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anotherwvba · 1 year

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An Origin Story pt. 11

"Mind if I lead, Joe?" Mika asked as the bell rang, her accent adding a touch of warmth to her words.

"If you know the steps, Mademoiselle," Joe replied, the words sounding almost poetic.

From the sidelines, Gabby Jay turned to Von Kaiser. "Von Kaiser, would you mind helping me provide some advice to these two? Two heads are better than one, oui?"

"Natürlich, Herr Jay. This spar will be interesting to watch," Von Kaiser agreed with a hint of curious enthusiasm.

Skye, Niki, and Cutie stood together, their eyes fixed on the ring. "Go Mika! Show him what you've got!" Skye cheered, her voice full of Chicago spunk.

Mika was a bundle of energy, using her nimble footwork to circle Joe and try to cut off the ring. Joe, however, managed to keep from getting cornered, his experience evident in his defensive maneuvers. But it was soon clear he was reacting more than acting, a testament to Mika's offensive pressure.

"Nice footwork, Mika! Keep him on his toes!" Niki shouted, clapping her gloves together in encouragement.

Cutie, leaning on the ropes, shouted, “Defense, Joe! Use your hands!”

Mika threw a quick one-two combination. Joe parried the first punch but took the second, a slight grimace crossing his face. Realizing he needed to disrupt her rhythm, Joe started using jabs. Some landed, most missed, but all did their job.

"That’s Joe's experience showing. He’s messing with Mika's timing," Cutie observed, her eyes keenly following the action.

“Offense is defense makes more sense now,” Skye chimed in, absorbing the knowledge on display.

“Wanna keep your glove out of my face?” Mika smiled as she parried Joe’s jabs.

“Ah, mon amie,” Joe smirked as he kept throwing his jabs, keeping Mika at range, “but they are a classic, non?”

Just as the bell rang to signal the end of the round, Mika dashed in and slipped a jab, landing a good counter right hook, making Joe's head snap back slightly. They both lowered their gloves, smiling as they headed to their respective corners.

"Mademoiselle, your performance was quite impressive," Joe praised, still catching his breath.

Mika grinned, "Thanks, Joe. Your fundamentals are so solid. You really know how to use that jab."

Gabby Jay was the first to offer his feedback. "Mika, you're doing well with your footwork, but don't get too eager. José's experience means he can turn the tables quickly. And José, mon ami, you need to be more proactive. Don't just react; take control!"

Von Kaiser nodded in agreement. "Ja, Joe, your defensive skills are good, but offense is the best defense sometimes. Try to find a balance."

Both fighters nodded, absorbing the advice. Mika and Joe then shared a quick glance and a nod, their eyes locking for a brief moment.

"Ready for round two?" Mika asked, her gloves already back up.

"Our dance continues, Mademoiselle," Joe bowed, a genuine smile on his face.

Mika and Joe touched gloves as the bell rang for round two, their eyes locking in a moment of mutual respect and anticipation.

"With your leave, Mademoiselle Mika, I think I’ll take the lead in our dance now," Joe said in his gentlemanly tone.

"I don’t know," Mika's voice was tinged with a blend of excitement and focus. “I like leading the dance.”

From the sidelines, Gabby Jay turned to Von Kaiser, "These two are putting on quite a show, non?"

"Ja, Herr Jay. I love when I get to see Joe’s technique and the new girl is keeping pace," Von Kaiser agreed, his deep voice lending a distinct layer of gravitas to his observation.

Skye, Niki, and Cutie were huddled together, their eyes glued to the ring. "Come on, Mika! Show him those moves!" Skye cheered, almost chanting like she was at a Bears game.

Mika took the cue and ramped up her footwork, her agility creating openings in Joe's defense. She was like a whirlwind, her movements calculated yet fluid. Seizing an opportunity, she landed a solid body blow that made Joe wince.

"Nice shot, Mika! Keep it up!" Niki shouted, her voice tinged with pride.

“Slow the pace, Joe!” Cutie called out, offering her insight to the sounds from ringside.

Joe wasn’t one to be easily rattled. Focusing on Mika's timing and tells, he began jabbing again, effectively throwing off her rhythm. His experience was showing; he was adapting, learning her patterns.

"Ah, Joe's getting into the groove. He's making her think twice," Cutie noted, her eyes keenly following the action.

Mika, sensing the shift, threw a short right uppercut. But Joe had her timing down now and dodged it with ease. The crowd gasped, impressed by his reflexes.

"Wow, Joe's got some moves!" Skye exclaimed, her eyes wide with admiration.

Just as the round was about to end, Joe tagged Mika with a quick jab that caught her off guard. Seizing the moment, he unleashed a rapid-fire combo, his gloves a blur of motion. The bell rang, signaling the end of the round, but not before both fighters shared a knowing look.

"Wow, Joe, your timing is… I don’t have words," Mika said, her voice tinged with genuine surprise as they headed to their corners.

"Merci, Mademoiselle. But remember, eagerness can be both an asset and a liability. Settle down a little next round," Joe advised, his tone both encouraging and cautionary.

Gabby Jay was the first to offer his feedback. "José, mon ami, you've shown you can adapt, but don't get too comfortable. I think this one’s full of surprises."

Von Kaiser chimed in, "And don't forget to seize the offensive when the opportunity arises, Joe."

Both fighters nodded, absorbing the advice like sponges soaking up water. As they prepared for the final round, Mika looked at Joe, her eyes twinkling with playful mischief.

"It’s our last dance for the night, Joe," she taunted, her gloves already back up.

Joe chuckled with a playful glint in his eyes, "Oui, Mademoiselle Mika, but the best is yet to come, n'est-ce pas?"

"Is that a promise or a threat?" Mika taunted, her eyes twinkling with anticipation.

"Ah, in the dance of boxing, it can be both," Joe retorted, his voice tinged with excitement.

The atmosphere was electric as the bell rang for the third round. Mika and Joe touched gloves, their eyes meeting in a blend of competitive spirit and camaraderie.

From the sidelines, Gabby Jay leaned toward Von Kaiser. "Round three, mon ami. This is where the magic happens."

"Indeed. This reveals the true character of a fighter," Von Kaiser agreed, his experience giving gravity to his words.

Skye, Niki, and Cutie were all propped on the edge of the ring apron, their eyes glued on the action.

"Let's go, Mika!" Skye cheered.

“Come on, Joe!” Cutie replied.

Niki looked at the two with amusement, “You’d think it’s a World Circuit Title fight and you two have money on it.”

Mika started off with some flashy footwork, her feet moving like quicksilver on the canvas. She tried to distract Joe with her agility, setting him up for a one-two punch. But Joe, ever the experienced boxer, slipped the jab and countered the straight right with a clean left to Mika's stomach.

"Nice counter," Mika said, her eyes widening in admiration.

"The opening steps of our last dance," Joe said, smiling at Mika.

Mika grinned back. "Then let's tear up the dance floor."

Joe’s eyes twinkled, “Oui, mon amie. Let’s.”

Switching gears, Mika started working her jab, her gloves snapping out like a cobra striking its prey. Joe took a few clean hits, but then, reading her rhythm, he slipped and landed a clean right hook, the best punch of the match so far.

"Look at Joe go!" Niki shouted, her voice tinged with awe.

The two fighters then engaged in a dazzling exchange of punches, dodges, and slips. It was like watching a high-stakes dance, each trying to outmaneuver the other. Counters were met with counters, blows were traded, and the tension escalated with each passing second.

"Keep it up, Mika! You've got this!" Skye encouraged, her voice rising in excitement.

"Let’s go, Joe! You’re doing great!" Cutie countered with equal enthusiasm.

"Focus! This is when you show your true skills!" Von Kaiser added, his voice a blend of sternness and encouragement.

As the seconds ticked away, both fighters gave it their all, neither willing to back down. And then, the bell rang, signaling the end of the round and the spar.

Joe opened his arms wide, and Mika stepped in for a hug, both fighters sharing a moment of genuine warmth and respect.

"Jeune femme, with your talent and spirit, you will go far here. Mark my words," Joe said just to her, his voice tinged with sincerity.

"Thank you, Joe. I genuinely appreciate you sparring with me. You've taught me a lot today," Mika replied quietly, her eyes shining with gratitude.

Gabby was the first to offer feedback. "Mika, your offense is impressive, but remember, defense wins championships. You settled yourself that round and it showed. Most impressive."

Von Kaiser chimed in, "Joe, your counters were excellent, but always be prepared for the unexpected. Remember that, yes, defense wins titles, but sometimes your best defense is a solid punch."

The gym erupted in applause and cheers, everyone gushing over the incredible spar they had just witnessed.

As they started to leave the ring, Joe turned to Mika and Skye. "I am going to get dinner in the cafeteria after I refresh myself. May I have the pleasure of buying the two of you dinner? A small token of appreciation for a spar well fought."

Mika looked at Skye, who nodded enthusiastically. "We'd be honored, Joe. Thank you."

Skye started unwrapping her hands, “We’ll get cleaned up and meet you there.”

“Parfait!” Joe nodded. “I’ll meet you there.”

And so, the fighters headed toward their respective locker rooms, their hearts full and their spirits high. This was how amazing this sport could be among those who share a love and respect for the ring and those who step in it.

#punch out #super punch out #punch out wii #wvba #punch out oc #punch out fanfic #glass joe #gabby jay #von kaiser #star mika #skye ivy #cutie hondo #niki binary

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officialcharactersimp · 3 years

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'Tis But A Flesh Wound

Summary: reader comes back from a mission and they’re hurt so bucky helps them to clean up their injuries, and then they just like stare at each other, confess their feelings or sum, and then they fuck 😎, [also reader gets real sleepy and Bucky thought they were only into girls]. thanks to @h1ghtodeath for your help in brainstorming! A/N: I said I'd post today and it's (checks time) 11:55, so I've got 5 minutes to spare! Also this is what happens when I write when I'm sleepy! Reader is sleepy! WC: 2.1k of fluffy smex

CW: NSFW!! 18+!!; soft smut; mention of injury; you could argue slight somno if you really really wanted to?; k that's it.

“Come on, let’s get you cleaned up,” Bucky says, one hand around you as he helps you into your bathroom.

“It’s fine, Bucky, really,” you say, trying to get him to let you walk on your own to no avail. He shakes his head.

“You look like shit, y/n,” he says bluntly with a hint of a smile.

“Thanks,” you reply with your own hint of a smile. He (in all his super-solider glory) picks you up and sets you on the counter, opening one of the cabinets after.

“Where do you keep your medical supplies?” he asks, closing that one and opening another cabinet.

“Bucky, I can take care of it myself,” you tell him, moving to get up and get them yourself.

“Nah-ah-ah, y/n, keep your cute little butt on the counter and tell me where they are,” he says firmly. You feel heat rising in your face and sit back down.

“In the bottom left one, middle shelf,” you sigh, feeling like a stupid middle-schooler for your blush. That’s just how Bucky is, he’s not flirting with you. Well, at least, he’s not flirting with you any more than he does every single human on the planet. It’s just Bucky. You shake your head, trying to stop blushing by the time he turns back to you. You must succeed, because he shows no sign of a reaction to it. He sets the supplies on the counter next to you, grabs a stool, and takes a seat in front of you.

“Alright, now, le’me see that leg,” he says. You put your leg up for him to see, and after a moment he wets a washcloth with water. You wince a little while he cleans it of dirt and debris, but when it comes to the alcohol, you flat-out hiss at the pain. He gives an apologetic but amused grin at the sound, hesitating for a moment but knowing it will be better for everyone if he just gets it over with. He packs it with ointment, covers it, and wraps your leg firmly, then looks up at you.

“How’s that feel?” he asks. You nod.

“It feels good. Thanks,” you say. He smiles and stands, not thinking about how his seating arrangement means when he stands, it’s between your legs and uncomfortably close. You look at him, finding him staring straight back.

“Sometimes I really wish you were into guys,” he sighs, then starts to back up.

“Wait, what? You think I don’t like guys?” you grab his arm, keeping him in place to make sure you get your answer.

“I mean, with your ogling over Natasha all the time, I just thought…” he reached up and scratched the back of his neck with the arm you weren’t holding onto.

“Everyone ogles over Natasha,” you point out. “Including you.” He smiles a bit at that. “But, wait, why do you wish I was into guy—oh,” oh, you halt yourself at the realization. “You couldn’t mean that you—” you turn red.

“That’s exactly what I mean, sweetheart,” he says, his cheeks turning a little red. You feel yourself heating up and hope he can’t notice. “But don’t worry, y/n, I know we’re just friends and all,” he says, and you shake your head, sliding your hand down his arm to intertwine your fingers with his own, smiling a little shakily.

“We don’t have to just be friends,” you say quietly with a squeeze.

“We don’t?”

“Nope,” you pop the P as you speak. “I like you, too. I just never thought you would like someone like me,” you shrug.

“Don’t say that,” he says, picking up your chin with his free hand. “You’re amazing just how you are. I promise,” he says, leaning in for a soft, gentle, timid kiss. After the momentary surprise wears off, you kiss him right back, closing your eyes and leaning into him. You squeeze each other’s hands tightly as his other arm finds its way to the small of your back. You bring yours up to rest on his chest as you both deepen the kiss. Soon both of you are using both hands to explore, still gentle and slow, neither of you going further than the other, kissing and touching and breathing against each other. It’s only when he starts to get hard that he pulls back with an apologetic grin.

“Bucky—“

“Don’t worry, y/n, I know you just got back from a mission. You’re exhausted. Not that I would expect for you to—“

“We’ll just take it easy then, huh?” you ask, pulling him back to you.

“Hey, hold on. You sure you want this?” he asks, his eyes searching yours methodically. You nod.

“Yes, Bucky, I do, please,” you grab onto his shirt tightly. He grins.

“Well, I can’t argue with that, sweetheart. But we’ll take it nice and slow,” he says, hands finding their way under you to lift you into his arms and take you to your bed. He sits down, you straddling his lap, and kisses you. You bury your face in his chest and begin rocking your hips against his crotch gently. It’s been awhile since you’ve been with another person, and this is already much better than humping your pillow (which never really gets you off anyways). You let out a soft, breathy moan into him and his hands come up to your waist, gently guiding your movements.

“Bucky…” you say gently.

“Yes, sweetheart?” he says, and you tug at the hem of his shirt. “Oh, I get it,” he says. “Want more now?” you nod and lean back to allow him to take off his shirt. You take the opportunity to get yours off as well, and while you’re admiring his chest and abs, he manages to get both of your pants off. Now you’re straddling him still, but the only thing between your dripping core and his very hard member is two thin layers of cotton. You feel yourself heating up again and look away. Once more, he tilts your chin up to look at him.

“None of that, love,” he says, kissing you gently. “Just keep doing what you were doing.” His hands find their way down to their hips and help you find your rhythm again. “That’s it,” he praises gently, groaning. Both of you are starting to breathe harder now, and the fabric between you is soaked through. Still, however thin and useless the barrier, it represents something. You keep grinding down on him, his grip on you growing tighter, both your sounds building, until finally he pulls back a bit and looks at you.

“You’re sure?” you ask one last time.

“Yes. You?”

“Yes,” you nod. Slowly, you both lift up and remove your underthings. You sit back onto his thighs a bit, looking down between you.

“Too big?” he smirks.

“Don’t think so,” you shake your head. “But it is big. And it’s been awhile since…” you trail off. He nods.

“Me too. Don’t worry. I’ve got you,” he says. “Just tell me if you wanna stop or need something, okay?” he kisses your forehead and you nod in agreement. Slowly, he grips your hips again and guides you to hover just above him, then uses one hand to rub his tip against you. You flat-out whine at the sinsation ((an actual typo I made and then left in)), earning a chuckle. “You like that sweetheart?” he asks. You nod. “You ready to feel me filling you up?” he says in a low voice that makes you shiver. After another nod, he begins guiding you down, filling you slowly until you’re settled back down on his lap. Both of you sigh deeply in relief. “I hope you feel as good as I do, sweetheart, cuz holy fuck,” he whispers.

“You can say that again,” you agree with a breath of laughter. “Wanna move,” you say, squirming a little.

“Alright, darlin’, go ahead,” he says sweetly, and you begin to rock your hips again. His low, sinful groans fill your ears and only encourage you. He uses his hands on your hips to start to move you a little more up and down with your rocking motion, and oh god, it feels good. You let out a little whimper. “You’re a quiet one, huh?” he asks, no malice in his voice.

“Helps me focus on how good it feels,” you confirm his suspicion.

“Alright with me, darlin’,” he says. “Just makes every sound you make mean more,” he smirks. You laugh a little and nod.

Bucky, on the other hand, is far from quiet, but it’s not at all like some of the over-zealous, obviously fake sounds you’ve heard in porn or through walls. It’s genuine, low, husky grunts and moans that only serve to turn you on more. His vocalness is to him as your quietness is to you, and you revel in it, drinking every sound he makes.

He can tell that, even if you’re not a moaner, your breath says it all. And this close to you, with his forehead pressed to yours, he can hear the tiny little sounds that barely make it out of your throat when he does something right—the way your breath hitches and your gasps rub your vocal chords, the way you sigh, the way you whimper so softly he’s not always sure he heard it—he revels in it, drinking in every sound you make.

He can tell the mission and the exhaustion is catching up to you when your movements begin to slow and your head leans down onto his shoulder. He smiles, enamored, and leans to whisper into your ear.

“Wanna stop and go to sleep, sweetheart?”

“No,” you murmur. “Feels good. ‘M just tired,” you tell him.

“Want me to take over?” he offers, and you nod against him. He feels you giving him more control, not quite going limp, but not really focusing on your movements either. His grip becomes firmer as he begins to both move you and thrust up into you gently, letting out a groan that rumbles in his chest and reverberates in yours. “So good for me, honey, so good,” he says, and you hum a little at his praise.

Eventually, he leans back against the headboard so he can pull you up a little while letting you lean on him. Now, he’s able to thrust up into you better, and the weight shift means he can hold your hip with one hand and use the other to slide between your bodies and play with the sensitive bundle of nerves just above where your bodies are connected. He smiles when he hears the way you gasp, then whimper just a bit.

“Where do you want me to come, sweetheart?” he asks you.

“Inside…” you murmur. “I’m on the pill.”

“Aww, you wanna feel my nice warm load fill you up?” he coos. You nod.

“Yes, Bucky, please,” you say against his shoulder.

“Alright. I can do that for you, darlin’. You close?”

“Mhmmm,” you hum.

“Good. Wanna make you come first,” he says, angling his hips to hit inside you just right and rubbing your bundle of nerves just so. It’s not long before you’re tumbling over the edge, hips bucking as you squeeze your hands on his shoulders. You whine high in your throat when the wave first washes over you, then dissolve into gasps and sighs as you ride it out. Bucky lets himself go as soon as he knows you’re coming, holding onto you tight and burying himself all the way in you as he groans loudly, burying his face in your neck. The two of you ride out your ecstasy together, holding tight and breathing in every moment, and when you’re finally done, Bucky lifts you off of himself and carries you to the bathroom.

“Wanna go to sleep,” you complain.

“I know. But you gotta pee and let me clean you up, y/n. You’re in bad enough shape already without getting an infection,” he says, kissing your forehead and then setting you down on the toilet. Begrudgingly, you comply, going to the bathroom and then letting him clean your thighs and core with a washcloth. “See? That wasn’t so bad, huh?” he says, scooping you up once again and taking you back to bed.

“Actually, it was probably the worst thing ever,” you joked sleepily.

“Me making you take a piss is worse than your leg wound?” he asks.

“Yes, infinitely so,” you mutter, pressing yourself into his chest once he has you both under the covers.

“Go to sleep, sweetheart,” he says with a chuckle. “You can hate me for it in the morning.”

“Could never hate you,” you say.

“And I could never hate you either,” he says.

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americxn · 3 years

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Good Boy (Sub!Colin Zabel x Fem!Reader)

requests:

Could you write sub Colin?? Please??

i think you should write a subby!colin because he would love to be made to beg for his girl

this is short and pretty messy because I’m very tired but I really wanted to post tonight so here it is <3 I’ll probably be writing more sub colin fics because this one isn’t too intense!

wordcount: 2k warnings: NSFW (minors dni), oral, cunnilingus, masturbation, swearing

taglist: @kitwalker02 @forevercountess @kitwalkerangel @milly-louise @thecountessesglove @undeadcortez @kitwalker64 @samsassinparvismagna @xmaximoffic @divineruler @tatesweaterweather @evanmybeloved @ikkleroniekins @ananad1 @shlutnutt @sanni333 @mossybank @tatesimper @sallyscigarettes @copy-of-a-cheeto @whiiiiplaaaaash @colinsbagel @nerdydoesstuff (can’t tag @three-eyed-snail @tatelangdonsupremecist @fictional-men-that-i-stan) (dm to be added or removed <3)

Colin knelt before you beside your shared bed, his eyes wide as he gazed up at you through thick lashes, one of your legs hooked over his shoulder and both of your clothes discarded in messy piles a few feet away. He trailed a hand up the back of your knee to your upper thigh, his fingers closing around the skin in a tight grip as you ran your hand up the back of his neck to the crown of his head, weaving your fingertips into the hair and forcing his head back with a harsh tug. He swallowed, your eyes following the movement of his throat and lips curving into a smirk as even more wetness gathered between the apex of your thighs.

“Tell me what you want.” You crooned quietly down at him, yanking his head back even further and watching as his eyes flicked from your face to your dripping cunt mere inches in front of his nose, the smell of your arousal doing unspeakable things to his insides. “I want to taste you.” He groaned, the hand he had braced on the back of your thigh tightening its grip. Your smirk only grew as you used the leverage you had on his hair to bring his face closer to your awaiting cunt, watching as his lips parted and his tongue met the air, reaching for your wetness. You forced his head back, taking pleasure in the small groan that broke free from his throat at your denial. You repeated your action, bringing his face closer to you once more but this time directing his mouth up to your exposed mons and watching as he leaned closer of his own accord to lick a hot stripe up the skin before pressing his lips amidst the wet trail in a lingering kiss. Your cunt throbbed at the sight and your patience shattered, leading you to push his head back down again and giving him the verbal prompt of “then taste me”.

Your head fell back at the first stroke of his tongue through your wetness, the touch to your swollen folds perfectly soft yet persistent. He licked tentatively up and down your labia, his tongue lingering over your entrance in a ghost’s touch. He moaned softly against you when your fingers tightened their grip in his hair, the sound rumbling through your sex and obeying your silent order, licking up to your clit and sucking it into his mouth. You shuddered, the sudden pleasure that his ministrations instilled into you making your thighs quiver briefly before they stilled, relaxing under the sudden attention of his mouth. You loosened your grip on his hair, running the tips of your fingers up and down the back of his head in encouragement; you watched as goosebumps formed along his skin at your pleasant touch, rising onto his shoulders and spilling down the planes of his bare back. You chased after them with the tips of your fingers, raking them down his shoulder blades with enough pressure to leave red marks in the wake of your nails.

Your eyes drifted closed, all of your focus narrowing in on the tongue and lips paying close attention to your pleasure before tangling your fingers into Colin’s short locks once more and pulling, forcing his mouth to disconnect from your clit. He gazed up at you, eyes glazed with arousal, chin and lips gleaming with your juices in the dim light of the bedroom. Leaning down, you captured his lips with your own, groaning at the taste of yourself of his tongue as he compliantly opened for you, whimpering slightly as you forced his head even further back with a firm yank to his hair. Disconnecting your lips from his, you straightened once more, wordlessing pulling his face back to your wetness, much to Colin’s delight, who resumed his feasting, starving to draw as much pleasure from you as possible. “Such a good boy for me.” You crooned with a shiver of pleasure, savouring the breathy groan of excitement that your words pulled from your boyfriend between your legs who began to lap up your liquid arousal with even more fervour.

Glancing down, you cocked your head to the side slightly, peering around his bent, kneeling form and settling your gaze upon the erection standing proud at the apex of his thighs, the head stained an angry red as it was forced to wait for its own pleasure. “Colin,” you began, tone wavering as he drew a line from your clit to your opening with his tongue and idly circling your entrance. “I want you to get yourself off.” You insisted, tugging on his roots in emphasis. “I want to watch you fuck yourself with your hand whilst eating my cunt.” He moaned onto you in agreement, not hesitating to reach for his erect cock and immediately fisting it in his grip, jerking himself off steadily. An immediate wave of searing pleasure rolled through you at the sight, Colin’s tongue finally prying open your entrance and delving inside only exacerbating the intense sensation. He whined into you, his grip on his cock tightening as your inner walls clenched around his tongue. He held it within you for several more moments, allowing you to savour the feeling of having something within your wetness before withdrawing it and running it back through your folds to your sweet spot, tracing his tongue lightly across its surface in time to the furious journeys his palm made up and down his length.

Your knee buckled slightly under the weight of the pleasure Colin was abundantly providing you, his grip on the back of your thigh tightening to keep you upright. You released a shuddering exhale, tipping back your head as the familiar glow of pleasure began to form in your gut, each stroke of Colin’s tongue against your heat ripping away a layer of ecstasy, the budding orgasm hidden at its centre his goal. He moaned, your own blissful groan blending with his and floating up into the air. The inner walls of your cunt clenched around nothing but you weren’t in a generous enough mood to grant Colin the pleasure of fucking you and so you forced your eyes to open, glancing down at where he was desperately fucking his hand, shifting on his knees and whimpering into you as his release neared.

“Stop.” You ordered, watching as Colin paused his movements, his tongue stilling on your clit before he forced his fingers to unwrap from his length, his hand falling away from his cock. “I cum first.” You insisted bluntly, the words somewhat lost to the breathiness of your tone as Colin’s tongue resumed its thorough ministrations through his whine of frustration. “Put your hands behind your back.” You demanded gently, running your fingertips across his scalp as he resumed fucking you with his tongue, shifting on his knees to find a comfortable balance before crossing his arms behind him. You cooed a gentle praise down at him before giving yourself over to the sensation of Colin’s tongue lapping and swirling about your clit, your eyes shuttering and a low groan emanating from the back of your throat. You pushed your hips into his mouth, urging him on as your muscles tensed, pleasurable tension growing and growing before its dam was shattered by Colin’s tongue.

You came with a shuddering groan, gripping onto Colin’s hair to ground yourself as your nerves lit up, passing each atom of pleasure through the entirety of your body in a wave of heat, your eyes rolling into the back of your head. Colin licked you eagerly through your orgasm, urging your release to rack your body with more strength, ensuring that every jolt of pleasure was drawn from you before sitting back, gazing up at your through arousal-lidded eyes, your cum gleaming on his lips and chin.

You lifted your head, gazing down at him with a satisfied smile and unhooking your leg from his shoulder. Colin swallowed, never taking his eyes from yours as you knelt before him. Knee to knee, he didn’t dare bring his hands out from behind his back, barely breathing as you reached to run the pad of your thumb along his puffy lower lip, gathering up the sheen of wetness there and bringing it to your own lips, your eyes fluttering closed as you tasted the sweet musk of yourself. Moving your thumb back to his face, you collected more of the cum gathered in the crease of his chin beneath his lower lip and moved it back to his lips. They parted compliantly, allowing you to push your thumb into the warmth of his mouth, his tongue swirling around the pad of your thumb to collect your taste with a contented groan.

Withdrawing your digit from his mouth, you glanced down at his aching cock, forgotten during the throes of your own pleasure. Colin’s eyes became alight with excitement as you finally deigned to acknowledge his throbbing length, straining to come into contact with anything that would help get him off. “What do you want?” You murmured, sitting back on your heels and watching in satisfaction as Colin stumbled over his desperation fuelled words. “I want t-to cum, please.” The temptation to leave him kneeling on the floor with his hands rendered useless tucked away behind his back was so very strong. But since he had done such a good job of pleasing you…

You told him as such, watching as a small smile curved the corners of his lips at the knowledge that he had pleasured you so thoroughly. “I want to watch.” You finished, reaching to pull at one of his arms, encouraging Colin to remove it from its hiding place and wrap his hand around his cock once more. He immediately began to shamelessly pump himself, his head falling back and his lips parting. “No.” You scolded. “Look at me.” His head jerked to look at you, his eyes opening and finding yours already boring into his own. His cock twitched beneath his hand as he palmed his tip briefly before running his hand in a tight fist down the length of his shaft. Your eyes flicked to the cock connected to his hand, a small bead of pearly precum leaking from the engorged head and running down the slope of angry red skin before it was collected by Colin’s palm and smeared down the length of his shaft. You allowed Colin to repeat this action several times, his movements getting sloppier and his fingers tightening almost imperceptibly around himself. His hips bucked slightly into his fist of their own accord, notifying you that he was dangerously close.

“Cum, baby.” You prompted, watching in delight as Colin’s eyes immediately rolled, the whites of his eyes bright in the dim light of the room as he came, his cum spilling onto his lower abdomen and slowly running down his skin, the muscles beneath flexing to clench amidst the intense pleasure of his orgasm. Colin moaned loudly into the silence of the room, the sound sweet to your ears as his hand made several more jerking journeys up and down his length before stilling, clenching tightly around the base of his shaft. Reaching for his face, you closed your fingers around his jaw and pulled his lips to yours, pulling him from the throes orgasm with a satisfied hum. Pulling away, you glanced down at the hand he had wrapped around his shaft, his fingers loosening to fall away from his softening cock. “What are you doing?” You asked softly, eyes alight with cruel intent. “I didn’t say you could stop.”

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pedros-mustache · 3 years

Text

convenience

summary: he was within arm’s reach. that’s all.

warnings: suggestions of harassment, alcohol consumption, language, innuendo

a/n: no thoughts, frankie morales and his broad shoulders only. poorly edited so forgive any mistakes you find. i’ll go back and fix soon.

you rarely come to the bar alone. tonight is an anomaly.

grabbing drinks after a long work week is more enjoyable with friends by your side, and you frequent this particular watering hole what feels like every friday but can’t be more than twice a month. life is busy for you and what friends remain from your college days. babies and partners and jobs—it keeps everyone running to and fro like chickens with their heads cut off. (for you, of course, it’s just the job that’s got you strung out. no husband, no babies. that shouldn’t matter, but sometimes it does.) still, despite hectic schedules, there’s a standing date a few times a month: friday, eight o’clock, the booth with the cracked-plastic seat coverings in the far right corner.

you like the noisy atmosphere of this place, and it’s easy to lose a few hours while gossiping over cheap margaritas, a whitney houston song thumping over the tinny loudspeakers. the air smells like cigarette smoke—that’s your only qualm—but the drinks are cheap, the food is passable, and it’s a chance to let loose and really enjoy yourself after a five days of business boredom.

of course, that’s what “the hot bird” is like most of the time. today is different. today is tuesday, it’s six-thirty, and you really shouldn’t be here alone.

you twirl the thin plastic straw around your drink and risk a glance over your shoulder. there’s a guy in your regular booth—red-faced with alcohol, tie loosened, dress shirt two sizes too big. you know he’s staring at you because you can feel his eyes on your back, your hips, your ass; he’s anything but discreet. his stare hurts like a healing sunburn: itchy, uncomfortable, hard to ignore. even from across the bar, his focus is unyielding, and you doubt he’s one to be easily dissuaded, not with the rabble-rousing friends at his booth, jostling drinks and shoulders alike. you imagine he’s biding his time, waiting for you to feel comfortable so he can strike. which is exactly what you need after being passed up for promotion (again): a drunk asshole bent on making your shitty day worse just for the hell of it.

the bartender—josh—says your name and sets a cocktail down on the counter in front of you. “here,” he says. he jerks his chin forward, indicating the back of the room. “it’s from the guy in the back.”

“oh god.” you resist the urge to look over your shoulder again. the muscles in your neck twitch, scream at you to turn and appraise the self-satisfied smirk on this guy’s face, but you hold still. you are nothing if not resolute in your determination to mind your on business, wallow in self pity, and get home without much of a fuss. “what the fuck is this thing?”

josh cringes. “it’s a b-52, our least popular drink.”

“it looks like spilled motor oil and congealed grease had a baby.”

to your right, in the barstool two over from yours, there’s a snort of amusement. your eyes snap to the side, but don’t register the other patron before josh is tapping your wrist. you hold your breath, stomach clenching at the conciliatory look on his face.

“don’t look now. i think he’s coming over.”

“of course he is,” you mutter, dropping your forehead to your palm. fuck, you really do not want to cry right now, but tears prick the corners of your eyes anyway. traitorous bastards. it’s been a long day, and you aren’t sure you have the mental fortitude to tactfully tell some guy to piss off without causing a scene or bursting into a blubbering mess.

“i can tell him—”

a smooth, unflustered voice cuts josh off mid-sentence. “no, let me.”

a half-filled pint of beer and a plastic basket of fries slide across the counter, and then a man, shoulders broad and trucker cap pulled low, drops to the stool beside you. you gape at him, jaw hanging. the guy from two stools over—eavesdropper.

“unless,” he continues. “you want to tell him to fuck off yourself. i’m sure you can—you look like a capable woman—but i know men and sometimes...” he trails off, but you catch his drift well enough. you know men too, and the men who frequent this bar are often of the seedier variety.

except maybe not this guy... he seems nice enough, willing to lend a hand, and after the day you’ve had, you’ll take any help you can get. plus he’s easy on the eye, and it’s been awhile since anyone with such a handsome face paid you any mind.

you twist slightly in your stool, turning your body to face him. you open your mouth to offer your name, but he beats you to it, sliding his hand over the low, curved back of your stool. his presence—so masculine yet so gentle—crowds you, and you fight the urge to suck in a sharp breath. mouth hovering over your ear, he lowers his voice, and his opposite hand, long fingers splayed outwards, settles on the counter. you’re boxed in, an arm on either side of your body, but, strangely, it feels... good, safe even.

“i’m frankie,” he says. “just follow my lead, and we’ll both be out of your hair in no time.”

you turn your face to meet frankie’s eyes. he’s so near you can feel his breath on your cheeks, could kiss his plush lips if you dared. his smile, small but encouraging, eases the clench in your stomach. your gaze drifts from his warm, brown eyes to the thumb-sized spot on his chin absent the fine layer of scruff otherwise covering his jaw. god, he’s handsome.

“uh—excuse me? i couldn’t help but notice you ignored the drink i sent over.” the man from the back of the room leans against the counter, his gaze tight on your face, elbows poised casually on the bar. his voice belies none of the uncertainty he should probably feel when confronted with your obvious disinterest and frankie’s breadth. “picked my favorite for a sweet thing like you.”

gritting your teeth, you turn your head. “thanks, but i don’t think—” your resolve wavers when the man’s fat lips spread into a grin. shit, he likes this doesn’t he—how uncomfortable you are? he reminds you of richard, the guy who got the promotion you deserve: smarmy and entirely too good at weaseling. your stomach sours.

“you can’t turn me down until you at least take a sip of the thing.” reaching over his chest, the man picks up the cocktail. the three distinct layers jostle in the small shot glass.

perhaps he sees the fine sheen of tears that rush to your eyes or perhaps it’s just to make a point, but frankie’s hand drops to your thigh. the warmth of his palm filters through the mesh of your tights. without thinking, you twine your fingers through his and squeeze.

“she said no, man.”

for the first time, your would-be-suitor’s stare slides to focus on frankie. he arches a thin eyebrow. there’s no mistaking the way his chest inflates as frankie straightens his spine. “yeah? and who are you?”

frankie speaks without hesitation. “her boyfriend.”

the man huffs, incredulous. “well, you didn’t claim her before now so i’m just taking my shot. free pick, ya know? first come first serve.”

frankie slides from the stool to standing. he’s near the same height as the other man, but there’s something about the clench in his jaw and the way his fingers tighten around yours and the way he moves to grip your shoulder than has you leaning into him despite the anger rolling off him in sharp waves. your shoulder pushes against the soft cotton of his t-shirt, and you hold your breath.

“say that again and i’ll crack your skull open on the counter.”

the man blinks, stunned, then laughs. it’s a harsh, nervous bark. his eyes flit to the back of the room then return to frankie. “you’ve gotta be fucking kidding me. what are you? some macho man?”

“no—retired special forces. i can and i will make your life a living hell if you don’t crawl back into the hole you came from. leave my lady alone.”

“shit.” the man shakes his head before tossing the rejected cocktail down his throat with a cringe. “ain’t fucking worth it anyway.” he slams the glass down on the counter and, heeding frankie’s advice, returns to sulk in the back booth, tail tucked between his legs.

frankie waits until the asshole is sat snug in his booth before returning to his stool. he pops a now-cold fry in his mouth then tags a long swig of his beer. you watch him and decide you’ve never wanted to kiss someone so badly in your entire life.

“thank you,” you breathe. “i—fuck, i didn’t realize you’d be so... intimidating.”

frankie shrugs, eats another fry. he avoids your eye. “hate to see you treated like that. least i can do.”

you hum in approval, tracing the curve of his nose with your gaze. “i got passed up for a promotion today,” you offer. “put me in a real tailspin. i don’t normally go out in the middle of the week.”

fry dangling between his pointer finger and thumb, frankie finally returns his eyes to yours. “i’m sorry to hear that. if it makes you feel any better, i got stood up. i don’t normally go out in the middle of the week either.”

“guess we’re just a couple of losers then.” when frankie’s eyebrow lifts, you visibly cringe. you grab his forearm and squeeze your eyes shut. “no, wait—that’s not what i meant. i meant that... in the grand scheme of things, we aren’t... i mean...” squinting, you risk a peek at him. “shit, i’m sorry.”

after a moment, frankie smiles—and your heart leaps to your throat. he motions to josh at the other end of the bar. “what drink do you like?” he asks. “we can make it a real date, if you want? you know, to keep up appearances.”

“a real date?”

he nods. “yeah. i’m not big on fate and shit like that, but... well, maybe i’m big on fate tonight.” his eyes roam your face, and you wonder if he’s drinking you in, memorizing your features. unlike before, his stare is kind, appreciative, reverent. your cheeks heat under his gaze, but you don’t look away.

the corner of your mouth pulls into a grin. “okay.” you smile at josh when he appears. “i like mojitos.”

“really?” at your nod, frankie’s smile widens. “me too.”

you reach for a fry in his basket. “must be fate then,” you say with a shrug.

“yeah.” his hand falls to your thigh again, squeezing the flesh around your knee. you look from his hand to his face, and anything you once thought shitty about the day turns rosy with possibility. “must be fate.”

taglist:

@ezramando @frannyzooey @spvce-cowboy @writings-of-a-hufflepuff @sofsoftheloaf @salome-c @aphr0d1te5 @anu-simps @softermina @spideysimpossiblegirl @mummifymecaptain @sleep-tight1 @thewayofthemandalorian @greeneyedblondie44 @darthpapi @salome-c @just-another-fangirl-22 @stevie75

if your handle is crossed out, tumblr would not let me tag your blog.

#frankie morales #frankie morales x reader #pedro pascal x reader #pm writes

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chubmins · 3 years

Text

candy bear, sweetie pie (i wanna be adored)

cw: feederism, belly kink, weight gain, burping, brief mention of body image regarding jimin’s family, streamer!jimin.

“hello there... it’s manggae.”

jimin’s voice was low, almost a whisper, as he laid back on one of his hands and appraised the rapidly growing influx of messages on his live’s chat. they weren’t quick enough that jimin would lose track, but nowadays he would have to scroll back up to catch something he missed a few times. his audience had been growing.

“you missed me? cute. it’s only been a week.” his full lips stretched in a smile his viewers would be able to see and fawn over. jimin always positioned himself carefully, camera catching him perfectly from the lips down — not because he didn’t want the audience to see his face, they had seen him a handful of times now, but because he wanted his body to be the main focus.

and his body explained why his nickname on the streaming website was manggaetteok.

jimin had always liked to eat. growing up in an extremely rich family, food had never been an issue — until it started being taken away from him by parents and nutritionists who believed his chubby cheeks were something to be ashamed of. jimin spent his teenage years on diets, pills and stinky gym bathrooms. he almost started hating his body as much as his parents did.

until he moved out. was moved out, to be more precise — an apartment bought for him in the heart of gangnam, too big for just one person, way under-decorated to look like a homel. jimin was twenty and out of his parents' claws for the first time in his life.

it didn’t take him more than a year to figure out the most crucial things about himself: he prefered boys over girls, silk robes and lace over black pressed suits, and he very much prefered to stay home and order food to going out to a new bar every friday night.

jimin turned into the perfect definition of a homebody; and, soon enough, of a foodie.

he didn’t hold back when it came to food, and the results of his indulgence after years of restriction showed on his body rather quickly. at least his parents were right about one thing — he really was prone to gaining weight, and a lot of it.

sitting now on the floor of one of the three bedroom’s in his apartment, the one he had slowly decorated to be his streaming studio, jimin weight gain is nothing if not noticeable. nicely placed down on his fluffy baby pink carpet with thighs spread as wide as they would go, his belly hanged almost touching the floor. it looks so soft and pudgy now, bulging forward in an almost perfect round dome even when it’s empty. he has pink stretch marks from the top of his jiggly thighs to right under his belly button, which has gotten deep enough for jimin to fit and poke his entire pinky finger inside. his flabby tits rest nicely on top of his swollen gut, round puffy nipples a pretty light brown on display.

“remember when i’d dress up all cute and pretty for these lives?” jimin practically purred at the camera, both hands heading to his breasts so he could squeeze and jiggle them while chuckling. “my bras don’t fit me anymore… i need to buy new ones.”

as if on cue, the silent notification bar that signaled new donations started popping up repeatedly, each time with a different amount of the website’s currency he’d get to convert to real money later. jimin chuckled again, he knew how to play this game too well. he had indeed grown out of most of his fancy silk and lace lingerie, but he also didn’t want to repeat the same ones he’d still fit into. that being said, he had decided on his fit for today as being a pair of baby blue silk shorts that barely covered his ass when he stood up, and a matching silk choker with a small emerald pendant.

“well, well, look at that! seems like i’ll have some new lingerie to show you guys soon.” His hands moved away from his body before he could get too excited, and moved towards the tray he had off camera.

with a little bit of maneuvering, he pulled the traw towards himself until it was in between his massive thighs and the camera, positioned just so that his body wouldn’t be too covered up and his belly would still be on display.

“as you can see” jimin praticaly purred, “i followed your requests and got a full american breakfast. there are pancakes,” he pointed at each and every item as he spoke, mouth watering just thinking about how he was finally going to eat “eggs, sausages, muffins, bagels and a berry smoothie.”

that was probably enough food to feed a family of four — the chat flooded with excited messages of how they couldn’t wait to see jimin eating it all. at first his viewers’ excitement would startle jimin a bit, but now? now he lived for it.

after all, he’d always get as excited as them.

“should i start with the pancakes? they’re still warm.” he asked, reading all the messages he could, all of which were encouraging him to start eating.

jimin reached for the pancakes. there were six of them in total, fluffy and golden brown with melted butter running down on all sides. jimin’s fork was quick to make work through the first three layers as he balanced the plate on top of his belly, and once the big bite was inside his lips he moaned unashamedly.

“fuck… so good.” he barely finished chewing before he pushed more inside his mouth, closing his eyes in bliss. “i could eat this everyday. imagine how much bigger i’d get.”

his viewers got off on that, as he came to learn very quickly after starting to stream himself eating. jimin’s primary goal certainly wasn’t to gain weight, but it did keep the cash coming and he didn’t mind the plushness one bit. just a small price to pay for all the food he shoved inside himself, and he did look hot with all the extra pounds. jimin continued to shove the pancakes inside his mouth, barely chewing before swallowing, moaning almost obscenely throughout the whole process. it didn’t take more than five minutes for him to polish the whole stack.

“kinda wish i had ordered more” he pouted, putting the plate away and lightly slapping his still very empty gut. the donations started popping up again, messages telling him to order more right at that instant, to order ten times more next week. “don’t worry everyone, i still have a lot more to eat!”

jimin reached for the bagels next — there were 9 of them in a box alongside 4 muffins of various flavours, and jimin had started alternating between them while answering some of his viewers questions.

“last time i went on a date? that was a couple months ago, actually” he answered between bites of a blueberry muffin. “made him take me to an all you can eat buffet, ate like a pig. had to unzip my pants for dessert and all...” jimin licked his fingers clean, making a little show out of it before reaching for the last bagel and all but eating half of it in one big bite before continuing in a lighthearted tone, cheeks full. “probably freaked him out, he never called again.”

the story was only partially true — taehyung had taken him to an all you can eat buffet for their first date, but he also had called again. they were dating, in fact, but had made an arrangement to keep it from jimin’s subscribers. as much as jimin didn’t mind showing his body and face online for thousands to see, his private life remained private, and he was a firm believer that nobody needed to know his real name, the city he lived in or his relationship status.

“i need something savory, now. those muffins were really sweet.” jimin sighed, taking a big sip from his berry smoothie. one of his chubby hands played with his belly, caressing around the belly button before lifting the fat mass and letting it fall, sighing at the way it jiggled back into place. the movement dislodged a gas bubble, and he could hear the gurgling noise coming up his throat and feel the pressure on his chest right before letting out a loud belch.

“oh, yeah… that felt good.” another burp made its way out right then, shorter and deeper than the first one. jimin bit his lip and smiled, playing coy. “excuse me!”

he reached for the eggs, three full plates with enough spicy sauce on top that it dripped down Jimin’s chin at his first bite. he didn’t clean it at first, too preoccupied with stuffing his face until he could barely chew with his mouth closed. jimin still had a few steps to take before he felt actually full, but his stomach definitely felt a little bit harder at the top, now. he ate the first two plates mostly in silence aside from the casual moans and loud slurps from the berry smoothie, lips feeling tingly and swollen from the spice.

“you guys remember last time i ate this spicy sauce, right?” jimin smiled, going for the third and last plate. “that day with the ten hamburguers. i downed almost the entire bottle with them, got so gassy afterwards. couldn’t stop burping.” the memory makes his comment session go crazy, talking about how hot it was, how he should do it again. jimin chuckles, happy his viewers don’t mind how much of a pig he can be sometimes.

he continues eating, barely stopping to breathe — there’s still two dishes to get done with, and his stomach is starting to protest about the eggs he just ate.

“hmm… tummy is talking, you guys hear that?” jimin all but shoves a finger inside his belly button, moving the digit around in a movement that could almost be considered obscene. he feels so good, exposed like this, stomach gurgling away the fullness.

the donations keep coming at a fast rate as jimin keeps eating, pace much slower than when he first started with the pancakes, lips greasy and adorned with crumbles. his hands find his belly a plethora of times, caressing the stretched out skin, pressing against the swelled up gut as he unashamedly lets out moans and sighs of pleasure. that’s how jimin, sooner rather than later, finds himself out of food to eat, only half of his smoothie left.

“so full…” he groans, leaning back to expose his full, rounded out fat belly. it gurgles audibly then, jumping out in an abrupt movement as jimin’s lips fall open and he belches again, a long and wavering deep noise that sounds both disgusting and relieving. only then he reaches off camera for a tissue box, cleaning his fingers and then his lips and double chin, laughing as he spots some muffin crumbles on his chest and wipes them away carelessly.

“that was so—” jimin is interrupted by a small burp, cheeks puffing up cutely. “so good. but i can’t help but feel like i could pack more in here.” he pats his belly kinda harshly, the slapping sound loud inside his room. “should i go for 10 pancakes next time? or maybe only have pancakes, a huge stack of them… ah, bet i could eat 20.”

the chat is, as always, extremely encouraging. the donations start coming at a surprising speed again, some messages attached about how the money is for his future grocery trip and for him to buy double of everything. jimin bathes on the attention for a little longer, answering some questions while trying to soothe his ful, oversized belly, chuckling every now and then and pointing out the gurgling noises it makes as it tries to process all the food he just ate.

he was not lying, though — it does feel like he could pack more if he tried. but that’s a thought for next time, and jimin stores it for next week’s stream as he bids goodbye and claims it’s time for him to get into his food coma and digest so he can come back even fatter.

“this has been manggae… until next time, guys!”

#i'm literally shaking i'm so flustered about posting this fic #it's been a while since i've written anything #please note english isn't my first language #am trying my best #as always idk how to tag #chubby bt5 #chubmins

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twdeadfanfic · 3 years

Text

Vows Pt.6

Daryl Dixon x Reader

Series Summary:

The last battle with Negan doesn’t go as it should, with Negan coming on top, and so reader, Daryl’s girlfriend, offers herself as a wife to Negan if he doesn’t kill Daryl or anyone else. Negan accepts, he won’t kill anyone but will take reader as a wife, and he’ll take Daryl and some of the others to the Sanctuary as prisoners, promising not to hurt anyone if reader is one of his wives and the communities work for him.

This has both flashbacks to reader and Daryl’s story since meeting to now, and the present with reader living at the Sanctuary as a wife, trying to keep Daryl and their people safe, and she and the other wives dealing with Negan, plotting… (This is not a Negan x reader fic!)

Warning, there are reader and Negan scenes in this chapter, but to make up for it, there’s also a flashback from when reader and Daryl got together.

Another few days passed, blurring with each other, and though your time with Negan still didn’t feel like routine, and you were pretty sure it’d never feel like that, you felt more and more like you wanted to take advantage of the situation and Negan’s crotch-driven brain like the other wives did…but you still weren’t good at playing him and keeping him happy as they did. Your biggest achievements were that you hadn’t slapped him again and that you hadn’t spat on him, which didn’t count much towards gaining likable points.

Finally, you decided to just go and ask for help. Abby was in the room that she shared with Frankie, while Frankie was in the main room watching one of the DVDs. You went to the room and flopped down next to Abby.

“I want to ask something from Negan,” you blurted out and Abby arched an eyebrow at you.

“What do you need? Maybe I can get it for you.”

“You can’t…” You let out a sigh. “I want to ask him to let my friend out of the cages sometimes.” They had been in there for days and days, they weren’t tortured, but it was pretty awful anyway.

“Pfff…yeah, no, you’re not getting it,” Abby said and you couldn’t even be annoyed. “I mean…don’t be mad. But you agreed to marry him, listen to him, and fuck him, and he doesn’t kill or torture your friends…he’s kept his end of the deal but…you barely keep yours, I’ve seen you just staring at nothing while he talks. We all think on something else while he talks and talks, but we smile and pretend to listen.” Abby chuckled.

“Yeah…yeah, I know…” You murmured…you felt like you had done enough by not snapping at him but you were supposed to pretend to be enraptured by whatever bullshit was he saying, and you…really didn’t feel like it.

“Also, fucking him…” Abby gave you a teasing look. “I bet you just lie there like a starfish…”

“Abby!” You gaped at her, flustered, and pushed her so she’d fall on the pillow. “Shut up!” She was laughing and you couldn’t help your own. “What do you want me to do, moan how good he is and what a big boy is he?” You snorted, that wasn’t you, even if it weren’t Negan.

“Actually, yes.” Abby chuckled. “But don’t go getting all crazy the next time he calls you, after being a starfish for weeks, he’ll know you’re trying to play him.”

You let out a sigh. “I really don’t think I can do it…”

“You can.” Abby squeezed your hand. Just…just start small, baby steps. Like, if he decides to talk to you, pretend that that time it’s something that interests you. If he makes a joke, let out a chuckle…like, maybe you didn’t mean to, you were trying not to laugh, but it was too funny even for grumpy you and you let out a chuckle against your will because he’s oh so funny he even made you laugh?”

You blinked at her. “Abby…there’s no way I can pull off that. It’s going to look staged, I’m going to look like a robot, it’s not going to be natural, he’s going to notice.”

“Just try.” Abby shrugged. “Is not that hard.”

“Yeah…I don’t know how you do it…”

You decided to try it, though, and so the next time that Negan was talking about something, you forced yourself to ask a question about it, as if you were interested in listening. Negan seemed confused and then pleased, as he turned his attention to you, talking to you about it, and you forced yourself to look like you were interested in it.

The next day, you tried to follow Abby’s idea, and when Negan said one of his stupid jokes, you let out a short and quiet chuckle, and Negan looked at you, arching an eyebrow.

“Well now…did I make Mss. Grumpy laugh?”

“No,” you scoffed, looking away, pretending that you hadn’t laughed on purpose but against your will.

“Oh…I’d say I did…” A smug grin spread across Negan’s face. “You laughed, sweetcheeks.”

“Yes, I saw it too,” Abby said, winking at you.

“Yeah…yeah, she did…” Negan kept looking at you with that smug face and you scoffed again, looking away, pretending to be embarrassed.

You kept that up, pretending to be interested in whatever Negan had to say, chuckling at some of his stupid jokes, for another couple of days, until Abby told you that you could try another step…you weren’t very sure you could though.

The idea now was to kiss back Negan whenever he kissed you, as if you really wanted to kiss him, and you weren’t sure if you could pull off that…

“Come on…pretend that you’re an actress, pretend to be someone else,” Abby tried to encourage you. “Some sort of seductress…” She winked at you and you snorted, shaking your head.

“I’m really not that…”

“Just pretend to be, you’re not yourself, you’re this hot seductress black widow…” Abby kept going, nudging you when you snorted again. “Come on…you must have seduced your man, I’m sure you’re more of a seductress than you think.”

“I’m really not…” You shrugged. “And Daryl…I don’t think I ever seduced him…”

Not even the first time that you’d tried to get with him, you had just gone ahead and kissed him, much to his shock…

Then…

You were at the CDC, sat down on the table after eating more food than you’d ever eaten since walkers began roaming the world. Everyone was happy, eating and drinking, celebrating, including Daryl. He was joking and drinking, smiling, you didn’t think you’ve seen him grinning like that before, and you had to admit that you liked it, he had a pretty smile, that seemed to light his whole face, the whole place, even…

You chuckled at yourself…what a bunch of corny shit, as Daryl would say, had you just thought. But it was true, Daryl was an attractive guy , there was no way of denying it, and it wasn’t the first time that you admired him.

You’d grown closer to him, during your weeks surviving together, and during the quiet nights at the quarry, or at least quiet when Merle shut up and fell asleep, in which you sat down next to Daryl in comforting silence, and sometimes you both even spoke…

Daryl could be a prick more often than not, he was harsh, sure he was. Just a day ago, you had a big, big fight with him, when he’d behaved like a prick after walkers attacked the quarry camp, when so many people had died…Even if you had tried to put in context that Daryl seemed to have just lost his brother, he’d been out of line, yelling those cruel things to everyone, as if he was heartless…but you knew he wasn’t heartless, you had seen his heart, how he seemed not to care, yet always helped you, how he strived to hunt and bring as much food as possible to the camp…but at that moment, he’d seemed to be a heartless asshole, and you’d been beyond upset and angry at him.

To your surprise, though, while you were packing your things, Daryl had gone to help you in silence, but you saw him stealing glances at you, and you thought he seemed remorseful. Later, you both had driven to the CDC in the pickup, sharing some words here and there, and if you were honest with yourself, you didn’t want to be upset with Daryl. He seemed regretful, and so you had tried to move past your fight.

It was easy to forget about that now, with him smiling like that, and you couldn’t help but smile back at him. Yes…Daryl was an attractive guy, with those beautiful eyes, strong shoulders and arms…For a while now, you had idly thought now and then what it’d be like to have those arms wrapped around you, when you felt lonely, or sad, or lost, when your spirit was low…

It wasn’t just that he was attractive, though. If Daryl were a complete prick, you wouldn’t be wondering stuff like that, no matter how attractive he might be…but for weeks, you’d been wondering and thinking that Daryl was more than it seemed under all those layers of harshness…

As he drank and smiled now, teasing Glenn and just joking around, you couldn’t help a warm feeling in your belly, that got worse when you looked at Lori and Rick…you wanted that, or the closest thing possible, even if it was just for a night, but you didn’t want it with anyone, you wanted it with Daryl.

You weren’t sure how he’d react, though, or how to bring it up…what were you supposed to tell him? Do you want to hold me? We could even sleep together? Yeah…no…

Later, you walked with him back to your rooms for the night, still wondering how to ask Daryl, how to tell him what was in your head, if maybe it was a bad idea…but you really wanted it… His room was next to yours, and you called his name before he walked into his, still with no idea of what to say.

“Daryl…” You called for him, and he turned to look at you, arching an eyebrow. He smiled and it made something twirl in your belly… “I, uh…I was wondering…” That smile was just making it harder to focus and find words. “How much have you drunk?”

Daryl snorted at that. “Dunno…more than in a while, why?”

“Just wondering if you’re drunk…I mean, you are…” You chuckled awkwardly. “But I mean, you know what you’re doing…right?” Otherwise, you wouldn’t try anything.

“I know what I’m doing.” Daryl was looking at you, seeming half confused half amused. “Might get drunker, though.” He waved the bottle of booze that he’d taken with him. “You wanna?” He lifted the bottle in your direction.

“No…no, I was thinking…wondering…” It couldn’t be that hard, why were you struggling to find words. “If maybe you wanted to…like…sleep in my room…” Well, sleep with you, rather, but those words didn’t make it past your lips.

Daryl frowned, and you were sure he was going to tell you off, but he seemed concerned. “You think this place ain’t safe?” Oh…he thought you were scared of sleeping alone in the room or that you didn’t trust the place…it was nice of him, to offer to stay with you if you were scared… Maybe you should content yourself with that…

“No…well, I don’t know, that doctor is a bit strange, but I don’t think that he’s going to murder us in our sleep…right?” Now that you had planted the seed in your brain, you couldn’t help but worry.

Daryl snorted. “Don’t think so…but yeah, there’s somethin’ off with the guy…Alright, if you wanna I can take watch while you sleep.” Daryl shrugged, looking down shyly.

“That’s not fair, you gotta sleep too, even more after all you drank…” You didn’t want Daryl not to sleep, in fact, you wanted him sleeping with those nice arms around you, and the fact that this night he seemed to have decided to be all caring and sweet wasn’t helping. “But…I didn’t mean that…what I mean…”

You felt stupid, struggling with words like that, and Daryl was looking at you with those caring and pretty eyes, and so you decided to just go ahead and show him, feeling braver with actions than with words. You stepped closer and leaned to peck his lips, feeling all kind of butterflies in your belly.

When you pulled back, Daryl looked at you with wide, surprised eyes. He seemed to want to say something, but no words made it past his lips as he just stared at you in shock, and you felt your cheeks heating up. “I’m sorry…I just…I didn’t…I…I’m sorry…” You rushed into your room, closing the door behind you, embarrassed…Daryl wasn’t drunk enough to not remember it in the morning, but you’d try to pretend that you’d been drunk and you didn’t remember that you had kissed him…this was going to be so awkward…

You face planted on the bed and you winced, that mattress was harder than you expected it. You shifted until you could bury your face on the pillow, the closest thing you can get to the earth swallowing you. Not much later, though, there were some knocks on the door.

You frowned and went to open the door, and when you found Daryl there, you almost freaked out. You didn’t know what to say, and Daryl wasn’t saying anything either, just looking at you as he chewed on his thumbnail, but then he made to walk in, and you automatically moved back so he could step into the room.

Daryl closed the door behind him and looked at you, still silent, and when you were about to ask if he needed something, awkward, he finally spoke.

“Why you did that?”

“Wha…kissing you?” You felt your cheeks heating again, and Daryl nodded, looking down. You considered saying that you were drunk, but Daryl didn’t seem mad…and so you decided to be brave and say the truth, if he reacted badly, you could keep your plan of pretending to have been drunk once morning came. “I just…I felt like it, I wanted to…”

Daryl was back at chewing his thumbnail, looking down, but then he glanced at you. “Yeah?” He murmured, and you nodded.

Daryl stepped closer at you and your heart sped up. His face was serious, and you wished you knew what was he thinking, but you couldn’t read him. Then, he leaned down and surprised you by pressing his lips to yours. Butterflies bloomed in your stomach, and for a second, you were so shocked that you couldn’t kiss him back, but when you did, you felt Daryl’s hand cupping your cheek, fingers tangling in your hair, and you moved closer, wrapping your arms around him…

Now…

You had thought, back then, that it’d be a one-night thing between Daryl and you, unless he might want to join you any other night, but nothing else…you had been wrong. Since the next morning, Daryl had pretty much started treating you as if you were his girlfriend, and on your side, you weren’t about to complain, you had enjoyed it…little did you know, then, how deep and strong your relationship with Daryl would become.

But…you couldn’t say that you had “seduced” Daryl. You had just kissed him and hoped for the best. That wouldn’t work with Negan, considering that he kissed you whenever he wanted…maybe you should really start by kissing him back…

The next time that Negan kissed you, you forced yourself to kiss him back. Nothing spectacular, but you guessed that it was better than standing there frozen…

The other girls began sharing tips with you too, and also they’d try to boost your confidence in your seducing skills, either with words and tips, or dolling you up, doing your hair, makeup, choosing revealing outfits that you’d have never worn…every time that they did, you looked at yourself in the mirror, telling yourself that you weren’t you, but another woman, some sexy, seductive, black widow, on her way to eating another man for breakfast…

It was still hard to feel like that, though, you felt rather silly more often than not, but as you keep trying, practicing, and you kept looking so different from your usual self, you began to play your part better and better.

After a few days, you laughed at Negan’s bullshit and kissed him back easier, even tried to talk more “seductively” as some of the other girls were trying to teach you, even if you felt silly. In your head, you tried to see yourself as that other woman, that seductress, black widow, until one day you felt ready to try your luck and your skills at asking something from Negan.

You were sat down on his bed, half lying against the headboard, in which you hoped was a suggestive, seducing posture, even if you felt stupid, when the door opened and Negan walked inside, arching an eyebrow at you.

“So…they weren’t kidding when they said you were waiting for me here…”

“I didn’t think it’d bother you…” You shrugged. “I wanted to see you alone.”

“Yeah?” Negan smirked, but he still seemed confused at what were you doing there. “You were alone with me a couple of days ago, but you need me again, don’t you?” He teased smugly and you resisted the urge to roll your eyes.

“I do need you,” you said, hoping to sound seductive. “I need…I need to ask you something.”

“Oh…there it is.” Negan chuckled, shaking his head and sitting on the bed. “You girls, always wanting something from me…sucking me dry and not in the way I want it.”

“We do suck you in the way you want it too,” you retorted and Negan let out a laugh.

“Yeah…that’s true…” Negan smirked, looking you up and down. “So tell me, doll…what is it.”

“I…” You tried to go back to when you’d rehearsed it with Abby. “I think I’ve been a good girl, so I deserve a treat, right?” You felt more silly than seductive speaking like that, but Negan just nodded, still looking at you with that smug smile. “I want…I want chocolate, I know you have some here…please?”

Negan blinked at you, and then he chuckled. “Chocolate? That’s what you wanted?”

You shrugged. “I love chocolate…we had some in Alexandria…please?”

“Chocolate…” Negan chuckled again…you guessed that he’d expected you to ask something more serious, but you wanted to wait for that until you had tried this first. “Of course, sweetcheeks, you’ve been a good girl these last days, I’ll get you your treat.” He reached out to stroke your hair and cup your face, and you did your best to smile. “You wait here, I’ll get it for you right now.”

Negan kissed you and you kissed him back as you had trained yourself to do. He got up from the bed and left the room, and you took a deep breath once the door closed behind him. It had gone well, you thought, Negan seemed to like how you were behaving lately and he’d gone to get you the chocolate right at that moment…but sure, chocolate wasn’t the same than letting your people out of the cages…But still, it was progress…

Negan came back, that smug smirk on his face as soon as he walked in, waving a bar of chocolate. “Your treat.”

“Thank you, Negan.” You smiled as he walked towards the bed.

“Come here,” he told you, and you shifted closer. He tore the envelope from the bar and broke a piece of chocolate. “Open your mouth.”

You stopped yourself from rolling your eyes and did as told. Negan placed the piece of chocolate in your mouth, smiling, and as you savored the sweetness, you closed your eyes and moaned aloud, even if you felt silly.

“Good girl,” Negan purred, and you opened your eyes to find him smirking at you. He broke another piece of chocolate and you opened your mouth as he wanted. This time, though, he kept one of his fingers in your mouth when he placed the chocolate. You knew what he wanted, and so you stopped yourself from bitting him as you wanted, and instead sucked on his finger.

Negan chuckled, pulling his hand back, and you forced yourself to moan again while you savored the chocolate. You hoped that all this show was good for something…although, the chocolate was nice, at least.

Negan moved to sit on the bed too, against the headboard. “Come here,” he said as he waved another piece of chocolate, and you crawled between his legs, opening your mouth so he’d give you the chocolate. You closed your eyes, enjoying it, and Negan chuckled. “You really do love chocolate.”

“Well….you know what they say…” You shrugged. “Chocolate is better than sex.”

Negan smirked at that. “Nah…better than sex with the redneck dog, you mean. Better than with me? No way.” He chuckled, and you almost dropped your façade, barely resisting the urge to punch him. Instead, you snapped the chocolate bar from his hand, and Negan chuckled again, seeming amused at you. “Now I wonder…how’s our dog Daryl in bed, uh?”

“I don’t want to talk about that…” You muttered, bitting off some chocolate, trying your best to behave, even if you didn’t feel like you could keep playing the seductress that day…you just wanted Negan to shut up.

“Come on, doll, don’t get mad…” Negan chuckled, taking back the chocolate bar and bitting a piece too. “I’m just saying…I know I’m better than him.” You barely stopped yourself from scoffing, and you remained silent, trying to hide how upset you were. “Come on…” Negan broke another piece of chocolate and waved it in front of your face. “Say it, or you won’t get your treat.”

Once again, you stopped yourself from rolling your eyes. “Yes, Negan, you’re the best ever, even better than chocolate.” You knew that Negan could tell you didn’t mean it, but he seemed amused anyway. He smirked, popping the chocolate piece in his mouth instead of yours.

“Good girl,” he purred, giving you that chocolate bar and another unopened. “There you have your treat, don’t eat it all at once,” he chuckled. “Now, put those aside and come here to see that I am better than chocolate indeed.”

Operation let’s try to play Negan without getting killed is on. I wonder how it’ll go.

If you enjoyed this, comments and reblogs are always more than welcome, thanks.

Also, as always, excuse my English, it’s not my first language.

New taglist for Daryl, if you want to be tagged let me know and also, please, if you are not interested in being tagged anymore let me know too (I have way more people tagged than notes this gets and it makes me feel a bit down).

@jodiereedus22 @coffeebooksandfandom @gruffle1 @twdeadlysins @yenne-yen-illustrations @mychemicalimagines @haleypearce @superflannel @sourwolf-sterek32 @angelontheinside @firehoopinmama @lonewolf471 @hopplessdreamer @daryldixonandfrogs @fanfictionsilove @collecting-stories @princessxpunk @hells-mistress @justyouraveragefangirl1967 @carnationworld @smiithys @polkadottedpillowcase @elisdays @mysterious-398 @captainbuckyboobear @dazzledamazon @spidergirla5 @lilythemadqueen @lightning-butterfly @purplebtsmagic @barra-cudaaa @courtnytrash04 @amazingapricot @seizethesam @harpersmariano @eternalslingshot @fuseburner @phoenixblack89 @boywivlove @amaroho @woundmetender @classyunknownlover @masterninjacow @tenderlyunlikelyexpert @shadowfoxey @kaitieskidmore1 @lilac-day-dreaming @datidixon @sabrinabernal @nj01 @rachelxwayne @elamy17 @angelofthor @imagines-by-a-typical-fangirl @thanossexual @daryldixonstorm @sttrawberries @huffledor-able541 @lucillethings @browneyes528 @soraitmnt @thereshallbenoother @chickenparmandstoicvulcans @leej2468 @heartlessmarvello @itsmeempar @redneckstrash @bxxbxy @bitchynicole @pulplorrd @supernatural79impala @the-artistic-animal-lover @selfsun @thiccblondeliv @maggie-l-m @baseballbitch116 @tranquiiit @sweatywildpanda @supernatural79impala @theteaset @amaroho @my-current-fandom-is @sapphire1727 @sapphire-angel @insidetoughcake @whitexwingedxdoves @nickangel13 @oceans-daughter-3 @tuttifuckinfruttifriday

#daryl dixon #daryl dixon x reader #daryl dixon/reader #daryl dixon fanfiction #daryl dixon imagine #daryl dixon fanfic #daryl dixon fic #daryl dixon & reader #twd daryl dixon #twd daryl #daryl twd #daryl dixon twd

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neon-junkie · 3 years

Text

The Big Bad Wolf

Summary: After a too-close-for-comfort encounter with a wolf, Flaco finds himself in a new form, and he's willing to put all of his new abilities to good use.

Pairing: Flaco Hernández x f!Reader

Word Count: 5254

Rating: NSFW

Tags: Werewolf/Human, Mating, Accidental knotting, Monsters, slight A/B/O, Scents, Praise, Dirty talk, Mating press, Transformation, Smut without a plot.

Notes: This is ENTIRELY self-indulgent and super horny. I'm not sorry for it at all, not in the slightest.

It was just a scratch. A tiny, little scratch that could have been much worse if Flaco hadn't managed to draw his sawn off shotgun just in time, blowing the wolf's chest open. You fussed him, jabbing back at his protests, insisting that despite it barely bleeding, the wound still needed to be treated; who knows what diseases that wolf was carrying.

Flaco's gloves were ruined, and another scar is soon to join his various collection, dotted across his body. "I'll buy you another pair when I come to see you next," you told him as you patched him up before both of you retired to bed, throwing a few extra logs on the fire to keep the chill out tonight.

Only you wake up sweating, peeling off your clothes, tossing them to the floor in an attempt to cool down. You're no stranger to being naked around Flaco, considering how many times you've found yourself in those kinds of situations with him, but it feels odd, being completely bare and rolling over, your eyes half-lidded, to cuddle up to the thickness of his coat.

But his coat feels thicker than usual; the fur feels longer, cleaner, not matted and slightly rough like the usual, well-worn Bison coat that he wears. You try and not pay much attention to it, wrapping your arm around his waist, attempting to be the big spoon, only to be met with even longer hair as your palm rubs across his chest.

Not only does his coat feel unusual, but he feels big. Well, Flaco's a big man, but this is suspiciously big, as if he's doubled in size. After a few minutes of trying to ignore it, you give up, propping yourself up on an elbow and tapping Flaco awake. The logs from a few hours ago are finally turning into embers, barely lighting the cabin, but still keeping it somewhat warm and lit, not that you need that extra heat right now.

"What?" Flaco grumbles, making no effort to move.

"..." what are you meant to say? that you woke him up because his coat feels weird? "Just roll over," you instruct, and he complies without question.

Flaco's reaching out, attempting to bundle you up in his arms, assuming you just want to cuddle. However, you feel the life suddenly drain from you as you're met with a sight that you can't quite explain. That's not Flaco, or at least, not the Flaco that you know. That's not human, either, but it's still... him...

"Look at me," you order, your voice quiet yet firm, and Flaco laughs at your sternness.

"What? am I cuddling you wrong?" he chuckles. Flaco looks up with a happy smile, warmth in his deep, brown eyes, his ears perking up, and his wet nose wiggling. Your mouth is wide open, stuttering a string of incoherent sounds, and Flaco's smile soon fades away as he realizes that you seem off. "What is it?" he questions, shuffling up the bed and sitting upright, the blankets pooling down over his waist, exposing his thick hairy chest, only this time, he's covered. Literally.

"You're... uh... Flaco, you're a..." you attempt to inform in, but words continue to fail you. Should you laugh? cry? scream? Instead, you scurry out of bed, rushing over to your rucksack and fishing a pocket mirror from it. He laughs when you hand it over, assuming that you're making a fuss over nothing.

"Oh, have I got dirt on my face again? you know, it's not that big of a deal, there's no need to-" Flaco shuts his mouth once his gaze meets his reflection, only for it to fall open again seconds later when he's confirmed that yes, that really is what he looks like right now. "I'm a wolf," Flaco exclaims, and begins grinning at his own reflection, checking out his teeth, or specifically, his fangs.

Of course Flaco is going to be overjoyed about this. Something catches the corner of your eye, quietly thudding in the darkness beside the wall. You pull the blanket from Flaco to be met with his tail, long and fluffy, wagging away joyfully. "Nice," Flaco comments with a laugh, brushing through the fur on his tail with his large paws, as if to confirm that it's really there.

"Nice?!" you yelp. "How is this nice, Flaco? you're not human!"

"Yeah, nice! Now I really am a wolf, huh? it's not a metaphor any more," Flaco laughs, flashing his fangs as he chuckles to himself.

Oh, you know how much Flaco likes to call himself 'the wolf.' He wears his title with pride, like a badge of honour, so much to the point that he often refers to himself in third-person with that nickname. He's a proud man, and even prouder to associate himself with such an animal; and his pride only seems to be doubling in size due to his new form.

Flacos focus is on his reflection again, and you watch as he shuffles out of bed, attempting to stand, only to bonk his head on the roof of his cabin. "Mierda!" Flaco hisses, crouching over and giving the top of his head a rub; he lets out a soft whimper as he settles down by the fire, using its light so he can admire himself in more detail, opening up your pocket mirror once more.

You sit and watch, mouth open, questioning how this has happened. Flaco's reaction really shouldn't be a surprise to you, and you decide to leave him to gussy himself up, whilst you begin trailing into deep through about how this might have happened.

It must have been the wolf from yesterday, the scratch on Flaco's hand. "I think it's a curse," you mutter to yourself as you pull the blanket up over your shoulders, bundling your naked body up, something that for once, Flaco has paid no attention to. The blanket covers most of your frame, your feet sticking out at the bottom, and the rest of you is snugly covered.

"Cursed?" Flaco repeats. "Eh, I don't think it's a curse, but a blessing instead."

"A blessing?!" you yelp, "how?! what if you're stuck like this forever?"

"Well, I guess you'll have to get use to having a big, loving werewolf as a partner then," Flaco laughs. His laughter is deep, coming straight from his chest, as always. However, there's now a soft growl in the mix, his fangs on display as he chuckles away.

"Flaco this isn't the time for jokes!" you pout, standing up and peering down at him with softly furrowed brows. "I'm not joking!" he defends, and attempts to stand yet again. This time, Flaco doesn't hit his head; he's unable to stand up straight, his back arching slightly, his frame standing tall over you in a way that doesn't mean to be dominating, but it is. And for some reason, you don't seem to mind, knowing that this werewolf in front of you is far from a threat... unless this really is a curse, and he begins to change even more.

"You don't like me like this?" Flaco questions, and lets out a soft whine when you don't reply, his ears falling flat. He crouches back down to your level, attempting to meet your height. "C'mon, look how nice and soft my fur is," Flaco states as he moves your hand to stroke over his chest, "and look at how my tail wags whenever I look as you!"

You let out a light laugh, peering behind him to admire the wag of his tail. He knows you're concerned, seeing as you're the logical one in this relationship. "I don't want to start petting you until I know how to get you out of this mess," you explain, moving your hand off his chest to wrap the blanket tighter around your shoulders.

"Okay, chiquita," Flaco nods. "You have a think about it," he encourages. Flaco finally puts your pocket mirror away, slipping it into your rucksack, and watches as you begin pondering on your thoughts.

The wolf from yesterday. The scratch on his hand. A curse. A blessing. You're no stranger to reading about werewolves in books, fictional books, fantasy ones, books that aren't real, or aren't meant to be real. Only there's a werewolf crouched beside you, watching in awe as you begin pacing around the room in thought. Flaco tries not to stare, not wanting to overcrowd you, and continues checking his new form out instead.

He gawks down at his frame, coated in a layer of thick, dark hair. His paw pads are soft, squishy, complimented by his long claws, sharp enough to cause some serious damage. Flaco's tail relaxes behind him, but begins softly wagging as he peers over to you, watching you pace and ponder.

You pull the blankets up higher, the edges brushing against your neck, your arms beneath them, cocooned inside with only your feet and head poking out. Flaco's head tilts as he admires how protective you are over him, so concerned for his safety, his future, and his current form. However, his admiration is paused, and Flaco's nose begins to twitch, picking up a scent he's never noticed before.

Flaco begins sniffing the air, his head perked up at the ceiling, eyes falling shut so he can put more focus into the scent that's caught his attention. It seems he's developed heightened senses, and he's putting them to good use.

"Can you smell that?" Flaco questions, but you're too trapped in thought to bother replying. "You smell different," Flaco states, his head now peering down at you, watching as you continue to waddle about his cabin. "Now right now, Flaco," you brush him off, shutting your eyes and rubbing your temples, attempting to find some sort of cure for Flaco's new form. "You smell sweet," he states, and shuffles closer to you, his nose twitching as he presses it to your shoulder. Flaco quickly moves it away, your scent now being covered up by the thick blanket, so he crouches further down, only to be lightly pushed away seconds later. "Flaco," you grumble. His deep eyes meet yours before he dips his head down again. He buries his nuzzle beneath the blanket, and you yelp as a cold, wet nose presses against your knee, swatting him away once more. "You smell slick," Flaco states. There's a huskiness to his voice, a deep and low growl that comes straight from his chest. His eyes meet yours, dark and alluring, peering up at you before disappearing beneath the blanket again. "Flaco!" you grumble again, but Flaco doesn't let you push him away this time. You feel something cold and wet on the inside of your thighs, followed by a gust of wind - Flaco has his nose pressed just below your pussy, and he's inhaling your scent. A large paw wraps itself around your thigh, and Flaco boldly moves his nose up, his wetness now pressed softly on your clit. "You smell like you need me to help you calm down," he states after taking in another deep inhale, before removing himself from under the blanket. Flaco stands tall, his back slightly bent over, gazing down at you with slightly furrowed brows - a natural expression for your partner. The hand on your thigh moves itself to your waist, now pressed over the blanket; his hands have always been big, but this is ridiculous. Flaco could pick you up as if you're nothing, his single paw covering most of your body, making you feel so small and inferior. "I know that tone, Flaco, and I'm not letting you... seduce me right now, not when you're like this," you huff, sending him a glare and gesturing to his body. He laughs. It's deep, a mixture between a growl and a human laugh, making the hairs on the back of your neck stand tall. "C'mon, don't you want to try it?" Flaco questions. "You're just turned into some... dog... and the first thing you want to do is fuck?!" you yelp. "Correction, I've turned into a wolf, a werewolf, and mhmm," he nods. "I do, do you?" Your eyes meet the floor, looking away from the beast towering over you, his thumb now softly stroking over the blanket, attempting to soothe you. You can't deny that you're not curious, but is it wrong? to fuck somebody that's... well, that? He's still Flaco, he's still your partner; only now he's doubled in size, is covered in hair, and has perky ears, a snout, and a tail. "I can sense how curious you are, chiquita. My senses have heightened. I know how you look when you're aroused, but now I can really smell it," Flaco flashes you a toothy grin, dipping his head down to your level as he crouches. He licks your cheek, his rough and damp tongue brushing over your skin, coating most of your face in one stroke. "What was that?!" you cry, and attempt to push his snout away. "A kiss," Flaco states, before licking you again. Ugh, should you be surprised? of course Flaco is going to put all of his new abilities to use. All of them. He moves from your cheek, making his way down to your neck, attempting to kiss the usual spots that you enjoy. "C'mon, we can do doggy style," Flaco urges with a soft laugh, chuckling at his own joke. "You're a menace, you know that, right?" you huff, placing your hands on his large cheeks and moving his head so that he's looking directly at you. "I know," Flaco laughs again. "We can give this a try... but if I say stop, then you stop, alright?" "Oh, come on, you know I'll stop if you tell me to," Flaco shakes his head. He understands that you're after reassurance, concerned with exactly how this is going to go. "Flaco promises he'll take care of you," he says with a wag of his tail. "...and don't start howling," you order. Flaco laughs again, giving you another cheek kiss between his chuckle. "Okay, no howling. Flaco promises," he giggles, and begins urging you over to the bed.

Flaco's gentle as he slips the blanket from your shoulders, letting it fall back onto the bed. He attempts to kiss your neck again, running his tongue over your skin, resisting the urge to attempt giving you a hickey. The last thing that he ever wants to do is hurt you, so he's being extra cautious in his new form; his claws are sharp, his teeth even sharper, not to mention his intimidating size and figure. But his eyes remain soft, a deep brown, the same shade as his 'normal' ones. Those dark eyes meet yours as he climbs on top of you, before shutting them as he nuzzles you. Large paws find their way to your waist, trailing down to your thighs, the rest of his body following after as he shuffles down the bed. The bed is far too small for him, so Flaco pulls you until your legs are dangling over the side, and he settles on the floor, still having to dip his head so that he's in line with your body. His breath is hot, tickling your skin as he dips between your thighs. There's a pause of uncertainty, before Flaco presses his wet nose against your clit. He instantly moves it away, exhaling heavily, and mutters "too much," under his breath. His tail is wagging, thumping against the floor, and you can only assume your scent is making him a little too excited. Flaco dips his head down again, this time letting his tongue fall from his mouth, and licks a firm stripe across your cunt. He peers up to watch your reaction, checking for any signs of discomfort, and since you've shown none he does it again, over and over, both of you getting use to this new sensation. His tongue is rough, but soft, squishy, but firm, the perfect balance between wolf and man. The paws wrapped around your thighs tighten their grip, his claws pressed against your skin, but not digging into you. Over time, Flaco becomes more confident, and begins lapping at your clit, his tongue occasionally slipping into your cunt, making his thick hair tickle the inside of your thighs. He's bigger in every way, his tongue reaching depths that it's never reached before, making you whimper as you finally relax on the bed. Flaco's ears perk up, overhearing your positive reaction, reassuring him that he's doing well. His licks become firmer, longer, wetter, more open mouthed; unintentionally Flaco's fangs begin to trail over your skin, light enough that he's not hurting you, or even realizing what he's doing. However, you're definitely aware; it's a strange sensation, having a set of sharp teeth almost nibble at your lower stomach, often trailing up to your bellybutton whenever Flaco opens his mouth wider, pushing his tongue deeper into your cunt. "F-Flaco, that's..." you stutter, your head still pressed to the bed. "Huh?" Flaco hums. He slips his tongue from you, resting his chin on your stomach, worried that he's accidentally hurt you. "Your teeth, they're..." "Sharp?" "Uh-huh, but they're... it's uh... they feel nice," you manage to stutter. Flaco bites back a laugh. He licks his chops, your taste heavy on his tongue and around his mouth, and dips his head back down to lap at your cunt again. "Oh, so you do like it when this big, bad wolf has his jaws wrapped around you?" Flaco teases, ensuring that his teeth continue to trail over your skin in between kisses. "Yeah..." you shyly confirm, and let out a soft yelp as Flaco dips his tongue into your cunt again. He removes one of his paws from your thighs, going to slip a finger into you, but stops in his tracks. "Mhm," Flaco grumbles, realizing that his claws are far too sharp to be risking that. "Hey, finger yourself for me," Flaco orders, and grins when you readjust your position, reaching down and beginning to work yourself open. You dive straight in with two fingers, seeing as Flaco's thick tongue already counts as one, possibly more. He watches for a few moments, admiring how flustered you look, before dipping his head between your thighs again. You know what's going to happen, but since Flaco is crouched down on the floor, his body bent over, you're unable to see what he looks like. Is his cock... normal? it must be bigger, surely? seeing as he's doubled in size. You decide to prepare yourself for the worst, or the best, you'll just have to wait and see. You begin to scissor yourself, attempting to loosen your cunt up as much as possible. Flaco takes up the opportunity, and dips his tongue into your pussy, slipping it between your fingers, and runs it along your soft, velvet walls. The noise you let out can only be described as a bitch in heat, a whine, calling out for Flaco to come and fill you up. "You can fit another," he urges, and lets out a soft sigh when you slip a third finger in. "Good girl," Flaco praises, and you assume the thumping you can overhear is his tail wagging against the floor again. Yet again, you attempt to scissor yourself, and within time you're certain you could fit a fourth finger in... but what about fitting Flaco? Hm, you'll find out eventually. You're getting there, slowly but surely; Flaco's spit and slobber is slick enough to help stretch you open, and he graces you with even more as he slides his tongue into your pussy again. Flacos hand disappears from your thigh, dipping down between his own legs, and you know he's touching himself. Nervously, you ask an important question "Flaco, how big are you?" "Big," Flaco blankly states, chuckling as he removes his tongue. "D-Do you think it'll fit?" you question. "I guess we'll just have to find out, eh?" he laughs. "Do you think you're ready? you look it," he comments, and moves his head back down to press his wet nose directly on your clit, his ears perking upright and his tail wagging even faster. "You smell it, too," he grins, flashing his fangs. "Yeah... Okay, I'm ready," you nod.

And with that, Flaco's up on his feet, crawling on top of you on the bed. He wolfhandles you, moving you up to the centre, giving himself enough room to join you. Flaco's grinning, and places a soft lick-kiss to your cheek before sitting back on his knees, finally showing you what's between his legs. Liar. There's no way he's going to fit. "What the-" you stutter, sitting upright and reaching out. Your hand alone is nothing compared to his cock, and even as you wrap both hands around it, there's still some untouched space left over. "Flaco, there's no way this is going to fit," you sigh, comparing his cock against your forearm. Flaco laughs. "It will, Flaco promises," he nods. "You've just gotta relax and let me take the lead, okay?" "Okay, but I-" "-Shh," Flaco hushes. "Stop doubting yourself, we both know you can fit me," he reassures, and presses his paw to your chest, lightly pushing you back down against the bed. The paw on your chest moves to your thigh, holding you steady, and his other hovers by his cock. You watch as Flaco spits on his cock- no, he dribbles on it, letting thick strings of spit coat his length, falling from his jaw, and then pumps himself a few times, ensuring he's generously slick. He moves his hand to the bed, just above your head, and uses the other to hold his length steady as he begins pushing into you. You lie there awkwardly, feeling the tip of his thick cock rub against your entrance, unable to slide in. Flaco begins to grumble, his tail no longer wagging, and his brows furrowing. He dribbles again, being far too generous and soaking your cunt, but it's enough to help ease in the head of his cock. You yelp and begin hissing, unintentionally tightening up around the tip of Flaco's cock. He's thick, unbelievably thick, and you're starting to question your life choices. "Relax," Flaco orders. He dips his head down to your level, placing a wet kiss to your cheek, and grumbles "relax," softly against your ear. Deep breaths. It's not that bad, honestly; once you begin untensing and calming down, you realize he's surprisingly snug, stretching your pussy in a way that makes you shiver, and your reaction came from fear, not his size. "Good girl," Flaco says as he licks your cheek again. "You let me know when you're ready for more." You take your time, relaxing your walls, unclenching them around Flaco's length. Finally, you give him a nod, and he begins sliding into you. There's a slight burn as he stretches you out, his cock getting thicker the deeper it goes, and he comes to a halt just past halfway. There's a knot to your stomach, a tight one, and you can feel the tip of his cock hitting your cervix. "How is this? okay?" Flaco double checks, straightening his back and talking down to you. "Y-yeah, it's okay," you nod. Once again, you're struggling to relax, so you calm yourself by rubbing quick circles on your clit, along with taking deep breaths. "Too big for you, eh?" Flaco chuckles. "Of course you're too big, Flaco." "Give it time, you'll warm up to me eventually," he shrugs, cockily grinning as he talks. Flaco's patient, waiting for you to ask for more, and when you do finally ask, he happily delivers it. He continues sliding in slowly, and your eyes go wide once you feel his fur press against your clit. "You fit?" you question, shuffling up on your elbows to peer down between your legs, instantly noticing the bulge to your stomach. "Mhm," Flaco nods, "I told you I would. Now we've just gotta see if you can keep up," he smirks.

Flaco takes a hold of your legs, lifting them up and wrapping them around his waist, your ankles barely crossing over behind his back. He bends forward, his body towering over yours; one paw stays wrapped around your thigh, whilst the holds his weight up, placed above your head. Your knees hit your shoulders, practically bent in half, and you're about to ask why Flaco's wolfhandled you into this position, but he begins thrusting.

His patience has worn thin, and Flaco jumps straight in with a quickened pace, forcing you to yelp beneath him. The new position makes sense, as he's able to really drive his cock deep inside you, smacking your cervix with every thrust, turning both pairs of your cheeks red. "You are tight, aren't you?" Flaco smugly comments, flashing his fangs as he licks your cheek again, his attempt of a kiss.

All you manage to do is nod, unable to process words, let alone thoughts. You begin rubbing your clit again, whining beneath Flaco, whimpering as he fucks you, the sound of skin against skin echoing around the cabin. "You sound like you need me to fill you up," Flaco states. He lets out a deep breath before saying "and it smells like you need it too."

"Y-yeah, I do," you stutter, nodding at the same time.

"All in good time, loba."

Flaco picks up his pace, mercilessly slamming his cock into you; his ears perk up at the sounds you're making, moans and mewls, and Flaco can't help but let out a choked whine, intoxicated by every part of you. He soon begins softly panting, slowly over-working himself from the fast pace, but Flaco's stubborn to the point that he won't slow down, not until you're overflowing with his load.

There's still a slight burn to your cunt, and you'd be lying if you said it didn't feel strangely good. Flaco's knot is threatening to slip inside you; it's wider than the rest of his cock, but only slightly, and you're certain that within time, it'll slip in. How big do those things get? There's only so much that you can, and now that you've taken this much, far more than you ever thought you'd be able to handle, you're uncertain on where your new limit lies.

You tighten your legs around Flaco's waist, feeling your orgasm slowly approaching, your clit rubbing so fast that your wrist is starting to ache. You attempt to grip onto Flaco's arm with your spare hand, but Flaco swats your hand away, and pins it down to the bed, his large paw wrapping around your wrist, feeling so dainty in his grasp.

"You're going to cum for me soon, aren't you?" Flaco questions, speaking directly into your ear.

"Uh-huh," you manage to nod.

"Good girl. Go on, I want to feel how tight you get around me," he orders.

Should you feel this good? being mercilessly fucked by your werewolf partner, whimpering and whining in his grap, your orgasm threatening to hit at any moment. You've always felt small beneath Flaco, but this is taking things to a whole new level; he's towering over you, folding your body in half, your knees pressed firmly against your shoulders. Flaco shifts his weight, planting his feet on the bed and bending his legs, bucking his hips down against yours. He whimpers at the slight change of position, and both of you let out a choked moan as Flaco's knot finally slips into you.

The sensation of being full to the brim - overly full - causes you to cum. Your wrist is burning from being over-worked, and you clench tightly around Flaco's cock, panting and sighing as your body begins to tremble. Your orgasm catches Flaco off guard, letting out a choked moan as you squeeze his cock, milking him for all he's worth as he joins your high. Flaco cums, and he doesn't seem to stop cumming, fucking his load into you, hoards of it over-flowing and spilling from your pussy, dripping down over your ass and onto the bed.

His tail is wagging in the air, your knees are pressed right against your shoulders, and Flaco won't stop thrusting, over-stimulating both of you. Eventually, he's forced to stop, his cock buried deep inside you as his knot begins to flair up. "Mierda," Flaco yelps, tugging on it; he instantly stops when you yelp in pain, and mutters another string of swears under his breath.

"I didn't think it would do that," Flaco confesses. He sits back on his knees, not bothered by his mess on the bed, and gawks down at the sight of his swollen cock buried inside you, a visible bulge to your stomach. "Are you okay? does it hurt?"

"Not really," you shake your head; you're still trembling, catching your breath, barely able to keep your eyes open. There's a slight burn to Flaco's knot, but you've been stretched to a point that your body seemed to be expecting it, and thankfully, it's oddly sensual, similar to whenever you've cock warmed him, only on a larger scale. "It's uh, strange, but it doesn't hurt. Just don't tug on it..."

"Good," he sighs.

Flaco asks you to wrap your arms around his neck, clinging onto him as he shuffles about on the bed, finding a comfortable position for you both. He kicks off the dirty cover after using some salvageable parts to clean both of you up, and thankfully, Flaco's warm, warm enough to keep you cosy throughout the night, and you feel even warmer as he wraps his arm around your waist, your head resting on his chest.

"What did you think of that, huh?" Flaco eventually questions.

"It was... something," you sigh, unable to find the exact words.

"Oh. Did you not enjoy it?" he whines, perking his head up to peer down at you.

"No, no! I enjoyed it... a lot... too much," you sheepishly reply. "And I think you enjoyed it too," you tease, tensing your walls, giving his knotted cock a squeeze.

"Don't do that," Flaco whimpers, his ears falling back, "you'll get me worked up again."

Is that a bad thing?" you raise a brow, and Flaco chuckles at your eagerness.

"Hey, earlier on you were too nervous to try it, and now you're asking for me to fill you up again?" he laughs, trailing his paws tenderly over your back.

"You did spill most if it," you shrug, and Flaco rolls his eyes at your comment.

"How about I wake you up with a morning surprise? once this swelling has gone down. We didn't do doggy, so I think we need to make up for that?" he offers. Flaco smirks when you nod in agreement; if you had a tail, it would also be wagging.

He places another kiss to your cheek, but this time uses his nose rather than his tongue. Flaco's head rolls back onto the bed, his chest rising and falling slowly, his arms wrapped around you, acting as a blanket. His cock is still swollen, but it's strangely soothing; it's practically the same as falling asleep whilst cock warming, something that you two have done many times before.

And you won't be surprised when Flaco wakes you up how he usually does, with slow and deep thrusts, and soft coos of praise and affection.

#rdrwriting #smut #nsft #flaco hernández x reader #f!reader #monsters #werewolf #rdr2 #female reader #flaco hernández #werewolf/human #monster/human #red dead redemption 2 #rdo #red dead online #a/b/o #the big bad wolf

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idreamofplaid · 3 years

Text

Healing

Summary: The life of a hunter is hard, loving a hunter may be harder, but love is greater than than all that.

Character: Dean x Reader; Sam mentioned

Word Count: 2196

A/N: Still fleshing out my Masterlist with another fic from my docs.

Dean walked into your room a tattered and bloody mess. You looked up from the book you had been pretending to read while you waited for him to return. It wasn’t easy loving a hunter. The fear was always there, the fear that this would be the time he didn’t come back. It lurked in the corners of your mind. It sat cold and icy in the pit of your stomach. It squeezed your heart when he was late and you hadn’t heard from him, squeezed it to the point you thought you couldn’t breathe.

Even covered in blood as he was, the sight of him sent relief flooding through you. A new fear replaced the former. He was home, but he was hurt. Where was his injury? How bad was it? Why was there so much blood? Your book fell from your hands, and you went to him.

"Dean, what happened? You started peeling the layers off him. Jacket, plaid shirt, t-shirt. You removed every layer. His armor of plaid flannel hadn’t been enough. The scratches were all over his chest, shoulders, stomach, and arms. Some of them were deep, deeper than you had seen before, and you struggled with yourself to stay calm. You needed to take care of him.

"Werewolves,” he told you through gritted teeth. “There was a pack of werewolves right in our backyard, and we missed it." He sat down heavily on the bed, and put his head in his hands. "We missed it, Y/N. How the hell did we miss it?”

"Dean, you can't take care of every single monster in the world. That’s not on you.” You understood his need to make things right, at least as many things as he could.

“Some of these wounds are bad, honey. You're going to need stitches.” Internally, you breathed a sigh of relief. You could do that. Stitches would make it okay. He was safe.

You went to the sink to wet a cloth and came back to sit on the bed beside him. Carefully, you started to wash off the blood, beginning with his chest. You talked to him while you cleaned him up. He’d told you once that hearing your voice made the world right for him and made him forget about the pain.

“Where’s Sam? Does he look like you do?” Sam was okay. You knew that, or Dean wouldn’t have left him. Still, you needed to hear him say it. Sam was the brother you had always wanted, and you loved him; but you couldn’t bear to think of what it would do to Dean if anything happened to him.

You cleaned the blood from his anti possession tattoo while Dean gave you the update on Sam. “He went back to his room. He’s got some scratches, but not this many and not deep. I got in a pretty serious tangle with a mean werewolf.” Dean gave you a half hearted smile. He was trying not to let it show just how much it hurt, but you could tell from the way he was breathing. Dean always put on a brave face for you, and you never let on that you saw right through every one of them.

After getting all the blood off, you headed for your duffle to grab the first aid kit. You brought it back and opened it on the bed next to him. This next part would sting. You poured alcohol onto some gauze and started dabbing the cloth on his wounds. Dean winced.

"I know it hurts. I'm sorry." Your hand stilled for a minute, and you leaned in to place a soft kiss on his lips.

When you pulled away, Dean was genuinely smiling. “You know how to take my mind off anything, don’t you?”

You smiled back at him. “Well, I try.”

Gently, you resumed applying alcohol to his wounds. Dean put his hand on yours where you were lightly tapping the alcohol soaked gauze to the scratches on his torso and looked at you with those green eyes you had fallen in love with. You had seen them every shade of green from the palest jade to the deepest green of the evening sea. Tonight they were dark, like a forest at twilight, and they were troubled.

"Y/N, I don't want to keep coming home to you this way. I don't want you sitting up waiting for me, worrying if I'm alive or dead. You deserve a better life than that." You saw him swallow, and the pain in his expression was worse than anything the werewolf had done to him.

You moved to his shoulder and kept right on cleansing his wounds. "Dean, I do worry about you; I'd be lying if I said I didn't. I don't want to see you get hurt, but I know it's part of what you do. It's part of who you are. You make the world safer; that's one of the reasons I fell in love with you. I don't dwell on what could happen to you. Does it scare me? Of course it does, but I focus instead on knowing that you want me to be the one here to stitch you up when you’re done fighting whatever evil thing it is you had the courage to confront.”

A smile danced around the corners of your lips, turning them up. “And who says I was waiting for you because I was worried? Maybe I was waiting for you for another reason.” He pulled his bottom lip into his mouth and shook his head with a chuckle.

Dean cupped the side of your face in his hand and brushed his thumb over your cheek. "You really are perfect for me."

You kissed him, slowly with just the right amount of tease and a promise of what was to come later. When the kiss ended, you held his eyes for a few seconds before turning your attention back to the task at hand.

"Now, let me take care of these stitches." You selected the suture needle you wanted from the first aid kit and skillfully sewed up the gashes on his shoulder and side. You had done this more than you liked to think about, and practice made you good. It was one of the first things Dean had taught you, but you still hated it. You knew it had to hurt even when he didn't let it show, and his pain always hurt you too.

You kissed every spot where you had placed stitches when you were done and told him. "Go get a shower then come to bed. If you aren't too tired, I'll show you why I was waiting up for you."

You took off your clothes and climbed under the sheets. Even if Dean was too tired for sex, you wanted to feel his naked body against yours. You needed to hold him close and feel his arms around you.

When he walked out of the bathroom wearing just a towel, you took a good, long look. It was still hard at times to believe this man was yours. His lips made you think of the dirtiest things. What he could do with those lips.... They made you think of the sweetest things too, like the things he whispered in your ear, or the way he sometimes kissed the tip of your nose.

"Drop the towel, Dean, and come here.” He was quick to do exactly what you said, and you marveled again at the strength and masculine beauty of his body. It felt even better than it looked when it was pressed against yours.

You welcomed him into your arms, and the kiss you gave him was sweet and lingering with just enough of an invitation in it he could pursue it if he wanted to, and he did. He was on top of you pinning you to the mattress with his body, and his lips were claiming yours, needing yours.

You threaded your fingers through his hair and gently bit his bottom lip. "I want you just the way you are Dean Winchester. Every single scar belongs to me. Every one of them. YOU belong to me.

His erection twitched against your stomach. You had touched yourself while he was in the shower with his name on your lips, preparing yourself for him. Your body was more than ready to feel the sweet stretch of him inside you.

You opened your legs for him, and he entered you slowly and smoothly. The feel of him, so perfectly joined to you this way had you dropping your head back against the pillow and biting your bottom lip. Dean moved with a slow and steady rhythm, increasing his speed gradually. As his thrusts got deeper and faster, your urge to scratch your nails down his back got stronger. You didn't, not tonight. There were already scratches on his back that you didn't put there. If you added your own scratches over them, it wouldn't be a pleasurable pain.

You held onto the back of his neck instead, whispering his name and encouragement in his ear. Your orgasm was right on the brink of tearing through you, but you held back because you wanted to come with him. You knew it wouldn't be long; his thrusts had become erratic. Dean moaned your name loudly, and you felt the release of his hot seed inside you. That's when you let yourself go to fall over the edge with him.

Afterwards, he held you stroking his hand slowly up and down your back. "Y/N, do you ever think about having kids?" You listened, almost holding your breath; you hadn't expected this."I mean, is it something you want?" He turned his head so he could see you better.

You didn’t respond right away, weighing your answer. This subject had never come up before. "I've thought about it. Is it something you want, Dean?"

He was slow with his answer too and sighed before he spoke. "Yeah. I want kids. I probably think about it more than I should because I wouldn't be a very good father.”

You moved yourself on top of him, so you could look right down into his eyes. "Why do you say that, Dean?"

His hand had stopped moving on your back. All of his attention was focused on you, and the look in his eyes was heartbreaking. "I didn't have much of a role model in that department. I don't know how to be a father."

You ran your fingers through the hair above his temple. "Dean, you practically raised Sam. He's told me about it. You read to him. You put bandaids on his scrapes. You helped him with his homework.” Dean’s eyes had changed, the hard edge of pain in them softened by your words. “I could go on. You would be an amazing father. You’re great with kids. Not only would you be an incredible father, you're meant to be one."

Now, the look in his eyes was nothing short of wonder. “You really think that?”

“Yes, I do. You’re a natural.” You kissed him with a brush of your lips over his. Sometimes Dean understood physical affection in a way he didn’t accept words.

He slowly opened his eyes after your mouth moved away from his. "Do you think that could work, having kids, living the way we do?” he asked. There was a touch of hope in his voice that you rarely heard there, but he still needed more reassurance. “I'm gone so much, and I would never want my kid to see me bloody the way you did tonight."

You told him what he needed to hear with the conviction of truly believing what you were saying to him. "Between you, me, and Sam someone would always be here to take care of the baby. We're a family. Families do that. And our child won't see you bloody. We can control things like that, Dean."

The things you had told him were sinking in, and you gave him a little time before you took your pointer finger and started playing with his bottom lip. "Do you want to get me pregnant, Dean?"

"You mean like now?" You weren’t sure if he was surprised, scared, eager, or maybe all three.

You kissed along the scratches on his chest, wanting to replace all the pain he’d ever felt with something more gentle and more beautiful, something he deserved. "Well, I would have to stop taking birth control first, but yes pretty much now."

When you raised up to look at him, Dean put his hands on each side of your face, brought your lips down to his, and kissed you. "I love you, Y/N."

You loved him too. The complexity of who he was had brought a richness to your life and fulfilled you in a way you hadn’t imagined possible. It wasn’t perfect. It wasn’t a fairy tale. It was something better. Real. You would happily spend your life healing his wounds, the ones on the outside and the ones that were harder to see.

Everything: @gambitwinchester @princessmisery666 @peridottea91 @emilyshurley @beenlovingromansincedayoneish @fangirlxwritesx67 @waywardbaby @atc74 @mariekoukie6661 @tumbler-tidbits @fandom-princess-forevermore @terrarium-jpeg @emoryhemsworth @crashdevlin @jules-1999 @cosicas-cuquis @sammyimpala-67 @queenoftheunderdark @dean-winchesters-bacon @timelordy-fangirl2 @sweetness47 @hobby27 @awesomesusiebstuff @kickingitwithkirk @becs-bunker @sandlee44 @supernaturalgrandma @volleyballer519 @kdfrqqg @lizette50 @sorenmarie87 @lovealways-j @mrswhozeewhatsis @spnbaby-67 @wayward-and-worn @asthesunwentdown @vulgar-library @thinkinghardhardlythinking @petit

Dean/Jensen: @deansyahtzee @flamencodiva @deanwinchesterswitch @feelmyroarrrr @focusonspn @akshi8278 @ladywinchester1967 @sgarrett49 @wingedcatninja @coffee-obsessed-writer @adoptdontshoppets @ellewritesfix05 @weepingwillowphoenix

#dean smut #dean angst #dean fluff #dean x reader #dean oneshot

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sulphuryasecretcloset · 3 years

Text

What if...? Part 6

Again, this one goes out to you beautiful enablers! You who comment, reblog and are along for this journey through AU land! I see you, I appreciate you and you make my day :D

So, uh, a quick question: Which do you, read readers, prefer; either one giant part 7 or more regular sized part 7 + a part 8... What’s your vote?

What if Dulsissia hadn’t died, what if she had grabbed Corin and fled? What if she met Davarax? What if…

Part 1

Part 2

Part 3

Part 4

Part 5

Part 6

“I want you to train me. Teach me how to fight.” Dulsissia blurts it out as she settles herself down next to where Davarax is sitting on the floor with his blaster meticulously laid out in pieces on a blanket in front of him to do maintenance on the different parts.

Davarax freezes for several seconds and then he cautiously puts the pieces he was holding down and he looks over at her. “I, uh, I’m not sure that’s a good idea.”

“Why not?” Dulsissia frowns. He doesn’t think she can handle it?

“I’m sure we can ask Decco to train you.” Davarax offers.

“Bee-cause you don’t want to.” Dulsissia draws out the word, not entirely sure whether to be hurt or offended, but right now she’s leaning towards both.

Davarax lifts a placating hand, sighing. “It’s not that I don’t want to. I just… I don’t think it would be a good idea.”

Had it been any other man, Dulsissia would have gone on a rant by now, but she knows Davarax wouldn’t say no if he didn’t have a good reason. “Would you mind telling why not?”

His hand slowly sinks down again and he makes a couple of efforts at starting a sentence, but in the end; Davarax’ shoulders sag slightly with defeat. “It’s just… not.”

“Why not.” She insists. Fine, Dulsissia can ask Decco, but she will at least know why the most skilled fighter in the Covert refuses to train her. He’d even called her Mandokarla once. “You don’t think I’m Mandokarla any more?”

When had she broken his faith in her? When she’d panicked over that storm trooper? Was that it? Mandalorians aren’t allowed to show fear?

“You are!” Davarax blurts out. “You definitely are. Mandokarla. You are.” He then sighs again and gestures faintly towards himself. “It’s me, okay? I’m the problem.”

“You?” She narrows her eyes suspiciously. How can he be the problem? He’s their best fighter.

“I’m too…” Davarax searches for the right word. “...invested.” He finishes, somewhat lamely, and his hand just drops to his lap.

Dulsissia snorts. “You’re training my son, your own kids, but you can’t train me?”

“You’re different.” Davarax mumbles, sounding awkward.

“Nonsense.” Dulsissia inches closer. “I want to learn and I want to learn from the best. Please? I’ll be a good girl and do everything the teacher says.”

Davarax makes an odd sound deep in his throat.

“I know you are busy and you’ve already helped me so much and it is incredibly selfish of me to put another burden on your shoulders,” Dulsissia confesses, feeling the taste of shame again, “but I trust you. And… I like spending time with you. No offense to Decco, she has been wonderful, but she’s not exactly… cheerful. Or especially fond of conversing. She threatened to glue my mouth shut yesterday and I honestly think she wasn’t joking.”

Davarax chuckles, sounding both resigned and fondly amused. “She wasn’t.” Then he hangs his helmet low for a moment or two before sighing yet again and looking over at Dulsissia. “Okay.”

Letting out a low squeal of delight, Dulsissia bumps her shoulder against his. “Thank you! You won’t regret this.”

Davarax makes a sound as if he’s not entirely convinced about that before he picks up the blaster pieces again and continues his work. “Tomorrow. Thirty minutes before I teach the kids.”

“Thirty minutes?” The man pushes the children far harder than that. “That’s it?”

“One, it’s your first lesson. We’ll be going over basics. Two,” Davarax’ t-visor turns to look at her, “I thought you were going to do what the teacher told you to do?”

Dulsissia puts on her sweetest smile and nods. “Thirty minutes. Before the kids. Yes, sir!”

Davarax sighs, how many times is that now in such a short while, and turns back to his blaster.

She meets up a little early, eager and wearing her finest skirt, ready to impress and become the best student Davarax has ever had. Dulsissia straightens her spine and gives him a bright smile when Davarax enters the training room.

He comes to a halt when he sees her, then clears his throat and continues to walk over to her. “You’re early. Good.”

Dulsissia tilts her head, still smiling. “Ready for training. As you can see.”

Davarax makes a non-committing hum.

She can’t keep it up any longer. Dulsissia reaches down, undoes the two buttons and lets her skirt fall to the floor to reveal the far more practical pants she’s wearing underneath. “Ha! Got you!”

He does the Davaraxian huff of a laugh and rewards her with a faint nod. “Funny. Very funny.”

Stepping out of the skirt before picking it up to fold it, Dulsissia rubs her successful prank in with a smug cackle. “I can’t believe you weren’t going to say anything. You’re so sweet.”

“I can’t believe that you don’t think I won’t get back at you for calling me out on it.” Davarax replies, crossing his arms and tilting his helmet in a challenging way.

Dulsissia grins, puts the folded skirt by the wall and trots over to stand in front of him without a hint of fear. “Whatever you got, my good Lord Davarax, I can take it.”

Davarax just looks down at her, breathes, and for some reason; Dulsissia’s heart does a flip.

Then the Mandalorian suddenly unfolds his arms, clears his throat and steps away to take up a position she’s seen the children start the day with.

“We’ll start with the basics. Just the basics. It’s going to be harder for you than the children because you’ve grown accustomed to your body in a way they haven’t had the time to yet, and you’re going to have to unlearn a bit of that plus replace some old reflexes with new ones.” Davarax says.

Dulsissia forces herself to focus and tries to copy the stance. “I’m ready to sweat. Show me.”

Davarax glances over at her, she can feel his gaze slide over her, then he nods.

Yeah, okay, Dulsissia is starting to understand why he’d been hesitant to agree to teach her. He’s an excellent teacher, explains things so well, but she’d failed to take into consideration how every single touch of his hands on her, despite the gloves, despite the layer of clothing, results in flares of heat, moments of complete distraction and a flush to her face that has nothing to do with the strain of the exercises.

She had complained about thirty minutes not being long enough, but after twenty five of them; Dulsissia resolutely sits down and lets out a loud, unladylike groan at the ceiling. Who could have known copying moves that Davarax makes seem easy would be this hard? And while Dulsissia had not considered herself to be out of shape, this has left her completely exhausted.

“Still five minutes left.” Davarax points out, standing next to her, sounding smug.

Dulsissia decides to wipe that smugness off his face. Fast as lightning, she flings herself over and grabs a hold of his lower leg with both of her hands, aiming to bring him down to her level, and she yanks with all of her might.

Nothing. It’s like trying to pull at an AT-AT. And Davarax just looks down at her.

Groaning, Dulsissia lets go and flops over to lie on her back. “It was worth a shot.”

Laughing, a low, warm sound, Davarax eases himself down to sit next to her. “It was cute.”

Cute? Dulsissia glares over at him. And before he realizes his mistake, she launches herself at him, climbs into his lap and shoves at his shoulders. Maybe she couldn’t topple him over on his feet, but surely she can knock him over like this?

No.

She’s not entirely sure how he does it, he moves too fast, he’s too strong, but suddenly she’s on her back on the floor and he’s hovering over her. His hands are pinning her wrists to the floor and a quick tug tells her she has absolutely no chance of getting loose. Dulsissia grins. “Also worth a shot.”

Davarax hums, deliberately not to touching her with anything but his grip on her wrists. “Be careful with your shots, Dulcy. You don’t want to end up like this with the enemy.”

Her face burns. She’s suddenly so very aware of him. “It doesn’t feel all that bad, to be honest.”

It feels like all of the oxygen in the room abruptly disappears, gravity gives up and the temperature sky-rockets. Neither of them move. The tension keeps growing and then…

Davarax looks over at the door and scrambles away from her half a second before the children come stomping into the room, chattering and eagerly anticipating today’s lesson.

Dulsissia closes her eyes and let out a long exhale, just as she hears;

“Mom…?”

It’s Din’s birthday. Dulsissia had overheard it by accident when Din had been talking to her son and he’d mentioned how he was counting down the years to when he would finally be allowed to put on the helmet.

She’d asked when he was having his birthday celebration so she could get a present for her son to give him and felt no small amount of horror when Din said there wasn’t going to be one. His parents had said there was no point so he assumed that meant no celebration.

Well, he was wrong about that.

As Din is more comfortable there, she arranges the birthday celebration in her and Corin’s room and invites the rest of Davarax’ children, plus the man himself. It’s a small thing, compared to the parties she used to throw, but it is a huge deal to Din. He shies a bit away from being the centre of attention, but with Davarax and Corin both encouraging him; Din ends up actually enjoying it a little.

And it is all worth it when a red-faced and awkward Din gives Dulsissia by his own free will a quick hug at the end of the day.

Dulsissia then has to hide a smile when Paz ‘innocently’ mentions how he has his birthday exactly one standard week after Din’s while they are seated at the table and devouring the sweets she’s made. (She’s getting pretty good at this baking thing. The fighting? Less so, but she’s improving.)

Paz’ father has a big celebration for his day, but while Dulsissia mostly observes it from the outside, she can’t help but to notice how, while it is in his name, very little is focused on Paz himself. It’s mostly about his father, adult food and strong spirits. Not much for a twelve year old to enjoy.

So she throws him a party in her quarters with the other children and their teacher like she’d done for Din. And Dulsissia feels her heart break yet again when, at the end of the day, Paz hugs her so tight he almost squeezes the air out of her.

Standing next to her, Davarax sighs as he watches Paz leave with the other kids in tow. “I didn’t really celebrate my own birthday much so I never thought about theirs. I let them down.”

“From what I’ve seen,” Dulsissia replies with a bittersweet feeling, “you are the only person in this place who hasn’t let them down.”

Davarax shakes his head. “Not entirely true, but thank you.”

She turns to face him, places her hand on the breastplate where she’d feel his heart if not for the armor. “You took them under your wings when everyone had given up on them. You didn’t just give them the abilities to survive that they are going to need, but your attention and kindness as well. You are those children’s entire world. And I don’t think they could have chosen a better man.”

Davarax reaches up and covers her hand with his. “Dulcy… Do you know what a kov’nyn is?”

She shakes her head. Her heart is going faster and faster.

“Find out.”

“How?”

Davarax does his trademark huff-laughter. “You’re a clever girl. You can do it.” He then lets go, says his goodbye to Corin, who sits on the bed and watches them with a far-too-knowing grin on his face, and gives a final bow to Dulsissia before leaving as well.

Flustered and a little breathless, Dulsissia walks over to clean up the last traces of the dinner.

“Mom.” Corin says.

“Mmh?” She replies, wondering if she can ask Decco what a kov’nyn is or maybe just try to find some sort of dictionary so she won’t have to trouble her all the time.

“Can we ask Din to stay here with us?”

Dulsissia gathers up the plates. “Baby, I don’t think Din’s parents would like that.” Unfortunately.

“He says they wouldn’t mind.” Corin replies. “Also, when you and Davarax become girlfriend and boyfriend, can I call him ‘dad’?”

Dulsissia straightens with a jolt and her face flares up so badly it hurts. “Go brush your teeth, baby.”

“But-”

“Go brush your teeth!”

The Tribe doesn’t have an abundance of datapads or old fashioned books. Most of their teachings are done verbally, but Decco is kind enough to ask around and two days later, a Mandalorian in an orange armor agrees to borrow Dulsissia something similar to a dictionary.

Too curious to wait until she is back in her room where Corin is getting ready for bed while she rushed out to get the book, Dulsissia stops in the middle of a hallway to look up the word. She’s dying to know what Davarax had hinted at, what he was trying to tell her and wanted her to know.

Turning the pages, Dulsissia finally finds the word. ‘Kov’nyn’! There it is!

A headbutt.

Dulsissia blinks. What? Excuse…? She vividly remembers the sight and not to mention the sound of Davarax headbutting that poor Mandalorian during his training and her eyes widen with startled surprise. What?! Was he going to do that to her during their next training? Oh, nonono, no way.

Just as she’s about to slam the book shut and declare that Davarax had been right; Decco might be a better teacher after all, Dulsissia almost accidentally reads more of the text.

Or: A kiss between couples when wearing armor.

Now she does slam the book shut and she’s finding it a bit hard to catch her breath.

Oh.

“I heard you were looking for a book on Mando’a.” A voice says behind her.

Making a startled sound, clutching the book close, Dulsissia spins around and is even more startled when she sees the golden armor and fur cloak.

It’s her. The leader.

“Yes. I, uhm,” Dulsissia awkwardly pushes a lock of her hair behind her ear, “I thought it was about time I learned a little more about… Mando’a. You have all been so kind to me.”

The leader looks at her and her body language is as impossible to read as her facial expression hidden by her helmet.

Dulsissia tries to smile.

“I also hear your son is making good progress in his training.”

Nodding, Dulsissia tries to hide how nervous she’s feeling.

“On his travels, Davarax has brought back many Foundlings. That is his Way and that is The Way.” The leader says. “But he has never brought back an outsider.”

Dulsissia loses the smile and she feels her shoulders sagging a little under the heavy weight of shame. “He… He was kind enough to save me from some horrible men.”

“Mmh.” Is the flat reply. “Are you going to take the Creed?”

Surprised, Dulsissia struggles to find the right answer. She’s been so busy trying to deal with the present that she hasn’t really planned her future. “I… I don’t know.”

That does not seem to impress the leader of the Mandalorians. “Then find your Way. Before you ruin his.”

Watching the Mandalorian walk away, Dulsissia isn’t entirely sure how she feels about this conversation. She’s getting the distinct feeling that this was a message for her to stay away from Davarax, but why? Surely the leader of a warrior tribe does not care about the love life of one of her soldiers? And what gives her the right? Rude.

Frowning, Dulsissia starts walking back to her room while the thoughts keep churning in her brain.

She doesn’t know what she’s going to do, not even when she walks over to Davarax’ door instead of her own and finds herself knocking on it. Dulsissia waits until he opens the door, says her name in a slightly confused tone, and then… she drops the book, reaches up with both hands to take a hold of the top of his breastplate and promptly pulls him down to thump her forehead to his helmet.

Ow.

Letting go, Dulsissia takes a step back and rubs her forehead. One eye closed, she stares at him in confusion. “I think you people got kissing a bit wrong. It’s not supposed to hurt, you know?”

Stunned, Davarax finally straightens back up and reaches out a hand to take a hold of her upper arm in case she falls over. “I don’t… That’s not how…” The Davaraxian laughter huff appears before he urges her to take the step back to him. “Can I show you?”

Dulsissia moves closer to him willingly enough, but she keeps rubbing her forehead and hesitates. “I’m not sure if I want another concussion.” Maybe she isn’t Mandokarla after all? She prefers softer things than headbutts from her date.

“Trust me?” Davarax asks in a quiet tone.

Sighing, Dulsissia lowers her arm. “Fine. But if I am knocked unconscious, you’re in charge of making breakfast to Corin tomorrow as an apology.”

“Deal.” Davarax murmurs, but in an absent way. His hands are already sliding up to cup her face and she shivers at the memory of them without gloves. “Close your eyes, Dulcy.”

Swallowing hard, she does. Suddenly she doesn’t care if he headbutts her into tomorrow as long as he doesn’t take his hands off her or stop talking.

“It’s mean to be gentle…” Davarax says, so soft and smooth, his hands tilting her head backwards, just a little, but enough so her body automatically arches against his. “It’s meant to be warm…” One hand moves to cup the back of her head, the other slides down to her lower back. “It’s longing…” Smooth beskar gently meets her now very warm skin and he eases her body close, so very close, until she’s firmly up against him with a very strong arm around her waist. “and it’s giving.” He tightens his grip around her.

Reaching up, Dulsissia’s fingers dig into the fabric on his upper arms, desperate to hold on to something so she doesn’t just swoon in his arms like a bad theatre actress.

Davarax lets out a soft exhale, it’s sounds almost like relief, and she can feel the muscles in his arm tightening a little more, his hand cupping her head and holding her there, as if she still isn’t close enough for him.

Time stands still. All she feels is heat, him and her own frantic pulse.

Breathless, far too warm for any decent explanation, Dulsissia reluctantly opens her eyes when he pulls away and shivers with disappointment when he lets go of everything but her hand.

“That’s what it’s meant to be like.” Davarax says.

“Oh.” Dulsissia manages. Okay, maybe everyone else had something to learn from Mandalorians.

It takes a visible effort for Davarax to make himself let go of her hand, for a second she can see the twitch in his shoulders when he stops himself from pulling her close again, but he lets go and now he is the one to take a step away. “Good night, Dulcy.”

“Good night.” She whispers, and it takes a visible effort for her to turn around, pick up the book with numb fingers and go over to her own room.

Stupid Mandalorians and their stupid headbutt kissing! Now Dulsissia can’t even look over at Davarax without feeling her face burn or be near him without having her heart to backflips all around her ribcage. This is making her life very frustrating!

And her only comfort is suspecting that Davarax isn’t faring much better either. Judging from how he walked into that table yesterday when she stretched out.

The training? Oh, it’s the sweetest torture ever.

She’s on her way to pick up Corin at Din’s room when a familiar piercing way of screaming catches her attention and Dulsissia doesn’t hesitate to run towards the sound.

Inside what looks to be school room with several pillows on the floor placed around a larger one. A group of scared children are huddled together in one corner while a Mandalorian who looks to be the teacher is restraining a fully feral Raga, with one big hand gripping her arm and the other hand is locked around her neck and preventing her from moving her head.

“What do you think you’re doing?” Dulsissia shouts, stalking in and shoving the Mandalorian away.

Once again surprise is on her side and the Mandalorian stumbles away, releasing the little girl and Dulsissia does not hesitate to crouch down and wrap her arms protectively around the flailing child. Pain flares when sharp teeth dig into Dulsissia’s arm and latch on.

“She’s completely feral!” The teacher shouts, pointing at Raga. “I’ve taught children, youngsters and foundlings alike, for decades and I’ve never met a child that feral! She’s hopeless!”

“What do you expect when you restrain her like a rancor? I’d bite you too!” Dulsissia shouts back at him. She gets up, hoists Raga in her arms, ignores the pain of the teeth still digging into her and marches out of the room with her.

She’s halfway to her quarters, Raga still hasn’t let go but at least she has stopped flailing and screaming and is just quietly twitching so that’s something, when a Mandalorian comes trotting with Davarax on his tail. They both come to a halt when they see Dulsissia carrying Raga.

“I was just coming to…” Davarax points helplessly in the direction of the classroom. “They said she…” He sighs at the sight and reaches out towards Dulsissia’s arm. “Here, I’ll try to-”

“No.” Dulsissia snaps, turning away to shield her arm and Raga from him. “I got her. I’m taking her to my room. You go tell Corin, he’s with Din, that I’m going to be late, and then you go get us Paz.”

Davarax seems a little surprised, but eventually he gives a nod and Dulsissia continues her march back to her room, giving a quick couple of pets to Raga’s back as she’s still twitching.

Once they are inside in the safety of her and Corin’s room, Dulsissia walks over to sit down on the bed. Raga is a bit larger than Corin, her thin frame doesn’t make her much heavier, but she’s taller and it takes a little arranging of her skinny legs and arms. Once they are settled, Dulsissia continues to run her hand up and down Raga’s back and just waits.

To her surprise, Raga lets go of her arm. And a few seconds after that, the girl quietly mumbles; “M’ sorry…”

Smiling, Dulsissia continues to stroke her back. “It’s okay, baby. I know you didn’t mean to.”

“He said I had to sit in the corner because I threw some thing at him.” Raga mumbles. “But I didn’t. It wasn’t me!” She starts to get agitated again. “I told him it wasn’t me and he said he was going to tell my parents I was a liar and have them punish me!”

Forcing her own anger away, Dulsissia strokes the girl’s back again. “I’m sorry he did that to you, sweetie. I’m sorry he didn’t believe you. That was wrong of him.”

“It wasn’t me…” Raga whispers.

“I believe you.” Dulsissia reassures her. And for the next ten minutes, she just holds her close, strokes her back and pets her hair. And anger quietly simmers inside.

Finally Davarax arrives and in his footsteps, Paz follows. He instantly darts by his teacher at the sight of Raga and the girl doesn’t hesitate to twist around to reach out to him.

Dulsissia gets up from the bed and watches Paz take her seat, pulling Raga close and lets her curl up on his lap. She almost disappears in his embrace. That boy is going to end up a giant if he doesn’t stop growing soon and yet he treats his friend with such mesmerizing gentleness.

“Your arm…” Davarax asks quietly, looking over.

“It’s fine.” Dulsissia replies. It aches like crazy and there will definitely be bruising, but that is not what is important right now. She looks over at him. “They called her a liar. They were holding her down like a rabid loth-cat. And they are surprised she bites?”

Davarax shakes his head. “I know…” He sounds pained and resigned. “The four of them are marked as troublemakers. If something goes wrong, if something could have gone wrong, they’re always blamed. And I can’t stop it.”

Dulsissia’s eyes narrow. “Stay here with the kids.”

“Where are you going?”

“I have to talk to someone.”

Dulsissia raps on the door with urgent haste and this time she doesn’t wait for the drowsy Mandalorian to speak before she asks; “Is he in?”

He is.

She knocks and then barges in to the room, startling Barthor into a defensive stance. Dulsissia ignores the tiny fists. “What I’m about to ask you can never be repeated. Do you understand?”

Barthor stares at her, slowly lowering his fists. “What?”

Dulsissia stalks closer and he backs up a step so she crouches down for them to be the same height. “I need you to do something for me and no one can ever find out.”

Barthor’s dark eyes slide from side to side, as if checking for hidden cameras. “Do… what?”

“I want you to make me a stink bomb.”

Snorting a laugh, Barthor shakes his head and walks over to sit on his bed. “I don’t know how to-”

“You know.” Dulsissia interrupts him. “Will you make me one?”

Barthor frowns, now suspicious. “Why? What are you going to do with it?”

Dulsissia raises an eyebrow. “I want to place it in the room belonging to man who teaches Raga’s class.”

That seems to make Barthor even more suspicious. “Why?”

“Because he’s a bully to Raga.”

Something flickers in Barthor’s eyes. “He was mean to Raga again?”

Again. The word hurts Dulsissia’s soul. If that man had been mean to her son, he wouldn’t have had the chance to do it ‘again’. She nods.

Barthor stares down at that floor for a little while, then he jumps to his feet and sighs. “Okay, give me ten minutes.”

It takes him eight to finish it. But he insists on joining her when she goes to plant the contraption.

“You might do it wrong.” Barthor informs her, gingerly easing it into a small bag.

Dulsissia rolls her eyes but follows him when he marches off towards their unsuspecting victim.

Once there, it’s clear it won’t be as easy as they hoped. The man is in his room.

“You distract him, I’ll plant it.” Barthor declares.

Dulsissia nods. “Be careful.”

Barthor smirks. And they go to work.

Knocking on the door, Dulsissia waits for the man to open it and then begins lecturing him on all the wrong ways to handle a sensitive child, not letting the man get a word in, and she barely catches the shadow of little Barthor sneaking by them and into the room.

She keeps her rant going, the man is too surprised and startled to do much than come with feeble objections, and the second Dulsissia sees the shadow sneak out by the man’s legs again, she finishes her speech.

“Good day to you, sir!”

Marching down the hallway, she rounds a corner and finds Barthor there. He looks up at her with a hint of respect.

“Not bad.” He says with grudging respect.

“You too.” Dulsissia replies, reaching out a hand and shakes his when he takes it. “But remember, no one can know.”

Barthor grins. “Don’t worry. No one is going to be able to to prove anything.” “Good.”

When the stink spreads in the man’s room, Dulsissia and Barthor has picked up Corin, and somehow Din ends up tagging along, and they are all safely in Dulsissia and Corin’s room, along with Paz, Raga and Davarax. Eating cookies.

And Barthor was right; nobody is ever able to prove who was behind it.

“Mom, are you sure we can’t ask Din to stay here?” Corin asks one morning.

Sighing, Dulsissia looks over at her sweet son. “I told you, baby. I don’t think his parents will like that. Is there something wrong? Is that why you keep asking?”

Corin, sitting on her bed, shrugs and looks down. “He doesn’t like it there.”

Clearly, as the child spends most of his time with them rather than his parents, but Dulsissia isn’t sure how Mandalorian adoption works. She’s fairly certain it would be frowned upon if she just started hoarding children from them. Otherwise, she would probably have had bunk beds and five children in this room. “I’m sorry to hear that, Corin. Has he tried to talk to his parents?”

Corin shakes his head. “He doesn’t like talking to them.”

Dulsissia has a sneaking suspicion that Din doesn’t like much, except Davarax and her son. At least he has excellent taste. “Do you think he’d like me to talk to them?”

Corin shakes his head again. “He won’t like it if he knew I’d told you.”

Figures. Dulsissia sighs. “Then I don’t know what we can do, baby. They are his parents. We are guests here.”

“Well,” Corin looks over at her, “at least he can come and visit as much as he likes?”

“Absolutely.” Dulsissia confirms. “And I’ll ask if he can stay over some time. Would that help?”

Her beautiful boy lights up with delight. “Really? You’re the best, mom!”

“Remember you said that when I tell you to clean up your toys.” Dulsissia declares.

Corin laughs.

It’s such a wonderful sound. He never used to laugh. He’s always been such a silent child, like Din, but the longer they have stayed here at the Covert; the more Corin has come out of his shell.

He no longer cowers behind her leg when they are in the common room with the other Mandalorians. He still flinches when someone raises their voice, but at least he doesn’t go pale and look like he’s about to pass out. He has friends. And there is a father figure whom Corin greets with joy and looks forward to spending time with, unlike his biological father.

Losing her dresses and servants is a price she’s more than willing to pay to see her son this happy.

There is just thing that could ruin everything. And considering it’s not just harmless flirting any more, Dulsissia decides it is time to tell Davarax.

She asks Decco to look after her son, which she grudgingly agrees to despite meaning the boy is old enough to look after himself, and then Dulsissia asks Davarax to meet her in Din’s hiding space.

“Well,” Davarax say as he steps over a piece of engine and barely manages to make his way over to where she’s sitting on a sofa pillow without falling or knocking himself unconscious against some metal part sticking out amidst the debris they are surrounded by, “this is romantic.”

“Sorry.” Dulsissia says, too nervous to be amused by the graceless way he tumbles down on the pillow next to hers. “I just wanted us to be able to talk in private.”

The tone of her voice makes him sit up and pay attention. “What’s wrong?”

“I want to tell you something.” Dulsissia says, sighing. “And I’m not sure how you’re going to react.”

“You can tell me anything.”

Oh, how she hopes that is true. Dulsissia takes a deep breath, looks down at her own hands as she wrings them nervously in her lap. She smiles a little when his hand moves over to cover them and stops her from hurting herself. Okay. Here goes. “I told you my name is Dulcy.”

“Yes?”

“It’s not.” She glances over at him. “Well, it kind of is. It used to be my nickname. My name is Dulsissia.”

Davarax gives a faint shrug. “Okay?”

“Dulsissia Motti. The man looking for me, his name is Macero Valentis. He is Corin’s father.” Dulsissia braces herself, turns her gaze down to his gloved hand over both of hers and dreads the moment it will withdraw.

Davarax’ voice is carefully neutral. “If you’re a Motti, surely your family will help you get rid of Valentis?”

Dulsissia’s smile is bitter and it hurts. “No. I stupidly defied them to marry him and I’ve been told that I have to lie in the bed I made.”

Davarax hesitates. “Would you like to go back your family?”

Looking over at the man by her side, unable to stop the tears from welling up in her eyes, Dulsissia shakes her head. “No. And they’re not my family. They don’t know what the words means.”

Davarax’ hand withdraws from hers, but only so he can gently cup the side of her face. “Mottis and Valentis, they don’t scare me if that’s what you were worried about.”

“Kind of.” Dulsissia admits, a tear slipping from her eye. “I have seen the destruction they can cause. I don’t want to bring it here.”

“We’re Mandalorians.” Davarax says, a slight grin in his voice. “We thrive on battle. It’s in our blood. And they would find us a lot more dangerous than any other opponent they’ve been up against in the past.” His thumb caresses her skin, wiping away her tear, and his voice softens. “They don’t matter. They’re in the past. You are here now. You’re Dulcy. And Corin is safe. You both are.”

It might not be Mandokarla, but Dulsissia doesn’t care; she leans over and he wraps his arms around her.

“As long as I breathe,” Davarax mumbles, holding her close, “you and Corin will always be safe.”

#the mandalorian his son and the storm trooper #Dulsissia Motti #Davarax #Baby Corin #Fearsome Four #Mandorin AU #What if

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yulje-fam · 3 years

Text

Of Fears and Heartbeats.

Summary: In a quiet living room - under the light of the moon - Jun-wan comforts U-ju and tries to put his fears to rest.

Relationships: Kim Jun-wan & Lee U-ju [Uncle & Nephew Familial Relationship]

Word Count: 2.3k

Warnings: Mentions of death (fear of death, death of a pet, etc.)

Disclaimer: I don’t own “Hospital Playlist”!

Ao3 Cross-Post: “Of Fears and Heartbeats.” by RandmWriter

It was a little past two in the morning when Jun-wan woke to the sound of crying.

It took him a second to shake off the last vestiges of sleep, and another to register where he was and what he was hearing.

Ah, right.

He was on Ik-jun’s couch. It wasn't the first time he’d been in this particular situation. After all, Ik-jun’s emergency surgeries didn't care about the time of day - and just like tonight, there were times when no one else was available to watch U-ju.

Wait, U-ju-

Jun-wan bolted upright so quickly his vision faltered for a moment, but that was hardly his primary concern. After all, he had finally realized just who it was the quiet sobs were coming from - and he practically willed his eyes to adjust to the darkness faster. His head swiveled quickly as he swung his legs over the side of the couch, but he didn't have to look very far to find who he was searching for.

Even in the sparse light of the moon filtering in through the window, Jun-wan could see U-ju's figure in his bedroom doorway - one hand clinging to the doorframe while the other rubbed futilely at the tears streaming from his eyes.

Something in Jun-wan both softened and ached at the sight.

"Uju-ah," he called out gently. It wasn't a tone he often used, but for his nephew, he'd gladly make an exception.

Jun-wan could hear U-ju's sharp intake of breath at the call of his name, but the young boy made no move to pry himself from the doorframe. Jun-wan tried again.

"Uri U-ju," he began, gesturing with one arm to beckon U-ju towards the couch. "It's alright. Come here."

And apparently that was all the convincing he needed.

U-ju relinquished his hold on his bedroom's doorframe and padded softly towards Jun-wan, who - for his part - tried to keep his expression as gentle and encouraging as possible. When his nephew was finally close enough, Jun-wan kneeled in front of the young boy - trying to be level with him as much as possible.

From his new vantage point, the older man could finally see the child's face. Immediately, Jun-wan felt sympathy lance through him at the sight.

U-ju, he knew, had never been a handful. The young boy was never one to throw tantrums or demand attention - and it appeared that even when scared to tears in the middle of the night, it still wasn't in his nature to make a fuss. U-ju cried quietly - sniffling and hiccuping every now and again, but not wailing or anything even remotely close to it. The tears on his cheeks shone silver in the moonlight, but before U-ju could move to wipe them away, his uncle beat him to it.

As gently as he could, Jun-wan reached out to wipe away his nephew's tears - smiling at the young boy with the same warmth that was reflected in his eyes. He knew he wasn’t the most comforting person in the world, but for U-ju, he would certainly try.

"Something scary must have woken you up," the surgeon whispered, his thumb brushing away what little moisture remained on his nephew's cheeks. "Do you want to tell me about it?"

U-ju debated the question for a moment, before nodding slowly.

"Daege samchon," the young boy began, and Jun-wan couldn't keep the small smile from his face at the nickname. It seemed his "Uncle Snow Crab" title was here to stay.

U-ju took a deep breath before finally asking,

"Will my heart always keep beating?"

To say that Jun-wan was startled would have a been a massive, massive understatement. Why in the world was U-ju worried about that? He knew his nephew was smart and perceptive, but an existential crisis was the last thing he expected from a boy of his age. He definitely had to clarify.

"What makes you ask that, U-ju?" Jun-wan queried - concern coloring his words and his expression.

U-ju worried his bottom lip for a few moments before taking a deep breath.

"Mo-ne's dog just died," the young boy whispered, gaze trained on the floor. "She asked her appa about what it means when something dies, and he told her that sometimes when dogs are really old, their heart stops beating and they die."

U-ju raised his gaze to meet his uncle's, and Jun-wan could have sworn that something inside him shattered when he saw the tears gathering in his nephew's eyes.

"Daege samchon-" U-ju choked out through the lump in this throat, his voice small and terrified. "What if my heart stops beating? I don't want that to happen, b-but I don't know how to c-control it!"

It seemed that voicing his fears was the final crack that broke the dam of his composure, because as soon as he finished, U-ju burst out into tears. The silent sobs of before were long gone - replaced by cries born of bone-rattling fear and confusion.

Jun-wan wasted no time in gathering U-ju in his arms, picking up the small boy and hushing his cries. He sat down on the sofa with his nephew in his lap - rubbing his back in an effort to offer as much comfort as he could. U-ju buried his face in his uncle's neck - sobbing and hiccuping and so, so vulnerable that Jun-wan hugged him all the closer.

Neither of them knew how long they stayed that way; but after quite some time - with Jun-wan never faltering in his efforts to soothe his young charge - the young boy's wailing cries quieted until all that was left was an occasional hitch in his breath.

Once he was certain that the child was calm enough to listen, Jun-wan began to speak.

"Uju-ah," he whispered. "Let's go get you a glass of water, alright?"

Minutely, the little boy nodded his assent from where his head was nestled in the crook of his uncle's neck.

With movements that spoke of practiced ease, Jun-wan hefted U-ju into one of his arms and stood - settling the child on his hip. U-ju didn't hesitate to wrap his arms around his guardian's neck, before settling his head on the older man's shoulder.

A trip to the kitchen and a glass of water later, Jun-wan returned to the sofa and settled his nephew back in his lap - but not before quickly grabbing something from his medical bag at the foot of the couch. The water, thankfully, helped get rid of the unpleasant hiccups, and helped settle U-ju's breathing.

A beat passed before the elder of the two spoke.

"Uju-ah," Jun-wan said, tone soft and gentle. He let the cadence of his voice settle lightly - letting his words flow, as if he were telling his nephew a story. "Did you know that I've spent so many years studying the heart?"

At his words, U-ju lifted his eyes to meet his uncle's, who quietly wiped away the tears on his cheeks. The sight of one of his favorite adults - bedraggled and rumpled as he was, haloed by the silver light of the moon with the kindest smile on his face - was enough to quiet the worst of U-ju's fears. Enough for him to be able to focus on his uncle's words, at least.

The young boy nodded minutely, so Jun-wan continued.

"It's my job to help people when their heart is having trouble - and one of the things I've learned and I've seen again and again, is that the heart-" he gently settled the tips of his fingers on U-ju's chest, and the little boy followed it with his gaze. Jun-wan smiled. "-the heart is stronger than you think, U-ju."

U-ju lifted his gaze to meet his uncle's, and Jun-wan could see the hope shining in his nephew's eyes. His own eyes softened, and he continued.

"You're young, U-ju - and I know your heart is in wonderful condition. As long as you take care of your heart - as long as you eat properly and exercise and avoid all of the bad things - then you can rely on your heart to be strong."

Ever so gently, Jun-wan took one of his nephew's hands and settled it on his chest, just over his own heart. U-ju was silent - enraptured - as he stared at his hand that was resting on the older man's chest. Not a second later, he felt his guardian's hand settle warmly over his own - pressing his fingers firmly into the fabric of his uncle's shirt.

It only took a moment before he felt it.

A heartbeat.

U-ju could feel it reverberate though his fingers - the steady thumping, strong and sure. It was here; it was real. Tangible, concrete, and indisputable proof of the heart's quiet strength.

U-ju couldn't help but sigh quietly in awe. Jun-wan's eyes softened.

"I'm much older than you are, U-ju," Jun-wan whispered, kind and gentle. "But my heart is still strong, isn't it? Can you feel it?"

U-ju nodded quietly.

Jun-wan smiled, before using his free hand to grab at what he had pulled from his medical bag when they had gotten U-ju his water. With practiced ease, Jun-wan settled his stethoscope into place - releasing his nephew's hand. U-ju's fingers found the stethoscope's diaphragm, and he inspected it with a quiet awe and curiosity. His uncle had shown him his stethoscope before - but it was only now that he began to realize the significance of the apparatus.

Jun-wan let his nephew examine the instrument for a few more moments before he spoke.

"U-ju-ah," he began. "If you're still worried and afraid about your heart, would you like me to check it for you?"

His offer was met by a ready nod from U-ju, who was more than glad to have another layer of reassurance.

U-ju watched as his guardian pressed the end of the stethoscope to his chest - listening intently. He couldn't help but smile at the sight of his uncle's visible focus; his appa had a similar 'doctor face' too.

He waited a few more moments as his guardian moved the stethoscope to different points on his body, before Jun-wan finally lowered the diaphragm and fixed U-ju with a smile.

"It sounds perfect, U-ju," he said - and before the little boy could blink, his uncle removed the stethoscope from his neck, and offered it to him.

His guardian's smile was as kind as his voice.

"Would you like to hear your heart for yourself, U-ju?"

It would not have been a stretch to say that U-ju was awed at the opportunity before him. Taking the stethoscope reverently in his hands, the young boy carefully positioned the tips of the instrument into his ears, and watched as Jun-wan pressed the diaphragm just above his heart.

In all his years on earth, U-ju had never heard something so extraordinary.

He hadn't expected the sound to be so strong. And oh, he could hear it; the lub-dub all of his children's books had talked about - now echoing in his own ears. He was wonderstruck; his fears fading in the face of his awe, leaving him infinitely lighter and calmer.

His uncle really did know just what to do to make everything less scary.

Gratitude filling him to the brim, U-ju moved his gaze from his chest to look at his guardian - and he was met with the softest expression he had ever seen on his uncle's face. There was so much affection - so much love that shone clearly in his eyes that U-ju suddenly found himself speechless at the enormity of it.

Jun-wan grinned at the wonder in the young boy's eyes, before raising an amused eyebrow in question.

"So what do you think, U-ju? Your heart sounds very strong, doesn't it?" he asked, to which his young charge nodded - the awe never fading from his eyes.

Jun-wan silently held his palm out, and U-ju - ever smart and perceptive - carefully removed the stethoscope from his ears and placed it in the doctor's waiting hand. The older man set the instrument aside, before fixing his gaze on his nephew - meeting the young boy's eyes.

He still had one last thing he wanted to say.

"Listen to me, alright, U-ju?" he began - his voice kind and warm, as it always was for his nephew. "There's no need to be scared. You can rely on your heart. As long as you take care of it, you can trust it to be strong. And no matter what happens, I will always be here to help."

With a quiet solemnity, he let the pads of his fingers rest on U-ju's chest.

"You can trust your heart, U-ju-"

He pressed his hand to his own chest; a promise.

"-And you can trust your daege samchon to protect it too."

For the third time that night, U-ju couldn't help the tears that rolled down his cheeks. But they were different tears now; the kind that felt like healing rather than hurt, and that washed the pain away with it.

And as he'd done countless times before, Jun-wan wiped the glittering tears from his nephew's face, with as much gentleness and affection as he could offer.

Once his uncle finished wiping the moisture from his cheeks, U-ju rushed forward to envelope the taller man in a hug - nestling his face in the crook of his neck. Jun-wan froze in surprise for a fraction of a second, before he heard a small voice whisper.

"Saranghaeyo daege samchon," U-ju said quietly, as he closed his eyes and hugged his uncle tighter.

Not a moment later, U-ju felt strong arms wrap gently around him - sheltering him in a warm embrace.

"Saranghaeyo uri U-ju."

And as a tranquil peace washed over the pair - each of their breaths coming easier than the last - U-ju allowed his uncle's steady heartbeat to lull him to sleep - quiet, safe, and secure.

—

If Ik-jun found the two of them asleep on the couch the next morning - Jun-wan hugging U-ju to his chest protectively as his son's tears finally dried on his cheeks - he certainly made no mention of it to his friend.

And if he refilled the snack drawer in Jun-wan's office after leaving him a bottle of his favorite coffee - well...

He certainly didn't mention that to him either.

—————

Author’s Note:

Hi everyone!! 😄

So this is my first contribution to the Hospital Playlist Fandom! 😄 This story was inspired by this tweet (https://bit.ly/3jHCJD2), and because U-ju and his Uncle Snow Crab deserve more moments together! ✨

This is my first time writing for any KDrama or KPop fandom, so I sincerely apologize if I got any of the terminologies wrong! Please feel free to point out any errors, and I’ll do my best to fix them! 😄 Also, I really apologize if any of the characters came off as OOC! I’m more than happy to hear any constructive criticism you might have (and I’d really appreciate it if you could phrase it as nicely as you can, if possible!) 😄

Lastly, all feedback is loved and appreciated! Please feel free to tell me which parts you liked, or how the writing can be improved!

That’s all! I hope you all have a wonderful day, and stay safe everyone! 😄✨

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bokutoslittlebird · 4 years

Note

i just read your older sister h/cs.. its amazing and i know you have a lot on your plate right now but can i request for more detailed smut and corruption between bokuto and the older sister s/o? really sorry for requesting this birdie-chan.

First off don’t be sorry lol I’m keeping requests open since they come in but it’s not overwhelming, yknow? And the fics are gonna take some time but I finally got two of the fic storylines down so those should be in production soon. If I suddenly get 20 requests overnight for different characters or something, then I’ll close requests so I can catch up but I doubt that tbh

Mission: Corrupting Onee-San ! ; Bokuto

The news hit you like a truck, a punch in the gut as the nurse on the other line apologizes for your loss. With the grieving process of your late husband almost over, it’s horrible that your daughter was the next one to go. How horrible is it for a mother to live longer than her own child? You didn’t even know you were hunched over on your kitchen floor until Kōtarō had to pick you up. He smelled like car fuel, a sickening scent after the news. He had been only working on your car, though, after the accident.

“Nee-san, what happened?” His voice is frantic and worried, large hands cupping your face while you heave.

“She’s gone,” you manage out, between sobs and heaves, another loud wail coming from you as your face plunged into Kōtarō’s chest. Whispered apologies can’t do much when your sobs and muddled words drown out his own. He knows you’re in pain, he knows you miss your daughter, but maybe this is for the best. Maybe it’s best that you end up restarting your life, after all this pain and suffering. When that small sentence passes your lips, the wish to go back in time, wishing for your son and daughter and husband back, Kōtarō knows he can’t give you exactly what you want. Time travel doesn’t exist.

But he does.

You weigh nothing to him, smelling like strawberries and bananas, the scent of your shampoo. Easily he holds you close to his chest, gentle whispers and soothing words as you hiccup and sob, the worst of your sobbing over. It’s a one track mind with him, walking into the bedroom and setting you down on the bed. There’s no need to shut and lock the door, his only focus is on you and catering to your needs. You want a daughter so badly, he’ll gladly give you one. He already fills in where your late husband left, working outside and making you breakfast. He’s only in college, but you need him. He’ll become a star athlete and give you a better life than your husband, that’s his goal.

It encourages him, his kisses as he peppers your neck, shushing you as his hands wander along your sides, rubbing circles before they slide under your shirt. A sweater that hasn’t been washed in a week, he should take the time to strip you down, but now isn’t the time for that. Your fists weekly push at his chest, but he doesn’t stop. He can’t be deterred in his tasks of trying to make you feel better. This is just another thing your husband did that he can take over. Kōtarō knows he’s probably better at it, anyways. It’s just him helping you out.

“Kō-chan, what— what are you doing?” You hiccup out, weak pushing against him. It’s like trying to move a brick wall, he’s built so much muscle and strength since the last time you saw him. He’s not the little brother you used to play on the swings with or feed broccoli to, he’s grown into a fine young man. It’d be something to look at and smile about, but now it’s put you in a position where control is far from grasp. He doesn’t stop, though. He continues to have his lips attached to your neck, tongue flicking against your hot skin as he trails down to your collarbone. “This is—”

“I’m taking care of you. Isn’t that what good husbands do?” He murmurs, hands pressing your stomach under the cotton fabric. He can’t wait until you’re heavy and pregnant with his child. It’s too easy for him, easily sliding off the sweatpants you had been wearing all week, letting him see the white panties underneath. You didn’t have the energy to push him off of you, could barely even comprehend the actions unfolding before you. Kōtarō has his shirt off, exposing his muscles covered with a thin layer of sweat as his arms flexed, unbuttoning his jeans and rubbing the growing bulge in his boxers. He’s been waiting for this moment, finally able to have you back in his arms and all his, no child or husband in his way. You’re no longer crying, but your eyes are still red as you sniffle, weakly attempting to cover yourself and close your legs. There’s no room for that, he clicks his tongue and shakes his head.

Prying your legs apart is too easy, no strength behind your actions. He’s much too large and much too strong for you, covering your body with his own as he finally has his cock free, pink and big, twitching as he lines himself up. He may not have as much experience as you, but he’s going to make your experience with him the best you’ve ever had. “Kō, I don’t think-”

“You don’t need to think, nee-san. Let me take care of you,” his nose brushes against your own, a romantic gesture as he sinks into you. A silent scream is ripped from your throat, head thrown back as he pushes past your walls. It’s a tight fit, and you don’t have much slick going for you, forcing Kōtarō to force his way in. It burns, it hurts, the stretch of him, easily bigger and thicker than your late husband, the heaviness of his cock making you feel so full. “I’m gonna give you a baby, nee-san,”

“Kōtarō, no,” you sternly say, as sternly as you can. It doesn’t stop him, doesn’t make him rethink, no it just makes him want you more. You’re so tight and warm, he never wants to leave your pretty pussy. He understands why you had two kids now, your husband probably just loved to fuck you into the mattress. Now, it’s his turn.

You can’t even say anything to try to get him to stop, not when one leg is over his shoulder as he pistons his cock into you. It stings as his mushroom tip rubs against your sensitive walls, but a bit of slick starts to form as you find yourself hurling towards an orgasm so quickly. Hiccups and sobs come from you, Kōtarō leaning over to kiss you as your back arches, the position change having him drilling into your sweetest spot. Your vision goes black, eyes rolling as you cream on his cock and he groans, arms wounding around your frame. He’s close to his own release, but he wants you to come one more time. Orgasms make people feel better, right? They make him feel better. You just need one more.

It comes quicker than he anticipated, your nails digging into his toned biceps as he licks your lower lip, covering your mouth with his as you cream on his cock and scream into his mouth. He stills himself, weak hip thrusts as he empties a hefty load into your womb, plugging you up with his cock. Spurts of his cum ooze out as he removes his arms from you, sitting back as his cock stays inside you. He’s still hard and rearing to go, but a look at your face has him coddling you once more, peppering your face with kisses as your walls clench around him. You keep saying you don’t want this, but you’re in this situation because you wanted this. You want another child and your Kō-chan is going to make that happen.

He just needs to make sure, he tells himself as he ruts his hips against your pelvis.

#BB.Kinky #bokuto x reader #tw.incest #Mr. Kōtarō #haikyuu smut #BB.Dark #Bokuto.Spice #tw.dubcon #tw.noncon #tw.death #tw.grieving #BB.Requests

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telli1206 · 3 years

Note

(Per our discussion 😘) It's summer, but Carlos tends to layer up. He falls asleep after a long day out while Jay's in the shower or something, so Jay decides to tuck him in like that and go to bed, but then Carlos starts getting wiggly b/c he's way overheated btwn. his clothes, the blankets, and Jay being a human furnace, so Jay tries to wake him up to get him to strip down so they can both be in peace, but Carlos doesn't wake up and Jay thinks he's faking, so he starts to help things along. 😉

Finally getting the inspo to write this one @hersilentlanguage, so I hope it was worth the wait 😁

WARNING: Mild smut with sexual implications

Jay grunts and jolts suddenly from the feel of a sharp pain under his arm. He blinks furiously to coax the sleep out of his eyes, the fog in his brain too deep to even register what’s happening.

Not that he really needs to, he kind of already knows what’s going on. It’s always the same person who’s to blame for his shittiest nights of sleep.

Jay should be angry. Fuck, he has every right to be. Is there anything worse than being ripped from a deep sleep by a physical attack? He can’t think of anything. Still, he just sighs and rubs at his side. If he didn’t love the boy so damn much, there’d be nothing stopping him from grabbing him and just chucking him off the bed. And yet...

Auradon may have made him soft, just a little bit. But he’s pretty sure Carlos Oscar De Vil was already well on his way to turning Jay into a teddy bear anyway.

He reaches for the culprit of his pain, managing to curl his fingers around a sock-covered foot before another jab has him wincing and scooting back, positioning himself away from another attack.

“Fuck, ‘Los,” he moans, still gripping tightly to his boyfriend’s foot. “You can be a little shit, you know that?”

Carlos starts to mumble unintelligibly, his nose scrunching adorably as the utter nonsensicals spill from his lips. He’s moving as he tries to talk, his body shifting and wriggling it’s way up the bed, jerking out of Jay’s grasp. He kicks up Jay’s side, bit by bit, scurrying his lithe body upwards until it lands flat and flush against their headboard.

Jay sighs, watching as Carlos finally settles just above his head. His new position on the hard wood of their headboard looks terribly uncomfortable, and Carlos must subconsciously agree as he clearly continues to squirm, batting Jay repeatedly on top of his head with the billow of his sleeve in the process.

“Carlos!” Jay tries again, his voice hushed but firm. He grabs at the sleeve in his face and tugs, but Carlos simply rolls the other way, pressing his body onto the wood with a discontented hum.

Jay huffs as he props himself up on his forearms and turns fully to face Carlos. His plans of going to sleep at the moment have gone to shit, so he may as well try to get Carlos situated again. His best shot at a proper night’s sleep anyway is when he’s wrapped around his favorite warm body, his face pressed into Carlos’ soft expanse of white curls.

So he’s doing this for both of them, really.

Jay carefully snakes an arm under Carlos, moving slowly to keep from jostling him too much and potentially waking him. Once he can reach, he wraps both arms around Carlos and pulls him into his chest, holding him tightly and remaining as motionless as possible, hopeful that the few movements aren’t enough to cause him to stir.

To Jay’s surprise, Carlos hardly startles. Actually, he hardly moves at all. Definitely not what he expected.

He decides to loosen his grip to check on Carlos, and Carlos surprises Jay again by spinning slowly to face him. Though his eyes are pinched closed, Jay can still hear his soft mumblings, coming and going lightly with each breath.

“‘Los?” Jay leans in closer, pressing their foreheads together as he tries to focus on his boyfriend’s words.

Carlos moans at the contact and pushes in even closer so they’re practically cheek to cheek. He’s slick with sweat, and Jay can feel the dampness and heat radiating off of him. Jay reaches over to cup Carlos’ cheek, running his fingers gingerly over the moist skin.

“Fuck, I’m sorry pup,” he sighs, pulling back. “I shouldn’t have let you sleep in all this shit. It’s way too hot.” He thumbs at the zipper of Carlos’ hoodie with one hand while his other moves to Carlos’ head, gently pushing his red beanie back until it slides off and drops behind them and onto the floor.

Despite today being sunny and warm, Carlos had opted to layer up his clothing as usual, throwing Jay’s hoodie and beanie on over his shorts and t-shirt. It’s a habit that Carlos just can’t seem to shake. But, after years of Carlos feeling that he needs to hide...both his imperfections and his existence as a whole, no one had really expected for him to change that overnight.

Besides, Jay is more than happy to see Carlos wearing his clothes. He doesn’t want to look possessive, but, he really is. Especially when it comes to Carlos. He’s been dying to claim the cute freckled boy since they met, and it finally feels safe, normal even, to do that in Auradon. So he’ll gladly take every chance he can get to show that Carlos is...well...his.

It’s not like anyone is complaining about it anyway. Carlos is fucking adorable when he’s in clothes that are too big for him. That’s just common knowledge.

Still, Carlos overdid it with the layers today. And Jay scolds himself for being a lazy boyfriend and just dropping Carlos in bed to sleep instead of helping him change first into something less...suffocating.

He’s definitely paying for that choice now.

Carlos gasps when the beanie falls away and exposes his head to the cool air of their room. He tips his head back to shake out his matted down curls, relaxing back into Jay with a sigh of relief and resting his head on Jay’s shoulder.

“Does that feel good, pup? Do you want me to take off a little more? Cool you off?”

Jay reaches for Carlos’ zipper again, dragging it down slowly just an inch or so and then stops, waiting for Carlos’ reaction.

“Just say ‘yes’ or ‘no.’ Whatever you want I’ll do it. I just wanna help you sleep.”

Carlos is quiet, his head unmoving from Jay’s shoulder. Jay breathes soft and shallow, his hand still frozen at Carlos’ zipper as he listens for any type of response from him. But the silence hangs in the air for over a minute, and Jay is starting to wonder exactly how deeply his boyfriend may be sleeping.

Finally, Carlos starts to shift, moving his hips slightly to bring his body even closer to Jay’s. He drapes a leg across Jay’s waist as he tilts his head up to bring his lips to Jay’s ear. He doesn’t speak, instead choosing to kiss his way down the shell of Jay’s ear, stopping only to tug at Jay’s lobe with his teeth.

“Pupppp,” he moans, biting down hard on his lip to muffle the sound. His hands fly to Carlos’ hips, squeezing tightly as Carlos’ kissing continues its way down his jaw to his neck.

“I didn’t think undressing you would get you in the mood that easy, but I’m not gonna complain,” Jay chuckles. But his laughter fades away with his breath when Carlos bites down on the junction of his neck and starts to suck at his most sensitive spot.

Jay chokes, his mind numbing with pleasure as he starts to fumble for Carlos’ hoodie again, this time grabbing the zipper roughly and ripping it down. Carlos is still latched to his neck as he pushes the sleeves down, quickly freeing Carlos of his hoodie and dropping it to the floor to join his beanie.

When Carlos’ mouth finally detaches from Jay, he takes the opportunity to dip down and kiss over Carlos’ collarbone, letting his hands glide down Carlo’s t-shirt as he does so. When he reaches the bottom he hooks his fingers under the hem, pulling away for only a second to tug it over Carlos’ head and toss it aside.

Carlos hums his approval, his eyes still closed but his mouth spread wide in his most pleased smile. He looks utterly content when Jay starts to kiss fervently over the newly exposed freckled skin of Carlos’ chest, flushed and warm under his lips.

Jay smiles against Carlos’ shuddered breaths, his body responding almost desperately for more of Jay’s touch. And Jay is eager to please. He kisses his way down Carlos’ stomach, reaching for the button of his shorts as his mouth descends closer. Within seconds he has them unbuttoned and unzipped, and they’re off and on the ground before Carlos can react.

Not that he would. He’s already distracted himself with the skin of Jay’s neck, scraping his teeth along it and mouthing lightly at Jay’s pulse.

Jay is encouraged further by Carlos’ moans, hot and tingly against his skin. He snakes both of his hands down the back of Carlos’ boxers, grazing along skin that’s too soft, and feels too delicious against his own. He stops to playfully squeeze at firm cheeks, as perfect and perky as he’s ever had the pleasure of touching. He peppers kisses at Carlos’ shoulder, massaging tenderly with his hands before lifting his arms to slide the material down--

“Uh. Um. J-Jay?”

Jay stills in his movements. “Yeah, Pup?”

He shifts backwards, his eyes searching for Carlos’ in the dim twilight. But when their gazes meet, Jay can feel guilt pooling in his gut.

Carlos’ eyes are wide...confused. There’s no recognition in his features at all, no indication left of the passion he and Jay were engaging in just moments ago. Jay releases his grip when he feels Carlos start to squirm, sliding his hands out of Carlos’ boxers and urging some space between their bodies.

“Are we...is th-this...”

Jay winces at the uncertainty in Carlos’ tone. His brow furrows, unable to hide his worry.

“Shit ‘Los, I’m sorry. I thought you were...I thought we were...were you not, into it? Evil, if I did something you didn’t want, I swear I didn’t mean to-”

Carlos puts a finger to Jay’s lips to end his ramblings. Jay complies, laying silent as he stares into Carlos’ deep brown eyes. They’re more alert now, but laced with softness, and they stare back at Jay with an intensity that’s making his heart constrict and his breath hitch. When the finger is dragged away from Jay’s lips, Carlos is quick to replace it with a tentative kiss, light and airy with barely a brush of contact.

“Jay.”

Jay opens his eyes, unsure as to when he even closed them. Carlos is smiling at him now, bright and toothy and so, so beautiful. Jay silently hopes his damn eyelids didn’t deny him of this for too long. Every single one of Carlos’ smiles is his favorite thing in the world.

“Jay,” Carlos repeats, brushing his fingers across Jay’s cheek. “Are you good now? I swear, you’re too damn sweet for your own good sometimes.”

Jay blinks and blinks, his face blank as tries to understand what he thinks he heard.

“Too...sweet?”

Carlos shakes his head and laughs. With a swing of his hips, he flips Jay onto his back and rolls on top of him. When Carlos sits up, he’s straddling Jay’s waist and looking into surprised eyes. He smirks and flicks a finger to Jay’s chin, snapping shut his slightly agape expression.

“I thought I was dreaming, Jay. That’s all. I know you’d never mean to do anything I didn’t want to. I’d never think that. You’re so good to me.”

Jay exhales, grinning up at Carlos, who leans in for another kiss.

“Ok, thanks pup. I-”

He’s cut off by Carlos squeezing his face and pressing a kiss down firmly onto his pursed lips.

“Besides,” he mumbles against Jay’s mouth, “Who the hell would complain about waking up to their dreams coming true?”

Carlos slips his hands underneath Jay’s shirt, splaying them out as he sits back upright with a cocky grin.

“Now, can you fill me in on what we were doing? Because I’d like to continue.”

#jaylos #ship asks #hersilentlanguage #jay x carlos #jay son of jafar #Carlos De Vil #descendants #jaylos asks

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carpsurprise · 3 years

Text

sam stans i come.. bearing a gift.. sooo..

plot: the farmer teaches sam how to plant flowers, despite his clumsy nature

word count: 1.9k

notes: once again, gn!farmer. this is.. way more than i usually write but i felt particularly inspired... and we all know i love sam, put under a read more bc it is a little long. i’m also posting this on ao3! don’t be surprised if another sam writing comes up soon...

A quiet sigh left the farmer’s mouth, their eyes focusing on Sam’s clumsy, gloved hands handling the delicate flowers. He tipped the young flowers from their nursery containers with care, mindful of the placement of his fingers against the dirt and the positions of the leaves. The empty nursery container was thrown haphazardly on the ground, making the farmer’s eyebrow quirk for just a moment before returning their attention back to Sam. With the young flower held in both of his hands, he shot the farmer a nervous glance.

“Heh,” he chuckled, heat starting to creep up the back of his neck, “thought you bought seeds from Pierre? I didn’t think you’d plant already blooming flowers.”

The farmer shrugged. “They’re still nice. Besides, those are more for decoration than anything— and you asked me to teach you to plant flowers, didn’t you? Teaching you to plant a seed would take a moment.”

“I guess so,” he muttered, still nervously holding the formed potting soil. “Now what do I do, stick it in the ground?”

“You could, or,” the farmer held Sam’s hands gently, allowing him to hear his own heartbeat in his head. The farmer helped support the stem of the plant, gently kneading their thumb and the inside of their pointer finger along the potting soil. The roots of the plant had finally appeared in a jumbled mess. “See, you want to spread out the roots a little so it can get water easier.”

Sam nodded with a dry swallow, watching the farmer’s eyes focus intently on the roots of the flower. They continued, “You want to be super careful, though, they’re very delicate. Just a gentle little touch will be good to separate them out.”

A few clumps of dirt had fallen from the plant, landing on Sam’s lap and rolling off his thighs back to the earth. The farmer didn’t seem to mind the dirt that covered their legs. He directed his focus back to the flowers in front of him, and off of the farmer’s legs. Sam mirrored the farmer’s actions with his own gloved thumb, trying to smooth out the roots as gently as his clumsy hands would allow. It was funny, he thought, that he could master guitar strings flawlessly, but at a moment of tender precision he seemed to become nervous.

“Mm, that’s good!” The farmer exclaimed, slowly retracting their hands from Sam’s. “Now gently place the flower into the hole we made,” they directed, holding the sides of the parted dirt as Sam lowered the new flower into its forever home. He let go of it with slow hands, helping the farmer pat the parted dirt into the open sides with one hand. Sam let out a breath, retracting himself from the planter box.

The farmer let out a breathy chuckle, moving their trowel to their side. “This is usually relaxing for people.”

“I know.”

“You said you wanted to learn how to plant stuff because of your mom, right?”

Sam groaned, feeling himself get caught up in his own lie. “Yeah. I think it’d make her happy to know I learned, for some reason. I’m afraid she doesn’t think what I do for myself is very… useful.”

“But you’re a wonderful guitar player,” the farmer cried, turning their body to him, “and a wonderful song writer. You’ve got more talent than most in the valley, especially when it comes to music,” they smiled, making Sam’s heart skip a beat.

This is why he came to the farmer in a full sweat, red face, and nervous hands asking them to teach him how to garden.

He grinned, instinctively moving his hand to scratch at the base of his neck. “Thanks, it means a lot—,” he interrupted himself with a startled gasp, feeling the remains of dirt on his gardening glove slip down his spine. He quickly pulled his hand from his neck, looking accusingly at the dirty, green and yellow gardening glove he had forgotten he was still wearing.

The farmer laughed at his mistake innocently, their shoulders shaking with them. It was charming for Sam, yet felt himself still chilled by the quick surprise of things running down his back. “I’ve forgotten I was wearing my gloves many, many times,” they laughed, “It sorta just feels like normal after a while.

Lifting their hands, also still gloved, they flipped them from the palm to the back of the hand. Sam admired the size of their hands, and the obvious wear and tear of the daily work they do written all over the gloves.

“Need to get a new pair,” they muttered.

Sam had lit up, splaying his dirty gloves across his jeans without thought. “Oh! Let me buy you a new pair then, you know,” he began to fluster again. He stuttered out his response, weary of making his affections known too soon, “to thank you for teaching me how to do this.”

“Sam, you don’t have to do that. I had a lot of fun! Besides, I needed to do this anyway.”

Sam shook his head, grabbing one of their gloved hands. “No, no, please let me, and then I can get a pair that matches!”

The farmer was silent.

“... If that’s alright with you?”

The farmer snapped out of their little daze from his words, nodding and then reassuring him. Accepting his offer of new gloves, they promised to stick with the pair they have now until Sam came to the farmhouse with his gift. “Oh, Sam, before you leave can you bring home a potted plant for your mother? I’d like to thank her for the fertilizers she’s been sending me.”

He nodded. “Yeah, totally. She’d love that.”

Jumping up from their position, the farmer ran over to the side of their house, sifting through gardening tools and empty containers. They pulled out a weathered, but nice small pot. Sam watched as they dragged their hose out, rinsing the dust and dirt off of it before bringing it back over. “Here! I have no clue where this came from, but it’s nice and pretty.”

Sam agreed, immediately taking the trowel and shoveling dirt into it. “Ah, remember, Sam! Not too much dirt yet, we don’t want the roots exposed,” they instructed, causing him to quickly shovel out a little bit of dirt. He pushed the dirt to the sides of the pot, looking at the farmer expectedly. The grin on their face had made him nervous.

“You do it, Sam. I need to make sure you know how to do this, and I think Jodi will like it a lot more if you potted it. It can be a gift from the both of us.”

His fear of failure had returned to the center of his chest. Without another word he began to focus on the steadiness of his hands, removing the next flower from the container and carefully holding it with one hand. The plant had seemed bigger when next to the others, but in his large hand it was evident it was still growing. His thumb and forefinger gently massaged the end of the dirt, staying mindful of the few roots poking out.

Feeling the farmer’s eyes upon his hands had made his heart pick up once again. He had always loved their eyes, especially when the sun hit them just right to show the beautiful color of— a slight crunch was heard. His right hand had immediately left the plant’s roots.

The farmer laughed gently, placing a hand onto Sam’s arm. “It’s okay, it’s okay. Just try to be more gentle. It doesn’t look like you’ve pulled any roots out… completely. Just focus on the roots and your hands, don’t think about anything else.”

Easy for the farmer, he thought. Trying to keep his mind from racing back to them (who had seemed to scoot a little closer to him when he was focused on the roots, now that he was thinking about it), he continued to softly spread the delicate roots of the azaleas, looking to the farmer to see if that was sufficient. The farmer nodded silently, a kind smile on their face to encourage Sam. He placed the small flowers into the pot, still holding the stems gently with his left hand and using his right to pack in enough dirt to keep it steady.

He sat back on his heels, admiring the bright pink of the flowers and the white flower pot with baby pink swirls just around the rim. He had, once again, unknowingly placed his dirty gloves onto his jeans. He was expecting Jodi to be upset with him as soon as he enters the front door, but hopefully, with this flower pot in hand, she’ll excuse his messy day out.

“See? You did amazing!” The farmer praised, fluffing out the flowers by the stems.

Their praise had made Sam’s fleeting worries of his mother dissipate, causing him to turn to them with a teasing look. “Yeah, except for the part where I nearly destroyed the roots of the poor thing.”

Shrugging, the farmer got back to their feet and lifted the pot with a grunt. “It’s fine, you did great anyway. Like everything else, it takes practice.”

They grabbed another bag, along with their watering can and returned to Sam’s side. They watered the flowers immediately, then cut open the bag of mulch and placed a thin layer over the wet dirt. Sam watched without question, watching their hands work around the plant and dirt effortlessly. The farmer’s moves seemed calculated, the only way Sam could relate or keep up was by comparing it to the movement of hands on guitar strings, knowing when to use gentle touch or a moment of pressure.

They pulled back, swiping the palms of their hands together to brush off any loose dirt from their gloves. Sam should’ve been doing that the whole time. “Finishing touches are done! She’s already to head to your house, Sam,” they stood up once more, hoisting the pot up into their arms and ready to hand off to Sam.

“Make sure it’s watered when the soil feels dry; and it can’t be in the sun all of the time, it likes some shade sometimes. The pot is sorta big so it’ll grow a little, but once it kinda grows out some of the leaves and flowers may start dying. Just pluck or cut those off and it’ll grow back.”

Sam nodded slowly, trying to repeat the farmer’s instructions back to himself in an attempt to not forget them. He knew the attempt was futile, but found that with every gray cloud there is a silver lining: he can always come back to see the farmer, just to ask for it again. He gave a nervous giggle, awkwardly trying to hold the gift for his mother.

“Please tell Jodi I said thank you, it means a lot to have help from the community.”

“Well, uh, if you ever need any help don’t hesitate to ask. I’m always here for you,” Sam said sheepishly, almost immediately regretting not omitting his last sentence.

The farmer grinned, waving goodbye to him. “I know you are, and thank you, too.”

He smiled back at them, saying his goodbye and heading back down the dirt path to town, praying that no one would see him struggling with the giant pot of azaleas, potted by him, for his mother.

#stardew valley #sam stardew valley #sam #sam stans i hope this makes u happy <3

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tsukkisbean · 4 years

Photo

how they cheer your up | headcanons

genre: fluff

characters: iwaizumi hajime, miya osamu, terushima yūji, kunimi akira x gn!reader

warnings: none!

a/n: hello if you’re seeing this, that means my scheduled post worked, yay!! hopefully this shows up in the tags otherwise i’ll have to reupload it at a later time (sorry in advance if that’s the case hehe). i’m also trying my hand at writing for other characters so hopefully this does their characters justice??

anyways, i hope everyone is doing well and staying healthy and happy! if you requested something from me, sorry i haven’t gotten to it even though i said i would. i’ll try my best to complete them when i get the chance, thank you for being patient with me 💖 all boys after iwaizumi are under the cut!

iwaizumi hajime

best boy iwaizumi would without a doubt use exercise as a way to cheer you up

but don’t get me wrong, he’s not going to force you to run a marathon or anything like that

i imagine him taking you to one of those entertainment/game parks (not really sure what they’re called ahh) where you guys just hang out all day

when you get there, he’ll immediately take you to the batting cage so you can just channel out all your anger into your swings

once your blood is pumping from the adrenaline he’ll take you to the trampoline area where you guys just bounce around and do flips into the foam pit to burn off all your extra energy

you’ll just be chilling, jumping up and down on one of the trampolines, your back turned to iwaizumi when he straight up scoops you up and tosses you in

he’s cackling and dying of laughter and when he finally offers to help you out you grab his hand and pull him in

when he doesn’t resurface you get nervous, where could he be?

from the corner of your eye you see the foam rumbling slightly but you react too slowly and iwaizumi pops out and tackles you in the biggest hug, peppering kisses all over your face and people are staring as you scream your head off trying to pry him off of you

for dinner, you guys indulge in all the greasy food the park has to offer, and by the end you’re stuffed

to help with digestion you suggest a game of mini golf which iwaizumi gladly agrees to

for someone who played volleyball his aim is absolutely horrifying

he argues that the windmill is IMPOSSIBLE to get a good score on and no one can ever get a hole in one

luck must have been on your side because you get a hole in one right after (and so does the small child behind you guys, but you choose not to tell him that)

you end up destroying him (he lowkey hints that he let you win but we know that’s not the case)

when the park closes, instead of taking you straight home, he’ll take you to a nearby park and the two of you just stroll around enjoying the chill of the night and the stars in the sky

miya osamu

he pulls you onto the couch next to him and the two of you look through baking videos on youtube and osamu being osamu cannot decide because he wants to make them all

eventually you guys settle on a cake recipe by cooking tree (a/n: 10/10 would recommend watching them, their videos are super soothing and aesthetic esp if you enjoy cooking asmr!!)

so at 9pm you guys set off to the grocery store to buy the ingredients you guys are missing

the trip takes much longer than expected because osamu keeps putting in more and more snacks that you guys definitely don’t need

so instead of shopping osamu is trying to grab as many snacks as you can while you trail behind, trying to put them away because your pantry is already way too full

by the time you get home it’s close to 12 and you’re tired but osamu insists that you guys start now

for the most part all goes well, you guys manage to get the batter to look smooth in the cake pan (definitely some playful flour throwing here and there)

the real problem is assembling the cake. at this point you’re wondering why you guys decided on a 3-layered cake that required cutting

teases you for cutting the first layer slanted and so you pass over the cutting to him but his slicing work is just as bad and you just have to bring up the fact that he owns a restaurant but apparently his knife skills suck

you thought cutting the cake would be a problem?? now you guys have to fill the layers and it’s a complete disaster; there’s whipped cream just everywhere and at this point you guys are half filling the cake half throwing it at each other

cake ends up being iced unevenly but that’s the least of your problems

you guys pour the decorative icing on top and instead of running over the sides only slightly, it drips messily down the cake and onto the counter and now you guys have a blob of a cake

you guys spend the rest of the night cleaning up and pass out on the couch and in the morning you guys enjoy a sweet breakfast together <3

terushima yūji

terushima is a free soul and so he believes expressing yourself through art is one of the best ways to feel better

when he sees that you’re down, he’ll immediately whip out all of his salon products and pull you into the bathroom

he takes you by surprise saying that he wants you to whatever you want to his hair - today his hair is your canvas

at first you’re reluctant, but he insists - as a hair stylist it’s all about experimentation with styles and colours and plus he can easily fix whatever you do considering that it is his job after all

so you guys scroll through pinterest together, trying to find some fun hair ideas that you’d be able to pull off on your own (with some instruction from teru of course)

you finally decide on a style and so together start on getting all the hair dye ready

he explains to you the different types of develops and how important they are in the hair colouring process - there are different volumes and will essentially affect how much your hair colour changes

after all the colours are mixed and ready to go, you gingerly grab a piece of hair, constantly checking your phone to make sure you’re doing it exactly like the photo

meanwhile terushima has the softest smile on his face, watching you through the mirror - he thinks you look absolutely adorable with the way your brows are furrowed and your tongue sticks on slightly as you focus

as you run the colour brush along his hair, he’s constantly encouraging you, telling you what a good job you’re doing and how he’s so excited to the end product

while the dye sits in his hair, you sit in his lap

once it’s time to wash out the hair dye, you bring him to the sink and carefully run your hands through his hair, trying your best to give him the best head massage he’s ever had!!!

after toning and a hair treatment, your masterpiece if finally done!! ofc being the boyfriend he is, he takes a million photos and posts them on social media to show how talented his significant other is - like not only is it your first time dying someone’s hair but you managed to pull off RAINBOW hair!! (a/n: think sehun from exo as a reference hehe) he literally will not shut up about you to his clients tomorrow

kunimi akira

kunimi has a rep for being lazy and just overall a really nonchalant kind of person but he’s sharp, so when you’re feeling down he immediately picks up on it even if he doesn’t confront you about it

however i don’t think he’d be as aggressive as the other three and do something huge rather he tries to make you feel better only in smaller ways and it definitely adds up

like in the morning he’ll make you coffee or tea or whatever you want - orange juice, a bakery bun? he’ll make an excuse saying he wanted something from the convenience store anyways and head down. when he comes back with three bags of food and drinks he’ll insist that he just grabbed whatever he saw because he was “too lazy to decide” n b d

throughout the day he’ll be a lot more affectionate than usual, hugging you whenever he gets the chance, maybe even a kiss on your forehead

when you tell him you want to go out on your own for a bit he doesn’t argue - whatever you need to do but when your back is turned he’ll slip you a handwritten note telling you to enjoy your alone time and that he l-word you and it’s even signed off with a teensy teensy heart that you almost don’t notice

when you get back, you’re greeted with the smell of your delicious food mixed with a burning smell and on the kitchen table you see takeout from your favourite restaurants and in the garbage is a black burnt mess - kunimi insists he doesn’t know how it got there even though its quite obvious

you bring the food to the living room and to your surprise there’s a blanket fort set up with pillows spread out all across the floor

when you try to question him, he just shrugs saying that it’s not that hard to throw a blanket over a couple of chairs, even a baby could do it

today he lets you choose the movie even though it’s technically his turn and when you choose a comedy he doesn’t complain about the obnoxiously loud and hot headed lead character

when the movie is over, he quickly cleans up all the trash, making sure you don’t have time to move from your spot

when he comes back, he flops on top of you, holding you close

then he plays the spotify playlist that he made for you; it’s a whole mix of songs - slow, upbeat, instrumentals - anything he thought might help you feel even the tiniest bit better

and so you guys just lay there not speaking, enjoying each other’s presence until you fall asleep

#haikyuu imagine #haikyuu scenario #haikyuu headcanons #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu x you #miya osamu #iwaizumi hajime #terushima yuji #kunimi akira #osamu x reader #iwaizumi x reader #terushima x reader #kunimi x reader #clara click clacks

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