instead, his eyes only darkened further and his grip around you tightened.

   “No. Lunch is fucking cancelled,” he declared, before grabbing your ass hard enough that you had to bite your own tongue to stifle the loud moan you involuntarily let out, while he tugged the fabric of the damned dress out of the way so he could rip your panties off.

   He refrained from tearing the garb to pieces, but your two-o-clock meeting with legal was also cancelled. He’d earned as much.    Once the worst of his craving had subsided, he did take you to a late lunch before unwillingly parting ways again so you could get a little more work done.    But when you met up with him at the end of the day, to drive home, he seemed relaxed and comfortable. He walked you to your car and asked an actual grown-up question.

   “So, about the living situation and the car-pooling and all that. Did we ever come to any decisions?” he wondered, leaning against the back door on the driver’s side, so he wouldn’t be in the way if you decided to get in and drive off.

   “Nope. But honestly, I think we should just take it as it comes.    Right now, all I wanna do is go home with you and make dinner, and just be with you and Missy without worrying about anything,” you replied, and something in the energy he gave off seemed to flicker for a moment, like fireflies, as if your words had triggered some kind of atmospheric buzz centred only around him.

   “I can’t even tell you how happy that makes me,” he smiled, infecting you with his joy until your smile mirrored his.

   “You don’t need to. I can see it,” you said, although you didn’t attempt to explain exactly how, and anyway, he seemed to assume you were referring to his expression. “And thank you, by the way,” you added, remembering you owed him that.

   “For what?” he puzzled, still beaming but with a mildly confused brow.

   “For making sure I’d be so distracted with you today, I wouldn’t have time to think about the pile of work and the responsibility and all the crap trying to drown me.    I’m just sorry I didn’t clock what you were doing until after I’d already abused my power over you for half a fucking day.”

   “That was painful, I can’t deny it. But I brought it on myself, and it did work, so I can’t really be upset about it,” he mused, trying to shrug it off, even though you knew the darkness in his eyes before lunch had been no joke.

   And as if he could tell where your mind had gone, even though you hadn’t felt your features change at all, he reached out and took your chin in his hand, making sure you’d look at him.

   “Hey. I told you the first time you kissed me, you can attack me any time. So long as I get to keep you, I’ll endure anything you throw at me.”

   You didn’t know what to say to that, so you just went with the first thing to come to mind, which was apparently making sure he wasn’t being sweet just so you’d forget about what had started today’s challenge.

   “I was and am dead serious about you not embarrassing me, though. You can kiss me all you like, just not like that. Not in public.”

   “And I really am sorry. It will never happen again,” he promised, and without the craving clouding his features, it was easier to see the honesty in his eyes this time.

   “Okay. Then let’s go home,” you declared, putting your car-keys away rather than unlocking your car.

   He grinned boyishly as he bounced away from it and took your hand, pulling you along as he darted across the lot to his car, where he stole a long and soft kiss from you, before you got in and he set off towards what you both hoped would soon be a shared home.

[magnetic-rose]

please don’t let bad adaptations of sherlock holmes dissuade you from checking out the books. i promise holmes is not nearly as much as an asshole as bbc sherlock and house md makes him out to be. i mean just read this passage and tell me it doesn’t make you smile:

“You know a conjurer gets no credit when once he has explained his trick and if I show you too much of my method of working, you will come to the conclusion that I am a very ordinary individual after all." "I shall never do that," I answered; "you have brought detection as near an exact science as it ever will be brought in this world.” My companion flushed up with pleasure at my words, and the earnest way in which I uttered them. I had already observed that he was as sensitive to flattery on the score of his art as any girl could be of her beauty.”

PLEASE HE’S SO SWEET.

[ashy-writes]

never be.

content info — slight angst; playboy thoma, it kind of gets spicy in the end so watch out for that.

word count — 721 words.

author's note — this was requested by my friend; hope you enjoy reading!! (even though its angst, also sweet boy thoma could never)

Waiting for Thoma to arrive at your usual meeting spot always end up the same, with him waving goodbye at another girl he's taken to dinner to discount his benefits.

You were used to this, you and him both agreed that you would stay as friends even if you did some things that are not meant to happen between friends.

You know that he doesn't take a step further with the other girls– just treating them to dinner and that's it. But you can't help but feel jealous that he was treating others to dinner, but it wasn't your place as you two were just 'friends'.

An arm wrapped itself along your shoulders. "What are you frowning about? Is it because I've kept you waiting long?" Thoma whispers behind your ear.

"T-thoma! You scared the living shit out of me!" You punched his chest out of shock and irritation, Thoma winces and rubs his chest where you punched him.

"Yep– ok i deserved that." You crossed your arms and huffed at Thoma. "So, who was the recent girl?" You tried to ask calmly without jealousy seeping through.

"Oh, that was Yurika, I treated her to dinner to help a traveler and their (emergency food) companion." You and Thoma started walking towards a dango food stand to eat and catch up.

The streets were bustling with busy villagers minding their own business because of that it's easy to get swept off by the pushing crowds.

Suddenly you feel Thoma wrapping his arms around your shoulder and pulling you close towards his warm body.

You can't help but flush against his torso as you were closing to the dango stand. The owner of the stand takes notice of you two coming by and ask. "Ah! Thoma I see you're back, what would you and your partner like?"

"Just two regular sweetened dangos please Mr. Nakahara." Thoma answered, disregarding the man's assumption of you two being together as a couple.

While Mr. Nakahara prepares your order, you can't help but notice that Thoma still has his arm around you keeping him close, even though the streets have somewhat calmed.

When your orders were finished and handed over. You and Thoma decided to roam around the streets of Inazuma, chatting and recollecting past occurrences, laughing while the moon was sky high shinning over the city.

It was now past midnight and most of the townsfolk have retreated back into their homes, while you and Thoma continue to roam the quiet streets.

Thoma sets his gazes on you, admiring how your doe eyes reflect the illuminating lights, he can't help clenching his jaw as he glances down at your plump lips.

He grabs you by the waist and pulls you into a narrow and deserted street. With his one hand gripping on your waist and one hand trapping you between him and a wall.

You see the look on his eyes while he continues to gaze down at your lips, you can't help but wrap your arms around his neck, pulling him down to connect your lips.

Thoma grunts as you hum in satisfaction, feeling your lips connect and bodies flushed against each other, the cool of the night couldn't compare with your bodies heating with lust and want.

Thoma pulls away for a second, gripping on your chin, he grins as he sees you panting for more, he grants you your wish as his tongue part your lips for entrance.

You whine into him feeling his knees, slides between your legs, pressing against your core, you can't help your eyes roll back in delight as you start to succumb in pleasure.

Your lips both part, a clear string only connecting you both, Thoma chuckles lowly, caressing your face as if you'll break with the slightest bit of pressure.

"Why don't we continue this in your place, yeah?" You nod as you were used to this, every night he would take you and give you pleasure, while you just accept it as you know that this was the only way for you to be truly feel loved by him.

He wasn't yours to begin with, you two just do this for the sake of both your needs, although it hurts, you would accept this lie to feel his love even though there's nothing to begin with.

[kueble]

Covered in My Marks

Written as part of the Witcher Writers Unite for Ukraine fundraiser.

Explicit. Warnings: biting (mild blood mention). 2,300 words.

Geraskier

---

The tavern isn't overly crowded, but there are enough people paying attention to him that Jaskier puts on a brilliant show. He steers clear of newer songs and sticks with the classics and a few well-known dirty ones. It's only been a month or so since this - whatever this crazy thing might be - with Geralt started, and he doesn't want to ruin it before it starts. They're alone for the first time since leaving Kaer Morhen, having dropped Yennefer and Ciri with Triss. It feels like coming home, just the two of them and Roach (though a slightly different version) on the road again. As Jaskier wraps up his set, he catches Geralt's eyes from the table in the back and sends him a wink before saying his goodbyes to the crowd.

And this, this is completely different. He's still not used to Geralt smiling back when he grins from across the room, even going so far as to tip his mug in salutation. He can feel his cheeks heating up, and suddenly it's like he's a young lad back at Oxenfurt, tripping over himself while he flirts with his fellow students. There's something about getting everything he's ever wanted that keeps him on his toes, always waiting for Geralt to change his mind. Maybe someday he'll believe the soft words shared between the sheets, but he's not letting his guard down yet. No, Geralt has hurt him plenty already, and he's doing his best to stay practical with this. Jaskier knows he's a fantastic lover, can play his partner's desire as easily as a lute, but he's not used to being kept around. He can't get his hopes up just to have his whole world come crashing down again.

So he doesn't do what past Jaskier would have done - rush right over to his witcher - but makes sure to stop by the bar and talk to the villagers. He's becoming more of a known entity, and he loves meeting people who have heard his songs before. He slings his lute case over his shoulder and sidles up at the bar, right next to a man who immediately shoves a mug of ale into his hands.

"An absolute pleasure! Such a rare thing to see a seasoned bard out this far. Thank you for such a lovely night!" the man says, clapping a hand on Jaskier's shoulder and squeezing it tightly. He's perhaps a bit too close, but sometimes fans get excited. Jaskier nods in thanks and takes a long pull of his drink, letting the hoppy ale soothe his tired throat.

"Always love to hear from a fan," Jaskier beams at him, and the man looks flustered. He starts chattering about Jaskier's history, and it's quite clear he knows a lot about him. It's a sign of how far he's come in the world, how well his hard work and talent has served him, and Jaskier grins widely at the man. He's still getting used to being recognized like this, and it turns out the man owns a book of his poetry. Jaskier can feel himself flushing at the title, one of his filthier anthologies, and suddenly he realizes just how close the stranger is to him.

"I'd be open to a private reading, if you know what I mean," he says with a leer, and Jaskier feels the ale rising up in the back of his throat. He hides his grimace behind the mug and takes a slight step backwards.

"Perhaps the next time we come through, but I'm afraid I've got to return to my companion lest he think I've wandered off again," Jaskier tells him, laughing nervously as the man steps even closer to him, refusing to let him slide away. The room is suddenly hot, and sweat starts beading at the back of his neck. He sucks in a deep breath, and the man seems to mistake it for interest, leaning closer with a smirk.

"I've heard tales of more than just your music," he says gruffly, winking as he reaches out and wraps a heavy hand around Jaskier's upper arm. He flinches, but the man holds him tightly, fingers squeezing even as he tries to pull back. "Why don't we head upstairs and you can show me just how talented that mouth is."

"Terribly sorry, but you've heard wrong," Jaskier manages to grunt out. He's not a weak man, but this stranger is as strong as a witcher, and he is just not letting go. Jaskier tugs at his arm, spilling beer onto the floor, and still goes nowhere. A chill of fear runs down his spine, and he turns to look for Geralt, hoping he's noticed the altercation.

Thankfully, Geralt is already on his way over, his boots thumping as he stomps towards them. He spreads out, like a bird opening its wings, and uses his full size to overshadow the man. He doesn't bother talking first, just shoves at the center of the man's chest, slamming him against the bar and breaking his hold on Jaskier's arm. "He said no," Geralt growls, and the man starts nodding, holding out his hands in defense. As much as Jaskier would love to see Geralt give the man the beating he so rightfully deserves, he deserves a bed tonight, and they can't get kicked out now.

"It's fine," Jaskier says, tugging Geralt's elbow to get his attention. "No need to cause a scene. Let's just head up to the room."

"Apologize."

"I'm sorry! Won't happen again!" the man rushes out, and Jaskier nods sharply.

"See that it doesn't," Geralt says, his voice deep enough that Jaskier can feel it in his gut. He's even more eager to get back to their room now and practically drags Geralt away by the collar. He can feel the tension coming off Geralt in waves, and hopes there's a way to focus all that energy into something a bit more fun. By the time they slam the door behind them, he's buzzing with excitement himself.

"Well that was certainly something, wasn't it?" he asks before peeling out of his doublet. He's about to take his chemise off when Geralt crowds him up against the table, tilting his head as he looks down at his arm.

"He hurt you," Geralt murmurs, and Jaskier can feel the anger in his voice.

"Yes, I fear it will bruise, but I've had worse," he tries to shrug it off, but Geralt won't let him.

"Let me see," he orders, and Jaskier tugs his chemise over his head, wincing when Geralt takes hold of him and inspects his bicep. He looks down and can already see a bruise forming. Several, actually, in the shape of fingers around his arm. He swallows thickly, looking away before his arm starts to sting more than it already does.

"I'm going back down there," Geralt grumbles, but Jaskier reaches out and pulls him close, stopping him from moving.

"Darling, stop. I promise you that it's not worth it," he says gently.

"He hurt you," Geralt says again, his voice cracking as he slumps against Jaskier's chest. He presses his face against Jaskier's throat, breathing deeply while Jaskier holds him. "I don't like seeing you marked up like this. Not from someone like that."

"Well, maybe you should cover them with your marks, then," Jaskier challenges, and Geralt hides a gasp against his skin. Jaskier smirks, knowing he finally found the way to turn the tide, and Geralt takes a shaky breath before pulling back to look at him.

"Do you want that? To be covered in my marks?" he asks slowly, and Jaskier shivers under the intensity of his gaze.

"More than anything," he whispers. "Claim me, Geralt. I'm yours for the taking."

"Mine," Geralt grunts before surging forward and crushing their mouths together.

At first it's too rough, too unaligned, and Jaskier can feel just how desperate Geralt is even though they haven't started yet. He cups Geralt's face, nipping at his lower lip before kissing him again. This time they fit together like a lock and key, mouths sliding against each other as Geralt licks the seam of Jaskier's lips. He opens for him, moaning as Geralt deepens the kiss and starts pushing him towards the bed. By the time they reach it, his laces are halfway undone and Geralt is rutting against his thigh, whining deep in his chest. Jaskier cries out as he's tossed on the bed, giggling as he tries to shove his trousers off and they get caught on his boots.

"You're a mess," Geralt chuckles, before dropping to his knees and tugging at Jaskier's boots. He's about to defend his honor, but then Geralt turns and nips at his inner thigh, and Jaskier loses the ability to form words. He slams back against the bed, hips bucking as Geralt sucks a hickey into the sensitive skin. He hardly registers his boots coming off, but suddenly he's fully naked and Geralt is standing up and grinning smugly down at him.

He doesn't even bother getting undressed, just climbs onto the bed and picks up Jaskier, manhandling him up to the head of it. A surge of heat rushes through him, and he feels almost small as Geralt moves him exactly where he wants him. He straddles Jaskier, grinding down against his leaking cock, his leather armor streaked and wet by the time he sits back on his heels. Jaskier reaches for him, but Geralt shakes his head and brings his hands up above his head before grunting out a rough, "Keep them here."

"Yeah, yes...anything," Jaskier mumbles, head going fuzzy as Geralt takes control. This isn't what he'd imagined would happen after the altercation downstairs, but he's definitely on board. He tries to buck his hips, but Geralt just growls, stopping him mid movement. "Got it, I can play nice," he drawls out, and Geralt just leers down at him. He can feel his gaze down to his bones, and his prick twitches against his thigh.

"Mine," Geralt repeats, and Jaskier nods frantically, hoping he might finally get Geralt's hands on him. He's only slightly disappointed when instead Geralt leans down and mouths at the bruises forming around his bicep. "Only mine," he adds before raking his teeth over the marks.

Jaskier shivers in anticipation, already trembling though he's barely been touched. Fuck, he wished Geralt owned him, only wanted him. Maybe he's not lying? Maybe this is all more real than Jaskier ever thought it would be? Those thoughts are shoved out of his head the second Geralt bites him, his fangs almost breaking skin. He keens, leaning into the touch but somehow managing to keep his hands above his head. Geralt reaches out and palms his cheek, petting him as he moves from one bruise to the next, covering the stranger's marks with his own.

His cock is so hard it's throbbing, leaking steadily and making a mess of him. Jaskier whines, clasping his hands together to keep from reaching out and touching Geralt. His bicep is on fire, the heady mix of pleasure and pain burning in just the right way. Geralt shifts, straddling one thigh, and starts rocking gently against him. He can feel the hard press of his prick through the leather, and Jaskier knows they're both close.

"Geralt, please...fuck," Jaskier manages to choke out, his words failing as his body buzzes. "Need, please. Fuck, let me come."

Geralt is merciful, reaching down to wrap his calloused fingers around Jaskier's cock. He pumps him slowly, mouthing at the fresh bite marks on his arm while he does. Jaskier is close - so fucking close - and Geralt works him just how he likes it. He falls apart when Geralt kisses the deepest bite and thumbs the wet head of his cock. Body arching, he shouts Geralt's name as he spills over his hand. Geralt works him through it, murmuring praise against his skin while he jerks him roughly, perfectly.

By the time he can think again, Geralt is already standing up to find a rag to wipe him down with. He sits up and tilts his head at him before asking, "What about you?"

"Not necessary," Geralt mumbles, cheeks reddening as he sends Jaskier a sheepish look. And fuck if that isn't just the hottest thing that's ever happened to him. Geralt came in his trousers like a young lad just from jerking him off. Melitele's tits, he's in love.

"Grab the slick on your way back to bed," Jaskier tells him, and Geralt looks confused, but he rifles through his bag to find it. He's probably thrown because, yeah, they've gotten off a lot, but never twice in one night. It's been hard finding time while traveling with others, and sneaking away for blowjobs by the riverbank doesn't lend itself to more than one round. Geralt slides into bed, and looks like he's about to speak, so Jaskier cuts him off. "I just figured it might be a good time to admit that I'm madly in love with you," he whispers, heart hammering in his chest.

"Me too," Geralt says quickly, and then they're kissing again. It's softer this time, for all that Jaskier is still covered in his own spend. He takes his time, laying back and dragging Geralt down on top of him. They spend ages trading lazy kisses, hands trailing over sweat-slicked skin. Soon he'll beg Geralt to open him up and fuck him, braced against the headboard while Geralt claims him yet again. After all, he has a lot of blank canvas that needs to be marked up.

---

NSFW tags: @tothedesert @mayastormborn @feraljaskier @allinthebones @selectivegeekwithstandards @trickstermoose67 @dapandapod @theweirdlynx @tedrakitty @sharinalein @iamaqt314 @silvermintnightprincess @honeysuckletook @rockysstupidity @live-long-and-trek-on @larawrmonster @thesynysterunknown @rebard-main @gryffinqueen-blog @fangirleaconmigo @mothmanismyuncle @fontegagrilledcheese @thestarkwinter @lokibus @geraltrogerericduhautebellegarde @221birl1823 @strippiluolamies @concussed-dragon @aurelia-which-means-sunrise @clarebear66 @feral-jaskier @hayleynzlive @answrs @jaskierswolf @holymotherwolf @thisislisa

If you’d like to be added/removed, please let me know.  Thank you!

[gingersnaaps]

tetraphobia

maybe seijoh's revenge doesn't always have to be on the court. maybe seijoh's revenge can come in the form of fucking kageyama's sweet little girlfriend.

wc: 3.3k

tags/tw's(PLEASE READ): explicit n*fw, noncon, gangbang, mindbreak, victim blaming/guilt, forced infidelity, hints of sadism, anal, double penetration, deepthroat, cunnilingus, sorta overstim? idk this is very nasty, fem!reader with inner genitals, timeskip!characters

a/n: this is for @somecravings' gangbang collab! this work features the seijoh four.

i don’t want minors interacting with my content

“I wonder where Tobio-chan found himself such a cute girlfriend.”

The words freeze you in your tracks.

A tall, well-built, man leans against the wall of the hotel hallway, the cramped space making him loom large in front of you. You think he’s a stranger at first - but a closer look at the waves of his chestnut hair, his molten hazel eyes - and memories of the pictures Tobio had shown you flood back into your mind.

Oikawa Tooru, he’d told you. Teammates at Kitagawa Daiichi, and then rivals at Karasuno and Aoba Johsai. I took away his last chance to make it to nationals in high school. Now he’s on Argentina’s national team. Looked up to him a lot, but we had a… strained relationship.

His eyes flicker back to the faded yearbook photos, an unmistakable note of bitterness in his voice.

The very same Oikawa Tooru from his pictures stands in the hallway leading to your hotel room, arms crossed and eyes glittering with amusement.

Almost as if he’d been waiting there for you.

“He’s out celebrating his win, isn’t he?” he says, cocking his head to one side. “Along with the rest of his team.”

He steps closer, walking towards you until he’s mere feet away. You can see where the hem of his blue jersey peeks out from beneath his jacket, the white of his teeth glinting as he grins. Up close, he’s even more intimidating, and you suppress the sudden surge of discomfort that crawls beneath your skin.

Your eyes flit back and forth, eyebrows creasing in confusion. “Is there something you need?”

“Yes,” he says, his hand reaching out to stroke gently along your cheek. “I was wondering if you could do me a favor, sweetheart.”

Panic seizes you when his cold, calloused, fingertips brush lightly along your skin, your heart thudding as discomfort rips through your body. You don’t know what his intentions are, but his words scare you. There’s nothing genuine about his tone, nothing kind, and years of too-close encounters with men have left you wary and alert. His touch is invasive, contemptuous, mocking, and you jerk away from his hand in an attempt to backpedal-

Warm hands clamp down around your shoulders in an iron grip. Your heart sinks as you realize you’ve got nowhere to go, dread seeping into every vein in your body.

“I’m a little late. Sorry.”

The voice at your ear is a low rasp, his tone nonchalant, but you can hear the message that undercuts it as clear as day: you’re not going anywhere.

“Don’t worry about it, Iwa,” Oikawa says, fingers curling around your chin, tilting your face up forcefully until you’re staring directly into his eyes. “You got here just in time to help me out. She looked like she was about to run away for a while there. Can you imagine?”

The man behind you - Iwaizumi Hajime, you recall - chuckles. “Wouldn’t get very far.”

Your blood runs cold at the implication of his words. Your stomach churns, an awful, nauseous feeling that makes you feel sick, shoulders tensing as you struggle against Iwaizumi’s hold.

“Hey,” he warns quietly. “Don’t make this harder on yourself.”

His words almost make you want to laugh; he says them like he’s trying to help you, like he genuinely cares about your well-being. You remember the late-night talks you and Kageyama would have, the ones where he’d describe his days spent in middle school, secluded and walled off from the other players on his team. There was always one name he spoke with a particular reverence: Iwaizumi Hajime. Tough. Strong. Kind. A good man, he’d emphasized. I’m glad he was there during those years.

Well, this certainly was a reality check, wasn't it?

He removes his hands from your shoulders and wraps an arm around your waist, keeping you pressed close to his side, as if a reminder of you how powerless you are in this position. “Come on, baby,” he says. “Let’s go.”

“It’d be rude to keep Makki and Mattsun waiting any longer."

Oikawa slides his fingers into yours until the two of you are holding hands, humming happily as Iwaizumi escorts you down the hall towards your own hotel room. It takes every last ounce of self-control to stop yourself from crying and screaming on the spot, to hold back the tears that threaten to spill over, to save yourself the embarrassment of breaking down pathetically as these people - these assholes - watch.

You get the feeling that they’re not going to leave you alone out of pity.

They escort you to your hotel room, passing by rows and rows of rooms that blur as your vision tunnels. Their presence is suffocating; Oikawa’s fingers brush against your wrist, rubbing tender circles into your skin, and you can feel Iwaizumi's warm breath on the crown of your head.

Oikawa grabs the key card from your purse, sliding it into the scanner, and pushes the door open when it lights up green.

Your heart stills with fear as they drag you inside, flicking the light switch open until the room glows softly.

There’s two more people sitting in the bed.

A tall, lanky man waves in acknowledgement, nudging his companion in the side as his eyes flicker appraisingly over you.

The other man looks up, tossing his phone aside, blowing aside a stray strand of strawberry-pink hair.

“Hmm. I hate to say this, but Oikawa was right,” he says, a wry grin on his face. “What a pretty girl.”

You feel so vulnerable with four pairs of eyes roaming over every inch of your body, your mind running rampant with fear and anticipation as they admire and scrutinize. And you’d be right to be scared, because there’s so much they can’t wait to do, so much of you they’ve been dying to explore, so many of their little fantasies that they’ve been waiting for the right girl to help them act out.

You’ll help them out, won’t you?

Without warning, there’s a pair of hands on your waist insistently pushing you downwards, applying steady pressure until your legs collapse and you’re forced to your knees.

“So impatient, Iwa.” Oikawa clicks his tongue, shaking his head. “You won’t even let her get settled in?”

There‘s a huff of annoyance above you. “The more you talk, the less I’m going to enjoy this.”

“Alright, alright.”

Oikawa slides a hand onto the back of your neck, the other moving to grip your hair. His touch is gentle, fingers stroking along your pulse point, but you know it won’t last if you misbehave. You have no illusions about the kind of person he is, not when his hands maneuver your mouth and throat into nothing more than a warm fleshlight for his friend.

Iwaizumi palms himself in front of your face, hands skimming over the bulge in his jeans as he groans in pleasure, and pulls out his half hard cock, veins throbbing and flushed with arousal. Cupping your face in his hand, he fits the tip to your soft lips and tilts your chin upwards to meet his piercing, lust-filled eyes, his gaze swirling with want.

“Open up for me like a good girl, okay?” he growls.

You can’t help the way your cunt pulses at his tone, an intoxicating rush of fear and desire that leaves your mind hazy and mouth dropping open. He doesn’t waste the opportunity, pushing his cock into your warm, wet, mouth, a moan falling from his lips as he thrusts his hips forwards. You retch at the intrusion, instinctively jerking your head backwards, but Oikawa’s grip on your neck tightens as he holds you in place. He crouches down, lips finding your ear as Iwaizumi starts sliding in and out of your mouth.

“Don’t worry,” he whispers, warm breath sending shivers down your spine. “If you take it like you’re supposed to, he won’t last too long.”

At those words, his hands push your head forward, impaling your throat on his cock, holding you down as you choke and drool and retch. Your eyes redden as silvery tears drip through your lashes, panic rising, vision turning to static, the pain in your lungs growing unbearable as Oikawa’s smile turns razor sharp. “Atta girl,” he encourages softly, his thumb wiping away one of the tears running down your cheek. “I think he’s gonna cum soon if you keep this up.”

If you keep this up. As if you have a choice.

Iwaizumi’s thrusts grow more erratic, fucking you rougher and faster as he slams in and out of your throat. “Fuck,” he curses under his breath. “Such a good fucking girl for me. Got such a - such a perfect little mouth, taking me so well,” he says, breath catching.

Just like Oikawa had predicted, he doesn’t last much longer after that, hips stuttering when he spills down your waiting throat. He tastes warm and slightly salty, the last few drops of his cum dripping down your chin as he presses a thumb to your lips and wipes away the drool collecting at the corner.

There’s a horrible, sinking, feeling settling inside you as he grabs the collar of your shirt and hoists you up with him onto the bed, your limbs going limp as you let him press an open-mouthed kiss to your trembling lips, his tongue slipping inside of your slack mouth.

You feel used.

Up close to Iwaizumi, you can see the flush of arousal coloring his bronzed cheeks, the sheen of sweat on his forehead, all the physical evidence of just how good you made him feel, and your stomach churns.

Your thoughts are interrupted when you feel fingers softly stroking at your clit, light, teasing strokes back and forth that leave you whimpering. A twinge of arousal pulses in your cunt as you hear words murmured against your inner thigh.

“Didn’t even try to fight back, did you?” There’s a gentle laugh from the pink-haired man beneath you, soft and terrifying, and the light brushes turn into more insistent circles. “It’s almost like you wanted it.”

Iwaizumi’s tongue curls deeper into your mouth as he deepens the kiss, leaving you gasping for breath.

“I had no idea you’d turn out to be such a slut,” he hums, mouth latching onto your thigh. “Although I’m really not complaining.”

“C’mon, Makki, don’t be so mean to her,” Iwaizumi chuckles, his teeth scraping roughly against your lips.

“I’m only telling the truth.”

The fingers circling your pussy creep upwards, grabbing onto your hips and pushing you down against the mattress. “Keep those legs spread nice and open for me, okay?” Makki says, voice sweet and cloying.

When the flat of his tongue brushes against your clit, his breath huffing warm on your folds, your thighs twitch involuntarily. It’s as if he’s made it his mission to eat you out as slow and light as possible, his kitten-licks and teasing strokes sliding along your folds and circling around your sweet spots without ever truly giving you the satisfaction that your cunt craves.

And he can tell you’re starting to break.

As Iwaizumi’s mouth moves down to suck at your neck, lips brushing along the erratic heartbeat of your pulse point, your hips jerk upwards against Makki’s waiting mouth as a moan slips out from between your lips.

He sucks at your aching clit, the steady, constant pressure making you writhe in his grasp. “Cute little cunt wants more, doesn’t i?” he coos.

You don’t dare say a word, face flushed with embarrassment as you bite your inner cheek in embarrassment. Makki’s right.

He’s right, and you hate that he’s right, hate how good he’s making you feel with every long, languid, lick, with every brush of his lips that leaves your walls throbbing in search of more.

A hand picks up your limp wrist, guiding your fingers until they wrap around something warm and hard, something incredibly thick and so, so, long -

You freeze as you realize it’s a cock.

“Mattsun’s blessed, isn’t he?” Makki laughs from between your thighs. “Maybe now you’ll understand that I’m really trying to do you a favor. We want these sheets stained with cum, not blood.”

You swallow nervously. That monster cock, so big you can barely fit your hand around it, is going inside you.

You’re paralyzed with dread, not even bothering to fight back as he maneuvers your palm up and down along his length, wrapping his much larger hand around yours as he uses your fist to help jerk him off.

All the revulsion in the world can’t stop the slow, mounting, wave of pressure building inside your core, growing stronger as Makki sucks with more force against your clit. Crooked fingers push inside your slick, needy, hole, his nimble digits searching and prodding, the pads of his fingertips rubbing insistently at your g-spot.

“See?” he murmurs. “‘m making you feel so good. You’re gonna be nice and ready when I’m done with you.”

You want to scream. You feel like a whore for enjoying anything at all; bile and guilt rising in your throat as white-hot arousal throbs in your cunt.

You’re strung out along the edge when you feel another mouth descending on your body, a tongue flicking out to tease at your nipple. You see a flash of chestnut brown hair as Oikawa looks up at you, a smirk curving at the corners of his mouth, almost as if he knows exactly what he’s doing, knows where your limits are and how to push right past them.

It’s too much for you to handle, too much for you to take. Three mouths ravage your body, tongues flicking out to lick at your neck and suck at your nipples and drag along your clit, silky and sensual against your soft skin, all while your slack hand pumps steadily along the shaft of a huge cock.

When an orgasm rips through your body, it’s like something stolen, something taken from you, and as your hips buck and thrash wildly, an emptiness settles in your stomach after you’re all fucked out from their ministrations.

What’s wrong with you?

At this point, you don’t feel like much more than a sex doll for the four men, all spread out and useless as you lay your head in Iwaizumi’s lap. He strokes gently at your hair, brushing a stray strand out of your face.

You barely even react as Mattsun manhandles you up, large hands positioning your hips until the head of his fully hard cock sits at your entrance, sliding just the tip into your loosened, clenching, hole.

“Ready?” he asks, his half-lidded eyes glinting with amusement.

He doesn’t really care about your answer.

“One… two… three.”

He forces you down on his cock, pushing your hips further and further down as you squirm and struggle and moan from the stretch. Your mind goes foggy as you feel the drag of his cock against the front of your walls, burying itself so deep in your cunt you can almost feel it in your stomach.

Mattsun likes it when his dick makes girls feel good, of course, when he fucks them better than their boyfriends, when he makes them cream and gush after barely moving.

He likes it better when he makes girls go stupid.

As he looks down at you, a warm rush of arousal twists in his gut. Your eyelids flutter in pleasure, mouth open and panting, small hands fisting at his shirt as you moan softly. It’s just too big for you to take, isn’t it? You can't handle being used like a pretty fuckdoll, or eaten out until you cream, or to be impaled on a cock so nice and big you can barely think straight. A string of drool falls from the corner of your mouth, but he doesn’t bother cleaning it up. You look better ruined, he thinks.

You’re dragged out of your fucked-out daze when a voice crawls into your ear, taunting and cruel, and a warm dick presses and slides along your ass.

“Bet Kageyama’s never tried this before,” Oikawa says.

A spurt of terror grips you as you hear the thinly-veiled anticipation in his voice, his fingers trembling with excitement as they grope at your ass.

He holds back a laugh at the way you freeze, shuddering in a mixture of fear and pleasure as Mattsun rolls his hips up and thrusts his cock even deeper. He knows he guessed right, judging from your cute little reaction, a high-pitched, pathetic whimper dropping from your lips as brushes his cock against your hole.

He hopes it hurts.

When he presses in, it’s a slow, aching, stretch that leaves you feeling raw and split wide open. Unlike the dull pain from Mattsun’s cock, this one is a searing, brutal, torment, a stinging intrusion in your tight hole that forces a choked gasp from your lungs.

“Wish your boyfriend could see us right now,” he breathes, pressing a gentle kiss to the crook of your neck. “Feels so good squeezing my cock, so fucking nice and tight.”

Tobio.

Panic races along your veins. Your chest rises and falls rapidly, breasts bouncing slightly as your breaths come shallow and rapid.

“I can’t imagine how he’d feel - seeing his perfect little angel getting stuffed so full in both her precious holes.”

The tightness in your chest bursts as tears stream down your face, cries and moans coming out thick and stuffy as you sob. You know he’s right. It didn’t matter that it was forced, that you said you didn’t want it - you already came once, didn’t you? And judging by the tense pleasure pulsing at your clit, you were due for another sooner or later.

Oikawa laughs. “It’d be awful if he came back right now, wouldn’t it? Just in time to watch his precious little girlfriend getting raped by his former senpai.”

Mattsun snickers, bring a hand up to swipe at your clit. “Look,” he says softly, tilting your head until you lock eyes with Makki.

He’s fisting his cock rapidly, a hungry, predatory, expression on his face, tongue darting out to lick at his lips as he lets out a pleasured groan.

It’s better than almost any of his gross little fantasies. He’s not sure his favorite porn videos will ever be able to compare to the sight of you being fucked stupid and split in two by his friends, two cocks sliding in and out of your tired holes as you cry.

You squeeze your eyes shut as the first waves of the orgasm begin to roll over you. Mattsun’s deft, long, fingers toy with your clit, stroking you insistently through the wild jerking of your hips as he feels your walls fluttering and creaming around the base of his dick. The pleasure is intense, unbearable, almost impossible to hold back, even as disgust crawls beneath your skin at the feeling of being stretched wide open.

Maybe they were right.

All those times you’d thought about what you’d do if this happened, every single night when you’d lie awake and tell yourself, i’ll fight back. i’ll resist. i’ll make them regret ever forcing me -

They were all lies.

Oikawa feels a sick sense of satisfaction as he watches the turmoil in your expression. He can tell by the slump of your shoulders, the bitterness in your gaze, the way you turn over to your side and curl up into a fetal position - they broke you, turned you into a mindless, slutty, fuckdoll, showed you who you really were.

Kageyama can have you back now. He’ll come into this hotel room, horrified at the sight of you passed out and naked, and call the police. Maybe he’ll help wash you up, bring you a cup of tea as you sob and insist that it wasn’t your fault. Maybe he’ll even believe you, despite the way you’ve stained the sheets.

But things won’t ever really be the same for you.

They made sure of it.

if you liked this, reblogs and comments are highly appreciated! my inbox is always open :)

[silkenstarlight]

wild cherry sweet

Summary: Bucky and Reader have to dress up for a mission. Bucky likes Reader’s look, maybe a little bit too much.

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x agent!reader

Warning/s: smut (18+ only, minors dni); dirty talk, oral (male receiving)

Word count: 1.9k

Find part two here

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Author’s note: i have really been wanting to buy some red lipstick recently so this may or may not have been inspired by that oops

Do not repost! Likes and reblogs are welcome and encouraged :))

“You are breathtaking.”

You turned away from the bathroom mirror, leaning against the counter and meeting Bucky’s gaze with your own. His eyes raked up and down your body, clad in a slinky, silken dress that shone bright beneath the fluorescence and clung to your every curve like liquid. You smirked at his gawking eyes and raised brows, carefully wiping the excess lipstick that bled from the corner of your mouth with your pointer finger. That motion drew his attention upward, his eyes settling on the plump set of your mouth, painted a sultry, deep shade of scarlet.

He huffed a breath and shook his head, trying to form the right words to compliment you, but they seemed to instantly evaporate from his tongue the moment he opened his mouth. Instead, he walked towards you, taking your hands in his and stroking his thumbs against your soft skin, laughing at himself as he gaped like a fish out of water in response to your beauty.

“Well, you don’t look too bad yourself.” You jutted your chin slightly at his suit, a neatly-pressed, all-black ensemble that only seemed to further enhance the icy blue shade of his eyes. 

“Thank you,” he said, voice low and hoarse. He leaned closer, pressing his lips to your ear. “Lipstick’s a good look on you.”

You shuddered, pressing your body closer to his warmth and rocking your hips into his. When he started kissing that sweet spot at the juncture between your jaw and your ear, you couldn’t help but let a breathy moan escape your lips.

This had been your plan all along, of course. You didn’t wear a full face of makeup often, usually foregoing the glamorous, airbrushed look for the bare-skinned practicality of moisturizer and sunscreen. Your job as an agent required you to be on the ball, willing to give up the remainder of your day for the sake of a mission, oftentimes on just a moment’s notice. You couldn’t afford the time and effort of beautification with an occupation that required so much blood, sweat, and tears on the daily. But, tonight was different. Tonight, you and Bucky were preparing for a different kind of mission than either of you were used to.

The GRC was hosting an exclusive gala, invitations to which were only granted to the wealthiest elites in the country. Politicians and A-listers would surely be in attendance, secretly and silently admitting their support of the GRC’s eviction of post-Blip refugees. Such an event was bound to attract some hostility, whether through hush-hush internal transactions between its elite, yet seedy, attendees, or from some outside menace, like the lurking risk of a re-established force of flag smashers. You and Bucky both decided that it would be prudent to attend, just in case you were dealing with fraud or a full-blown terror threat. You both wanted to be ready, to be able to face whatever troubles may arise, from the inside. So, you had to look the part.

You had chosen the dress with the event’s black-tie dress code in mind, of course, but the lipstick was all for him. You had been picking up the bare necessities at the mall, a tube of concealer and a new type of mascara, when the red-gradient display of lipsticks caught your eye. Every shade, ranging from coral to plum, offered a different mask, a slight variant on the character you would be playing the night of the gala. Would you be the coquettish twenty-something, all bright, glossy, and new? Or, would you be the mysterious seductress, daubed in smokey shades of maroon?

After a few moments of careful deliberation, one shade in particular had caught your eye, and your lips twitched into a small grin. You plucked the tube from the shelf. Velvet ribbon red, its label read. A deep, sultry shade, reminiscent of the garnet, wine-soaked tones that were so popular in the ‘40’s. The natural shade to choose, of course, for Bucky Barnes’s companion.

Now, you felt his hands release yours, grasping the fabric at your hips with greedy hands. He continued kissing your neck in a blatant, hungry display of need, lips bowed in a slight, mocking smile when he heard the soft moans that his affection pulled from you. You gripped the edge of the counter tightly with one hand, desperate for purchase, and dragged your other hand up his abdomen, settling your fingers lightly on his chest.

He drew his teeth against your neck and sucked lightly, and you were sure that he was trying to leave a mark, a flagrant signifier to the attendees of the gala you were already late to that you belonged to him, and him only. When he pulled away, examining the petechiae he had branded on your skin, you brought both hands in front of you, tracing them down his front in a flirtatious caress and settling on the buckle of his belt. You leaned forward, pressing your forehead to his, taking in his blown pupils as you adeptly released his buckle and unzipped his pants. In a sudden gesture of dominance, you pushed him back to the opposite wall, directing him by the hips. When his back hit the wall, he let out a soft, purring laugh, pleased by your control. He pecked you on the lips, a quick and chaste gesture that contrasted with the unexpectedly sensuous direction the evening was heading into, and you slowly lowered to your knees, maintaining eye contact with him the whole time, pulling his pants down slightly to expose his underwear.

You braced your hands against his quads, running your fingertips up and down his legs in a slow, teasing motion that made his jaw clench. He balled his fists at his sides, not ready to usurp control from you just yet. You simpered, proud of the fact that you had this man coming undone in the palm of your hand, without having even touched his cock yet.

Soon, though, you brought your mouth close enough to his lower half that he could feel the heat of your breath through the thin fabric layer of his underwear. His eyes fluttered closed in anticipation, hips rocking towards your face, and he combed his fingers loosely through your hair, tugging lightly to grant you permission to keep going. It was sweet, the way he was simultaneously so respectful of your boundaries, but so eager to feel your mouth on him. Neither of you cared that it would ruin your makeup, that after this, you would be late for the gala. You both craved a distraction from the nerves that accompanied a mission like this.

You dragged your fingernails along the waistband of his underwear, leaving light scratching marks across his lower abdomen. He moaned softly, a sound that you hoped to sear in your memory forever. And then, you reached inside, pulling his already-erect cock from the tented, taught fabric. The tip glowed an angry red, already leaking pre-cum.

You looked up at him through your lashes and flattened your tongue against his base, dragging it all the way up to his tip. He gripped your hair tighter, the delicious pull of your hair taught in his fist driving you to swirl your tongue around his tip and take him slowly in your mouth.

“Goddamnit,” he muttered as you slowly began to bob your head up and down his length. “Gonna ruin that pretty makeup of yours.”

You pulled back to respond, lips separating from his cock with a satisfying, wet pop! “‘S’alright,” you slurred, palming him roughly with your hand, fingernails dragging against sensitive skin to offer the perfect balance between pleasure and pain. He bucked into your grasp, breath stilling in his throat, and you smiled, sucking the tip of his cock back into your mouth.

You worked him slowly into your mouth, until he hit the back of your throat and only a couple of inches remained outside of your mouth. He noticed this, eagerly watching your progress, and took control, holding your head against him, applying a gentle pressure until you slid down the rest of his length. When your lips pressed against his base, you gagged slightly, inhaling deeply through your nose. You maintained eye contact the whole time, even as your eyes pooled with tears from the strain of looking up.

“What a good fucking girl,” he groaned, rolling his hips against your mouth and smearing your lipstick on his skin in a vulgar imprint of wet, lusty red. You felt a wet, needy warmth accumulating in your core at his acknowledgement, but you kept your hands firmly rooted at his hips, so desperate to please him. “What would people say if they knew you were such a slut for me?” His voice was gruff but lilting and playful, as if he knew that this turned you on as much as it did him.

Finally, he released the pressure, pulling back to let you breathe. After a few seconds, though, you increased your pace, guiding one hand down to his balls and gently massaging them. He closed his eyes again, lost in the tantalizing sensations of your tongue, but he held back, refusing to let the slow and steady pistoning of his hips devolve into the frenzied motion he so desperately desired to adopt in order to finish. Your cheeks hollowed against him, sucking hard, granting him permission to let go.

He understood. Short, shallow movements quickly turned into deeper thrusts, punctuated by quiet moans that rose in pitch as he came closer and closer to coming undone.

“Gonna paint you with my come. You’d like that, wouldn’t you?”

You couldn’t respond verbally, could only stare up at him as his cock breached the entrance to your throat in faltering, uneven motions. That was the final straw. His grip on your hair tightened and he held your head down flush against him, cock pulsing, as his orgasm ripped through him. One final, unabashed and guttural groan escaped his lips as he succumbed to his ecstasy and painted the back of your throat with ropes of come. You mirrored his sound, moaning around him with an enticing vibration.

He held his length inside your mouth for a few seconds, still holding your head against him, not ready to let you retreat just yet. But as his cock grew sensitive, he pulled back with a quiet, overstimulated moan. Your mouth felt empty without him, lipstick smears and strings of spit painting your face in a satisfied, sexed-out portrait of lust. He beamed with pride, hooking his hands under your elbows and pulling you up to your feet before pressing his lips firmly against yours in a gesture of gratitude.

You broke the kiss, cradling his face in your hand. Laughter bubbled in your throat, and, seeing your light-hearted demeanor, he began to chuckle. You stood like that for a minute, laughing in each others’ arms, momentarily uncaring about upcoming missions or smeared makeup.

He took a deep, yet shaky, exhale, and smirked. “Well, we’d better get you cleaned up. Those mascara tracks are pretty telling, and we’re already late.”

You shrugged. “Worth it.”

He brought his hand up to your face, cradling your cheek and wiping the messy smudge of lipstick from the corner of your mouth.

“Oh, absolutely.”

Part two

[minor-solemnity]

yay you're taking requests!! i would lovee if you could doing a tom and reader pair. something fluffy, maybe when he wants to make sure he didn't hurt her during sexy time😳 idk something along the lines of aftercare. love you bb

Ahh thank you and yesss aftercare, fluff, comfort - all my favourite things! I hope you enjoy this because I had a lot of fun writing it haha <3

Tag List: @naps-and-lemons @jinxqsu @riddles-wifey @cakesarecute @mainlynonsense

Companion Fic: Truth Will Out

Tender, We Lay Bound

“Darling, you were perfect,” He murmurs. He tilts your head upwards and you take in his expression, concerned and fond and proud. Of you - Tom’s proud of you, and that realisation does wonders in settling your nerves. “Come here, let me look after you.”

You flop back against the soft pillows and immediately begin to burrow under the covers, feeling sated and glowing in the aftermath of your orgasm. What you want right now is a hug and to fall asleep in Tom’s arms. Tom it seems has other ideas though and you poke your head out from under the duvet, still feeling hazy and dizzy and slightly giddy. You watch with mild curiosity and confusion as he roots around in his bedside table drawer for a few seconds before he finds what he’s looking for. He passes you a small vial, not dissimilar from the one that he’d given you earlier, except the vial you're holding now is full of something that looks like mercury.

It’s at this point that your euphoric daze begins to lift and the gravity of what you’ve just done begins to set in, burying itself deep in your stomach and churning uncomfortably. You down the potion and the last effects of the Veritaserum lifts - your tongue feels like your own again and you know that if Tom were to ask you anything right now, it would only be his scarily accurate ability to weed out untruths that would stop you from lying. Well, that and the fact that you don’t like lying to him anyway.

The vial drops from your hands and you stare blankly at the canopy of his bed, willing the array of emotions that tumble around inside of you to still and calm. It’s no use though, now that you’ve started thinking about it and the implications of what you’ve done - what you’ve said - you can’t stop. You reach for Tom because of course, you do, and when you find him, you don’t let go.

“I… Was that okay?” You ask, and of course, what you’re really asking is if you were okay, if he’s pleased with you. You feel him shift and then his arms are wrapping around your torso, rubbing gentle, reassuring strokes down your sides as he pulls you close. Despite the slow rising anxiety inside you, you smile when he presses his lips against your forehead, the heat and weight of his body, and the calm, confident strokes of his hands are reassuring in a way that is impossible to fully describe.

“Darling, you were perfect,” He murmurs. He tilts your head upwards and you take in his expression, concerned and fond and proud. Of you - Tom’s proud of you, and that realisation settles your nerves as nothing else can. “Come here, let me look after you.” You press yourself close to him, throwing a leg over his hip and nestling against his side, your fingers splayed across his chest as he brushes your hair, damp with sweat, away from your eyes.

You stay like that, slotted together in quiet, peaceful silence for a few minutes, as your breathing deepens and a drowsy contentedness begins to take root and grow inside of you, overshadowing the worry you had been feeling earlier. Eventually, he shifts and you cling to his side, entirely unwilling to let him leave, but all he does is reach over and take a glass of water from his bedside table which he presses into your hands. “Drink this, you’ll feel better, I promise.” He watches you intently as you take a couple of gulps and pass it back to him, and you’re struck by how caring he’s being. It’s not a side of Tom that many people get to see; he’s an enigma to most other people. Polite, charming, a little distant, and very intimidating when he wants to be, but with you, he’s softer. Especially in moments like this when all his energy is focused on your wellbeing and happiness.

“Did I push you too far?” He asks at last, and you almost don’t want to answer. Because you’re honestly not sure - you’ve never been very good at talking about your feelings, something that you know annoys Tom, who wants to know every part of you as intimately as he can. You’re certain that’s why he wanted to use the Veritaserum - to allow you to tell him your wants and desires without the culpability of free will to get in the way.

You mull over your words carefully before answering, “It was… a lot?” And then, because he stiffens slightly, you continue, “I… You know I’m not good at telling you what I want. It’s embarrassing and I get scared that you’ll—” Realise that you’re not the person he wants. Find someone better. Leave. “—judge me, I guess.” He makes a low noise of protest in the back of his throat and a soft chuckle escapes you at the sound. “I enjoyed it though? I guess I’m surprised at how much I enjoyed it.” Without the Veritaserum in your system to force you to be honest, this admission feels far more important than any of the things you’d told him earlier. Honesty for the sake of honesty is not something you’re all that familiar with and you can tell by the way that Tom smiles, soft and indulgent and maybe a little smug that his plan worked the way he wanted it to, that he’s appreciative of you’re telling him the truth.

He passes you the water again and you drink obediently. Now that you’re more aware of your surroundings, you notice the way he watches you, taking in your every move and action no matter how minor, his eyes flickering across your face as though he’s trying to catalogue and dissect every micro-expression. His attentiveness and care fans the warm flame of love and happiness that burn bright inside of you whenever you’re near him. His expression grows serious for a moment and he reaches out to run his thumb across your cheek, curving your jaw before he twines a lock of your hair around his fingers. “I would never have suggested it if I didn’t think you’d enjoy it.” He says. “You have so many delicious thoughts hidden from me. I want to know all of them - all of you - and I’d never judge you for your desires.” Sincerity laces his voice, and though you know that he is an excellent liar, capable of hoodwinking almost anyone, you also know that he won’t lie to you about this. “Everything you told me tonight, can really only endear me to you more.”

A faint flush creeps up your neck and along your cheeks at his words and you bury your face in his chest, feeling more than hearing his laughter. “How?” Because you’d been fairly explicit in describing all the ways you wanted Tom to ruin you for anyone else, and whilst he certainly doesn’t seem put off by your secrets, you can’t really imagine why.

“Because I want the same things,” He says this simple and without shame, which is entirely unsurprising because you're not sure that Tom has ever once felt shame for things he wants, he begins to pet the top of your head and the light pressure of his palm against your scalp grounds and reassures you. “When I say I want to know all of you, I mean that there is no part of you that could possibly repulse me, of that I’m quite certain.” He pauses, and then adds in a more serious tone, “That you trust me to take you over the brink and bring you back again is… Important to me.” You hum in response and the two of you fall into a slow and easy quiet for a few minutes before he reaches over and finds a book. “Would you like me to read to you?” At your mumbled yes please, he huffs a quiet breath of laughter. Him reading to you has become a routine of sorts, on the days when you’re too tired from school, or, in this case, sex, he’ll recite passages from whatever book he’s reading at the time until everything but his voice is drowned out.

You can’t exactly remember when it was that you realised that you love him, or when you realised that he loves you, but in moments like this, when the world fades and all there that is left is the two of you, you feel that spring of love and safety begin to overflow. It’s just as overwhelming as everything else that has happened tonight and you lay there, in Tom’s bed, in Tom’s arms, drifting through the afterglow of your pleasure, your worries and anxieties abated as his voice, soft and smooth, soothes you to sleep.

Companion Piece: Truth Will Out

[mellowswriting]

Helping Hand

pairing || Din Djarin x fem!Reader

summary ||  The clasps on bras should not be so fucking difficult. It’s a good thing Mando doesn’t mind lending you a helping hand.

word count || 4,873

warnings || SMUT! p in v sex, kinda rough tbh, desperate Mando, cockwarming, a singular spank, love confessions bc I am soft for this man 

a/n || this was uh...something! I firmly believe that Mandalorians waste zero time once they find their person. Once they have them, they have them. No such thing as rushing to a Mandalorian, especially our TinCanMan. also, this gif destroys me

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The second you saw the bra as you perused the marketplace, your face lit up. The fabric was rich in color and ridiculously soft and you knew the second you had your hands on it that you were buying it. It wasn’t too expensive, a few credits more than what you’d usually be willing to pay for clothes, but hey, you deserved to splurge every now and then. You practically bounced with excitement as you made your way back to the Crest where Mando and the little green kiddo you adored waited for your return. It was nice to get some time to yourself, time where you didn’t have to chase after a rambunctious kid or have to squeeze past Mando’s huge frame in the small spaces of the Crest, but what could you say?

You missed your boys. 

The ramp lowered as you drew closer and you smiled. Mando must have seen you approaching. The sight of him standing in the cockpit with the sleeping child cradled in his arm made your chest bloom with happiness. You paused on your way to set your bag on your bunk, distracted by the uncomfortable looking angle he held his arm at, and let out a quiet laugh. Mando’s silent tendencies left you to observe the way he held himself to discern how he was feeling, and after months of living with him, you could gauge him easily by the tilt of his helmet, the way he held his shoulders. You may not be fluent in Mando’a, but you were fluent in your Mandalorian. 

“He wakes up the second you lay him down, huh?” You asked, a teasing smile on your face. The sharp way he looked to you only confirmed your suspicion and you bit your lip to hold back another chuckle. “Here, let me.”

The child didn’t even stir when you fluidly slipped him from Mando’s arms and slowly settled him into the metallic cradle he slept in. Mando sighed loudly behind you, the sound roughed slightly by the modulator. “How are you so good at that?”

“It’s what I’m here for, isn’t it?” You turned and almost knocked back into the cradle at the proximity of the beskar-clad warrior, a mere few inches between your chests. Heat flared across your face. “It’s just, uh… just lotsa practice.” 

Mando hummed quietly and you instinctively looked to his shoulders and his hands, trying to gauge his mood. They were relaxed, the tension he always carried about him eased for the moment. Content, if you had to guess. It made you smile up at him, brighter than any sun in the galaxy. There weren't many times you saw him without that ready-to-action tension that plagued his surely sore muscles - almost always when the three of you were in the Crest, safe together as you hurtled through space. He turned just as quickly as he had approached you, stepping out of your space to set the coordinates to Nevarro, and you felt like you could finally exhale. 

Bag in hand, you practically stumbled into your bunk and pulled out the pretty bra you were so excited to put on - inky black, accentuated with intricately designed lace and a harness-like back. You pulled off your clothes quickly, stripping down entirely bare to slip into a soft pair of sleeping shorts. It would take a while to get back to Nevarro; you might as well be comfortable for it. The process of undressing while the Crest drew away from solid ground used to have you half naked and on the ground from the jostling, but thankfully you had grown proficient at balancing yourself through the rough takeoffs. 

A quiet sigh escaped you at the brush of the luxurious cloth against your bare skin, deft fingers latching the clasps at your back. It was a welcome change to the usual bras you wore. The straps were a bit too loose, allowing the cups to droop slightly from your breasts, and you fumbled to tighten them. It was just out of your grasp, your fingers grappling uselessly for the elusive adjuster as you huffed in annoyance.

“Need a hand?” Mando’s voice behind you made you startle almost comically and whirl around, one hand pressed against your chest where your heart was battering against your ribs. How in the hell did he always manage to move so silently? Heat bloomed up your neck and across your face unbiddenly. Sure, it wasn’t the first time he had seen you in some state of undress - living in such close quarters and the fact that Mando apparently never learned how to knock had him walking in on you often. But there was no denying the difference in you standing before him dressed practically in lingerie. 

“Uh, y-yeah, if you could?” You stuttered, internally groaning at your sudden inability to speak. The thick tension of the air could have choked you as you stared Mando down awkwardly until he twirled his finger, silently commanding you to turn around, and you could just die. “You just have to slide the, uh, adjuster up towards my shoulder.”

Mando said nothing and before you could move your hair out of his way, one gloved hand gathered it to settle over your shoulder and you had to tamp down on the shiver that tried to wriggle up your spine. He fiddled with the straps silently, leaving you to wrangle with your bordering on desperate need to climb the giant man behind you like a tree and lose yourself in the pleasures you could bring each other. 

You weren’t blind, nor were you stupid. Far from it, actually. Reading people was a gift you had possessed from a young age - one’s intent could easily be sussed by the specific light in their eyes, the slightest change in their tone, the barely-there shift in their body language. Mando may not speak often, you may not be able to watch for the arch of an eyebrow or the quirk of a lip, but you could still read him like a book. 

The fear of complication warred with your need. The child was a beacon of light in your life when you thought there could never be anything but swallowing darkness. He was a reminder of the little things that made everything else worth it - every coo, every small smile as he slept, every time he came running up to you or Mando on his little legs. Even when you were having to explain over and over again that no, he couldn’t eat the buttons off of the comlink, he brought you more joy than you could imagine. 

It didn’t help that every day spent flying through hyperspace left you growing closer to the Mandalorian. Even when there was nothing but silence between you, it was comfortable, companionable. The final straw? Mando slept in your presence. The first time it happened had been entirely accidental. He was exhausted after a strenuous bounty, one that ran far longer than they fought for, and the second the coordinates had been set, Mando collapsed into the pilot’s seat and promptly passed out. Knowing that he was comfortable enough to fall asleep without second thought, that he trusted you enough to be vulnerable like that around you...you never felt more like you belonged.

And Mando? When he woke several hours later, feeling far more well-rested than usual, he saw you curled up in the seat next to him with the child cradled in your lap as the blur of hyperspace reflected in your eyes. You had smiled at him, sleepy but bright nonetheless, and he had never been more grateful for the helmet that hid his face. You were too smart, too observant - you would be able to read the love on his face plain as day.

That little green womp rat and his beskar covered father saved you when you thought there was nothing left. The idea of losing that made you nauseous. The idea of how complete your little family would feel if you gave in made you tempted. 

It was complicated. 

A modulated grunt of frustration came from the man behind you as he couldn’t get a solid hold on that damn adjuster and you bit back a laugh. A Mandalorian, a warrior - bested by some plastic and fabric. Something fell to the ground, landed on the metal floor with two quiet thwaps, and before you could glance down to see what it was, warm bare fingers slid between the strap and your skin. This time there’s no stopping the almost violent shiver that racked your body, paired with an embarrassingly sharp exhale, and Maker your resolve was crumbling to pieces. 

“Tell me when.” Mando rumbled once his nimble fingers finally wrapped around the plastic, his modulator vibrating right in your ear in the most delicious way. The strap tightened slowly as his fingers slid up, the cup of the bra finally flush against your skin, and your voice was hoarse when you whispered ‘when’. 

Instead of simply reaching for the other strap, his warm palm made a lazy path across your skin, pausing for a breath between your shoulder blades before slipping under the thin fabric. He repeats the movement, tightening the strap until you clear your throat and manage to say in a stronger tone, “T-there is fine.” 

Mando hummed, his fingertips gliding over the soft skin of your shoulder and holy hell, his chest was practically pressed to your back and there was no way he wasn’t being a giant tease. “Just fine?”

“Perfect,” You corrected, your voice breathy, eyes threatening to flutter shut as that hand trailed over your shoulder to trace along the line of the cup of your bra. Goosebumps followed Mando’s touch, raised as your body’s desperate testament to the need that had vibrated through you. You just barely caught a glimpse of those tanned hands, hands you had seen a few times as he took care of the more delicate aspects of cleaning of his weapons, and you whispered, “You’re p-perfect.”

Mando gripped your hip suddenly, your soft flesh soft a beautiful contrast to his calloused hands, and it was the dip of his fingertips underneath the hem of your shorts that made you lean back into him fully, your head tilted back against his shoulder. A rumbled moan vibrated from his chest and into your back, felt all the way through his chestplate, as you “You want this, sweet girl?”

You nodded quickly. “H-how? How can we…”

“Leave it to me,” Mando murmured, preoccupied with the heat of your bare skin under his hands as he finally broke, finally explored the body of the woman he had fallen in love with in the months since his clan had expanded to three. “Just...tell me you want this. Please.”

Mando’s voice was rough and desperate even through the modulator and you nodded without a second thought. You knew you were in for it just from the way he pushed you further into your bunk to let the door slide shut behind him. No fanfare, no fuss. Mando was certain. He was going for what he wanted, and it lit a fire in you. 

You sat on the edge of the bed, your heart racing as Mando methodically unclasped his armor, his visor trained on you with each piece that came off - and it hit you. This was actually happening. 

Finally. 

You grinned up at the t-shaped visor of his helmet and pulled him closer by the hem of his duraweave pants, his grunt of approval stoking the flames of your need. He pulled his shirt off fluidly and your hands froze where they were trying to undo his pants as you admired the sight of so much bare skin. 

“So handsome,” You whispered before kissing just below his navel, smiling into his skin at the way his hand buried in your hair. Mando hummed under your gentle touch, under the trail of your tongue against his skin. It had been so long, too long since he had any form of gentle touch, you knew that. Touch starved, that was the term. 

You would fix that. 

You trailed your hand over his ribs, fingertips leaving goosebumps in their wake when your nails scratched him lightly. Finally having your hands on him had you almost giddy, your heart flying in your chest as you slowly kissed down his stomach to the tent in his pants, nerves and need warring in your belly. You wanted to learn every piece of your Mandalorian - his scars and their stories, where to kiss when you wanted to hear those intoxicating groans, his favorite places for you to bite and dig your nails into. You wanted to break him in the best possible way, destroy that headstrong restraint and discipline so he could destroy you in return. 

All it took was a teasing press of your tongue against the outline of his cock to make him snatch you up off of the bed with a firm hand at your jaw and you couldn’t help but smile. His helmet tilted slightly as he took you in, grinning at him like the cat that got the canary, eyes sparkling with excitement, and he gripped your shorts with his other hand hard enough to pop the hem. 

“Off.” Mando rumbled and you immediately shimmied out of them as quickly as you could with his hand still holding your face firmly. The second the fabric no longer hindered his access, he ran his hand over your ass, greedy fingers digging into the firm flesh of one cheek. “Such a good listener. Aren’t you, sweet girl?”

You pressed closer as you nodded, desperate to feel his body against yours, and your eyes fell closed at the warmth of the skin to skin contact of your chest against his. As much as you loved the bra you wore, you wanted to feel nothing between you. It was easy to slip off and Mando’s hand instantly left your jaw to trace along your breast. It amazed you how gentle he could be; those big hands capable of incapacitating, capable of killing, gently palming your skin and tweaking your nipple. A breathy chuckle met your ears and only then did you realize you were arching up into his touch. 

“I won’t be gentle.” Mando warned. 

You grinned, heat shuddering down your spine at the roughness of his tone. “Who says I want you to be?”

You were on your back before you could even blink, the impact against the bed pulling a gasp from you. Mando made an image painted by the gods: stood over you, chest heaving with each harsh breath, cock straining proudly against his pants. That was the last thing you saw before his hand slapped against the light control on the wall and the entire bunk plunged into darkness. 

A hand wrapped around your ankle and yanked you against a pair of firm thighs, forcing out a yelp that morphed into a low whine when your legs were spread wide. Without your vision to guide you, you had to rely on your hearing, your sense of touch, and the low clank of metal on metal and rustling of fabric had you confused until his warm, entirely naked body slid over yours and you heard the first tones of Mando’s voice - unmodulated, raw and low in your ear. 

“You need me, huh? You need this?” Mando growled, sliding down to grind his cock against you, and he grinned impishly at the desperation of your whimper, at the way you angled your hips to try to slide him inside of you. “Let me take what I want and I’ll give you what you need.” 

You could have cried out when he pulled back, could have begged him to stay and fuck you already, but the feeling of his lips latching onto your neck made your voice melt into unintelligible groans. You buried your hands in his hair, memorizing the soft way the curls fell through your fingers. The combination of his teeth and tongue were sure to leave a mark, one you would wear with pride for anyone to see. It was the first of many lovebites he left on your skin, trailed down your neck and over your chest and delivered between significantly gentler bites and licks to your breasts. Your hips moved entirely of their own volition, legs wrapped around his waist to rub against his stomach. 

Mando’s hands found your hips and pressed them down, pressing you flush to the bed hard enough that you knew you would have bruises, ones you would relish as long as they lasted. You had never felt more desperate to be touched, tension rocketing tighter and tighter in your core. 

“So needy, mesh’la.” Mando rumbled as he shoved you further up the bed. He delivered a sharp bite to your thigh and you jumped, a laugh bubbling up from your chest at the suddenness and the way he eased the mark with his tongue. You carded your fingers through his hair again and his chest rumbled, almost as if he were purring. Just as you were about to comment on it, tell him how cute it was that he reacted so beautifully to your touch, his tongue slid through your wet heat. 

“Fuck!” You exclaimed, the grip you had in his curls tightening harshly as you tried to roll your hips to grind against his face, but he pinned your hips with sure hands. Not to be hindered, you pressed your heels into his back and still managed tiny hitches and Mando chuckled at your determination. His tongue rolled over your clit, over and over until you were crying out at the sparks of pleasure radiating through your core.

His mouth left you for a split second, just long enough to slick his fingers with his spit, and his tongue descended back to your clit as two fingers rubbed tiny circles against your entrance. You were almost incoherent in your begging, your voice slurred, words cut off in the middle - and then two thick fingers slid into your cunt, his lips wrapped around your clit, and you thought your heart stopped with the intensity of it all. 

After what could have been an eternity or a mere half second, Mando pumped his fingers slowly and your entire world imploded around you. The groan that left your lover was exhilarating. He mumbled against you, something about the tightest fucking cunt he’s ever had, before his tongue went back to town, flicking over your clit as his fingers curled into that sweet spot deep inside you. Your back arched of its own volition, your entire body tensing as Mando rocketed you to your climax.

“Can’t wait anymore.” Was the only warning you got before he pulled away, leaving you to flutter around nothing, and a high whine left your throat as Mando leaned over you and yanked your thighs up to hook further over his hips. His lips fell to yours and you groaned at the taste of your arousal, your hand cupping his jaw and reveling in the scratch of his stubble against your skin. The heavy weight of his cock pressed against your thigh until he angled himself to press right against your entrance, and - 

“Wait!” You gasped and Mando froze entirely. You reached between you to grasp his cock, groaning at the thick girth that you knew would split you open beautifully. “Let me... let me make you feel good, too.” 

“Won’t last, mesh’la,” Mando growled, his forehead pressed to yours as he fucked into your hand despite his words. For just a moment you thought you had him, had gained some modicum of control as you stroked him with a firm hand, but he batted your hand away to pin above your head. “Need to bury my cock in your tight little cunt.”

“P-please! I need it, I need you to fuck me full.” You mewled so prettily for him and Mando broke. 

The sound that left him was pulled from his very core, an almost feral growl radiating from his chest and leaving you shuddering underneath him, ready to beg until he finally shoved his cock into you, but before you could get a sound out you were flipped you onto all fours. You tried to steady yourself, to press your weight into your hands so you could grind your ass back against him, but a rough hand shoved between your shoulder blades until your face and chest were flush against the blankets beneath you. 

“You want me to claim this cunt?” Mando breathed into your ear as he settled his chest against your back, gliding the head of his cock through your slit teasingly. A dark chuckle followed your pitiful whine. “Oh I think I will. Stuff you full of my cum so everyone knows who you belong to.”

Mando pulled back and steadied a hand at your hip, the other pulling your cheeks apart as he finally slid home. Inch after devastating inch filled your cunt, the familiar stretch on just the right side of painful. A sinful, wrecked groan came from behind you and despite yourself, despite being face down ass up for a warrior, you felt powerful. 

“S-so fucking tight,” Mando stuttered out as he gave a small push forward, pressing even further into your heat despite being buried to the hilt already, short, aborted thrusts as he tried to let you adjust to his girth. 

“Please, please, please,” You huffed out with each exhale, and if you were in your right mind you might have been at least slightly embarrassed by the desperation of your begging, but you were aching for him to move. You clenched around him, reveling in the punched-out sound it drew from him, and finally, finally he drew back halfway to shove back into you sharply. 

Mando didn’t fuck you - the word ‘fuck’ wasn’t enought to encompass the way he drove into you over and over, shoved you further into the sheets with his teeth buried in your shoulder. You wanted to be destroyed, and Maker did he deliver, pressed against that sweet spot deep inside you and making your writhe beneath him. It took a moment to find your voice amongst the harsh thrusts, but the sound of you whimpering ‘Mando…’ over and over had your lover delivering a sharp swat to your ass before yanking you up by your hair and bracing your ass on his thighs, his pace unfaltering. 

“S-such a sweet little thing,” Mando stuttered, one hand holding you by your neck, keeping you flush against him, and the other sliding down to toy with your clit, those calloused fingers rubbing in tight circles until you pressed your head to his shoulder and wailed. “Sound so pretty for me.”

You wanted to tell him how good he felt stretching you out, how much you loved this, how much you loved him, but there was no speaking when his thrusts punched the very air from your lungs. So you buried your hand in his hair and tightened, rolling your hips into every push of his own. The sharp pull of his hair seemed to egg him on and his hand slid up from your throat to tilt your head and capture your lips with his. 

The angle was awkward, the kiss all teeth and tongue, and you wouldn’t trade it for anything. Mando drank in your every moan, every whine, and sang out his own in response, poured them out in a never ending stream that left you washed out in pleasure and pride. You reduced him to this. The tight clench of your cunt around him left the strong warrior slashed down to his most base instincts, left him to bury himself in you over and over as if he couldn’t bear to hold back. 

Your begging was almost incoherent, words broken off halfway with each harsh thrust, but it all melted into one low cry when Mando toyed with your clit and ground against that sweet spot against you and you broke. The only thing that kept you upright was Mando’s strong grip on your body as your pleasure crested, sparked out all across your body and left you weak in the aftermath of ecstasy. Your hand fell loose in his hair, still tangled in his curls but just barely staying put. 

Mando laid you down almost sweetly, flipped your weak body around to lie on your back and settled between your thighs. He growled low in your ear when you hooked your ankles over his lower back and whined so prettily for him as he pushed himself deep into your cunt - right where he belonged. His thrusts were shorter, stunted in his relentless chase for release inside of your body, leaving you hanging in the precipice between pleasure and overstimulation. 

“Feel so good,” You whispered in his ear, gasping when he buried his face in your neck and latched onto your skin with rough presses of teeth and tongue. The pace of his thrusts stuttered when you clenched around him, urging him to let go.

“Where?” Mando grunted low into your skin, unable to find the words to finish his thoughts but you knew. You knew what he wanted, the desperate want you both shared.

“Inside!” You gasped out in a rough voice, almost desperate in tone, and locked your legs around his waist tighter, using the newfound leverage to meet each of his thrusts. “Please, please cum inside me.”

The choked off sound in your ear was downright addictive and paired with the airtight grip on your hips as he pressed flush against your body and flooded you with his release....well, you wouldn’t be able to live without it, without him. Mando collapsed, crushed you underneath his weight with his cock still nestled in your tight heat. Maker, he was heavy but you never felt safer. He panted in your ear, the ghost of each breath curling across your skin like a loving caress and you could feel the curve of his lips where he smiled against you, a smile you matched. 

Your fingers buried in his hair once more, scratching against his scalp in slow, gentle circles, and the delighted whimper he gave sounded like it came from anyone but the rough and tumble warrior who just railed you into oblivion. One of his hands writhed up between your chests to cup your breast, the gun-calloused skin of his palm a harsh contrast to the soft, unmarred skin of your chest. 

“Mando…” You chuckled in a tone of warning when those fingers tweaked your nipple, sending sparks echoing across your skin. 

“Din,” He grunted in your ear before taking the lobe between his teeth and worrying it with his tongue, only pulling back when you made a small noise of confusion. “Din Djarin. You should know the name of the man who claims you.”

Your heart stuttered, racing to match the pace of your thoughts. This...this was a huge deal for him, you knew that. Your arms tightened around him almost of their own volition as it hit you - this union meant as much to him as it did to you. 

Mando - Din was yours. 

You were his. 

“Cyare,” Din whispered at the small noise that left you, propping himself up on his elbows to hover over you despite not being able to see you. You followed his movements as best you could, not wanting to jostle around enough for his softening cock to slip from your body.  “Are you okay? Was...Was this not-”

“No! No, I...damn it,” You stumbled over your words in your rush to reassure him, reaching up to hesitantly place your hands on either side of his face, giving him plenty of time to stop you in case you crossed a line. He didn’t. Rough stubble met your fingers and you laughed wetly in disbelief. You couldn’t believe your luck. “I love you. I have from the start.”

Din’s breath caught in his throat and he pressed his face back into your neck as he returned the sentiment, his words muffled and cracking under the weight they carried. You giggled at the way his tongue met your neck, surely adding to the multitude of marks he already left there, but tilted your head back for more access nonetheless. He was right - he laid his claim on you, buried his seed as deep inside you as he could and left the imprint of his teeth across your skin for all to see. 

“A clan of three, right?” You said before kissing his temple, yours eyes slipping closed as your exhausted reared. 

“Yes, sweet girl. A clan of three.” Din rumbled. The vibration of his chest only lulled you further into slumber and the last thing you heard before the sleep overtook you was Din whispering, almost to himself, “My own little aliit.”

[rhettjmc]

Prompt prompt! Something something one of them works in an animal shelter something something cuteness

Of course I had to write this for @theredquilt - you are one of the best people I have had the pleasure of meeting on here and you've been someone to confide in during my lowest point. Lots of love and I hope these 500 (774 actually, oops) words of pure cuteness makes you smile <3

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He comes in a lot, once a week at a minimum. Link recognised him instantly, stooped shoulders as he ducks through the doorway, chimes tinkling under the breeze.

“Back again?” Link asks, smiling.

“Yeah,” the man chuckles, shrugging bashfully as he stares at his shoes.

“Barbara has been waiting to see you.”

The man instantly shoots his head up, cheeks rosy and round. “Really?”

“Really,” Link is grinning now, nodding enthusiastically, “She loves you the most.”

For an unusually large man, he looks small and vulnerable, blushing. “I’m very fond of her,” he says quietly, shoving his hands into his front pockets.

“Have you thought about taking her home?” Link asks, unlocking the door to lead the familiar visitor to his fluffy friend.

“Yeah- I uh- I want to, but… I’m kinda scared, I guess.”

“Scared? Of what?” Link laughs again, scooping a handful of treats from a nearby bucket and holding them out for the other man to take.

“I don’t know - Takin’ care of her, wanting to be good for her - y’know?” He replies quietly, painfully honest.

“Hey,” Link frowns sadly, turning to face him and stopping just short of Barbara’s pen. “You come every week, bring her toys, she’s happy around you, you’d be a great Dad.”

“You think?”

“She’s had a tough life so far, as long as you keep lovin' her the way you do, you’ll be perfect for her,” Link reassures him, placing a careful hand on his shoulder.

“Thanks…” The man squints, reading the name tag pinned to Link’s shirt, “...Link.”

“You’re welcome…” Link begins, pretending to look for a name tag on the other man’s shirt.

“Rhett.”

“Rhett,” Link repeats, and there’s an awkward fumble of hands as they both reach to shake each other’s, Rhett’s neck flushing at the interaction. They smile shyly at each other, hands still clasped before they’re interrupted by the impatient yap from the capture of Rhett’s heart.

“Better not leave her waiting,” Rhett grins, his cheeks rounding under his beard, eyes instantly lighting up at the sound of Barbara.

“I’ll leave you two to it, I’ll come back in a bit?” Link asks, reluctantly dropping Rhett’s hand and finding the key to Barbara’s kennel.

His heart swells as Rhett instantly crouches to the ground, catching the tiny white pup in his arms as she bounds towards him. He cradles her in his big arms, tucking her delicate head into his neck and Link notices that his shoulders relax for the first time since he stepped through the door. Link aches to ask who or what in this Universe has left Rhett with such a burden on his shoulders, to sink to the floor himself and wrap one of his own arms around Rhett’s shoulders. But he doesn’t, of course, instead he shuts the gate behind him and leaves the man singing soft praises to his baby.

“I think I’m ready,” Rhett says as soon as Link comes back for the pair of them.

“Yeah?” Link grins, looking at the wriggling pup in Rhett’s arms, desperately smothering kisses and licks over his nose.

Rhett comes back the next week, with a folded crate in his arm and a fuzzy sheep toy.

“Today’s the day,” Rhett announces, his voice wavering slightly.

“Today’s the day,” Link repeats, and he’s happy for Rhett, truly he is. But he can’t help but feel like his insides have been hollowed out, knowing he won’t get a weekly visit from the gentle giant anymore.

“Is she ready for me?”

Link nods, slipping into the back to clip a leash onto Barbara. “You be good to him, Barb,” he whispers, scooping her up for the last time.

She yips in affirmation.

Rhett is scribbling on the back of a pamphlet when Link brings Barbara in, instantly looking up as he hears her paws tapping on the floor. “Hi baby!” he coos, taking her from Link’s hold. “My special girl.”

Link smiles, swallowing the lump in his throat. “You two take good care of each other,” he says, watching as Rhett tries to wrestle the sheep from Barbara’s grip.

“We will.” Rhett nods, looking back at Link. “Thanks… Y’know, for everything.”

Link shrugs, it’s his turn to be shy.

“You’ll uh, come visit her sometime? And me too?” Rhett asks quietly, pushing the pamphlet with a phone number and a scruffy doodle of Barbara scrawled on the back.

Link feels giddy, he’s grown strangely attached to the quiet man with the huge heart and his tiny companion and now he doesn’t have to say goodbye. He reaches over the desk to squeeze Rhett’s free hand tightly.

“I’d love to.”