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anemonelovesfiction · 11 months

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Petal

Pt 2

Ronal x Tonowari X Human! Reader

Warnings ⚠️: Sex. Penetration. P in V, P in mouth, V in mouth, Fingeriiiing, Ronowari x Y/n, AFAB! Reader.

Cute blurb, I mentioned “the first breath” in green text. This is a Metkayina tradition in which the Tsahik is supposed to help the Na’Vi woman give birth underwater (in shallow waters) and the baby swims to the surface to take their first breath. I just thought you guys would find it a lil interesting bc my autistic self did….

This is a part two to Petal, but you don’t have to read the first one to understand this one, the true epitome of Porn without a plot… for both chapters

Pls excuse any weirdly spelled or stated things, English is not Author-chans first language so I sometimes say things differently than you guys would. I did do a run through to catch errors but can’t guarantee I got them all.

@nelissecrectplace 👈🏻 Ayyooooo

<<Previous

“Are you feeling okay?” I asked Ronal as she had sighed for the fourth time in a short period. I’d purposely entered her healing tent to watch Tsireya do her tsakarem training, in hopes I could utilize some of that on my own, not that I wanted to be tsahik, but to comfort anyone I cared for or utilize the same methods with Kiri. She had previously patched up a fisherman with a rather deep cut on his arm, I watched her put some kind of salve on some seaweed and wrap it around his arm.

I wanted to ask her what components the salve consisted of and why wrap it in seaweed, but hearing her mother sigh or groan every once in a while was worrisome. But I refused to talk to her informally as I was unsure of how much her own children knew about whatever our relationship was. The last thing I wanted was for her to think I’d flaunt it as some kind of status. Tsireya had grabbed a box and started taking inventory of what she had.

“I am fine,” Ronal offers me a nod and goes back to grinding some of the dried cactus she’d laid out in the sun earlier this week.

“I’ll need to collect some more yellow daisies and ready them to dry.” Tsireya announces as she stands, closing the box and grabbing a small bag, tying it around her waist like a fanny-pack. I was about to offer to go with her to see what the process was like, and also gain some intel for Lo’ak, the boy wanted to gift her something but didn’t know what.

“That is fine. But be careful ma’ite, I don’t need you hurting yourself over some daisies. I’ll keep Y/n here for anything else I might need.”

Tsireya appears to give me an apologetic look and worried smile as her mother mentions me staying behind. I return a smile of my own and give her a small nod, silently telling her I was alright and didn’t need to get out of this situation.

“I might join you on your next adventure,” I joke and she smiles genuinely before leaving. I turn to eye the pregnant Tsahik and witness her groan again and rub her belly.

“What is wrong, Tiyawn?” I ask her as I approach her slowly.

“This child is making a toy out of my insides.” She rubs her belly, the tattoo’s around it accentuating her bump, and a need to protect her surges through me.

“If the baby is kicking this strongly, the first breath will be easy for them.” I smile up at her and her face softens, she places a hand on my cheek and runs her thumb against it affectionately.

“You always know what to say,” She smiles but winces as it seemingly kicks her again.

“Hey now,” I kneel down to come closer to her belly, placing my hands on either side, feeling the baby kick and slap the other hand. “Let your Sa’nok rest little bean, she needs you to behave so she can relax.” I speak gently toward her bump and it shakes slightly as she laughs silently, but the baby stops kicking.

“I wish all my children listened to me that way.” She smiles down at me and pats my head, attempting to move but stopping when my hands sit on her knee’s.

“They listen to you,” I assure her and she rolls her eyes at my words.

“Do not tease me, Petal.” She says and tries to swat my hands away but I don’t let go of her knee’s and start to slowly rub up her thigh the slightest bit, circling back at her knee’s testing the waters.

“I don’t tease, Ronal, how often do you look out for everybody's best interest?” I asked her while slowly continuing to rub up higher than the last time. I knew her inner thighs were her weakness but I was trying to remain inconspicuous.

“Too much, but I have to-“ She begins and I tut at her.

“How often do you decide to look after yourself?” I asked her and managed to make her sit up straighter as I slowly rub the inner part of her thigh next to her knee. Leaning down to give it a kiss and innocently looking back up at her.

“Hmm?” I asked as she seemed to be in a trance while looking at me. “Because I don’t think you do, and it looks like you need someone to care for you.” I kiss her other thigh and watch the skin of her brows flutter between a confused and surprised look and settling on raising one as she looks at me.

“Petal.” She warns but I don’t care for it as I let my hands slide up her thigh and toward her covered pussy, feeling the damp cloth underneath, sliding my finger up the outline of her lips while maintaining eye contact.

“How else can I show you I’m grateful for everything you do than to take care of this weeping cunt, hmm?” I ask and gently place pressure on where her clit should be. Her breath hitches and I can’t take how slow I’m moving so I circle it.

“There are other ways,” She begins and I can’t help but circle around her clit again, snaking my other hand to untie her tewng swiftly.

“Yes but I selfishly want to do it this way.” I state as I untie the tewng successfully and watch her look at my hand pulling the string apart in surprise. “I want you a whimpering mess as I feast on your pussy-“ I circle her clit again. “And I want to drink from your nectar knowing I’m the reason it’s made an appearance.”

“I guess I can allow it,” She tries to remain strong but she was cracking.

“But you aren’t the one in charge here. Slide your tewng off, Tiyawn.” I tell her and she surprisingly listens as she slides it off her body, and down her tail, I bite my lip at the excitement forming in my lower belly.

“Spread your legs for me, please.” I ask politely and she was listening to my words.

I slide my finger up her pussy and collect her slick fluid on my finger before rubbing it in circles around her clit, making sure to enjoy the looks her face was making whilst I pleasured her. I use my other hand to slide two fingers into her slick hole and we both moaned at the same time. The heat given off by her cunt alone had my mouth watering.

“Feels s’good on my fingers,” I’d taken my eyes off of her and watch how her cunt greedily takes my fingers and where she tries to stay quiet, her pussy squelches loudly.

“Listen to how wet you are, mama,” I say and hear her moan immediately following my words. I continue sliding my fingers in and out of her.

“Didn’t think I’d find the two of you doing this so soon.” I hear behind me and can feel my pussy squeeze around nothing, licking my lips at the sound of his voice, but continue focusing on the pregnant beauty in front of me.

“She takes care of us and we forget to take care of her. Isn’t that right mama?” I ask her while rubbing her already puffy clit, my mouth waters at the sight before me and I just have to taste her. “I wanna eat your cunt so bad,” I talk quietly to myself as she moans from my request.

“Feast on her, Petal, then you’ll feast on my cock.” Tonowari states while kneeling down to face me from Ronal’s head, making sure to lean over and tease her nipples while I connected my mouth to her clit.

The taste of her juices were divine. I had no other words to explain it other than ‘other worldly’ she really was one of a kind and I couldn’t get enough of her. She was struggling to maintain her moans but I was losing myself to her taste that I’d lost track of how long I’d done this.

“Oh I’m coming, Petal, ‘Wari-“ She whines as her hips snap to a rhythm of their own as she comes. Her juices flowing out more readily than before as I continued to eat and finger her as she rode out her high, Tonwari making sure to caress her breasts the way she enjoys as she slows down. Letting us know she finished by going limp and gasping for air. I continue to trace her outer lips with my tongue as she catches her breath, she had already been licked clean, but her hand pushing gently on my head is what gets me to stop.

Switching was always the hardest part. We usually had to talk through what we wanted the night to look like as we followed through but we moved swiftly into our new positions. I sat on Ronal’s face for a change- I was always on my back while she ate me out- and Tonowari had taken his tewng off, exposing his long hard cock.

“Open your mouth for me, petal.” Tonowari instructs and I do, fitting him in my mouth was never easy, but it was always fun. He places the head of his cock in my mouth and a bit of the tip of his shaft in before my mouth is completely full.

“Ugh, so tight.” He groans while freely moving his hand on his own cock teasingly slow.

“Mmmm-“ I moan as soon as Ronal sticks her finger in, licking my clit like I’d done to her.

“Great mother-“ Tonowari groans and starts sliding his hand on his cock faster.

Ronal takes the liberty to tease me by running the tip of her finger along the walls, making a come here motion slowly, almost as of she was teasing me. But she knew I enjoyed the pleasure more, it felt like the electric pulses in my pussy ran longer and stronger when she took her time.

“Do you want my seed?” He asks and I plead with my eyes. “Thats what I thought.” He grunts and his pace changes, I reach out and place my hands on his hips to help steady me and it drives him crazy.

“I think-“ Tonowari grunts “- our Petal is coming, Ronal.” Tonowari moans himself but his own hands don’t stop thrusting his cock. I’m on the edge and didn’t know how much longer I could take, but Ronal shoved her second finger in, allowing it to repeat the same motion and it had my walls fluttering for that movement. Just then Tonowari shoots his load in my mouth.

“Swallow, Petal.” He states as he continues coming and I swallow as much as I can fit in my mouth as it dribbles out with some drool from the side of my mouth and down my chin. It takes me a second to catch my breath as he gently lifts me off of Ronal’s face. My legs are wobbly and it makes me feel like a newborn deer.

I wobble my legs over but end up having to sit down as Ronal sits up from her laying position. She happens to have grabbed my waist and leaned me against her body and places her hand on my thighs, effectively lifting them up and spreading my pussy open.

“W-wait, what is-“

“You said you wanted to be jackhammered.” Ronal reminds me while speaking into my ear, causing a shiver to run up her spine. “And this is the way the three of us can participate.” She kisses the top of my head and I can feel her bump acting as a cushion.

“Will I hurt the baby?” I ask in all seriousness as Tonowari approaches on his own knee’s. Ready to fuck into my cunt.

“The baby is safe, silly tawtute.” Ronal playfully hisses in my ear and bites the tip of it, causing me to flush red and moan while biting my own lip.

“Get ready, Petal, I’ve been thinking about doing this since this morning.” He groans as if he’d literally not just come down my throat and was (not so) surprisingly hard. Na’vi could go for multiple rounds and fuck tirelessly through the night whenever they felt like it. When impressing someone they often went as many rounds as possible, and seeing Tonowari still this active during his prime was sexy for no reason. He’d been surprised that I passed out after one round with him and his wife, he had to ask Jake if he broke me, that was a funny conversation when I woke up.

“Wari, please-“ I try to tell him to take it slow, but as soon as he shoved his cock into my cunt I couldn’t feel anything else. The air in my lungs stopped coming in and all I could focus on was the stretch his cock often greeted my cunt with.

“If I wasn’t so tired making this baby I would have been enjoying myself to your sounds, petal.” Ronal speaks into my ear and I breathe again, moaning as I did so.

“Please, Ronal, please-“ I whine and I can hear her coo at me teasingly.

“Not so cocky when you’re stuffed with cock, hmm?” She snakes one of the hands holding my thighs down to my quivering and puffy cunt. Making sure to take advantage of Tonowari’s precome and my slick and begins rubbing my clit as Tonowari pounds into me.

“Oh fuck!” I yell at the incredible amount of pleasure surging through my body, my toes were curled and I couldn’t control them no matter how hard I tried, I gave in to the feeling and ground my hips to meet both Tonowari’s thrusts and Ronal’s soft hands circling my clit.

“Such filthy language, Petal, we taught you better than that. Didn’t we, Wari?” Ronal’s voice simulated a pout as she brought the hand that was on my cunt up to her lips. “Mmmm” She moans happily while licking her fingers clean.

“Please don’t-“ I tried remembering the language as hard as I could but failed to do so as Tonowari’s thrusts weren’t slowing down, his cock head itching me just right.

“Don’t what?” Ronal asks, sliding her hand back down to hold my thigh and rub my clit, I’m too busy trying to remember the words but have a hard time.

“Please don’t stop, please!” I knew they understood what I meant and Ronal decided to kiss my head again.

“We won’t stop, Petal, we need you to coax out Wari’s come with your tiny pussy. Isn’t that right tiyawn?” She is asking him this time.

I look up through squinted eyes, his brows were furrowed as he focused on both of our pleasure, grunting so primal it had me near the edge, his tattoo’s made him look fierce but he was such a gentle lover. Ronal’s hands didn’t stop and it amazed me how a heavily pregnant woman was this sexually active, I’d wanted to give her the treatment she was giving me but she was always thinking of others.

“Yes,” Tonowari answers and he somehow goes even faster.

“Imma come, imma come!” I mutter, feeling Ronal change the way my hips were being held and could feel her confining my movements. “N-noo,” I moan and could feel Tonowari’s brute force making a small pole on my belly, his hips finally meet mine and I feel a pressure I’ve never felt before, letting go and succumbing to the pleasure.

“What- what was that?” Ronal asks just before Tonowari groans and dumps his come in my cunt. I can hear myself and Tonowari panting but I couldn’t believe I just-

“Tawtute call it squirting,” Toniwari answers.

#avatar smut #avatar #avatar the way of water smut #ronal smut #tonowari #tonowari x you #tonowari x reader #ronal x y/n #Ronowari #human reader #afab reader

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tadpolesonalgae · 11 months

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Good, Little, Girl <3 Part 3[*?]

A/N: all I’ve been writing recently is smut, smut, smut and I feel like such a whore. I’m so proud of myself

Summary: uh, so this is set a little later (like a couple of months so they’ve had time to hang out and reader’s had a chance to get nice and comfortable with our Azzie)

Warnings: depression, angst, scars, a bit of sexuality, mentions of bdsm.

-Part 1- -Part 2-

“And you’re sure they’re fine with this?” You pressed, following him inside his house. “I checked, stop stressing,” he threw over his shoulder as you removed your shoes from your feet, padding along after him. “This is supposed to be a fun, stress-free evening,” he emphasised, ascending the stairs, his long legs allowing him to go three at a time with casual ease. “I know, I know,” you muttered, following behind him at a more relaxed pace.

He held the door open for you, allowing you to brush past his chest as you entered his bedroom. “Look at you go,” he teases, “not even hesitating.” You rolled you eyes at his mocking nature, having grown accustomed to it over the past few months. “You’ve proved to be entirely harmless,” you threw over your shoulder as you turned.

Azriel quirked a brow at your bold assumption, but before he could throw a sardonic quip at you, you’d already turned to observe his bed. “Hey, your bed’s made,” you shoot him a look, “how luxurious.” He rolled his eyes, pushing off the door frame, moving to the TV, shutting the door behind him. “What do you feel like tonight?” He asked, locating the remote stuffed beneath some neatly folded clothes he hadn’t had the chance to shove away before you arrived.

You hummed behind him, and he could practically see you comically tapping your finger over your sweet, lovely lips. He swallowed. Keep it down, Az. He can’t be scaring you off now. You’re just becoming comfortable around him. “What do you feel about Horrid Henry?” You spoke, settling on something quicker than usual.

He snorted at the choice, turning to find you with a serious look on your face. “Something funny?” You looked unamused. He chuckles to himself, shaking his head, “what is it with you and kids shows?” You glowered at him as his hand settled on the small of your back, guiding you to his bed. “Do you have something against Horrid Henry, Azriel?” You muttered, crawling onto the right hand side of his bed. “Nothing at all.” You raised a brow to tell him you didn’t believe a word of it.

You paused for a moment, thinking. “Why don’t you pick something out?”

Azriel nodded, “Horrid Henry it is.” He could feel your scowl from across the bed as he settled down. “I’m serious. You always let me choose to the point I’m genuinely concerned about the things you watch in your free time.” He laughed at that but continued clicking through the TV. It was only when you crawled across to him, settling at his side and tugging the remote from his hands that he looked at you.

And his eyes immediately dropped to your mouth. Thank god you weren’t looking at him as you navigated to the search bar. “Come on, just pick a film. Doesn’t even have to be one you like, or’ve watched.” Azriel flipped the lights off, making the TV stand out in the dark room. “You always let me take the lead,” you spoke, looking at him, trying to get his attention. “Why don’t you even take control?”

He knew you weren’t doing it on purpose, but it just sounded…

“You never take control anywhere else in your life,” he pointed out, turning to look at you, making you flush. “Ignoring that,” you muttered, eyes flicking away for a second, “I don’t want to you hold back just because you think I can’t handle it.”

Jesus Christ.

He hummed, turning back to the TV, taking back the remote. “Fine,” he sighed, exhausted, selecting something though you didn’t pay attention. You sat there, quietly, watching his profile. The cut of his jaw, the set of his nose, the shape of his mouth. Those beautiful hazel eyes, a swirl of matcha green and coffee beans.

“Why did you have handcuffs on your bed?”

He startled, hazel eyes sliding to yours, alarmed. His gaze ran over you, tracing your form before again meeting your eyes, settling back into the cushions. “How long have you been gathering up the courage to ask?” He drawled, attention returning to the screen. God knew he could no longer look you in the eye to answer that. “It was more a build up of curiosity,” you answered, removing you attention from him.

You waited silently for his answer, but nothing came. “Azriel?” You prompted, turning to look up at him. He attempted to keep his eyes on the screen as he set the film playing, but he could feel the warm pressure of your shoulder against his bicep, and it was taking up most of his awareness. His tongue darted out to wet his lower lip, turning to see you watching with enlarged pupils. From the darkness.

“I think you know why,” he managed, voice coming out smooth and unruffled. As if he hadn’t spent nights with his hand fisted around his cock, fantasising about what you would look like with those cuffs decorating your pretty wrists. He waited for a reaction, but you didn’t seem surprised. He wasn’t sure if that was a good sign or not. “So…what? Women just let you tie them up?”

“People,” he corrected with a wry smile, harkening back to an earlier conversation. “People,” you repeated, following along with him, chasing your answer.

He sighed when your attention didn’t shift back to the TV. His intent to help you hold your ground was backfiring on him horribly. “I like being in control,” he finally admitted, staring you down as you peered up him with those open, curious eyes. “It’s reassuring to have that sense of power, especially during something that can be so intimate.” You were quiet for a moment, before dipping your head in a nod, “I see.”

You didn’t seem to be having any particular reaction other than bland acceptance. It was a little unnerving. “You don’t seem particularly surprised,” he spoke, watching you for any kind of indication to your thoughts. He got it though, when the tips of your ears flush, cheeks warming. You looked away, “I did some research…” You admitted quietly. “There were some interesting…video essays, on the topic.”

It took a moment for him to comprehend your prim language, but when he did, a bark of laughter flew from his mouth. Your head whipped back to him, alarmed at the startled sound. “You watched porn,” he drawled, looking at you incredulously. A familiar sense of ease settled over him as he watched your lips part, eyes widening at his words. You turned away from him, blushing furiously as you sat straighter.

“I didn’t want to judge something I knew nothing about,” you answered, tone matter-of-fact. How many times had he thought about hearing you order him about in that same strict tone? Too many, Az. Get a grip. Still, his lips curled into a grin, “and what was your strictly academic conclusion?” Your eyes flicked to his, marking his mocking tone, before snapping away.

He waited patiently but it seemed you were set on ignoring him. He bumped his elbow into your side to get your attention. “What did you think?” He asked, softer this time, the teasing lilt to his voice settling into a more serious one. Your jaw shifted as you took an inhale, “from what I could gather…” you began, attempting to keep your tone even, “a video doesn’t satisfyingly demonstrate the trust between partners. I found it straining and nauseating.”

Azriel bit his tongue to keep himself from offering pieces of information you would not want. His heart sank a little. “I see,” he settled on, repeating your words back to you. He deflated into his pillows. That was the end of that, then. There was no way anything would work between you with such vast differences.

“That being said…” you spoke quietly, yet loud enough to snap his attention back to you. Your eyes slid to his, a glint sparking, “…in a written form, where I can understand the emotion behind it all…?” He held his breath, unable to tear his gaze from your own. His heart skipped a beat when the edges of your mouth softened, “I can see why you find it so appealing.”

His head went quiet. Thoughts ceased as he replayed your words in his head. I can see why you find it so appealing. Your eyes had left his, returning to the screen, but he was still locked on you. Was that a sign? Had you just been trying to comfort him, or had you just flirted with him? With any other person, he would have been able to tell. But either way, it was so out of character. The suggestive tip of your lips, the dark spark in your eyes. Those weren’t things he associated with you.

Fuck.

He prayed you wouldn’t look at his lap. That the room was dark enough for you not to notice anything off about him.

“Would you ever try it?” Goddammit, Azriel. Even to his own ears he sounded breathless. What was happening?

You head tipped back to look up at him, questioningly. “Try what?”

Arousal spiked in his lower stomach. Were you really asking that? He swallowed, licking his strangely dry lips, “bdsm?” The letters alone caused your head to dip in embarrassment. “I’m pretty sure you have to have a partner to try it with, first of all,” you laughed to yourself. It sounded like the ringing of silver bells, and he nearly forgot the conversation. “I think I’d have to trust the person a lot before trying anything wild,” you admitted, a smile still on your lips as you watched your hands in your lap. “Someone I could count on and know they’d listen to me,” you hedged, the words unraveling from your tongue.

“I guess…someone like you…”

He went preternaturally still as the admission came from your lips. Someone like you. Someone I could count on… know they’d listen to me.

I’d treat you so good.

He watched from behind his eyes as your own widened, looking at him with a startled look on your beautiful face. He’d said that out loud, hadn’t he? Guess he was doing this now, then.

“I would never hurt you,” he spoke quietly, looking deep into your eyes. “You can trust me with that much.” His fingers brushed yours. Fuck it. His palm moved over your own, gently weaving your digits together. “Give me a chance, and I won’t squander it. I can promise I’ll make you so happy.”

Your lips parted, heart pounding in your chest.

He just confessed.

To you.

Shit. What do you say?

An unsure smile settled nervously on your lips, teetering on the edge of dropping off your face entirely. “I might be into physical pain, Azriel,” you breathed, hands trembling. He watched as something sad flashed through your eyes. “But emotional pain isn’t part of it,” you managed. “So if this is your way of messing around, it’s not cool, okay?”

Azriel shook his head, squeezing your shuddering hand gently. “I’m not messing around with you,” he whispered, eyes locked onto yours, “I’m promising. To treat you well, I mean.”

He waited anxiously, watching you, feeling as your fingers twitched as if considering pulling away from him. His heart thundered against his rib cage, nerves crawling beneath his skin. Your eyes scanned over him, as if analysing him. When they returned to his, he held his breath. You swallowed, “I’d like that.”

He didn’t dare release the air in his lungs, too scared you’d change your mind. You eyes flickered about, before returning to his nervously. “You’re… I feel like I can trust you,” you whisper, and you’re surprised there’s no tremor to your voice. “So I’m going to trust you, Azriel. Because I like you.”

Exhale.

You watched him, fear pumping through your blood, waiting. His eyes softened, free hand lifting to glide beneath your jaw, tilting your head. You held your breath as he leaned forward slowly, giving you the chance to pull away should you now wish to have his mouth over yours. But you did. So badly.

Your eyelids slid shut, leaning toward him. Permission granted.

Azriel nearly groaned as he recognised the action, relief flowing through his body, providing soothing reprieve. His lips were soft against your own, pillowy and hot as he applied a gentle pressure over you, swallowing down your feel.

It was hesitant. Nervous. Exploratory.

Neither of you had thought this far ahead.

He pulled away first, pleasure running beneath his surface as it took a moment for you to open your eyes. When you did, they looked glazed, hazy. Your gaze latched onto his, then dipped to his mouth.

Neither of you could resist the pull.

His mouth returned to yours, opening over your parted lips as he drank from you, tasting your flavour as his tongue licked over your teeth, flicking in a way that had you thinking about what he would feel like elsewhere.

A moan sounded somewhere in between your hot mouths. Your eyes squeezed tight when you realised it had come from you. Instead of teasing you for it, he took it as encouragement, spurring his movements on.

Tentatively, he moved over you, keeping you beneath him as you sank into the pillows. Your hands gingerly, ran up his biceps, curling around his neck. Your fingers played with the silky wisps of hair at his nape. Another moan lifted from your throat, only to be swallowed by Azriel, greedily taking every sound you gave him, treasuring each one.

Slowly, his mouth moved to the corner of your lips, kissing down your jaw, trailing over the column of your throat, feeling your breath hitch beneath his tongue. Your lungs were shaking as he latched his mouth over a spot on your neck, softly sucking, taking the skin between his teeth as he nipped. You whimpered, fingers tightening in his hair as he continued down. Past your collar bones, inching his way down your body. Between your breasts, mapping out his own pathway.

So carefully, he settled between your legs, and you thought you would melt right then and there. He looked up at you, bay and black tea leaves connecting. “Have you ever had someone between your legs?” He breathed, voice coming out horse. Heat swirled in your lower abdomen, eyes weighing with lust and need.

You were too out of it, answering his question honestly, “yes.” His eyes flicked up to yours, sincerity woven through the melodic chords of his voice, “you’re going to forget.” Your eyelids fluttered shut as you basked in his touch, loosing yourself in the feel of his fingers dipping beneath the band of your tights, pulling them off. Your skin felt free, but sensitive, having kept them covered for the past few days.

His hands wrapped over the tops of your thighs - near your hip bone. His heavenly mouth pressed to your abdomen, trailing down reverently, lips meeting the fabric of your underwear as your back arched with budding anticipation. “Azriel,” you breathed, a quiet plea.

Head silent, filled only with you, he began to descend between your thighs, memorising every second should you wake tomorrow and decide to take your words back. His hand slid down over your thigh and he stilled.

Mind frozen, his fingertips traced your skin again. The soft skin, that would yield beneath force, held the puckering slices of scars. Recent ones. Disbelievingly, he pulled back, the light of the TV illuminating the room enough for his eyes to pick out the scratches littering the tops of your thighs. His heart sunk to his stomach as he looked lower, the skin of your shins filled with pursed marks.

All at once, you jerked upright, returning to your body. You’d been swept away by the feel of his loving touch, forgetting why your skin felt so relieved to breathe after having to be hidden.

Awareness flooded your body, skin tingling where his fingers had brushed as you pulled your legs to your body, shoving up the bed. Your arms wrapped over your shins, as if it would wipe the marks from his memory, what you wish you could do to your skin.

Widened, pain-filled eyes locked on your own. Shocked.

Tears flooded your vision, blurring him as they rolled down your cheeks. Every emotion you’d felt over the past month whipping down upon you. Hot, salty water traced forceful, heavy streams down your cheeks, rolling beneath your jaw before dropping heavily onto the your stomach.

“I—…” You don’t know what to say. Just frantic to explain it away, pretend it’s nothing.

Azriel stared at you, eyes struggling to lift from the red-rimmed scars that glared at him angrily. He watched as your hands splayed across your shins, attempting to hide as much of the damage as possible. How painful the sight was. How small your body looked, folded in on itself, head lowered in shame, shoulders trembling with quiet sobs.

Scars littering your skin.

His girl.

The girl he loved, who sliced herself up, not knowing how to manage the torrent of emotions tearing her down.

“What are these?” He asked, voice cracking as his chest hollowed out. How could you ever lay a finger on your body? How could you wield a blade so viciously against yourself?

“I—…I’m sorry,” you sobbed, voice weak and wobbly. “I didn’t mean— You weren’t supposed—…” The tears splattered as the drops burst on contact. The bed dipped, and pain sang throat your chest, gripping your throat, choking on tears you tried to swallow. You tugged your lip between your teeth, hand covering your mouth in small attempt to quiet yourself.

Tentatively, he reached out. He didn’t want to startle, or scare you. But he needed you to know he was there. Even as you were crumbling before his eyes. He needed to hold you together before you disintegrated entirely.

One arm reached below your lower back, lifting you from the bed as he pulled you gently to his chest. “It’s okay…” he breathed, hoarsely, throat wet with tamping down his own emotions. You were pulled into his lap, one thigh settled over his own as he tucked you neatly into the strong frame of his body.

My sweet, clever girl.

The sobs broke from your lips, quiet moans of pain singing from your mouth. He held you through it all, hands gripping your upper back to keep you tight against him. Your own arms wound around his waist, crying into his chest as your emotions spilled over. “I’m— I’m sorry, Azriel… I’m so— so sorry.” A stinging feeling split through his breast bone as he held you tighter. “Stop apologising,” he whispered softly, breath fluttering against the side of your head.

You sniffled, shaking your head, “I’m sorry— I don’t know what—” A sob burst from you, trembling in his arms. You didn’t even know what you were trying to say as groans of pain leave your lips, muffled by his chest. His hand brushed over your hair, mouth pressing delicate kisses to your head, over your temple.

He pulled you away, far enough to look at you. Your eyes were wet with tears, cheeks shining as the skin puffed, your upper lip was damp as your lower one trembled, more tears cascading down. Small strands of hair had stuck to your temples. The sight nearly has him collapsing in one himself. He’d just manage to have you, and already you were caving in on yourself.

“Hey,” he whispered, thumbs brushing beneath your lashes, attempting to dry your cheeks but more wetness flowed in their place. “It’s going to be okay,” he murmured, a slight tremor in his voice, “it’ll pass.”

You shook your head, “it always comes back. It just— it won’t leave me alone. I can’t do anything about it. It just keeps crushing into me,” you sobbed, hands wrapping over his forearms. “You have to work through this,” he breathed, words fluttering over your skin, “you have to make it out.”

You shook your head again, “I can’t.”

“Look at me,” he demanded softly. Reluctantly, you raised your gaze to his, “you’re going to make it through, okay?” He whispered softly, but firmly. “It’s just a matter of minutes, seconds ticking by. One at a time. Just take them slowly, okay? Don’t think about outlasting all of it. Just go one second at a time, and they’ll tick by before you know it.”

Your sobs slow, evening out, peering up at him. “Look at you,” he praised, quietly, “it’s already been a few minutes.” You sniffed, small tears pooling at the edges of your mind. But that pain had begun to soothe, melting out across your chest, becoming a dull thrum. “There you go,” he mollified, the sway to the deep timbre of his voice resonating somewhere far inside of you.

“Why don’t you relax for a little, yeah?” He soothed, gently settling you back down into the pillows, tucking you beneath a warm blanket. “Wrap yourself up, and we can put something on in the background. Or just sit together. Whatever you want,” he tags on. You curl back into the bed, revelling in the tenderness of his touch, his attentive nature you were just getting to see.

You just sat there, watching him, mind blanking, throwing all your words out just to make room for him in your head. You drank him in, absorbing the pads of his fingertips, the glow of his skin, the depthless swirl of hazel. Devastating.

“What do you feel like?” He whispered, watching you with those beautiful, beautiful eyes.

When you moved to reach for him he came to you, leaning into your touch as he settled down beside you. His heart thundered in his chest as you curled into his side, not saying a word. The silence was pristine, perfect against your ears as you tucked against him, crying into his solid warmth.

You couldn’t muster up the energy to talk, melting into his side, hoping if you kept your eyes closed, focused on the feeling of his skin against your, you could sink into him, forget about yourself. The pads of your fingers pressed against his solid muscle, bathing in the feeling of his clothes lapping at your skin.

The moment would end eventually. But you didn’t want it to.

He was comforting, and strong. You felt safe and tearful around him. Your mind went quiet whenever his eyes touched yours, whenever his words warmed your ears.

Maybe one day it would pass.

As you drifted off in his arms, you found yourself thinking how many seconds it had been, but you couldn’t count. The thoughts had eddied from your mind, replaced with the sound of his voice, soothing as it washed over you.

Taglist: @myheartfollower

#Azriel #Azriel x reader #Good Little Girl <3 #Azriel angst #acotar #Azriel x reader fluff

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magpiepills · 6 days

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Divining Rod

Rating: EXPLICIT 18+ MDNI

Pairing: Silva x wife reader, Silva x Jake

Word count: 1.9k

Summary: Silva returns after a trip to town to see an old friend.

Warnings: smut! PIV, PIA, hurt, very little comfort, thigh riding briefly, infidelity, m/m, love triangle, time period appropriate inappropriate use of alternative lubricants, unsafe sex, unrequited feelings, no happy ending.

A word from the author: this is a repost! This is my contribution to filling in the blanks of Silva’s story as presented in the film. We know he has a son, and has likely impregnated a woman the old fashioned way. We know he had a sexual relationship with Jake. As a matter of safety and social expectations in 1910, we know it’s unlikely that Jake or Silva could have been out and living openly as gay or bi men. I wanted to explore the relationship Silva may have had with the mother of his son without making it cute or sweet or romantic. I love westerns, and SWOL is a good western.

Do not come in here with any bi erasure. This blog is queer and we don’t tolerate that.

Four days have passed since Silva left. He rode into town, promising to come back with flour, lard, rice, beans, gun powder, and fabric for a new dress. He kissed you goodbye, and rode away into the purple morning, hips swaying gently atop his chestnut horse.

He looked so handsome in his green coat, you wished he’d have taken you once more before he left. Laid you across your wide feather bed, naked for him, cunt dripping arousal onto your quilt. You wanted to feel full the way only he could make you, crying out his name, breathless under the weight of his broad body. As you stood at the kitchen window, looking out over the silent ranch, you thought of him and how he alone had known you this way, only he could give you what you needed. That evening after you’d finished the chores on your own you squeezed your thighs tight, held one of his handkerchiefs to your nose and longed for him until you fell asleep alone once more.

Silva was gone for five days. He returned in silence, threw a bag of rice into the table, and went to tend to his horse. You wanted to run to him and bury your face in his chest, let him bunch your skirt around your waist, and fuck you in the soft hay in the loft the way he did in the halcyon days of your youth. The days when he brought you to your climax in ways you’d never imagined on your own, taking his time with his fingers and his tongue, then his cock, so thick and heavy, tan as the back of his hand and flushed with lust. He was a divining rod for your desire. “Yes” he would groan, “take it just like that. Come on. That’s it.” He would put all his weight into your hips, driving his cock deep with his eyes shut tight. The stretch made you feel warm all over, and your release was the only relief. He could be rough, taking what he needed, pushing and pulling your body into his until he moaned and nipped at your neck, spilling his seed on the rough boards of the barn floor. After so long apart, you needed him in that primal way.

You knew you couldn’t ask him, though. You couldn’t run and jump into his arms. When he returned from those trips to town he was sullen and quiet. You didn’t know why. You didn’t know he had gone to the sheriff, didn’t know how he’s carried on in secret, under the guise of being “two men on a ranch doing things that needed done. Branding cattle and mending fences.” In town they were cold and hard, firm handshakes and steeled gazes. Inside they lived another life. Silva on his knees, taking Jake into his eager mouth, feeling as his turgid member grew. Silva hollowed his cheeks and relaxed slowly down Jake's generous length until his mustache met the soft curls at the base of his lover’s cock. Silva’s eyes were soft and pleading as he gave himself to the older man, but his looks of love were never met. Not like this. Neither were they when they were in the creaking bed, Silva’s moans and curses muffled in the pillows. Jake was not tender and sentimental, he preferred to be straightforward and so he simply told Silva to take his pants down and get into bed. Of course he had complied and fucked down into his fist while Jake eased his thumb into his tight ring of muscle, working slowly and steadily, letting saliva drip down onto his fingers to ease his way before replacing his two fingers with his cock. The tenderness between them began and ended with Jake's hand on Silva’s shoulder, and Silva’s hand over his mate’s. Slowly Jake pulled back before pushing in again, squeezing the soft fat of his ass and easing his way with whatever oil he could find in town until he came with a shout. “Fuck. Fuck!” Feeling the pulsing in his ass, Silva came hard into a handkerchief. Jake could never love him like he needed him to, so Silva just took what he was given. A handshake, a promise to see each other again soon, and an uncomfortable ride home.

You only knew that going into town always made him poor company for a few days after. So you didn’t ask questions. You didn’t ask about the other supplies or what news he had heard, or even who he saw. You heated water on the stove and dragged the big wash tub into the front room for him so he could wash where it was warm and soak for a while if he wanted to. Silva was obliged and peeled off his layers of clothes, throwing them into a pile for washing later. “I’m so glad you’re back safe. I missed you every day.” You cooed at him soothingly while you soaped his back. As you washed his hair and carefully rinsed it, you massaged his tense shoulders. If you’d looked closer you’d have seen the faint bruises on his hips, remnants of the lover he would never leave. Instead you forged ahead. “I thought I’d make a stew when you get done and we can go to bed early tonight.” You hoped he would understand what you were asking for, but he glowered. “You go on to bed, I need to check the fences.” His voice was cold and flat. You couldn’t deny the hurt you felt at his rejection, but you wouldn’t let him see it.

You took a breath, and gathered his dirty clothes in your arms. His outer clothes were dusty, but the inside layers were clean, save for his rust colored undershirt. The one he looked so handsome and strong in, you loved how the fabric stretched across his shoulders and chest, hugged his strong arms and his soft belly alike. The shirt you loved to see him peel off as he walked toward your bed and told you all the things he was about to do to you. That shirt was clean save for a dried white stain splashed across the back, stiff and flaky, unmistakable. Silva saw as you connected the dots in your mind. “Just leave it. Go. Let me finish.” You tossed the clothes back down and saw the handkerchief fall from his pocket, tell-tale stains all over. Your hurt boiled into anger. “Are you trying to make a fool of me, Silva? You’re gone for almost a week, all you bring back is a sack of rice, you won’t make love to me, and you smell of cum. What do I say to you?”

Silva was incensed. He stood quickly from the washtub, his wet body shining in the glow of the kerosene lamps, hair wet and slicked back. If he wasn’t unfaithful to you he would have been the prettiest sight you’d ever seen. “You don’t say anything to me. You don’t ask me any questions and you don’t expect any answers!” He was red and bellowing, quaking with his misplaced anger. “I give you everything you need and I care for you. Isn’t that enough? Or don’t I fuck you enough? Is that it? You’re a desperate slut and you can’t wait for more? Well?” You couldn’t answer him like this. You shook your head and turned to go, but he was out of the tub and holding you against his chest before you could make it to the door.

“Take this off. If you want my cock so bad, I’ll give it to you.” His hands moved to unbutton the front of your dress, he was careful with the buttons despite the anger in his voice. He was thawing. With your arms out of your sleeves he pushed you into the wall, holding you there with his thigh between your legs. The wild look in his eyes made your cunt throb against it. He covered your mouth with his and kissed you hard and deep while his hands gathered your skirt and found your ass, digging his fingers into it, he pulled your core against his thigh, grinding it firmly into your center. Unsatisfied, he pulled away to lift the pretty dress over your head while you untied your slip and let it fall at your feet. Both of you naked now, you looked at each other, catching your breath before he picked you up and carried you to bed.

“Silva please. I need to know you’re mine.” You whined into his neck while he slid his hard cock against your folds, wetting them with your own arousal.

“What do you need? Tell me.”

“Need you inside. Need to feel you.”

He couldn’t be gentle now. He had to pour every ounce of his hurt, anger, confusion, despair, love, lust, jealousy and desperation into you tonight, had to transfer his feelings the only way he knew how. He notched at your entrance, taking time to tease your clit with the weeping head of his cock, and entered slowly, backing out slightly, then pushing further, repeating the pattern- back- forth- forth- back-forth- forth until he was as deep as he could get, and settled there. He kissed you and sucked your nipple into his mouth as he plucked at the other, teasing your nipple into a hard peak. The sensations were everything you wanted, fully engulfing you like a bonfire he had set. You needed more. You bucked your hips, nudging him to move, to meet your thrusts. You could only move as much as the mattress would allow until your love relented. He kissed up your chest and sat up tall on the balls of his feet. He liked you like this, helpless beneath him, needy, wanton, begging. “Is this how you want it? You want it hard like a whore? Want me to tell you I’m yours? That there’s nobody else?” “Yes, yes, please. Just fuck me. Please!” You needed your release. Feeling how full he made you had you so close to tipping over the edge that if he would just give you a little more you could reach it. Instead he moved slowly, circling his hips, quiet so you could hear how wet you were, hear how you whined and cried out for him. You heard him breathing hard too though, how he needed this just as much. “Let me come, Silva. Pleasepleaseplease!” He began fucking you faster, licking his thumb and pressing it against your clit. He could feel you squeezing him as you got closer, and he doubled his efforts, feeling generous now. He drove into your pussy. “Take it. Take all of me. Look at you, you’re so good for me, my love, I want you to come for me. Come on my cock so I can fill you.” He babbled meaningless filth at you and held your hips down with one hand over your mound, stroking your clit, and the other reaching up to cup your tit. That was enough. Your orgasm rolled over you like a heavy wave, and he fucked you through it, dragging it out until you settled, then closing his eyes to cover your stomach with his cum.

You wiped yourself clean with a towel, then threw it onto the rest of the semen covered laundry. When you washed it, hung it out to dry, then folded his handkerchief to tuck into his bureau, you knew it was just a matter of time until he went back to his lover.

#pedro pascal character fanfiction #pedro pascal character smut #pedro pascal characters #bat writes #smut #Silva #strange way of life #Silva strange way of life #extraña forma de vida #Silva extraña forma de vida #silva x jake #silva x reader #Silva x you #swol #Silva swol #Silva was manipulative as hell

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prolix-yuy · 1 year

Text

If the Moon Walks Out

Pairing: Din Djarin x F!Reader

Summary: The Mandalorian's profession ushers in a harsh reality.

Word Count: 6k

Warnings: M, descriptions of injuries, blood, and medical-ish procedures, allusions to sexual acts, PiV sex, fingering (f-receiving), hurt/comfort, angst but there's some good sweetness to balance it out. While this story is not explicit, my blog and the content shared on it is 18+ MINORS DNI.

Notes: It's been a hot minute since we've checked in with our space family! I realized after pausing updates that I left the story in somewhat of a "season finale" state, so I'm embracing it and calling this new episode the beginning of Season 2. Time to buckle up our butts and hop back in space with my favorite space dad and his green baby!

Takes place the day after Soft Fires.

Cross-posted on AO3

I Think of You Series Masterlist

The strange insistence of your circadian rhythm wakes you inside the Razor Crest. Time has a fuzzy aspect in space, but you still manage to keep your schedule as regular as possible. Like now, as sleep recedes from your eyes and you stretch with a thin groan. Your legs and arms tighten and release, pleasant tension and relaxation working through your muscles. As you shift, thighs rubbing together, a tenderness at the apex rushes last night’s actions to the forefront.

(you finally fucked the Mandalorian)

(again)

A smile breaks out on your face that, even without an audience, you hide behind your hands. Rolling over to curl on your side, you bury your face in your pillow and stifle the burst of happiness under the covers.

(you are more beautiful than Basic can convey)

(careful Mando, or I might fall in love with you)

(would that be a bad thing?)

(no it karking would NOT)

Swinging out of your cubby bed, you pad to the kitchenette to make a pot of caf. You might say there was a spring in your step, and a smile unwilling to quit on your lips. Mando doesn’t seem to be up yet, but you’re sure he’ll be along soon.

Measuring out grounds and water, your mind keeps drifting back to your time in the cockpit.

Mando’s arms, bare around you after a moment of conflict.

His words, growled through the vocoder as he pumped inside you in waves of pleasure.

Two of the best orgasms of your life.

(the others were also at his hand, that night so long ago)

“Good morning,” comes the same voice you’d just been recalling, Mando standing tall behind you with the child waking slowly. His marble eyes blink blearily, but when he sees you standing in the Food Place he reaches out to be held. You snicker at him before taking him into your arms.

“Good morning Bean,” you coo, and he yawns and gives your thumb a firm grip. It always makes your heart clench a little, that anchoring touch. “And good morning to you too, Mando,” you add, turning up to look into the featureless visor.

(well)

(what do we do now?)

After the child went to bed, you stayed with Mando in the cockpit for a few hours more. Some of it was spent talking, explanations of the next couple bounties, when you’d be touching down, where. He told you a little more about how he and the child came to be a clan of two, the darker details coming forward. You listened, commented when silence indicated Mando wanted your opinion, and absorbed their history together.

(a clan of two)

(two plus one, now, you hope)

When sleep began to pull at your eyes, Mando lifted from his seat and cupped your cheek.

“Let’s put you to bed, Mesh’la,” he murmured, to which you smiled and shooed him away.

“Would rather not see how you intend to get me down the ladder,” you joked, giving him a long look. He was as ferocious and powerful as he’d always been, but the more time you spend together, the more you find the man behind the beskar. He was amused, but also relaxed, offering comfort. You’d take it any chance you get.

“Good night, Mando,” you said, and with a new boldness you wrapped him in your embrace. His arms circled around your back quicker than you thought, and that small act made you smile into his chestplate. His hug was sharp edges and firm muscle and the gentle expansion and contraction of breath.

“Good night, Mesh’la. Sweet dreams,” he returned, and you stumbled into bed half-drunk off his embrace.

Now, in the bright light of a new day, you wonder briefly if anything will change. If Mando will allow himself your touch, or if he’ll act like last night never happened. You hope not, but if past experiences dictate future ones, dealing with Mando’s emotions is a bit like trying to climb a mud-slicked mountain. Two steps forward, one slide back. Slow going, but a journey you would happily traverse.

Mando cocks his head at you, then steps into the kitchenette.

(Maker, he takes up so much space it’s suffocating having him in this small room)

The child is fixated on a bit of bread he probably hopes is for breakfast, so he doesn’t notice his caretakers’ locked gaze, or the way Mando slides one hand to your hip and around to splay on your lower back. With a gentle pull he fits you against his body and presses his own special kiss to your forehead. Butterflies explode in your stomach.

(no more guessing no more hoping this is real)

It’s brief but meaningful, a sign that Mando won’t be ignoring your affections any longer. It makes your heart skip several beats.

“Caf’s ready,” you squeak, spinning around quickly enough that the child’s ears flop dramatically. One-handed pouring cups for you both, Mando’s gaze is hot along your shoulders, the curve of your neck. Not lustful, but possessive, like a man who has finally let himself have something decadent and has no intention of giving it up.

He takes the cup with a quiet “thanks,” stroking his free hand along your back as he exits to the cockpit. Once he’s out of earshot you let out a shaky breath, waves of excitement and arousal and tension breaking along your coast. The child looks up with curiosity, squeezing your thumb a little firmer

“Everything’s fine, Bean,” you say, a smile almost cracking your face with joy. “More than fine, actually.”

“This should be quick,” Mando says as he slings his amban rifle over his shoulder, bandolier tightening with the additional artillery. You’re perched on a seat by the table, fingers quick on your datapad as you pull up something to keep you entertained. While the planet looks lush and some trees are heavy with fruit, Mando assured that you wouldn’t want anything that thrives here.

“This region cultivates many poisonous plants. Creatures too. Stay inside with the kid.” He takes in the child’s downturned ears and runs his thumb and forefinger over the ridge of one. “Next time we’re somewhere safe you can go exploring.”

“C’mon Bean, don’t you enjoy my company?” you tease, earning the tiny-green-baby equivalent of a begrudging shrug. It would have made you laugh if you weren’t pretending to act offended.

“How could you say such a thing! When I’ve been nothing but patient with your needs!” A staticy chuckle warms your skin as you throw out one of the few hand signals you knew from the Tuskens who traded on the outskirts of Tatooine: ungrateful, a hand cupped and pulled towards your chest, then turned to the ground. Accepting water and throwing it away. The child’s bottomless eyes lock on your hands, ears perking up as you lean on the crate.

“You like that, Bean? It’s a different way of talking. I’m not very good at it,” you huff, showing him the sign again. You’d seen it during a barter once, gleaning the meaning before asking your father what they were doing. There were a scant few others you knew, most of them to do with trade, but the child’s reaction was promising.

“You know the Tusken language?” Mando asks, startling you with his hovering at your shoulder.

(every time you think you know where he is, he gives you a karking heart attack)

“Just a little, we got traders in town every now and then,” you say, straightening up in your seat. “Had an idea a few days ago that it might be a good way to communicate. Since, you know, the talking thing hasn’t been going great.”

“I can teach him,” Mando says, making you lean back to look up at the helmet.

(Maker, he looks gorgeous from any angle)

“Where’d you pick that up?” you ask, a smile playing at the corner of your lips. Mando’s hands come up to his waist and make several complicated gestures. You hold yours up in protest.

“Woah, woah, I only know a few words!” you laugh, earning a squeal of delight from the child. Mando puts a hand on his hip, cocking his head at the two of you.

“The Dune Sea is easier if you can negotiate with the locals,” he says. You nod knowingly, leaning on your elbow as Mando picks up the last few items he needs for the hunt. “Languages are useful in my line of work.”

“Please tell me you know some Wookie,” you tease, and for a second you think Mando might actually indulge you before he shakes his head.

“Maybe later, Mesh’la. I’ve got to get moving.”

Nodding curtly, you pick up the child and move over to open the back ramp for Mando. He strides to the edge, standing side by side as the ramp lowers. You’ve stood in this spot a few times before, but today feels so much lighter. The child grips your shirt and pulls himself up to your cheek, his smaller, chubbier face now level with yours. The ramp thuds to earth as Mando turns to you both.

“Be safe,” you say, almost a force of habit by now. The child trills in response. You didn’t expect much from Mando, his leaving normally not accompanied by a farewell. A nod in your direction and a heavy saunter were your usual signals of departure. But like you felt before, the mood is different today. Instead, he tucks his forefinger under the child’s chin and strokes the roundness of his cheek. It makes him squinch up his eyes, but you swear you can see a smile on his wrinkled face.

“Stay out of trouble,” he says to the child, then turns his attention to you.

Heart thumping in your chest, you briefly imagine another Keldabe kiss. The few times he’s indulged you’d cherished, but never imagined it could become a habit. Now with him about to depart, you wonder what your goodbye could look like.

(would he want you to kiss him?)

Your answer comes in the form of his knuckle tucking under your chin, the soft leather of his glove swiping below the crest of your lower lip. He strokes a path to the back of your neck, cradling the base of your head in his expansive hand.

“You too,” he tries to say lightly, but there’s a thickness in his voice that explodes in your stomach. “You can be just as bad as him sometimes.” You snort at his teasing.

“Well, you’re the worst of us all,” you quip back, but lean into his touch. It takes him another moment before he lets go.

(yours your yours Mando)

With a curt nod he descents the ramp, shoulders and hips swaying a little more than normal. It blooms excitement in your chest.

Another day. Another bounty. Possibly another night of his touch ahead of you. The galaxy felt like a kinder place.

The hours tick by, not too dully at least. You started the day cleaning the hold, gathering yours and Mando’s clothing for a wash. It was slow going in the small ‘fresher sink, but you had time to spare and the child didn’t mind being entertained by stories and splashes. Grime and sometimes worrying rust-colored water washed down the sink as you moved the sopping cloth into the shower to dry.

“You know Bean, I think we need to convince your dad to invest in a few household appliances,” you hum thoughtfully, a reassuring trill answering. “Besides the sub-par cooking supplies, a wash system would be amazing.” The child burbles on your hip as you bounce back into the hold, going down your mental list of tasks you wanted to complete.

(clothing clean, supplies checked)

(need a shower, maybe a shave)

(you know, just in case)

Smiling to yourself, you start gathering your toiletries. The child never seemed to mind being cooped up in the 'fresher with you, though some days you do wonder how much of a child he really is. Hopefully the fogged-up transparisteel of the shower door is enough to protect his innocence.

(then again, leaving him to roam has not gone well)

You’re about to head into the ship when the comm in the cockpit pings. Climbing up to investigate, it only relays the distance Mando is from the Crest.

(unusual, he normally calls)

Fear prickles in your belly, but you try to shake it off in favor of pragmatism. The bounty could be rowdy, or heavy, and Mando may not be able to reach the vocal transmission controls. Descending, you open the back hatch and wait at the top of the ramp for his shape to gleam on the horizon.

It doesn’t take long, the beskar a beacon for the sunset to dance off. You watch his approach with the child in your elbow, shading your eyes against the glare. He’s trudging along, bounty slumped over his shoulder but seemingly conscious. It’s slow though, slower than you’re used to seeing Mando. As the distance closes, your heart spikes into panic.

(he’s limping)

It shouldn’t come as a shock to you that Mando could get injured on the job. The most dangerous moment of your life, trapped in the Lively Bantha as blaster bolts rang out around you, is a blip on his radar. From the stories you’d heard and the pieces you’d put together, you’re sure the map of Mando’s body is patterned in injuries.

This, however, is different. You’re here, and you’re terrified.

“Stay here Bean, I mean it,” you say sternly, placing the child on a crate in the hold. He makes a concerned “patu?” noise, which you try to soothe with a hand on his back.

“I’m not sure, I hope he’s okay. Stay here. Promise me,” you say, and for some hysterical reason you put out your pinky as if he’d even understand what that meant. He doesn’t have enough dexterity to wrap his littlest claw with yours, but he does grip it briefly before you rush back.

Mando and the barely conscious bounty, human by the looks of it, are approaching the base of the ramp. You barrel down it, coming to a stop in front of them both.

“Get back in the…” Mando tries to say, but a sharp inhale cuts him off before he can rebuke you further. Wordlessly, you slide under his free arm and give him a steadying push. Stepping in tandem, the three of you make it to the top of the ramp, and as if on autopilot Mando shoves the half-aware human into the carbonite chamber, slapping the button to initiate. The hiss of gas dissipates behind you as you pull Mando further into the hold.

“Kriff, Mando, what happened?” you pant, the stress of shouldering someone that much bulkier than you quickening your breath. Mando groans quietly, soft little pants coming through the vocoder as you sit him beside the child.

“Bounty was fine. Had a run-in with…something. Got bit.” Mando grits out, leaning heavily on his elbow to keep from toppling over.

(on a planet that houses the most poisonous species)

(oh Maker)

“Where?” you breathe, hands already starting to shake. Infection is bad, poison is worse, venom is…you can’t even fathom. He pats his outer thigh, another wince and a groan following.

“It was…a reptile. Fast. Red…I think.” Mando’s voice is starting to weaken, and terror seizes your body like a iron cage. The child is trilling at Mando, scrambling onto the table to be closer to his protector.

(no no no what the kriff are you supposed to do this cannot be happening Mando cannot be NO stupid girl don’t even think that he’s okay it’s going to be okay kriff what do you do?)

All at once the tension, the fear and the terror are doused in cool logic. Your father was the one who taught you to protect yourself, but your mother had teachings of her own. Adept in medicine, problem-solving and crisis, her voice now steels your spine.

(Daughter of mine, the first thing you must do is assess the damage)

Dropping to your knees, you inspect the spot on Mando’s thigh where he indicated the bite. Nothing looks the matter at first glance, but investigating closer reveals two ragged holes in the fabric of his flight suit, dark blood sticking it to his skin.

(Fangs most likely mean venom)

Heart thrumming, you work your finger into the hole and tense to rip it.

(sorry Mando, the Creed will have to take another small hit to keep you alive)

The taut tan flesh underneath quivers when you press near the wounds, hot and hard to to the touch. The pressure elicits a rough choking noise from Mando. It makes your skin prickle, but you surround the wound with your hands and squeeze.

Thick clotting blood oozes out, along with yellow ichor and something deep and dark.

(Venom, daughter. Bacta won’t be enough)

You squeeze again to be sure, making Mando’s fist come down hard on the table. A string of curse words in a language you don’t understand bursts through static, the child coming up to press his three-fingered hands on Mando’s vambrace. He chuckles, somehow, in the midst of all this.

“Don’t, kid, I’ve had worse,” he scolds the child.

“Stay with me Mando,” you shoot back, twisting around to retrieve your datapad. “How big was it?” Mando shakes his head, forcing focus.

“Four feet long, reptile, low to the ground, yellow eyes,” he spouts off as you type furiously. Turning the datapad to Mando, you press his thigh just a bit to snap his head to the image.

“Yeah, I think…kriff, looks like it,” he groans, doubling over. The child is louder now, squeaking and struggling against Mando’s hand holding him back.

“Breathe,” you direct, watching him try to take less shallow gasps. “Okay, venomous but not deadly. Painful, for sure. Antidote is…” Your fingers fly through the information, a strangely frilled leaf coming into view.

(You’ve seen that before, daughter)

“Thanks the karking Stars,” you shout, scrambling to your feet and tossing, “Stay there!” over your shoulder as you gallop down the ramp. Taking off at a sprint, you round the front of the Crest to find a wall of the same leaves, hanging so low they brush along its steel haunches. You had admired them through the transparisteel earlier in the day, wondering if they stayed that green their entire lives. They’re not quite in reach, but a few carefully judged steps up the landing gear and a lucky snatch has three of the dinner plate-sized leaves clutched in your hands.

(Hurry, dear girl)

Lungs and legs burning, you clamber up and into the hold again, skidding to a stop on your knees that will surely leave bruises.

“Macerate into paste…needs…what the kark is ‘subtle acid’?” you pant, tearing the leaves into smaller pieces.

(Chew)

Without a further thought you stuff the leaves into your mouth, chewing vigorously. The flavor is instant, strongly vegetal, bitter, but you let saliva pool in your mouth.

“Mesh’la…” Mando groans, followed by an anxious coo. Looking up, your clan of two are regarding you, on your knees with cheeks full of awful tasting leaves. Drool is dripping down your chin - there is some numbing chemical in the greenery, you’re losing feeling in your lips - and you’re sure you look a mess, but Mando still cups the side of your face. You shake your head, digging wads of the leaf paste out and into your palm.

“Save whatever you have to say for after I get this in you,” you scold, your voice only shaking a little as you pour water over the open wounds to clean them. The trickle of blood is weak, but the swelling and angry color does not bode well. Unceremoniously, you jam the paste into the wounds, ignoring Mando’s groans as you press and rub and work the paste in.

“Dank farrik, Mesh’la, I think it’s in there,” Mando squeezes out, fist clenching on the crate.

“When you’re not in danger I’ll listen to you,” you shoot back, and are rewarded with a dark chuckle.

(he can laugh, that’s a good sign)

Once the wounds are stuffed and slathered to bursting, you spit the rest of the bitter paste into a bowl, licking around your gums to dislodge any remaining bits. Your lips feel heavy and thick, tongue tingling and half numb. It’s hard to tell if you’re still drooling, but a few swipes along your face reassures you. The paste looks to be working, the deep green darkening to black and oozing out of the wound. You repack it two more times, much to Mando’s displeasure, but the angry redness is dissipating and the flesh is no longer hot. Throughout the process the child grips Mando’s vambrace, eyes locked on his visor as he makes tiny concerned coos. Mando murmurs to him, reassurances you remember from your own mother.

(All will be well soon, daughter. You did a fine job. I’m proud of you)

(miss you, mom)

An hour passes like this, few words actually spoken under your careful watch. When the final wad of salve oozes free without deadly black poison following you know the wound is drained. Next comes fresh water, a cloth gently washing away the mess from Mando’s thigh, and a bacta patch to close the wounds. You debated on stitches but the punctures looked small enough, clean enough, to take bacta well.

Sitting in a crumpled heap on the floor, you finally allow the adrenaline to seep from your limbs. Every muscle shrieks, your knees hot and aching, hands chafed raw. Amongst it all, you watch Mando carefully. He stands, testing the weight on his leg. He’ll carry a slight limp for a day, but you can tell the pain is manageable for him.

(he’s been through worse with less help)

The child chirps from the crate table, urging you to your feet. When you lift him he goes willingly, but holds his arms out to Mando with a whine. You smirk, but hand him over to his guardian.

“Hey kid,” he rumbles, propping the child on one arm to look at his concerned face. “You should be nicer to her, she took very good care of me.” Wrinkling your nose, you barely find the energy to huff a laugh at the gentle scold. The child looks back at you, ears downturned and reaching back one hand. His other is firmly wrapped around Mando’s thumb.

“Thankless job, saving your life,” you warble, more emotional than the joke you meant it to be. Mando meets you in the middle of your step, wrapping his free arm around your back and pulling you into his side. Tucking your head into his shoulder, he squeezes you tightly. The child grabs for your hand and you offer your thumb, but he takes your pinky in his tiny grip instead.

(good memory Bean)

“I’m sorry for scaring you,” Mando murmurs above your head, the beskar pressing against your temple. It grounds you enough for a shaky breath.

“I forget this is your life,” you admit, fisting your hand into his cape as your clan of two holds you in such different ways.

Mando hums, stroking his hand up and down your back with long, slow passes. You press into his shoulder, fighting back the tears that threaten to fall now the work is done. “Are you okay, Mesh’la?”

“I’ll be fine, just…need to breathe,” you answer, and Mando lets you do that, just breathe in the tiny circle of the people you care most for in the galaxy.

(main thrusters, backup thrusters, directional…kriff, it looks the same as…oh okay, that’s the comms, and that’s the landing gear sequence…now where’s the…)

“Mesh’la?”

Mando’s voice startles you out of your deep concentration, once again cursing how quietly he can move around the ship.

“Hi, yes, sorry, do you need…sorry, I’ll…” you stammer, gathering the tattered manuals strewn across your lap as you shuffle out of the pilot’s seat. Through the heat of your embarrassment you catch Mando tilting his head at your clumsy shuffle, the armful of pages plopping down on the jump seat as you smile too brightly at him.

(why do you feel like you’ve been caught watching dirty holos? You were just sitting in the pilot’s seat)

(his seat)

Mando’s ankles are crossed one over the other, arms similarly folded against his chest. The dark T visor is trained on you, his observation making your hands restless.

“What are you reading?” he asks, nodding down at the manuals. You straighten, starkly self-conscious now that you’ve been caught in the act.

(will he think you a fool?)

“Well, after today, I just…I realized that I don’t know much about the Crest.” You swallow hard, the image of Mando’s body going limp in the hold pressing behind your eyes, “The biggest thing I’ve ever driven was a speeder but I found all of these manuals.” The top one is open to the page on the console buttons, and you scoop it back up to distract from Mando’s attention.

“This seemed like a good place to start,” you say cheerily, coming to stand in front of the console with its dimmed lights. “Power up sequence is…” you start, finding the tiny writing that details each step. Miming the button presses and level flicks, you count out the procedure.

“One, two, up, up, lift-case-press-once…” Turning your head to the switches above you, Mando’s silhouette is no longer in the doorway but standing behind the pilot seat, one hand resting on the back. His closeness tightens your posture, cheery smile on your face feeling more like a grimace.

“Four switches here, all in a row…” you murmur, reaching up to tap them in sequence. When you do, the cool air of the cockpit breezes against a sliver of skin on your stomach. It’s contrasted immediately with the heat of Mando’s gaze on it.

(no distractions, you have to learn)

“Then we’re on to takeoff procedures, so we’ll engage…” You’re interrupted with the warm weight of Mando’s hand circling your bicep.

“What’s this about?” he murmurs, but you pull free from his barely-there grasp with a tut.

“You’re going to make me lose my place,” you scold, taking a step out of his reach to lean over the console, but your hand shakes as you rest it on the thruster. “Thrusters to…thrusters…to…”

(Mando lying dead in a forest you could never reach)

(dead on a prison ship parsecs away)

(dead on a planet you don’t know the name of)

(dead dead dead dead)

His hands touch you with purpose now, shifting you to stand beside the pilot’s seat as he settles into it. Your grip on the manual is white-knuckled, your teeth clenched as you try to say anything, explain yourself, but Mando pays you no mind as he spreads his hands along the console.

“The manuals are a start, but the Crest has had better days,” he says, a dry smile in his tone. Your muscles begin to loosen, eyes locked on the Mandalorian as he speaks slow and carefully, his hands moving with purpose.

“Only one back thruster has an ignition spark, so you have to ignite the live one and use the exhaust manifold to light the other,” he says, walking you through each revised step of the Crest’s takeoff procedure. He pauses when he hears you furiously scratching notes, and goes over parts of it again when your eyebrows furrow in confusion.

“Once you’re out of the atmosphere there are a few steps to prepare for hyperspace, especially without an astromech…” Your lungs freeze at the thought.

(how the kriff are you going to compute hyperspace travel without a droid?)

(kriffing Mando and his Maker-damned brain)

(it’s one of the sexiest things about him)

“...but if you give me a few days I’ll write out the calculations for you,” he finishes, and the relief paired with the wave of arousal at how easy he makes it sound is a dizzying combination.

“Thank you,” you breathe, putting down the manual and wiping your sweaty palms on your pants. “Where’s Bean?” you ask, the little bogwing nowhere in sight.

“I gave him some jerky, he’s probably still working at it,” Mando replies, and finally a light chuckle bubbles from your lips.

(two baby teeth and a strip of jerky, you’ll have to save Bean from the torture)

“I’ll go check on him,” you say, turning to leave but Mando’s hand wraps around your wrist with a gentle tug.

(guess you’ll have to explain yourself now)

He guides you back to stand between his knees, thumbs stroking the backs of your hands.

“Would you tell me what you’re thinking?” he asks, and you’re struck by how often Mando surprises you. You expected an accusation, an interrogation, and then he only asks you to help him understand.

(Maker you can barely comprehend the care he offers you)

(is this what it’s like for him?)

“When you were…” You pause, trying to get more moisture in your mouth. Mando waits, helmet turned up to you in patient silence.

“When I thought you were dying, I realized I wouldn’t know what to do if you did. I - we rely on you so much. To pilot the Crest, to earn credits, to keep us safe, and if you were gone…” The words can’t come up for air, the devastation of that dread scorching your tongue.

“...I thought if I just read these and figured out the basics it would mean I could at least get us to safety. If you were in trouble I could find you. If it was just…Bean and I…I could still complete your mission…”

(Kark the mission)

(if Mando was gone, you’d be all that Bean had)

“Nothing will happen to me, Mesh’la,” Mando says, gentle assurance on the outskirts of that modulated voice. It makes you ball your hands into fists, gritting your teeth when you meet the visor’s stare.

“You don’t know that. You leave every time to risk your life and there’s no telling which time you’ll walk out and never come back.” Saying those fears out loud tightens your throat, the corners of your mouth pulling into a grimace as you fight against tears.

“I won’t allow that to happen,” Mando says more forcefully, his grip grounding. This close you can almost believe him. He’s impenetrable to most - beskar, strength, cunning, speed - but today only fattened up your fears.

(you’ll be alone)

“I can’t live like that, Mando, relying on you to not get bit, or shot, or killed. I can’t sit by and pretend you’ll always come back. I need to know how to fly, where to keep searching for the Jedi, how to find you if you’re lost or taken. I can’t just live on this ship until one day you’re gone.”

At the crack in your voice Mando surrounds you, pulling you down into his lap and letting you sob into the cool beskar. One hand cradles the back of your neck, his arm wrapped around your back to sink you deeper into him. The scent of dirt and warm fabric and blood envelops you, comforting as it is terrifying.

(you could have lost him today)

“I’m sorry, Mesh’la, I know,” Mando soothes, rubbing his thumb in gentle circles behind your ear. “This was a bad one. I have you to thank for stopping it from being far worse.” Mando pulls away enough to cup your chin in his soft gloved hand. “I will do everything in my power to stay safe…” He sighs, the truth on his lips. “...but you’re right. I may not come back one day.”

He lets the acknowledgement sit in the air for a few moments while you search the helmet for something more. Sadness? Fear? Worry? Or are those all just your own emotions reflected back in the brilliant shine?

“So I’ll teach you. How to fly the Crest, my contacts, my plans, all of it.” The resolute tone of his voice smooths your face, leaning into his touch as the thrumming anxiety beneath your skin lowers to a simmer. “We’ll have backups, boltholes, everything you need in case of an emergency.”

The shuddering breath you take is met with a quiet, “That’s it, Mesh’la,” as your heart rate begins to drop. A few moments more and you find your fortitude, his arms resting in an easy circle around your waist.

“I’ll keep you safe,” Mando promises, wiping away a streak of tears from your cheek. The leather is soft on your skin, the touch reverent.

“I know, Mando,” you hiccup, nose stuffed and head pounding from the ache of emotion bouncing inside it. You must be a sorry sight, but Mando only caresses your face and holds you close.

(you don’t dare think this could me more than care right now)

(your heart couldn’t take it)

“Didn’t know you had medical training,” he says, his thigh shifting making you hiss out a “sorry” as you adjust your weight off his injured leg.

“My mother taught me well,” you reply, eliciting a nod from Mando. “Didn’t know the Crest was such a complicated ship.” A pause. “I like watching you pilot her.”

“Is that so?” Mando purrs, and that sneaky arousal from before aches quietly between your legs as Mando’s hand slips from your cheek to slide along your collarbone.

“You’re good with your hands,” you gasp, your own coming to his forearm to tighten on the vambrace.

“I know,” he replies cockily, fingers sliding back up to brush his thumb over your lower lip.

A small curious trill echoes up the ladder, pulling his hands away from you with a sigh. You would laugh but it’s probably for the best. Your nerves are live wires, raw emotions still just barely simmering under the surface.

“Sounds like Bean’s given up on the jerky. Coming down?” you ask, standing and wiping your face more thoroughly with your shirt sleeve.

(no point in scaring the kid)

(you’ll be okay)

“Wait…” Mando says, bringing you back into the bracket of his thighs again. “Tonight, after the kid goes to sleep, meet me in the ‘fresher,” he says, one wandering hand dragging slowly up your hip. “I’ve been thinking about what I’d like to do if we were back there again.”

Heat erupts across your face, molten hot down your spine and puddling in your core.

“Kriff, Mando, don’t know how I’m going to last until then when you talk like that,” you groan, thighs rubbing together as he tilts the helmet at you.

“Better hope he tires out quickly,” he teases.

Bean does not go down early, but you use the time to dote on him further. He relishes in the long dinner, the extra-detailed story you weave about a Bantha family in the desert, the indulgent snuggle under your chin as you soothe him to sleep.

(maybe your heart needed just a little more comfort)

(or maybe you just love him more than you let yourself admit)

Either way, when you settle him into his hammock, blue blanket tucked around his tiny body, you thank the Maker that he’s trusted you with such a precious, weird, perfect little creature.

And then later, when you enter the ‘fresher and Mando’s hands land hot and bare on you, you thank the Maker again for sparing Mando as he takes you apart pressed against the cool tiled wall, mouth buried in his thick bicep as his skilled fingers drag your orgasm to new shattering heights.

Balanced on the edge of the sink, Mando’s helmet tucked over your shoulder as he pumps into you with long slow thrusts, you whisper all of the words you couldn’t say in the cockpit.

“Thank you for coming back to me.”

“Feels so good Mando, you feel so good inside me.”

“Don’t stop, please, don’t stop.”

Mando’s voice drags roughly over your skin, rumbling into your ear.

“I’m here, Mesh’la.”

“I’ve got you.”

“I’ll keep you safe.”

And you believe him.

END

“a flower knows, when its butterfly will return, and if the moon walks out, the sky will understand; but now it hurts, to watch you leave so soon, when I don't know, if you will ever come back.”

― Sanober Khan

Episode 10 of the I Think of You Series

The story continues in Episode 11: Rising Phoenix

#din djarin x female reader #the mandalorian x f!reader #mandalorian x you #din djarin x f!reader #the mandalorian fanfiction #din djarin x you #mando x you #mando x reader #mando fanfiction #mandalorian x reader #din djarin x reader #the mandalorian x female reader #the mandalorian x reader #i think of you series #prolix fics

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borathae · 1 year

Note

I don't like.this angst no more

I miss the unproblematic aaol couple

Can we get an update on them

I miss them and them just being always in love and his little mommy in every sentence 😔

I FEEL THAT OMFG HAHAHA also pleaseeeeeeeee his little mommy in every sentence 😭😭😭 I forgot how fucking adorable he is 😭😭😭 I miss him 😭😭

You're getting a liddol something about him crushing hard af on her when she works out afjadjf 🥺 maybe one day I'll make a oneshot outta it 😔

You watch him through the mirror. His eyes are glued to your arms and back, his lower lip is between his teeth. He is so adorable like this.

Wanting to rile him up even more, you finish by keeping yourself pulled up, tensing your muscles as best as possible.

Jungkook almost makes you laugh because of his reaction. His knees visibly wobble, forcing him to catch himself by grasping the doorframe.

You lower yourself slowly, grunting as you do.

“What, uhm, what should we cook?” Jungkook asks, feeling so weak in your presence. You are so strong. It’s so hot.

You turn, making him look away shyly.

“I don’t know. I’m craving chicken”, you say nonchalantly as you stretch out your muscles.

“That sounds good yeah uhm, I’m down for chicken.”

“Nice. Chicken it is. Hey Bunny?”

“Yes mom- I, I mean, my love?”

You look over your shoulder, “come help me with a stretch, sweetpea.”

Jungkook almost falls over his own feet from how quickly he hurries to you.

“What should I do?” he blurts out with big eyes.

You place yourself right in front of him, “reach to the front and pull my elbow closer to you.”

Jungkook obeys. You can feel his heartbeat race against your back and his quickened breath swirl over your skin. He pulls, sending a comfortable burn through your tight muscles.

“Mhm there we go, that feels nice”, you groan, snickering internally because of Jungkook’s breath shuddering in reaction.

You finish off the stretch, changing sides to equal it. Jungkook holds your elbow with grabby fingers, heart skipping a beat when he can feel your low purr vibrate in your back. You are so hot against him, covering his shirt in the sweat of your hard work. Jungkook swears his nipples become hard because of it. He is so embarrassed about that, but still presses himself closer.

"There we go", you sigh, relaxing against him, "you did such a good job, Bunny."

Jungkook’s tongue burns in the desire to call you your title. He wants to be your tiny, fragile Bunny so freaking bad.

“Now I gotta take a shower, I’m sweaty”, you say nonchalantly, turning on your heels.

Jungkook avoids eye contact with burning cheeks. A thing he regrets doing as seconds later, he feels you grip him by his cheeks and force his head to turn. He locks eyes with you.

“Don’t hide your pretty eyes from me. Are we understood?” you order sternly with your eyes burning in faux anger.

“Y-yes”, he stutters. You could crush him. Jungkook is ready. Maybe he even wants it.

Your eyes soften, as does your touch.

“Such a good boy, that’s how I like you”, you rasp, thumb slipping from his cheek to instead trace his upper lip.

Jungkook feels so weak, knees buckling and body chasing you in a stumble.

One you ignore by breaking away from him.

“Get some green beans ready. I wanna have them with the chicken”, you tell him, strutting out of the gym with all the confidence in the world.

Jungkook is left feeling like the hugest mess on earth. He touches his upper lip, letting out a soft breathy moan of frustrated arousal. “She’s mean”, he whispers, repeating the sound with his shoulders sagging in weakness.

#asks: aaol #asks #anon #hcs: aaol #jungkook drabble #jungkook fluff #jungkook fanfic #bts fluff #bts drabble #bts fanfic #sub!jungkook #sub!bts

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silverynight · 8 months

Text

The roommate

<---Previous

Part XII

He has learned his lesson this time, Izuku doesn't make any attempts to check out Twitter, not even during his break at work.

Of course it's always better to deal with different problems one at a time and he knows the most important thing at the moment is the Twitter mess, but Izuku can't stop thinking about the fact that he's supposed to choose.

They've been both so good to him and he likes them so much to think about breaking someone's heart. Because that's what Izuku will end up doing, right?

He'll hurt someone.

Shaking his head, he decides to focus back on his work and nothing else for the next hours.

Both Todoroki and Bakugo come to pick him up from work; the plan is to go to a nice cafeteria and meet Todoroki's friends there.

Izuku thinks he's never hung out with so many pro heroes like in the last couple of weeks.

"How was your day at work, Izuku?" Todoroki asks as Bakugo leans closer to the green haired bean and kisses him on the lips.

"It was o-okay!" Izuku tells them, stammering and shaking a little bit after pulling away from the blond. His cheeks are bright red already; he knows his co-workers are watching everything with undivided attention.

"I'm glad," Bakugo smirks, looking at Izuku with amusement as he gets even more flustered when it's Todoroki's turn to kiss Izuku's lips.

He's not going to survive getting both pro heroes attention at the same time.

Fortunately, they won't be alone: Uraraka, Iida, Yaoyorozu and Jiro are already there. Izuku gets a lot of hugs from them, especially Uraraka and a firm handshake from Iida.

None of them even question the fact that Todoroki and Bakugo are there with him at the same time or that Izuku sits in the middle of the two and they're both constantly kissing his cheeks, forehead and hands.

He knows his face is currently (perhaps even permanently) red.

However, as time passes and Uraraka starts talking about that time their teacher Aizawa got them all detention, Izuku starts relaxing in his seat. Bakugo is holding his hand while Todoroki starts rubbing his back casually, like the three of them have been on dates since forever instead of one time.

When he thinks everyone's distracted, Izuku glances at both of them, trying to determine if they're comfortable with the situation.

Surprisingly, it seems like they are and when Izuku notices it, the last bit of tension on his shoulders disappears completely.

Izuku doesn't even flinch when Todoroki sits him on his lap and Bakugo gently places his legs on his. Izuku even chuckles when Jiro rolls her eyes at them.

However, he tenses again when a group of fans gets closer and starts asking all pro heroes for a picture, some of them agree, but Bakugo and Todoroki don't seem like they're willing to let Izuku move.

"Wow, two pro hero boyfriends, how does that even work?" A woman asks Izuku, prompting him to get a little bit nervous.

"It works just fine!" Bakugo growls at her before Izuku can say anything. "Now all of you, fuck off!"

"I don't think she had bad intentions, Kacchan. She just looked curious."

"I was getting tired of all of them anyway!" Bakugo retorts with a scowl on his face that only disappears when Izuku kisses him on the cheek.

"I think it's time to go." Todoroki says then.

Uraraka hugs Izuku again before saying goodbye and tells him he can call her anytime if he has something to complain about "those two" which prompts Bakugo to narrow his eyes and take Izuku's arm to pull him away from Uraraka.

Bakugo doesn't want to return to the apartment so soon; he convinces them to go watch the night sky on the top of a building. Izuku wraps himself around him so Bakugo can use his quirk to get them there as Todoroki follows them.

The three of them sit there for a while and even though the nights are never quiet in that city, Izuku manages to forget about his problems for a moment. He can feel both of them right at his sides and he even smiles when they both take his hands.

What if they stay like that? So life doesn't have to get complicated and Izuku doesn't have to choose? What if time stops?

He's being so selfish...

"So..." Todoroki clears his throat, prompting Izuku and Bakugo to look at him. "It's obvious that none of us will ever give up on you. And it seems that you don't... That it'll be difficult for you to choose."

Izuku nods, trying to hold back his tears, but failing miserably. Are they tired of this already? Izuku honestly doesn't blame them...

"We're not breaking up with you!" Bakugo assures him, kissing his tears away before glaring at Todoroki over Izuku's shoulder. "Could you get to the damn point?"

"Sorry, Izuku! I didn't mean to upset you!" Todoroki says before kissing Izuku's curls. "I'm sorry! What I mean is that we could actually try this... We could both date you and keep you... If that's something you'd like."

"Are you sure about this?" Izuku asks, noticing how shaky his voice sounds, but none of them seem to mind. They both lean to press their lips against Izuku's cheeks at the same time, prompting him to giggle. It feels good to be so loved.

"I'm pretty damm sure, nerd! And half and half here is too!"

Part of him feels like he's getting advantage of the situation, but Izuku nods before intertwining his fingers with theirs.

The truth is that keeping them both sounds really good.

***

Next--->

Patreon

#bnha #mha #my hero academia #bkdk #bakudeku #bakugou katsuki #izuku midoriya #shoto todoroki #tododeku #tddk

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aria-ashryver · 3 months

Note

Hii 😍

Sooo I wanted to ask for your MCs / Pairings what is something they like, some favorite colors and such. Anything you feel comfortable with sharing 🥰 I just want to know more about your characters 😍

Hope you have a wonderful day 🩷

Hi hi sunshine!! I hope you are having the most fabulous day!! 🧁🌸🌷💕 sorry it took me forever to answer this lol

Here's a few favs for the Starlight trio 🥰

LUCA

Favourite Colour: It changes a lot — at the moment it is red and orange, but they often like foresty, green, earthy palettes

Favourite Food/Drink: Black and/or iced coffee, energy drinks, Skittles, salty snacks

Favourite Hobbies & Ways To Relax: Dance (esp. Ballet, contemporary, and urban) Drumming Balisong flipping Re-watching movies they’ve seen before, snuggled up with Cas and Gabe Yoga w Gabe Driving places with Cas in his ugly little car lol Collecting little trinkets

(Luca will absolutely steal stuff from his friends lol. With Cas and Gabe (and his best friend Viktor), he’s sneaky, bc he knows they don’t actually care, but with other friends he normally asks permission by holding up the thing he wants and going “I’m stealing this” lol)

GABRIEL

Favourite Colour: Autumnal palettes (like burnt orange, burgundy, deep gold, etc), as well as soft, muted hues

Favourite Food/Drink: Chamomile tea, pistachio ice cream, coconut milkshakes, alfajores, coquito tres leches cake, any of his father’s recipes for home-cooked meals. Gabe isn't vegan but he does often eat a lot of plant-based food!

Favourite Hobbies & Ways To Relax: Cooking (especially for other people) Cleaning (lol, I know, but having a clean and well-organised home is like good self-care for Gabe) His 5 step-skincare routine Reading, especially long fantasy novel series Playing his guitar and singing Yoga w Luca Muay Thai Recently, photography!

CAS

Favourite Colour: Black, red, purple, blue — dark colours with a night aesthetic

Favourite Food/Drink: Galbi-tang, banana-mat uyu, red bean bungeo-ppang with vanilla ice cream, hot sauce! (he puts hot sauce on everything lol)

Favourite Hobbies & Ways To Relax: Taking long, hot showers Hanging out with his Venandi/Flagstone Cove buddies at the fighting ring, sparring, boxing Sketching or painting, spraypainting Driving places with Luca in his totally awesome car Getting little adrenaline hits by doing things like cliff diving

Also - I associate Cas with the Moon, Gabriel with the Sun, and Luca with the Stars ✨✨✨

#ty for the ask lovely!#SICSIG #choices immortal desires #cas harlow #gabe adalhard #luca o'rinn

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agereninjas · 9 months

Text

Long day

[DESCR- After a long day, Kai and Lloyd cuddle.] Before you read this, just a quick PSA; THIS IS NOT GREENFLAME.

Kai gently rubbed Lloyd's back as he was wrapped in a blanket, pacifier in his mouth and his eyes half-closed. Lloyd had a rough day, he got hurt while training, he almost slipped during a mission, and he barely had two seconds to relax. It was around eight, nearly bedtime, yet he was sleepier than usual.

"Lloydy, are you doing alright?" Kai asked as he looked down at Lloyd. Lloyd nodded, his green eyes looking up at Kai, making a smile form on his face. Kai chuckled and continued to rub Lloyd's back, comforting him further. "Hey, do you wanna tell me how old you are, little guy?" Kai asked, waiting for Lloyd's response.

After a few moments, Lloyd tapped Kai once. "One year old? Aww, you're the littlest little guy in the whole world, aren't ya?" Kai kissed the top of Lloyd's head, earning a giggle from the blonde. Kai looked at the time; 8:43. He might as well get Lloyd ready for bed. He stood up and carried Lloyd to his room. He turned on a nightlight and then turned off the actual lights, then put Lloyd down on the bed.

Kai quickly found some pajamas for Lloyd; a pastel purple pair of pants and a matching green shirt. He helped Lloyd change, giving the little boy a kiss on his head. "Nice job, buddy. Do you want anything else before you go to sleep?" Kai asked. Lloyd thought for a moment, then grabbed his stuffed bat, which Lloyd had named Starlight. Lloyd then made grabby hands up at Kai, surprising the brunette.

"Me?" Kai asked, sitting next to Lloyd on the bed hesitantly. Lloyd wrapped his arms around Kai, his tired head resting on Kai's shoulder. Starlight was still being held, of course. "Ohh." Kai gave a quick nod to himself, then laid both him and Lloyd down on the bed. He pulled the blankets up over their shoulders, holding Lloyd close. "Goodnight, green bean." Kai whispered as Lloyd closed his eyes. "Sweet dreams."

#fandom agere #ninjago agere #sfw agere #age regression #ninjago #age regressor lloyd #caregiver kai #lloyd garmadon #kai smith #lego ninjago

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askbohemiancompany · 4 months

Text

It has been a wild few weeks for Gwen. Between meeting gods, following a royal like the world’s worst groupy and getting a prank shot down, the psychic needs a way to relax.

Too bad Gwen is not able to take a break right now. She is standing before a small house, overlooking the beautiful water that can be seen from Driftveil City.

The merc pushes the button on the doorbell. The sound of multiple locks being unlocked can be heard, which puts Gwen at ease. On the other end of the door a bisharp wearing a light green peplum approaches.

There are many striking details for this steel type. For starters, where parts of the bisharp ‘armor’ and rib blades should be, there is thick black fur on her entire torso and arms close to her shoulder. Speaking of the upper arms, the shoulder pads that gave bisharps their soldiering look are non-existent. On the sides of her head are tall pointed yellow ears, matching the skin tone on her face. Finally her canines are far more pronounced, remaining visible even when she closed her mouth

Upon seeing the gothitelle, her mouth would not stay closed very long, as she stares in awe at the psychic before her. “G-Gwen? You look so…”

“Different? Yeah I caved and decided to evolve. It has been a long couple weeks and I want to at least see two mons that can help me unwind. Sorry for the short notice Lingua.”

Shaking her head, the bisharp almost jumps forward, giving Gwen a hug. Which would be a surprise to anyone who knew Gwen, as she is known for not being an affectionate person.

“No, it's great! I haven’t seen you in a while and I’m sure they would be happy to see you,” turning behind her, “Hey Posy look who is here.”

A child approaches the gothitelle. This child is a gothita, but the natural bows the gothitelle line usually have, resemble pink fairy wings. The young psychic stares at the merc for a good few seconds before finally saying something.

“Aunty Gwen!” The child then hugs the gothitelle leg. “You got so big.”

Giving a sensible chuckle, Gwen returned the hug. “Hey there Posy! I have grown lately. Shows that can happen, even when you get older. How have you been? School has been going good for you?”

As soon as that is asked, the child runs off to grab something and present her a paper with a big 94% in red lettering. “I was one of 6 people who passed this test! I get to draw and color during the retake!”

“Well well well! Look at you. The smarty in a sea of dummies!” Gwen is keeping her language clean around this little bean of a child.

“Mommy got me ice cream after!”

Gwen bends down and pats her head.

“Aunty Gwen. Why did you get so big?”

With that brief bit of eye contact, Lingua knows there is more to the story. Something that is not appropriate for Posy to hear.

“Say. Posy, why don’t you go play in your room for a little bit. Gwen and I need to talk about boring adult stuff.” Lingua says in a gentle tone.

The childs gives a confused glance. Gwen, noticing this, decides to step in. “Once boring adult talk is done, we can do some coloring, alright? Besides, the reason I evolved was simple, I got sick of being called a kid.”

This lit the child’s face up. “Ok great!” With that, the munchkin ran off. Leaving the two women alone.

Now is the time for some difficult discussions.

“Gwen. I’m sorry to hear about Floyd. The few times I have met him he was a good man.” The bisharp put her hand on her shoulder to comfort her. Gwen, while clearly not happy, gently grasped the bisharp’s hand.

“Floyd and I are in a line of work where this kind of thing happens. We knew one of us was going to die early,” a twinge of rage creeps into the psychic as she clenches her fist. “I know who did it, and they are one of those freaks that attacked Arcadium. She also has a hand in the death of one of my friend’s entire family. We both have been making plans to track down and kill her.”

A brief appearance of dark energy forms in her eyes. Lingua notices this as well, but does not know how to change the topic, so she just allows the gothitelle to continue with what has happened with them. Gwen, after realizing she is emitting energy, calms herself down.

“Tying into that, we also have to guard Nigel for a job. None of us are happy about it.”

“You are guarding Nigel!?” Lingua’s voice briefly got loud before stopping herself. “Why are you and your team guarding that bastard?” A hint of venom comes out as she describes the clefable. Her fangs are bared and the heckles on her visible fur raised. She even gives a low growl.

“He took a plea deal about ratting his whole network out. Basically it is the second biggest bust of a pokemon trafficking operation.” The psychic sounds matter of fact in this tough situation.

“I’m. I don’t know what to say.” Someone who Lingua intensely despised is finally being held to face the weight of his incalculable crimes. Some of which are inflicted on her and warped her life as a child. “Is there any sort of punishment for him?”

Gwen shakes her head no. “After this, it is witness protection then he has to live off the radar.”

Now it is Lingua’s turn to get angry, the rare moment of her trembling, fangs still out to see. Gwen knows it is about as intimidating as a stuffed animal, but still this is not healthy for her to do.

“If it makes you feel better I know some inside information not connected to the case,” Lingua’s brow is raised. “The money he got from killing that one centaur thing ran out, he dumped a lot of it into a club that never opened, he bought a car that was frozen over and the little bit he has left he cannot even spend on what he wants due to not wanting to attract attention.”

This is little comfort for the hybrid. “I’m glad Nigel is facing some justice. Better too late than never.” The bisharp gives a seething, bitter hiss. It did not make her laugh like Gwen hoped it would.

“There is one more thing I need to make sure you are aware of.”

There is more? What Gwen had advised is already bad enough. Lingua prepares for the worst.

“We severed ties with our former financier. She and my boss did not exactly end on good terms,” Gwen grabs both of the hybrid’s shoulders and stares her dead in the eyes. “Please stay away from Arcadium and Black City. If anyone starts following you or you see anyone you do not know outside your door, call me immediately okay?”

After this impassioned warning, the psychic pulls the dark type close to her in a hug. Gwen’s tense breathing and heart beating can be felt by Lingua. This hug takes the hybrid’s breath away.

“I just…I have made your life more difficult. You deserve better than all of this. I’m a parasite, not a friend.”

Shaking her head, the hybrid pulls Gwen into her own embrace. “Gwen. If it wasn’t for you I would not be alive. I wouldn’t be reunited with my family. Most importantly, I would have never met Posy. You will always be one of the best things to happen to me.”

Gwen smiles and allows the hug to continue. The hybrid’s gentle heartbeat matched in rhythm of her own After all, Lingua always had a calming effect on her.

“I will be careful as I always have been. Let’s go back inside. I think Posy will want to do coloring with you.”

The gothitelle nods, a seldom sweet smile is plastered on Gwen’s face. While it is not entirely happy, Gwen is going to enjoy the downtime she can get.

#Gwen the gothitelle #lingua the bisharp #posy the gothita #plot

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