#slowly starting to catch up with ee!

[blueberry-beanie]

Everything Everything at Neighbourhood Weekender & Live at Leeds | 27/28th May 2023 | by Inkblots

[misalpav]

ram being in love with the daughter of temple priest and even though he isn't very religious he still went there for sandhya aarti once he saw her one jhumke had fallen and finally able to gather some courage he decided to approach her and they had a talk or something.

also one more request don't use y/n can you pls use the name vaidehi ?

anon!!!! I love this prompt and I hope I did justice to your vision <3 (I'm on a writing high rn so I can actually write fast for once would you look at that?)

yemito ee maya

Two years after Governor Scott's death

Ram slowly walked away from his house, lost in thought. He could feel the wind in his face, rearranging his carefully styled hair and ruffling the shirt he just finished ironing. The sun, shining brightly in his eyes, slowly began its journey back to the horizon as kids laughed and ran back home from school. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath in, letting himself relax. There was a time when he didn’t know what the word relax meant, how it felt to feel his heart rate slowing and have time for himself. Now that he did, he never quite knew what to do with it. Sometimes, he would make a beeline to Bheem or Sita’s house to talk to them or have dinner together, other times, when he didn’t feel like socializing, he would sit at home and read a book. On days like today, when he just couldn’t get himself to pay attention to the words on a page, he’d huff and put down his book to go for a walk, thinking about how much his life and his India has changed.

“Ram anna, chai thaaguthara?” (tl. Do you want to drink chai?)

He turned his head and saw a group of kids at a street food stall looking at him eagerly and quickly recognized all of them from his colony. His mouth curved into a smile as he forgot about his earlier thoughts and started walking towards them, his hands checking his pockets to find his wallet.

“Aa thaguthanu. Anna, okka chai isthava?” (tl. Yes, I’ll drink some. Can you give me one chai?)

As the seller made his chai, he pretended to look in his wallet for money while secretly watching the kids, and smiled with a glint in his eyes as the kids’ faces fell, realizing he didn’t get them anything. He pulled out a 100 rupee note from his wallet and handed it to the vendor, who looked at him confused.

“Migilina paisalu tho pillalu ki vallaku ishtam ainadhi edhaina ivvandi, inka mitha meeru pettukondi.” (Give the kids whatever they want with the remaining money, and if there’s anything left you can keep it for yourself.)

The kids’ eyes widened at him in disbelief, and they quickly ran to the vendor before Ram could have second thoughts and asked for bajjis, dosas, lassis, and whatever else they could think of. Ram chuckled and shook his head, taking a seat at one of the tables and enjoying the warm taste of chai. He was completely aware the colony moms would make their displeasure very well known to him when he went home, but he figured he’d take it if it meant upholding his role as every kid’s favorite person.

The kids sat around him and became engrossed in conversations about their classes, the math teacher they despised, the cricket game they played last night, and a few other things and Ram sat back and listened attentively to their stories while tending to his chai, zoning out only once in a while when the conversation was directed away from him. 

At one of these moments, he heard a laugh and the jingling of bangles coming towards them, and he turned his head subconsciously. His jaw dropped as his eyes rested on the source of the laughter: a woman, busy in conversation with a younger girl, walking towards them wearing a beautiful black and yellow saree, her hair tied back in a neat braid, with a book in her hands. As they walked up to her, he suddenly stood up, catching the woman’s attention. When she turned to face him, he held his breath and examined her eyes, bordered with kohl, and the bright red bindi above the bridge of her nose. Silver jhumkas adorned her ears glowing in the sun and the smell of the jasmines in her hair radiated off her, and he was lucky one of the kids pulled on his hand to get his attention. The woman’s face softened as she smiled, turned away from him, and walked away, and he quickly reoriented himself, telling the kids he had other work to do tonight and started in the direction the woman had left towards, promising the kids they’d play cricket together another night. 

Ram speedwalked for a few minutes and finally caught up to them, trailing only a few meters behind, but he couldn’t bring himself to approach her. Internally, he was cursing himself out for making this seem easy to Bheem all those years ago, when he himself was such a mess at it. He wished Bheem, Sita, Jenny, the kids, or literally anyone was with him right now to tell him what to do and how not to embarrass himself. His shoe stepped on something and he tripped over, clasping his mouth to make sure no sound came out. When he turned to see what caused it, he found one of her silver jhumkas lying in the dirt. Ram couldn’t believe his luck and he picked up the jhumka, taking it as a sign from the universe to meet her. He then followed her, his faith in himself somehow reinstated simply by the fact he had something of hers in his pocket.

The women approached a Shiva temple, removed their shoes, and entered, and Ram stopped outside. He hadn’t been inside a temple since his father was killed by the British. Everyone close to him had tried to reinstate his faith in god, but he always shut down the idea by stating that if god was real, his father wouldn’t be dead, and if god is real and let his father be killed, then he had every reason to be extremely angry at that god. Ram almost turned around and left, but then he saw the woman returning outside, and froze, realizing she was staring at him. 

“Intha dhooram vachi lopadiki raara?” (tl. You came this far, won’t you come in?) she asked. Realizing he was stuck, he slowly took off his shoes and stepped into the temple.

Once he was standing next to her, she asked him what his name was and he replied saying his name is Ram. She introduced herself as Vaidehi, and he said the name back to her, appreciating the way it rolled on his tongue. They sat in the back of the temple, and Vaidehi opened her book and started reading while he examined her features, and noticed she had removed the other jhumka. Ram hated being interrupted while reading, but he also needed to close this silence somehow, so he craned his neck to see what book she was reading. 

“Avunu, gudiki vachi em pustakam chaduvuthunnavu? Adhi intlo guda cheyyachu kadha?” (tl. What book are you reading in the temple that you can’t read at home?)

That beautiful laughter that first got him to turn his head towards her escaped her mouth again and she told him his father was the head priest and she enjoyed attending the sandhya aarti whenever she could. She told him about the book she was reading, History of Dharmashastra, and they both fell into an animated conversation about the development of Indian ancient societies and their dreams for a modern and independent India. She said India needed more men like Alluri Ramaraju and he smiled and agreed, hiding the joy in his heart from hearing her say that. He never bothered mentioning that he was Ramaraju because he found it refreshing to talk to people normally without being treated like a savior everywhere he went. 

Suddenly, a man, who he assumed was Vaidehi’s father, stood in front of the garbhagriha and everyone in the temple stood up. They recited bhajans, and while Ramaraju knew all of them from memory from his childhood and his mother, he quietly listened to Vaidehi’s voice. At the end, he took the prasadam from one of the other priests and walked back outside with Vaidehi. She asked him if he didn’t know the bhajans, and he replied saying he did, but he enjoyed listening to them much more than singing them, opting to leave out the truth about his father. They talked more about their interests, exchanged addresses, and talked about meeting again. As the sun finally set, she told him she needed to leave, and that they’d definitely meet again. Ram watched her walk away and put his hand in his pocket, touching the jhumka he never returned, whispering, “I promise we will.”

---

(a/n) should I make this a series lmao I have so many ideas for where this could go. also, I haven't been to india in like 6yrs now (curse the pandemic and then school/work) so idr if 100 rupees is acc a reasonable amount for the chai scene 🗿

open tag list: @obsessedtoafault @rambheem-is-real @lil-stark @manwalaage @contemporarykafka @sinistergooseberries @budugu @the-gayest-tree-you-ever-did-see @hufhkbgg @eremin0109 @eenadu-varthalu @hissterical-nyaan @how-is-it-in-london @gauri-vishalakshi @sada-siva-sanyaasi @bromance-minus-the-b @darlingletshurttonight @voidsteffy @itsfookingloosah @mad-who-ra @fadedscarlets @justmeand-myinsight @rasnak2 @ghungru @irisesforyoureyes @vijayasena

I copied a rrr tag list I literally haven't used in a year and tried to remember as many old urls as I could. if you want to be added/removed from the list pls lmk <3

[lilyblisslys]

After finishing my PTGE reread I’m starting Pale Lights over again! I remember disliking the first book, so it’ll be interesting to see how it goes this time around.

Already I’ll say I do like how Tristan and Angharad’s POV chapters show the same events happening on very different levels-the more recent chapters with all 4 POV characters are likewise good about that, even if they’re still a little messy. Angharad’s schtick is a liiiiittle overdone, and I remember it getting more severe and not less, so that’ll be something.

Knowing that you only really have to care about like, 6 characters in the first book kinda helps and hurts the experience. It’s nice knowing I don’t need to give a shit/remember details about all 40, but some of them are actually good characters, so….

I didn’t catch it the first time around, but I think the reason the worldbuilding doesn’t work super great for me is it tries to do A LOT straight from the jump. I think PGTE worked well because it really only gave you 3 broad factions to care about (Callow, Praes, Procer) at the start, and then it expanded from there *slowly*. Pale lights throws Sacramonte, the Malani, the Tianxi, the Watch, the Aztlan, and Maryam’s people at you pretty much all immediately, and each of those groups are both too complicated and not given enough depth to really land.

I think it shows how good PGTE was for setting up its worldbuilding stuff, outlining factions in simple terms at first and then adding complexity as time goes on (it helped that part of PGTE’s schtick was painting stuff with a broad brush and then showing the shades of grey). It makes sense that Pale Lights has this issue, since it’s EE’s second big project, but idk it’s worth noting. Maybe I’ll feel different later 🤷‍♀️

[kasey-writes-stuff]

Installment two of my new series

The tales of lee Punz

Basically all of Dream and Punz’s friends had decided to go to the streamer awards, but Dream had opted to just stay home and Punz hadn’t realized just how many were going so he stayed home as well. So it only made sense that the two would decide to hang out with all their other friends gone! Punz got to Dream’s around noon and the two had basically been lazing about just chatting and catching up but the two grew a little restless and so Drean suggested they go do a little work out in the home gym. So off they went they started with some simple stretches and then bounced about in the gym before landing on the pull up bar.

Dream smirked softly nodding at the bar

“Bet I can do more pull ups than you can.”

Punz scoffed rolling his eyes

“As if, I can totally beat you”

Dream chuckled and nodded slowly and then bowed towards the pull up bar

“Well then you go first”

Punz gave a quick nod

“Alright I will and when I win you’re ordering the pizza tonight”

Dream now chuckled

“Alright and when I win you’re ordering the pizza tonight”

Punz nodded

“Alright deal”

The two quickly shook hands and then Punz got on the pull up bar he was so tall he just had to reach up and grab it, the harder part was trying to keep his legs off the ground. Dream smirked softly glancing up and down looking at Punz’s posture and then snickered noticing his shirt had ridden up a little. He sent a small poke to the olders exposed strip of skin as he says

“You know maybe you should’ve tucked your shirt in first so you wouldn’t be showing your skin off at me, unless that’s what you wanted this whole time”

He had wiggled his eyebrows as he said the last sentence but his eyes widened in surpise as he heard Punz let out a nearly squeak like sound and he saw him flinch!

“Ee! Hey! Don’t do that! And no that’s not what I would ever want you dummy I’d never wanna face the wrath of George for stealing his man”

Dream blushed at the comment but quickly attempted to move past Punz’s comment

“What was that noise all about? And what don’t do what? Poke you? What there was no rules against interference so I think I can do whatever I wish”

He lightly poked at the exposed skin again and Punz shook his head biting his lip as he says

“Dude! So what rules made or not poking is totally cheating!”

Dream rolled his eyes

“Oh come on why do you care so much about a few little-“

Suddenly it clicked for Dream and he broke into a grin, Punz gulped softly as he tried to steel his expression. He increased his grip on the bar as he went back to doing pull ups he guessed he was at maybe three which wasn’t much but could you blame him with Dream poking him and all

“Dream.. I don’t know what you’re thinking but no!”

Dream chuckled softly

“Oh hmm you don’t know what I’m thinking but yet you’re already protesting it? Interesting isn’t it kinda hard to protest something when you don’t even know what you’re protesting against!”

Before Punz could even respond a yelp left his mouth as Dream suddenly launched his hand under his shirt scribbling away at his stomach

“GAH DREHEHEHAAHHAMMM NOHOHOOO AHAHA!”

Dream smiled with pure satisfaction

“Just what I thought… You couldn’t take the pokes because you’re too ticklish”

Punz shook his head using all the strength he had to keep holding on to the bar, his face ever so lightly pink.

“SHUHUTT UHUPP IHII AHHAMM NOHOTT IHI COUUHUHULLDDD STAHHAYY HEHHERRHEHEHE AHAHALLL DAHHAYYY!”

Dream stuck his tongue to his cheek nodding slowly

“Alright then let’s see if you can when I do this!”

He dips a finger into Punz’s belly button swirling it around and then scratching the little knot at the bottom! Punz shrieks and one of his arms drops but he quickly forces it back up

“AEEH NAHAHHA NOHOHO NOHOTTT THEHERRHEHEE THHAHATT IHISSS NOHOTTT FAHAHIHIRR DUHUDDEHHE!”

Dream snickers as he shrugs and says

“There’s no rules so it’s all fair in my book but if you truly wanna think I’m unfair I’ll just go ahead and show you how close to unfair I can be”

He raises Punz’s shirt with one hand as he quickly dips his head down, his lips rest right on Punz’s belly button. Punz’s eyes practically bulge out of his head as he begins stuttering

“D-dream dream d-d-dream can we dream please can we just talk about this just for a second!”

Dream scoffs and raises his head just enough to look at Punz as he smirks

“The time for talking is over Punz it’s time for raspberries now!”

He leans his head back down blowing the biggest raspberry he can manage right over Punz’s button! Punz lets out a small scream and immediately drops from the bar, but Dream simply follows him quickly continuing the raspberry!

“AAAH NAHHAHAA NOHOHO DRHEHEHEHHAHAHAHAHHAMMMM NHAHAHHAHAHA!”

Dream smiles into his stomach and then shakes his head moving where he’s placing the raspberries while also using his stubble to make it all tickle even more.

“Awww what’s the matter the big tough Punz can’t take a few raspberries awww! I bet my stubble makes it even worse doesn’t it?”

Punz’s blush turns bright red as he quickly covers his face

“OHOHO SHUHUTTT UHUHUPPP IHIHO CAHHANNN TAHAHAHKEHEHE THIHISSS!”

Dream nods and raises his head slightly

“Okay but can you take nibbles?”

Without waiting for an answer he begins nibbling all around Punz’s stomach! Punz lets out a louder scream as he thrashes beneath Dream! Punz debates sassing again and trying to continue on but as soon as he feels Dream’s little fangs on the rim of his belly button, he shrieks and then immediately gives in!

“AAAAHHH NNAHAHHAHAHA NOHOHOO AHAHHAHAHA AAEEHH OHOHOKKAHAHYYY OOHOKKHAHAUYYYY THAHATTSS EHEHNNPOUUGHHHH!”

Dream smirks in victory as he stops and gently rubs at Punz’s stomach to help dispel ghost tickles

“Told you I’d win.”

Punz pants softly waiting for his residual giggles to stop

“You haven’t won yet I did three pull ups and so far you’ve done none.”

Dream scoffs and rolls his eyes helping Punz up and then quickly grabbing onto the pull up bar

“Only three? I can beat that no problem!”

Punz smirks standing up

“Whatever you say Dream whatever you say.”

So it’s safe to say if anything technically by pull up numbers Punz won but in the end really they both drew… the tickle fight lasting a good hour or so before both men were too tired to continue…

The end!

[cthulhubert]

(ask game) orchid, cactus, and taro 😊

what’s a song you consider to be perfect?

I've always had trouble with rankings and favorites and such, and don't know enough about music to answer on a technical basis. But by relaxing my mind a handful of good potential answers float to the surface of the dark waters there, plucking one out I receive:

(A lot of my answers to this and adjacent questions are from OSTs, funny enough)

something you’re currently learning (about)?

I recently downloaded some of MIT's Open Courseware classes for the EE side of their CSEE program, I've started up 6.002 Circuits and Electronics.

I'm also trying to crack the nut of my executive function around doing Anki (the biggest spaced repetition flashcard app); my deck is mostly Japanese, but there's also morse code, and some Comp Sci, chemistry and physics. I also hope to add ASL.

if someone called you right now to catch up, what’re the things you’d tell them about?

The main thing would probably be the saga of my dishwasher repair (runs better than ever). Been subject to a lot of aches and pains lately. And also feel clumsier, but I'm not sure if that's real or if I'm just paying more attention to it. Tears of the Kingdom is slowly but steadily starting to lose its grip on my soul, and I've done nearly everything there is to do, but I want to finish the Addison signs before I take on the final boss. I am not however, crazy enough to try for every Korok seed. Seeing Barbie in theaters with my IRL friends this weekend. It'd been years even before COVID since I'd been to one.

[ihatecoconut]

Look for the girl with the sun in her eyes.

Also on AO3!

Hob has always been the kind of person to try anything once. Unfortunately, that applies to the literal anything and that is exactly the reason he finds himself in this situation.

The walls have some weird shimmery blue pattern on them that moves like waves, and he’s maybe not in the most reasonable mindset, but he is pretty certain that they were just solid white before. He is very certain that the girl who is tracing them with her fingers and giggling quietly was not there before either, because he had had some sense in him and locked all the doors and windows before he’d taken a hit.

“Uh, hi?” The words come out funny, a little slurred but not like drunk-slurred, like his mouth has managed to separate itself from his brain and the words are having to jump a gap to come out at all.

The girl continues giggling quietly to herself, swaying slightly as she watches the walls move.

Hob tries again, managing to get himself into a more sitting position than the half-laying-down he had been before. “Hey? Kid?”

She turns around very fast, fast enough that were he sober he’d have jumped up and put his arms out to catch her if she fell. As it is, he just manages to lean forward slightly and hit himself in the face. She giggles at that as well.

“So clum-sy.”

“I guess.” He agrees. “I’m Hob.”

“Clum-s-ee.” There’re notable gaps between the syllables, not like she’s taking pauses but like her brain takes a few moments to remember how the rest of the word goes.

“How’d you get in here?”

She flops down on the floor in front of him with a quiet ‘oof’, and pokes at the pills still in the packet with her pinky finger. “You took it. Many many many maaa-nee.”

Hob blinks down at the drugs and tries to connect them and the girl in his mind. There seems to be a piece missing.

“Pre-tty.” She mumbles, reaching up towards a pink and purple butterfly. “So Pre-tty.”

“You can see them.” Hob says, more to himself than anything, which is probably good because the girl doesn’t appear to have heard him. “Huh.”

Her entire body seems to follow the butterfly, like she and it are connected by a string. Hob is pretty sure that the human body shouldn’t be able to move like that, but then her hair also seems to be slowly pulsing where it’s coloured and that’s not normal either.

She follows it gamely around the apartment, perching on his kitchen countertop to watch when she apparently gets bored of that.

“I’m Hob.” He repeats, a little firmer, and it gets her attention, or at least she swings her gaze around to look at him. “Who are you?”

She considers this. “Not sure.”

He resists the urge to rub at the bridge of his nose. Nobody had ever said that getting high would be this stressful. “You’re not sure who you are?”

“I used to be someone else.” She tells him, as if that answers literally any of the questions he has.

“Who did you used to be?”

She hums the first few bars of a song that seems to be just out of the reach of his memory. “Happ-ee.”

Hob eyes her. “I just wanted to get high. To relax or something.”

“Not having fun?” She looks sad suddenly, as if she’s failed the one thing she is supposed to be doing.

"I – no, not really.”

“Sorry.” Her eyes fill with shiny tears and Hob has a sudden déjà vu, the memory of his stranger looking furious with the same shiny gloss to his eyes.

“Hey, hey, it’s not your fault.”

“’tis.” She objects rubbing her nose on the sleeves of an oversized sweater that she had not being wearing a few seconds prior. It’s made of the most garish wool colours Hob has ever seen and looks a little like a charity shop vomited all over her.

He does rub at his forehead then. The drugs were probably starting to wear off – he hadn’t taken that many and a lifetime of six hundred years had given him a pretty high metabolism. “D’you want a cup of tea?”

“T.” She repeated and stretched her arms out sideways until she resembled the letter.

“To drink.” He clarified.

She considered this for a solid minute and then nodded, very abruptly. “Tea.”

He briefly considered taking some more of the pills before he moved, but it seemed like a bad idea before dealing with hot water. A moment later he was holding the kettle.

“Um?”

The girl was perched cross-legged on his kitchen table. “I like… your ceiling.”

Hob blinked up at his ceiling. It had not changed from last time he had seen it. “Weren’t we in the living room a minute ago?”

“Every room has life.”

“That doesn’t really answer my question.”

She blinked at him. “Questions?”

“Did you teleport us?”

“Telle-port.”

“Yeah, exactly.”

“People are always moving, they put legs or wheels or sometimes hands.”

Hob filled the kettle. Evidently he wasn’t getting any answers out of her. “Sugar in your tea?”

“T?” She repeated the motion from earlier.

He sighed. “I’ll give you sugar and milk.”

“Sugar and milk and all things… nilk.”

The kettle boiled, saving Hob from having to come up with a response to that, and he quietly went through the motions of making tea, feeling her eyes on the back of his neck as he did. Some latent parental instinct had him adding cold water to hers, to stop her from burning her mouth.

She took a huge gulp as soon as he set the mug down in front of her. “Hob?”

“Yes?”

“What is that word for when something is spicy but it is not spicy but it leaves a spicy sad feel in your mouth?”

“Uh,” he took a sip of his own tea and… “do you mean bitter?”

“Bitt-er.” She repeated.

He silently moved around and added some more sugar to her mug. “Try now.”

“Anti-bitter.”

“Sweet?”

She hummed and drank the rest of it in two huge gulps. A not-insignificant amount spilled out of the mug and down her front, changing the threads of the jumper to a milky brown where it stained. “Tea.”

Hob grinned into his own mug, “It sure is.”

“Hob?”

“Yes, Sweets?” She wasn’t really that annoying, not annoying at all really just a little girl who seemed generally confused about how the world worked.

“What is that, um, word, for when something is going away but very slowly but it is still in front of you until it goes?”

“Uhh, fading?”

“Hob?”

“Yes?”

She frowned slightly, unhappy, and Hob found himself reaching across the table to squeeze her hand.

“You are fading.”

Automatic, he glanced down at himself. He was still pretty solid. Her hand, however, beneath his, was starting to become paler to the point that he could almost see through it. “I think you are fading.”

“Like a haircut.” She said, sort of wistfully, just before she completely faded out of existence, and the unexpectedness of the phrase had him laughing out loud to the now-empty apartment.

[thecringemachine]

You can make any tickle stories of Lloyd that you can make up or should have happen in the show

Ok, ok. Your in luck because I am just about to post a fanfic for Lee!Lloyd.

This takes place a small time after Lloyd faces off against the Grundal and becomes a teen. Our Green Bean is a precious 5 year old, and we need to protect that adorable-ness. So enjoy!

Lloyd was sitting on his bed, reading a book, when Kai walked in.

“Hey, Lloyd! Ready for your next lesson?” He asked. The newly-made teen put the book down and smiled.

“Totally!” He said enthusiastically. Now that he was a teenager, he was liking lessons with the ninja more. Unfortunately, in his excitement, he failed to see the evil smirk Kai was obviously trying to hide. He walked out of the room with him to see the others on the deck waiting for him.

“Now, this is actually a test, but I think you’ll like it.” Cole said as they got into their fighting stances. The way he said it made Lloyd a little uneasy, but he shook the feeling away. The ninja smirked at him, but he just smirked back, until he felt Zane walking up behind him. He whipped around and dodged Zane’s shurikens and flipped as Cole’s Scythe came slicing at his waist. He landed lightly and spinned away from Kai’s sword which had just come at him.

Now all of the ninja were at his front. They came closer slowly. Then all jumped at him at once. Lloyd dodged Jay’s swinging nun-chucks, Kicked away Kai’s sword, and caught Zane’s shurikens only to be swept off his feet by Cole’s scythe. 

He fell on his back and instantly felt Zane hold down his arms. Cole sat on his legs, pinning them down. Lloyd struggled against them, but even his enhanced strength couldn’t compete against the four ninja. Kai and Jay sat on their knees at either side of him. He knew what was happening. His eyes were wide and he wondered why he hadn’t realized this sooner. Though, his thoughts were interrupted by Cole’s voice.

“Ok, that was the warm-up. Here is the real test. Surprise! Time you had an endurance test.” He told Lloyd, wiggling his fingers teasingly. Lloyd squeezed his eyes shut and did his best to hold back his nervous giggles. The ninja rolled their eyes at each other and decided to start. Cole gently ran one finger on each side of Lloyd’s belly, making him squirm, but not laugh. . . yet. Lloyd held in his giggles firmly, trying not to let the others win.

Kai and Jay added their fingers, using the same feather-light touch to tickle his sides. This got Lloyd giggling. He may be a teen now, but his giggles were still very adorable. Cole started scribbling all ten of his fingers over Lloyd’s belly, making him squeak and giggle harder. He hadn’t opened his eyes meaning he didn’t see the nod that Cole gave Kai and Jay. They stopped their tickling for a moment, only to start digging their fingers into Lloyd’s ribs. Lloyd squealed and his giggles turned to slightly cackling laughter.

“EE! NOHOHO!” He shouted. The ninja chuckled at him. He suddenly gasped as he felt Zane pulling his arms over his head. He squirmed hard, desperately trying to break free and escape the tickling. Cole smirked evilly at him and gently scratched his fingernails over Lloyd’s underarms. Lloyd squealed again and burst into hysterical giggles at the maddening tickles.

“EEK! NOHOT THEHERE! AAAAH! NOHOHO! PLEHEHEASE, MERCY!” He squealed. The ninja smirked at him, Jay and Kai switching back to stroking his sides, while using their other hands to scribble under Lloyd’s ninja suit. He giggled hard, struggling to catch his breath.

These feather-light scratches always got to Lloyd. The ninja knew this from the second or third time they tickled him. Kai had accidentally started stroking his fingers over Lloyd’s side and he had squirmed like crazy. They all chuckled at the memory.

They kept the tickling going for a little longer until they thought Lloyd had finally had enough. They let go of him and managed to slip their hands through Lloyd’s curled form and rub away the ghost tickles.

“Ha! The all-powerful Green Ninja, huh?” Kai chuckled.

“Shut up.” Lloyd replied. He suddenly squeaked as Kai poked his ribs.

“Watch yourself Lloyd, I’ll tickle you again.” He said teasingly. The others chuckled and Lloyd finally sat up.

“You’re all jerks.” He huffed.

“We love you too Greenie.” Jay said, hugging Lloyd tightly. The others joined, ending with Zane, creating a group hug. Lloyd, tired out from the tickling, soon fell asleep.

Sensei Wu chuckled from where he and Nya were standing. Nya smiled at the boys.

“Oh, they are such good brothers.” She said wistfully.

“Don’t sell yourself short, Nya. You must have been very good to Kai.” He told her. She chuckled.

“They don’t know it, but this really helps their bond. I bet it helped your bond with Kai, eh?” He said. Nya blushed slightly and chuckled nervously.

“I-I guess you could say that.” She replied. Sensei Wu chuckled and walked back to his meditation room. She continued to watch until she saw that the ninja realized that Lloyd was asleep. She hurried away as they proceeded to take him to bed, giggling at how adorable they all were.

[becauseicantthinkwritings]

Hey lovely I got a really terrible fever and severe body ache so I come to ask for Demon!Billy taking care of his mistress when she is sick... literally everything hurts so bad I can't even sit up🥲

Okay, since I probably won't bring a sic reader into my fic, I feel comfortable answering this one.

Demon!Billy Russo x sick reader

He's laying next to you, his body curled into yours when he feels something shift. His tail pauses its gentle twitch against your thigh as he listens to your breathing. He can hear it, the slight indication of a wheeze. He looks at you and thinks for a moment, trying to figure out what it is.

He has his answer a few hours later, when you feel warmer than you were before.

By morning, you wake with a start when your nose becomes too stuffy to breathe.

He's not next to you when you wake- which is normal, he's an early riser and he usually has your coffee prepped for when you wake.

He's in the kitchen, preparing a meal with your medicine when he hears your bedroom door close.

"Billy," you call out to him, voice nasal.

He turns to you, your eyes are bloodshot and you have your warm blanket wrapped around you.

"Morning, mistress. You're sick."

You nod, coming up to him and burying your face in his warm chest. His tail wraps around your upper thigh as it usually does, trying to keep you close.

" 'm sick Billy." You whine.

"I made tea today instead of coffee, it should help with your congestion."

You groan, "I hate being sick. Can't you just snap your fingers and heal me?"

"I'm not too good at the healing thing yet, I might accidentally make things worse."

You groan again, knowing you won't be able to go into work like this.

He sits his body on one of your couches and pulls you into his lap. You sip on the tea he made while he holds you.

"This is nice." You say, resting your head on his chest. You feel him kiss the top of your head.

The medicine he gives you makes you drowsy, and after calling in sick to work, you fall asleep on your couch. Billy picks you up easily and walks you to bed, tucking you in.

The next time you wake it's midday, and you're extremely dizzy. You groan as you stumble out of bed. Billy's at your side in an instant.

"You should stay in bed, mistress." Billy says, holding your body steady.

"But you're not there." You whine, "I want cuddles."

His eyes shine with amusement, "Okay, go back to bed, I'll bring you some-"

You're already shaking your head, you try to wrap your arms around him and climb him.

"Don't want you to go." You complain.

He laughs when you grip his shoulders, trying to hold him like a koala would.

"Alright, Alright." He scoops you up until you're latching onto him with your arms and legs. You raise your hands to give a gentle pat to his horns as he walks with you to the kitchen.

You hang onto him and watch as he prepares some delicious chicken soup. He gives you a spoonful to taste every now and then, and you give him suggestions on what to add. He supports your body with one of his hands easily, his strength is something you've grown accustomed to by now.

He lays beside you now, after you've eaten and taken another round of medicine. You feel your mind growing more fuzzy than sleepy.

"Bill-ee" you slur, looking up at him. You slowly raise yourself to straddle his body. He looks at you, head propped up on pillows, observing you silently.

"Can I give you a kiss, Billiam?"

His mouth lifts into a smile. He nods.

You squeal in excitement, raising up to kiss his horns. You place small kisses over any available space you can reach. You feel him groan, face pressed between your breasts.

You giggle as you pull back, you lose your balance and almost fall off his body. His tail comes up to catch you, pushing you back into his chest. You sway a little as your eyes fix on his tail.

"Pretty tail." You say, reaching for the slender appendage. It feels leathery in your hands and before you can think too much about it, you place a kiss to the tip.

Billy gasps hard, and your eyes widen in shock.

"Sorry!" You say, beginning to move off his body. "Did I hurt you?"

He grips your hips suddenly, holding you in place.

"You didn't hurt me, mistress. I'm alright."

You settle, searching his eyes for ans explanation.

"Then... what was-?"

He manages to look extremely shy. His tail wraps around your wrist to steady you.

"Never has someone kiss my tail before... 's really sensitive."

"Oh." Is all you say, before smiling at him. "Let's go out... right now."

You push against him, trying to get up but his hands and his tail keep you in place.

"You can barely walk." He says logically.

You lean forward to kiss him on the tip of his nose.

"That's okay, I have a sexy demon man helping me."

He grunts out a laugh. He pulls out his secret weapon, sinking his hands into your hair and massaging your scalp. Your eyes droop to half-mast almost instantly.

"Maybe a nap first." You mumble, burying your face into his chest.

"Smart move, mistress. Very wise."

He massages your scalp, until your breathing evens out.

[sleep-i-ness]

This Time I Know It's For Real (Eleventh Doctor x reader)

Synopsis: A bittersweet song in the TARDIS (inspired by I Want To Break Free by Queen)

DOCTOR WHO MASTERLIST | GENERAL MASTERLIST

“Come on, don’t be boring!” You giggled, yanking the Doctor up from his spot on the steps. His fedora slipped, and he wrinkled his nose, in the most adorable way you’d ever seen.

“I’m never boring,” he pouted, and you leant forward to adjust his hat. “Thanks.”

You spun round, pointing at the central console for dramatic effect. “TARDIS, my love, you know what to do!”

The familiar rhythm started playing over the speakers, your body slowly swaying as you tapped out the beat. You locked eyes with the Doctor, shaking your head at the amused grin playing across his lips.

“I want to break free-ee.” You sung loudly, trying to keep a straight face while eyeing up the Doctor. A snort broke past your lips, before you quickly composed yourself. “I want to break free!”

He sighed as you beckoned for him to join you.

“I want to break free from your lies, you’re so-”

“-Self-satisfied.” You gave him a soft smile as he took over. “I don’t need you-oo, I’ve got to break free.”

“God kno-ows, God knows I want to break free!”

You grabbed his hands, spinning him round and crashing against the console, his body pressing you into it. Pausing for a breath, you glanced up at him. His eyes were fixated on yours, your breath catching in your throat.

I’ve fallen in love

You had never vocalised your feelings, letting them languish at the back of your mind. The strange dynamic of your relationship was enough for you, or so you had convinced yourself. You knew it would never truly work out, even if you tried; there was always someone better than you, someone he wasn’t quite over.

I've fallen in love for the first time

At least this one was in love with you too. Or as in love as he could be.

Because there was wonderful, wonderful Amy. And how could you ever compare to River who shone brighter than any star he’d ever seen. And always, always, Rose danced at the back of his mind, tainting any moment with you.

And this time I know it’s for real

He associated you with her sometimes, eyes glossing as he remembered past journeys. This regeneration was childish, hiding grief behind a delight in the world he had lost many, many years ago.

“You okay?” His smile had fallen as he studied your face, eyes narrowing. He still didn’t quite get human emotions.

You nodded, stretching up to press your lips to his cheek.

I can’t get over the way you love me like you do

“Let’s go travelling!”

-

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[harveyb-wabbit92]

Shark Week: The Tallest x F!Reader

The following is a non-profit fan-based story, Invader ZiM  is owned by Jhonen Vasquez and Nickelodeon please support the official release, I gain no profit nor do I own anything other than OCs and whatever spouts from my imagination!

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Summary: Red and Purple get an impromptu human reproduction lesson when they go and check on Y/n who's been hiding from them all day.

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"I'm telling you somethings wrong! Yesterday Y/n looked off."  Red stressed to Purple who was completely unbothered as he chowed on some cheezy-puffs. "Maybe she's just tired, she was probably up all night watching TV again." Purple stated this wouldn't be the first time Y/n has looked haggard after a night of movies and video games! but then again, They were still getting used to this whole courting a human thing so...

Red frowned and went to say something else, when he got a weird look on his face, he looked like he was concentrating on something, he sniffed the air his antenna wiggled around inquisitively then suddenly stood right up. "Hold on! Do you-... do you smell that?" the red eyed Irken said to his co-tallest who stopped gorging himself on snacks, and whiffed air doing the same antenna wiggles aside from the sugary treats, burnt wires, machine grease and other Irkens nothing was out of the ordinary... he blinked his face shifted to one of confusion catching the scent of something foreign but familiar, his antennas suddenly sprung up.

"Yeah... It smells like the time Y/n got a paper cut...but more bad." The tallest looked at each other worried, they dropped their snacks and rushed towards Your room, though Purple doubled back to picked up a bag of donuts and went after Red, when they arrived in the hallway just outside your room. 

The stench of blood was stronger now, they found a small group of your guards standing outside all of them looking very concerned, one of the taller guards an Irken named Deeko noticed the tallest hasty approach. "My Tallest, I was just about to call." he said with a salute.

The leaders waved him off "What's going on?/Where's Y/n?!" Red and Purple demanded over each other as the guards looked nervous. "We're not sure, liaison Y/n won't let anyone in,  when we ask what's wrong? she just tells us to leave!" Deeko explained and noted she locked everyone out of her room, Red dismissed the guards, he and Purple could handle it... at least they thought they could, Red knocked on the door.

 "Y/n are you okay?" Red asked he heard you cuss and your footsteps moving around your room. "I'm fine! I'm just... I'm getting dressed!" You said hastily while mentally kicking yourself for being so obvious that you were hiding something... 

(Usually you had time to prepare for shark week, You had supplies! but ever since moving to the Massive, the stress from leaving Earth to living in space has cause your cycle to be maladjusted, this was the first period you've had in three months.) For now you just kept your fingers crossed and hoped Red and Purple bought that excuse.

They didn't, the tallest looked at each other Red nodded Purple hacked your door, it opened and your boyfriends walked in. "Oh for fuck sak-" you were cut off by Purple and Red getting a hold of you they started smelling you; they were perplexed you didn't look hurt... but the stench of blood was everywhere, you tried to talk them into leaving. "Look guys I know your worried but..." Red suddenly pulled away and was hyper focused on your bed, Your bare bed.

 "Where are your sheets?" he asked looking around the room with Purple "Uhh..." you tried to come up with something, too late! Purple found your linens, and ruined pair of underwear balled up behind a chair, You tried to stop him, but the purple eyed Irken had already picked up your sheet saw the bloodstains and... Chaos ensued.

Cut to you stuck on the medical deck. Cranky, cramping and miserable; while being poked prodded at by tiny green men or at least they tried to, you gave them an empty threat tossing them out the airlock and had ordered your S.I.R. unit: Ede, to maim anyone who came near you, needless to say the Irken medics backed off, while Red and Purple frantically called Zim for help thinking you were dying, but the banished invader wouldn't answer his damn communicator! Red slammed his fist on the console in exasperation. 

"Zim you better answer this call or so help me!" there was static before Zim finally picked up. "Oh my Tallest! to what do I owe-" Purple cut him off jumping in front of the screen "SKIP THE PLEASANTRIES SHORTY! OUR HUMAN IS DYING!!! *Munch* HAU DOE EE FRIX HWIT??" the Purple clad leader demanded while stuffing doughnuts in his mouth as Zim looked at them startled. "....What?" Red growled and shoved Purple out of the way. "Y/n she has some kind of illness, it's making her bleed... *ahem* down there." Red stated Zim looked at them both for a moment before something clicked.

"Oh! You mean Menses?"

"You know what it is? How do you cure it?!"

"Edging closer to the sweet brink of death..." Zim said coldly leering at them Red and Purple gawked him fearfully, Zim kept the dark act up few seconds then burst out laughing at them. "Hehe...I kid, I kid! O-ho Zim's love-mate pulled the same thing when he asked...hehe" Red glowered at him. "Computer hone in on Zim's base signal and initiate It's Self-Destruction sequence on my mark.." The earthbound Irken sputtered and panicked with Skoodge and Gir running around screaming as Red started the count down. 

"Wait, ZiM will tell you everything he knows! just don't blow up my house!"

"Computer cancel Base Self-Destruct... Start talking Zim."

"When human females reach a certain age they-..." 

You were still in the medbay headphones on ignoring your aches and pains by playing your Game-slave DXI, while Ede and Deek were sitting near by playing cards and making sure none of the medical staff bothered you, when the door opened and two very flustered Tallest floated in; they noticed Deeko sitting little too close to you and gave him a heated look that could melt permafrost. 

The green eyed guard swallowed nervously and silently left the room with along with Ede which you hadn't noticed. Until you saw the door close in your peripherals, you were about to ask where they were going? and if they could get you some snacks? when a blanket along with a bag of various candies and donuts was dropped on to your lap causing you to jump a bit surprised.

You looked up and saw your boyfriends watching you intently, cocking a brow you pulled your headphones down to see what they wanted? "What this for-" Red and Purple suddenly hugged you confusing you further. "Uh guys? what up with you?" Red was first one to speak up, his face had light blush to it. "We called Zim, he told about this Menses cycle your having." Purple reached into the bag on your lap and took out a candy-bar and offering it to you. "He said chocolate helps." Needles to say you were touched these guys really care about you if they were willing to go so far as to recruit Zim's help to figure out what was wrong with you.

"It does, what else did he tell you." You asked keeping your guard up because well... it's Zim. "He said he'll send over some medicine and said to use heat if you get bad cramps..." Red gestured the blanket which you realized was a large heating pad, when you noticed the dial, "That's pretty sweet of him, remind me tell him thanks next time he calls." Both Red and Purple were still clinging to you which roused your suspicions. "Did he say anything else?" The tallest looked around to make sure everyone was busy working and looked back at you with identical smirks.

You saw Red used one of his PAK legs to interface with room control port, the windows tinted, the lights dimmed and the door locked before Purple whispered something in your ear, Your face felt like and probably looked like a stove iron, you felt Red's smirk widen as he nibbled on your neck while Purple's hands slowly move down to your hips; Zim had told them about the alternative and very fun way of helping you out with your cramps, needles to say the Medical staff avoided that part of the medbay for a while...

[beskarberry]

Garden of Ishtar

Bargaining with Beskar, Chapter 9

(The Mandalorian x f!reader) (+18)

"The Universe has a strange way of granting wishes"

<-Previous Next->

Rating: holy shit Explicit

Word count: 15.8k

Content warnings: SEX POLLEN + BREEDING KINK + PREGNANCY KINK with an extra kinky twist! (Dubcon/use of mind altering substances by non-sentient creature/ovipos) Side kinks: dom/alpha, praise, begging, denial, overstim, bonus somnophila. Obvious favorites of p in v, finger blasting, oral f receiving, multiple orgasms and then some. Big gooey heaps of fluff to make up for all the filth. I tried.

A/N: Weird shit happens in space, and this chapter is no exception. This is the most kinks I've crammed into one chapter, almost zero story progression whatsoever, it's just smutty smut the whole way though. Good luck and may the force be with you because you're gonna need it.

“Well, which one do you want?”

“You pick.”

“Fuck no, I picked the last one, you can pick the next.”

It was a bright, lovely, sunshiny day on the forest moon of Endor, the fine weather a stark contrast from how it had been when you had landed. You had opened the access ramps on the Crest to get some fresh air circulating while you made preparations to head towards your next target, but you had to pick a target first.

On a supply crate that you had pushed into the middle of the cabin like a dining room table sat three little pucks, their bounties still as mysterious as they had been when you had wantonly pulled them off of Karga’s countertop. As far as you were concerned it was Din’s turn to pick, and though death was just an occupational hazard in your line of work, there had been too many brushes with the reaper during your last hunt for you to be comfortable picking again.

Leaning against the wide open doorframe you took a deep breath of the fresh, rain-scrubbed air, letting it fill your lungs and clear your head. It was a little humid, though it might have been the nicest day you had seen in a long time. Outside on the dampish grass the foundling was chasing some kind of pretty insect, hopping about trying to catch the elusive critter. It was good for him to get a chance to stretch his legs, no matter how short they were, and you giggled at his antics when he tripped and fell. He squealed and rolled through the grass before he was bounding after another fluttering creature. Without the violent storms the mini-moon was peaceful, serene almost, and in another lifetime maybe you would have settled down here; though you couldn’t imagine being anything besides a hunter. I wonder if that will ever change.

“Really, cyare, you pick.” Sitting across from you, Din was cleaning the last bit of mud from his armor, the thick muck having long dried into a chunky, flaky mess. Everything but the plate he had in his hands now shimmered like spilled mercury over his chest and shoulders, catching the dappled sunbeams that filtered in through the open doors. Your argument over who got to pick the next puck had ground to a stand still, and you were getting frustrated, but not frustrated enough that you would yield.

“It’s not my turn, it’s your turn.” He just shook his head, diligently scrubbing the dirt from the details of the mudhorn on his pauldron without realizing the irony of his efforts. He set the cleaned metal to his shoulder, the clack of its fasteners echoing faintly in the open hold. The Mandalorian sat up straight, leaning his helmeted head against the hull wall and patting his knees, expectantly waiting for you to make your choice. Something about his armored appearance gave you a stupid idea, and you sauntered up to him with a cocky grin. “I’ll fight’cha for it.”

“You’ll what?” The black gloss of his visor tilted sharply, as though you had just grown a second head.

“Fight me! Loser has to pick the puck.” You kicked the tips of his boots and brought your fists up, playfully making soft, slow jabs towards him. He huffed, like he wasn’t used to you having bright ideas by now.

“I’m not going to fight you, cyar’ika, just pick a damn puck already.”

“Them's fightin’ words.” Your knuckles went pap pap pap in quick succession against the hexagonal indent on his chest. “What’re’ya afraid you’re gonna lose?”

He lazily swatted at you, barely even trying to block your attack. “I don’t want to hurt you.”

“Ha! As if!” You whipped your head forward, sending the beskar you wore on your crown sliding down over your eyes, letting the quicksilver flash of its curved surfaces tell him you meant business. Your jabs got a little meaner, though if you hit him too much harder his own beskar would probably break your fingers. Between his metal plates were a few soft spots, and you honed in on them with sneaky digits. Din jerked visibly when you got the one right under his chest piece, and a swift arm came up and caught your next offence. “Ohoho, so you are awake, I was beginning to think you had fallen asleep on me.”

“I’m not going to hit you.” His words came through his modulator like gravel, irritated that you would even think he would lay a hand on you. Shrugging, you knocked him right in the forehead with the heel of your palm, making his helmet clonk against the durasteel. The next jab you threw was caught and thrown back to you, him tossing your fist away. You went for him again, but when he grabbed both your fists you were pushed back with the force of him rising from his seat. He marched you backwards and shoved you away, then brought his vambraces up in a defensive block, ready for the next attack.

You took one last glance at the foundling, who was sitting sweetly in the grassy meadow, absently trying to catch motes of pollen that were floating by, before launching into your assault. Your fists stung at him with reckless abandon, not enough to actually hurt either of you, though he probably wouldn’t have felt it anyway under his pile of armor. Mando blocked everything you hurled at him, making good on his promise not to hit you, but that was taking all the fun out of it. “Come on, rust bucket, stand up for yourself!” He took everything you gave, deflecting every thrown fist and slowly inching his way closer to you until you were taking steps back to open up your jabs.

“You really want me to fight you? Fine.” He barked, whacking your next punch away. You jumped back to dodge a rapid slew of hook shots, cackling like a lunatic that you had gotten your wish granted.

“Yes! Come on, big boy, fight me! Let’s go! I’m gonna kick your- ass!” Din lunged at you, tackling you like a linebacker and throwing you against the wall. Cornered, you snapped your head forward and rang his bell, disorienting him enough that you could drop out of his grasp and dash out between his legs. He turned on you in an instant, and you made ‘come at me bro’ hands at him before he was on you again. He swiped with a left hook, chuffing you lightly on the shoulder while you socked him back; though you weren’t nearly as gentle, stinging your knuckles on his unyielding iron.

A bandoliered boot went for your shins, and you stomped back at it, kicking sideways at the plates of his thighs. You hopped, switched legs, and spun a roundhouse straight into the side of his gut. On anyone else it would have been a crippling blow, but your Mandalorian grabbed your lifted ankle and hauled you to him, using your own weight against you to palm your sternum and flip you on your back. The wind was knocked from your lungs when you hit the floor, but not enough that you didn’t get a knee up as he tried to pin you under him, and you kicked up into his gut and flipped him over your head; the sound of his armor hitting the ground ringing loud and ugly.

You kicked up and tossed yourself backwards in the same spring, putting you over top of his breastplate. Throwing your knees back you locked his arms under your ankles, straddling his chest so you could hold his helmet down. “That all you got?”

“You wish!” Din squirmed and kneed you in the ass, tossing you off of him. You rolled away and scrambled to your feet, narrowly avoiding another flying tackle. The cabin of the Crest wasn’t giving you much space to work with, and you hauled ass down down the ramp before he could catch you again. “Oh now you want me to chase you, ner riduur?” He hollered, swinging his arms wide in a challenging stance.

You turned and wiggled your ass at him, slapping yourself tauntingly before the sound of armored thunder had you running for cover. You ran past the foundling on the ground, braking quickly next to him to pat his head before his father was upon you, and you missed being snatched by the skin of your teeth.

Hopping back a few paces you put up your dukes, and this time the beskar took the bait. The Mandalorian threw punches left and right, more forceful than he had started with but not enough to actually hurt. You took a few blows to your forearms and shoulders before lashing out with a wild throw. The sound of fists on metal echoed against the tree trunks that surrounded the sunny meadow while you took on the mighty warrior, though armor was kicking your ass for him, and you nearly dashed yourself to pieces on the plate of his chest.

“Had enough yet?”

You roared in response and threw your whole body at him, making quick jabs at the meat of his sides where his armor was thinnest. He keeled sideways, dropped himself into a crouch, and lunged, tackling you to the ground. Damn it! Time to fight dirty! You pulled an arm free of his grasp and grabbed his cloak, throwing it over his helmet and wrapping it up tight, temporarily blinding him. He sat up to try and unravel the fabric from his face, and in that split second you grabbed the backs of his knees and yanked, flopping him back down onto his back. The pinner had become the pin-ee, and you squashed yourself up between his legs and thrust into his groin, making him keen in surprise.

“You’re mine, bantha-butt!” Tangled in the cloak he squirmed under you until he was free of your trap, giving you a confused head tilt at your position. You hooked your arms under his knees and ground yourself up against his ass, making him grunt underneath you before he wrapped his legs around your middle and rolled, throwing you down onto the ground. Both of you grappled for dominance, rolling and tossing each other through the soft, dampish grass until you were on top of him again, straddling his waist.

“That’s better.” He hummed, grabbing your wrists and pulling you down to him where he could wrap his arms around your writhing form. “You’re mine, you little womp rat.”

“Nuh uh! You’re under me, that means I win, chumbucket.” You threw your weight around, trying to coax one more good roll out of the two of you, but he had you in his clutches. A dark, lecherous laugh reverberated in your ear, and you felt him rut up against your crotch to demand your complacency. Between your legs the faintest outline of his shaft slotted against you, fitting so well against the cradle of your body that it really might have been made just for you; but you grabbed his shoulders and pushed him harder into the grass. “Not in front of the foundling, you big horndog.”

“Says the one riding me.” A soft, leather-clad hand left your captured shoulders to slide your mask up and brush the grass from your hair, gently tucking a stray lock behind your ear; and you pressed your face into his palm as it passed back down. The rumble in his chest went right through your legs up your spine until your cheeks blushed under his thumbs. “Mesh’la…”

Something twitched under you, and as much as you would like to indulge him, sass came to you more naturally. “Is this why you didn’t wanna fight me?” You rolled your hips over his, giving him a tantalizing tease. “Gets you all fired up?”

His helmet rolled, trying to avoid your skull-boring gaze. “Maybe…”

“Well maybe when we get into hyperspace we can do something about that, but not until that one has gone to bed.”

Ahead of you the foundling was laying back in the grass, watching his adopted parents with big googly eyes. Din followed your gaze, and the two of you made stupid little waves at your child. Beans waved back and stood up, teetering over to the pair of you on his little stubby legs. You laid against the breadth of your mate’s chest and reached for the goofy green baby, who happily ran into your arms.

“Heya, Goob! What’cha up to, huh? Catchin’ bugs?” You sat up and leaned back, ignoring the heavy hands that laid on your thighs while you chatted with the foundling. The baby gibbered and told you all about his fun in the sun, but under you the slow gyration of hips was starting to get distracting. “Beans, tell your dad to stop being naughty.”

“Me? You started this.”

“Bah! I don’t start things, I only finish them.” Under you your beskar burdened buddy sighed and let his head fall back into the grass, shaking it back and forth at your foolishness. You hefted the foundling up in the air, making him squeal in delight, and the sweet sounds of his laughter gave you a better idea. “You know what? I bet he would like to pick a puck!”

“Thank the fucking stars, does that mean we can get going?”

“Yeah yeah fussbucket come on. You’re so damn impatient!” You made one last amorous swirl of your hips before leaping up from your man, running with the baby high above your head as you dashed circles around the ship. It was good for both of you to spend time together that wasn’t just on the trail, and you treasured the few moments of comfort you got to have as a pack between hunts. You ran a few more laps before flying up the ramp to where Mando had already beaten you there, and you plopped the baby down on the makeshift table where the pucks had miraculously survived your wrassling. “Ok buddy boy, can you pick a puckie for me?”

The baby tossed his arms in the air and squeaked like he would rather go for another round of flight simulator, but you plopped down on the ground in front of him and pointed at the pucks again. He tilted his head, making his airplane ears flop akimbo. The foundling looked down at the pucks, back up to you, and then -slapped- the one in the middle as hard as he could. The pucks projector fired up and glowed ghostly blue in front of the child’s wondrous eyes, and he tried to grab at the thing showing in its center.

The holo must be malfunctioning, maybe the baby hit it too hard, but the picture wasn’t of a face, or even a person for that matter; it was something round, egg shaped almost. Beside you, your Mandalorian was making the same confused head tilts that you were, and he tapped a leather finger to the puck’s button, turning it off and on again, but the same image remained. “That can’t be right, have you ever seen one like this?”

You shook your head, puzzled by the purplish object that floated before you. Maybe it was some kind of stone or seed, or even an egg like its shape suggested. The pucknotes had a counter next to the ovoid, indicating that more credits would be rewarded for the quantity of items procured. Besides a description of the item and the indicator, the puck notes had one last useful tidbit of information, the last known location:

Hoth.

“Wait, Hoth? There’s nothing on Hoth! You sure this thing’s not fucked up?” Din shrugged, making his plates clack before he got up and started getting the ship around, closing ramps and scooting crates back into place. “Shit balls of hell, alright! Fucking Hoth it is.” You’d been to Hoth maybe all of two times chasing down the stupidest, most idiotic bounties, and not once had you seen anything of value there. “Of course it has to be somewhere cold, we already did cold. One of those fucking pucks better go to a goddamn beach or something or I’m gonna lose my mind.”

“You sure you haven’t already? I mean,” Din stopped rearranging the furniture to swagger up to you, catching your hand in his own. “You did try to fight with a Mandalorian.”

“Bah! And I’d do it again, too, you’re not that intimidating.” Playfully you tried to take your hand back, but he was a professional bounty hunter, and he didn’t let his captures get away so easily. Thick, leatherbound fingers laced themselves between your own, and your other arm was taken hostage and brought to his shoulder so he could rest a heavy palm on your hip unhindered. You let your hand wander up his pauldron to the edge of his helmet, sneaking a finger between the metal and the man to toy with his curls. The hand on your waist pulled you closer, and he gently pressed his helmet to your brow.

“Riduur’ika,” He purred, making the cool beskar rumble against your skin. “You don’t think I’m… intimidating!?” The arm against your waist hugged you tight while the other twirled you around in a circle, and you made some kind of undignified squeak as you were dipped low. Parallel to the ship's floor, you clawed at his cowl as if he would drop you, though his grip was stronger than beskar. You caught the reflection of your own wild eyes as his visor tilted to meet your gaze. “How about now?”

Safe in his arms, you snorted a laugh and stuffed your hands under his helmet to pick the latches free and toss the heavy thing off, ignoring the sound of it rolling away from you while you kissed your husband. The Mandalorian’s warm, soft lips against your own muffled the few stray giggles that tried to escape your mouth, tickled by not only his romance but also his mustache. Those dark chocolate eyes of his met your own, and the edges of his cheeks rolled right up into them with a dazzling smile. Maker help you.

“Din! Where the hell did you pick that up from?” A warm laugh reverberated against you before he was pushing his lips to yours in another fiery kiss.

“Saw it in a holovid once, some kind of… courtship ritual, I think. I’ve, uh, always wanted to t-try it…” His wavering baritone trailed off with a hint of embarrassment, and you couldn’t help but snicker.

“‘Courtship ritual’, huh? Golly gee willikers, if I didn’t know any better I’d think you were flirting with me.”

His cheeks flushed pink, “Is it working?”

“Mmm… no.”

The gorgeous smile on his scruffy face was replaced with a scowl a mile wide, but you laughed and kissed at it anyway. You heard him inhale sharply when you started to push your tongue past his lips, and he met yours with his own. Without parting, he slowly stood the pair of you back up, and you wrapped your arms around his broad shoulders to pull him even closer.

Free from the muck of the forest floor that had clung to his armor, or the stygian waters of the river soaking his cloak, the familiar scent of him had returned. Rich and smokey, sweat and leather and blast plasma and the faintest remnants of the fresher soap you adored. The spice of him saturated your lungs and drenched your heart with the promise of his eternal company, giving you that delightfully warm and gooey feeling that he alone could give.

You pulled your lips from his and kissed at his cheeks and the tip of his angular nose before grabbing the sides of his head and bringing his brow back to yours. He almost fought you over it, torn between wanting his lips against your skin and the joy of you indulging in his sacred inheritance. Either way, the stubborn little ‘patu’ that peeped up from the floor had you both pulling away to bring the foundling into your arms, you were a clan of three, after all.

It would take a few jumps to make it to your next destination, and if she could speak, the Razor Crest would tell you how glad she was for your company as she carried you through the stars. There had been a time in the old ship’s life where she had only known silence, save for the screams of captured bounties, her hull had been nearly barren with only her captain for comfort. But then the foundling had come into her Mandalorian’s life, and the sweet sounds of a child’s laughter warmed her steel heart, amplified tenfold by the starsongs you brought with you when you had arrived as well.

Like a serenade written to the stars themselves the three of you flowed through her ironsides, a triple-part harmony that reverberated from the top of her transparisteel dome to the depths of her cantankerous stardrive. The chimes of the navigation panel had gone unheard while the streaking stars spiralled around the old dropper, her passengers fully engrossed with each other's company. There was so much laughter now, between stories told and songs sang high, the starcraft’s walls nearly rang with mirth.

The jokes you would tell, as terrible as they often were, made the Crest’s captain smile so often now; his scruffy cheeks going right up into his eyes whenever he flashed those pearly whites. He was so sweet, so gentle when the beskar was lifted from him, as if a new man was made every time the armor fell away. The oath of riddurok had given him such a gift, the gift of touch, and he relished in it at every turn; pressing kisses to the faces of the two he loved most.

And when it was time to rest, hidden away in the little sleeping alcove the three of you laid, wrapped more tightly together than any captured quarry. Below the howl of the hyperdrive engine, so faint it was almost like a secret, would come the sound of your starsongs. For your boys alone would you let yourself remember the rhymes of timelost sailors, sang low and slow to ease them to sleep. The foundling usually blacked right out on the first verses, but your unarmored husband would grapple with the pull of sleep for as long as he could, just to hear your voice.

When you dropped out of hyperspace the uncaring iceball called Hoth dominated your view, nearly blinding you with its glaring white surface. Your captain flew the Crest over the snowy expanse, looking for any sign of life or even a point of interest, but the ice fields seemed to stretch on forever between snow covered steppes. You had to pull your visor down just to be able to look out the window, and you attempted to cycle its settings as if that would do you any good, but everything came back as solid colors as far as the eye could see.

“This is bullshit, there’s nothing down there.” In your palm the bounty puck glowed faintly, making a liar out of you; but you ignored it to watch a herd of large, bipedal herbivores making their way along a mountainous ridge. The Crest put the animals in the rear view quicker than you would have liked, and you leaned against the transparisteel with a huff. In your lap the foundling was watching joyfully out the window, seemingly undeterred by the blinding snow. You started trying to get the baby rearranged when you saw the fob flash erratically before going back to lazy blinks. “Din wait! I think we passed it!”

“Passed what? I don’t see anything.” Below you the vast expanse was flat as a fresh pressed sheet, only dotted here and there with specks of icy blue.

“Circle around!” You tucked the foundling under your arm and unbuckled yourself from your seat to squish into the narrow space between Din’s armrest and the dashboard so he could see the fob for himself. He slowed the mighty metal bird down as slow as she would go and flew her in a wide circle back towards the way you’d come in.

Flash… flash… flash flash flASHFLAsh flash… flash…

“You see that? There gotta be something down there, maybe it’s under the snow. Take us down, captain!” In the corner of your eye you caught the slightest jostle of his helmet, though it could have just as easily been the rocking of the ship that made his head move, but you knew better. “What’s so funny?”

“Nothing, captain.” The poorly veiled cheekiness in his voice was met with a loving suckerpunch against the side of his pauldron. You’d completely failed to learn your lesson about the bite of beskar, and you hissed at the iron’s sting on your knuckles. The Crest floated down gently, her engines kicking up flurries of crisp white snow over the broad expanse. The moment the landing struts had locked into place your armored companion was grabbing for your wrist. “That’s why you shouldn’t try to fight me, mesh’la.”

“Bite me.”

A soft thumbpad brushed gently against your reddening knuckles, making you wince just slightly. The black gloss of his single eye slowly coasted up to meet your own, then cocked sideways. “Looks like I already did.” With his other hand he lifted the edge of his helmet just enough to press the softest kiss to the back of your hand, and though his sweetness made your heart thunder against its cage, the wry upturn of his lips almost made you want to punch him again.

Under your arm the foundling squirmed and cooed, and you brushed your captured hand along the edge of your husband’s bristly jaw before pulling the child around to your chest so you could both look out the window. The alabaster plains stretched out in all directions like the Dune Sea of Tatooine, nothing for miles.

“Din I think this fob is busted, and probably the puck too, there’s fuckall out-”

*-crik- c-c-crrrack craack!-*

Something snap-crackle-popped outside the ship, like the sound of suspension cables breaking. High pitched creaks between deep, almost gutterel booms. Ice.

“Cyare… don’t… move.” The armored monolith was frozen solid, more frozen than the ice underneath you apparently. Not even the sound of his modulated breathing could be heard in the stillness of the flightdeck.

*...cricckckcick..creeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeak……cruUNCH!-*

The ship lurched, a vicious gash splitting the ice below you. You lurched with it, your heart leaping to your throat as your arms squished the baby tight. A gloved hand shot from the steering controls to steady you.

*-k-k-reaaaak thuddduddudud… crRONCH!-*

“Oh fuck.”

*….CrAcK-!*

The Crest tilted nose-first into the growing abyss, and your oathsworn had only a split second to haul you and the foundling into his seat before the old girl was hurtling through the breach.

For a moment you were in free fall, a canyon of aquamarine flying past the window, darkening with every passing second. It felt like slow motion, your legs becoming weightless while the rest of you was anchored to the pilots seat.

*-ka-RuNcH!-*

Rigid muscle and beskar enveloped you as the Razor hit the ground, metal crunching and screeching with the impact. Your deathgrip on the foundling was only matched by the armored grasp around you, keeping the two of you locked safely to Din’s chest. Bulbs flickered and wires sparked in the waning light of the flight deck, though your eyes were so tightly screwed shut you didn’t notice. You took a cautious breath, only now aware that you had been holding it before wrenching an eye open. Beskar dominated your view, the heavy helmet of your husband pressed tightly to your face.

“Are you ok?” came a modulated whisper.

“Yeah, are you?” He nodded against you, and you peeled yourselves apart to inspect the foundling that was encased between your chests. Baby Beans chirruped and ogled at his fussing buir, the two of you knocking into each other while you both checked him for damage. When he’d passed both your inspections you glanced around the cockpit, though you guessed from the sound of the impact most of the damage would be down below.

You practically needed a crowbar to get Din’s arms off of you, his protector’s instinct running at full bore to guard his clan, but you managed to weasel out of his iron grasp. Frigid air gusted up through the ladder hole before you’d even crossed the short distance to the drophatch, making you shudder. Below, the force of the impact had torn the Razor’s walls asunder, breaking apart her riveted seams. Icy wind blew in through the gashes, freezing the mist that sprang from your eyes.

“Oh, my poor Lady…” You whispered, your heart aching from seeing your ship so wounded. Heavy boots made their way down the ladder behind you, and you turned to your oathsworn, “Can… can we fix this?”

“We can try, but you need something warmer.” Stoic as the day you met, Mando strode to the bent lockers and forced his way in, pulling out a heavy parka and draping it around your shoulders. The cold weather garb was entirely too big for you, but it snuggled around you like a warm hug, blocking out the frigid breeze. In your arms the foundling peeped out from the collar, just enough to watch his papa without getting too chilly.

Din was elbow deep in another wrecked cabinet, scrounging up whatever tools he could find to repair the damage. You joined him at the growing pile, holding onto the child with one arm and trying to pick a portable welder up with the other. Hands too full, you ducked into the oversized parka and worked to stuff the baby up under your shirt, cinching your belt under his butt so he wouldn’t fall out. There, stay warm you little fart.

It took a while for the two of you to make enough progress on the broken bird to get her closed up again, but many hands make the work lighter. Ship repair had been your very first duty when you went starborne, and your hands remembered how to bend durasteel to your will, though you would probably need to get to an actual mechanic if you were going to be star-worthy again.

Occasionally you caught the tilt of your Mandalorian’s visor when you fired up the welder or cranked a ratchet against a stubborn bolt, snapping away from you when you’d shoot him a sly wink. Once the cabin was passable, it was time to work on the exterior, but you swatted at Din’s occupied mitts, demanding that the two of you take a rest beforehand. His back cracked when he stood up straight, and though he wouldn’t admit it, a break was a good idea.

“Do you have a kettle or something I can make hot water in? I think I saw a canister of broth we can heat up.” Your repair work on the hull must have been pretty damn efficient, because the parka was beginning to get warm, and you started to shrug it off when you heard the rackety sound of something clattering to the floor.

“B-buir’ika?” Behind you, Din had dropped a heavy tool and was staring at you with that black hole gaze of his.

“Boo-ear-eeka? What does- oh!” You glanced down at yourself and laughed, your tunic protruding with a large, rounded tummy. “Chilly beans!” Bending forward, you pulled your collar down so your oathsworn could see the half-lidded eyes of the cozy foundling hidden below the swell of your breasts. “I didn’t want him to get cold.”

When you looked up from the babe’s sweet face, your armored husband had silently crossed the length of the hold and was nervously reaching towards you, his hands hovering over the lumpy shape in your middle. Gently he set his palms to where the child was bundled, slowly gliding over the taut fabric and making you flush crimson. Din did a double take on your cherry-red face and pulled away, muttering an apology and hastily returning to his duty as kettle-fetcher.

When you’d gotten the foundling out of your shirt and the thin soup heated, you sat down on your regular eating crate with your crew. The three of you took your break quietly since eating or drinking in your presence still made Din a little embarrassed, but between his timidness and the awkward term of endearment the tension in the cabin was so thick you could cut it with a vibro. He usually pressed his back to yours, but now he was hunched over his bowl of broth, sipping silently.

When your cup was empty you got up from your seat, pressed a kiss to each of your boy’s heads, and got your tools around to work on the outside of the Crest. You were garbed and out the exit before Din could protest, though you wouldn’t have listened anyway if he did. Once the ramp closed behind you, you took a deep breath of the glacial air, letting it clear your head. Shore leave was a luxury you rarely got to indulge in during your early years, and your love of having your boots on the ground only got stronger as the years went by.

The basin you had crashed into sprawled beneath the ice sheet high above your head, supported by enormous pillars of frozen water. This had probably been a lake once, or even a small sea, but when the water drained it left behind the frozen aquifer you now found yourself stuck in. High above you the light from where you had fallen through the ice cast frosty sunbeams through the falling snow, faintly illuminating the mythical columns in cobalt and turquoise hues.

Your boots crunched through the ancient permafrost as you made your rounds, taking a mental checklist of the Razor’s damage. Her keel had taken the brunt of the impact, but one of her wingtips was pretty busted up, a twisted panel sending sparks into the cerulean cathedral that would probably take two people to fix.

Out of curiosity you pulled the blinker from somewhere in your parka, relieved to see that it was indeed flashing. If you had thrown your crew to the depths of Niflheim on a busted fob you might never forgive yourself. You wondered what the acoustics would be like in the icy cavern, but the threat of bringing the fragile ice sheet down around your ears kept you quiet. Holding the fob up, you made a wide circle around the ship, trying to pinpoint which way the blinks were fastest. This way… You cast a quick glance over your shoulder at the Crest with her ramps still closed, and started towards your quarry.

~

In the ship's durasteel depths, Din sighed and groaned, unsure how to feel. He hated not being next to you, but he respected you enough to know you might need some space after… that. He tried to distract himself by wiping off the foundling’s mush-mouth with the edge of his cloak, but that almost made things worse. Our foundling.

Everything about The Way encouraged the safety and procreation of younglings, and not only as a riduur but also an Alor he should be fathering many children with you to recover Mandalore’s losses. But you had said you weren’t ready, and he honored your wishes, but even so, his heart ached with the desire to see you filled with his warriors.

He knew he shouldn’t, but that was suddenly all he could imagine, you round and glowing and full…

“Damn it.” He could feel his face flush red, and the honeyglow seeped through his bones all the way down to his guts, forcing him to pull his helmet back on just to regain his composure. When the visor was back over his eyes, he glanced down at the foundling, who was making some kind of face up at him. “This is your fault.”

“Patu!”

~

The Crest was a good distance behind you now, the edges of her wings partially obscured by the ice, but not quite out of eyeshot. The air was stagnant so far below the surface, the cold of it sitting heavy in your lungs and freezing inside your nose. Aside from the towers of frost and fallen snow, the cavern was empty. Enormous, but empty. This fucking fob, there’s nothing here. You were half tempted to chuck the hunk of garbage away or stomp it out, take the loss just to get the fuck out of here, when you felt a subtle breeze waft over you.

You were too far from the breach for it to be coming from above you, and you held perfectly still, trying to determine its source. Too faint, you bent down and scooped up a handful of snow, chucking it high above you and watching the way it fell. That way! Suddenly excited to play Arctic Explorer, you hustled to find the source of the breeze.

Twice more you used the snow as a compass until you were at a colossal glacier, the size of it easily big enough to swallow a large starship. A splotch of dark blue stood out against the ivory, and as you got closer you saw it was a fissure in the ice, a tunnel of some kind. Maybe this is where the water went. The air coming out of it was making your parka flap around you while you held up the fob: flashflashflash. Whatever it is you were tracking had to be down there, and you brushed ice crystals off of your faceplate to flip through your extrasensory settings until thermal flickered to life.

Warm. The air coming out of the tunnel was warm, though only by a few degrees more; not enough to thaw your bones, but enough to register on your visor. You stepped forward, tucking your head into the tunnel. Dark as the depths of an ocean and just as blue, the frozen tube stretched away, darker and darker until it turned to void. Stepping just inside the entrance, you flailed when your boots nearly lost traction.

This is dangerous, I don’t know what’s in there. A gust of air blasted around you as if to warn you away. Could be anything, maybe I should wait for- Ah FUCK!

The thought was knocked from your skull when your boots slipped out from under you and you slid ass over teakettle down the icy channel, vanishing into the dark.

~

The inside of the Crest was immaculate, more ship-shape that she had been in a long time. Din had to keep busy, after the repairs were given another once-over and you still hadn’t returned he had started reshelving all the tools and cookware, and only when the last thing left to do was mop did he give up his endeavors. Where the hell is she? He was getting anxious, more so than he usually was. His hands fidgeted with the strap that crossed his chest, thumbing at each of the slugs in line. She should be back by now.

What if she’s hurt? His hands froze on the leather, his breath catching in his chest. He knew you were capable, but what if something got you, or you fell or… or…

“Kid, let’s go.” The ‘what ifs’ that drained out of his thoughts and down his throat turned to bile in the pit of his stomach, and he had to do something about it. She can be as mad at me as she wants, I don’t care, I just need to know she’s safe. Quickly he grabbed a few supplies, loading up his rucksack with rehearsed precision: bacta, shovel, thermos, jet pack, munitions, rations. The foundling gibbered while his papa wrapped him up in a heavy blanket before setting him in his pram. I’m coming, cyare!

~

The slip-and-slide you had gotten yourself into wooshed past your ears, and you could only curl in a ball to protect yourself as you hurtled through the chasm of ice. The violet hue coming through your visor slowly turned to warmer tones as the temperature steadily increased. You struggled to grab a vibro off of your belt as you spun through the dark, but the singing dagger only scraped against the solid ice, the permafrost so old and strong that not even steel could cut it.

Under you the angle changed sharply, tossing you on your ass over another slope before you were falling through the air. You tucked and rolled when you hit the ground, desperately trying not to get your neck broken. Skittering to a halt, you cautiously let yourself uncurl, but what your eyes saw made you think you had landed on your head.

“Woah.”

~

The top of the Crest was still damaged, though Mando knew you had left with the intent to do repairs. Not up there. Your footprints circled around the old ship in a few loops before heading off into the cavern. Fuck, where did she go? The prints from your shoes still glowed faintly with residual heat on his visor, and he checked on the foundling’s comfort one more time before following your trail.

~

The Universe has a strange way of granting wishes.

Crystalline gravel crunched underfoot as you approached the beach you had landed in front of. Mineral-rich water bubbled and boiled in front of you with volcanic heat, steaming up the chamber you now found yourself in. The thick, viscous ooze was so leden with salts that its edges were caked with jagged deposits that lapped against the sides of tall, crested structures that almost resembled a reef. The subterranean coral ranged in size and height from just below your knees to easily three times your height, almost brushing the stalactites that hung from the vaulted ceiling.

You wished you had a holo-corder or data cube handy, because there was no way anybody had been here before, though maybe for good reason. The colors on your visor ranged from bright yellow to teal to hot motherfuckin’ pink, and you lifted your faceplate up to wipe at the sweat that was beading on your brow. The vibrancy of the reef without your sensors was even more garish in person, caught in the radiant light that seemed to drip from the ceiling on the tails of glow worms.

The ground under your boots sounded like glass breaking as you wandered through the cavern, spellbound by the sprawling grove. It took a herculean effort to bring your gaze down to the fob in your hand: FLASHFLASHFLASH! You held the tracker high, doing a little spin to try and locate the target, letting your feet walk on their own. Maybe the coral is the target? Stopping at a particular orange staghorn, you held the fob to its spongy flesh, nope, not this one…

From fan to tube to spiraling tower you walked, holding the fob up to each one in turn, waiting for a solid link. The reef thickened as you moved away from the lagoon, growing in taller and thicker clusters until you had to scrape your way between them to continue. Under your parka you were sweating like a quacta, but the spiny polyps on some of the branches could easily scratch you without it as you wormed your way between them. The crystalline gravel under you started to make a different noise, from a crunchacrunch to a squishasquash. Beneath your boots, long, dark purple roots were growing, pulsating with the fluid that flowed through their veins. Eww…

~

The silence of the cerulean cathedral weighed heavy on Mando's audio processors, more so than the stillness of the air. He was in full hunter mode, following your tracks to where you were hopefully safe and sound, though if he let himself think anything else he worried he might have a full blown panic attack. No, can’t think about that. Find the quarry, find your wife. Don’t think about her being hurt, or lost or scared or…

From the open pram a chirruping coo echoed softly between the towering pillars of ice, bringing Din’s attention to his son. Though the foundling looked alright, the tips of his ears were turning the faintest shade of blue. Din pulled his cloak off, though he needed it just as much in the sub-zero space, his foundling always came first. The fabric heaped out of the pram, almost covering the child completely. If she were here, would she put the baby in her shirt again to keep him warm?

Suddenly he didn’t need his cloak, the fire in his chest surging out to burn at his ribs and scald his cheeks. He stopped, shaking his head at the embarrassment that sprouted from his scorched insides. You’ve got it bad, Djarin. Your tracks had lost their heat, but he could still clearly see your footprints in the snow, and a flood of determination spurred him on. Find the quarry.

~

The dark purple roots lead you to a grove of anemone shaped corals, their thick tentacles reaching for the jagged sky. At the center of their radials sat a fat, lumpy bulb, protected by fleshy limbs. Draped between the spires, more of the icky veins hung like vines, throbbing and pulsing with whatever goo they were filled with.

Touching the blinker to the closest arm, the flashing red light went solid, bingo! “This is it!” Your excited voice would have echoed in the chamber that you had fallen from, but the sponges soaked up your words. You’d left the puck back on the Crest, but you remember you were here for some kind of shape, eggish or stone like, but the waving arms arched upwards into bare, knobbly tips. Fruitless.

That left the pod in the center, probably some kind of seed in the bottom of its pistil. Gonna have to cut my way though. You turned your attention to the viney spires that blocked your path to the center and pulled a vibro from your now sweat-soaked parka. Cautiously, and without turning on the thrummer, you touched the blade to the creeping flesh.

Your knife sank easily, and the fluid that filled the tentacles oozed readily out over the steel. Oooooh, pretty! Though it was mostly clear, the syrup gleamed with a holographic, oily shine, looking like a melted rainbow as it seeped through the wound. The open gash quickly grew new vines that slimed their way around their host trunk, pulsating with goop. Weird.

What hit you next was the smell, an intoxicating sweetness like honey on fruit sitting out on a hot summer day. If the anemone was poisonous, it had a devilish way of attracting its prey, whatever that might be, because the temptation to lick your knife clean became almost overwhelming. That is the stupidest goddamn idea you’ve ever had, get cuttin’, damn it! You hacked and slashed your way to the center, trying to out-cut the regrowth; but the scent quickly made you feel hazy. You reached out to grab one of the arms for support, your cloudy head threatening to toss you on your ass, and the serpentine buds tried to coil around your wrists. Sonofabitch! Fuck off ya big vegetable. Just… just a little further.

~

“Of course this is where she went.” Standing at the crack in the ice, Mando was pacing back and forth with his hands stabbed to his hips. Your tracks ended abruptly at the fissure, and the slick surface told him you had probably slipped and fell into the dark, and he was going to have to jump down after you. The hole stretched far away through the ice, so far that not even his full helmet’s array of sensors could detect the bottom. He rested a boot on the icy surface, giving it an experimental slip. If he fell down the hole as well, he would be no good to either of you.

Every protective instinct told him to jump, go in after you, get you to safety, but his hunter instincts knew better. Fishing the trencher from his bag, he sat down at the entrance and tucked the shovel under his knees, pointy side out. He pulled the foundling’s crib into his lap and carefully started the slide. The shovel blade screeched against the tunnel, and though it couldn’t break the ice it would at least slow him down as he scraped his way through the dark.

~

You were dizzy, the coral’s perfume making you falter. Your goal was so close, but in your haze you were starting to get tangled in the vines that laced through the anemone's arms, and it wasn’t long before they were tangled around your own outstretched limbs. Stupid fern, ger’off me! Yanking against the tendrils only seemed to make things worse, and soon your legs were being caught up as well. Fuckin’shit’it’all. Progress to the core stopped completely, and you stood a moment to catch your breath. Fucksake, this shit is strong! You knew you weren’t moving, but even dazed you could feel something snaking around your boots, and you kicked at the movement, horrified to find that you couldn’t. Shit balls of fucking hell!

The slimy vines coiled around your legs, and you fought valiantly to cut them away, but the more you cut the more seemed to grow like hydras from the anemone's wounds. They were up to your knees, then your waist, and the weight of them started to pull on you until you were dragged to the ground. Struggling in their grasp, they tightened on your arms until you could only writhe like an insect caught in a spiders web. You started to scream, but the creeping thing stuffed itself up under your faceplate and plunged into your mouth.

Something warm and wet oozed between your teeth, and you bit down on the assaulting tendril, only to flood your mouth with more of the sweet syrup. Even in your panic you were taken aback by the taste of it, sweet and rich, almost ambrosial, and a wildly primal instinct told you that you wanted more. Around your limbs the vines were not constricting, merely holding you down, and you took another cautious gulp of the nectar. Your fear began to subside, though in the back of your mind you knew it shouldn’t; you were in a subterranean hellscape, far away from your partner, with some bullshit plant keeping you hostage, but maybe one more taste wouldn’t hurt...

You sucked at the intruder, delighted to find it give you more of the tasty substance, the flavor of it settling warm and snuggly in your belly. Closing your eyes you lapped away, enjoying the hazy, almost drunken feeling that was washing over you. It was blissful and comforting, even wrapped up in the living spires you couldn’t be bothered to care as long as you got to have more.

Something slithered up around your legs and waist, but caught up in the ambrosia you paid it no mind until it was worming its way into the waistband of your pants. Your trousers were pulled down around the tops of your boots, and though the sweltering volcanic atmosphere was making you sweat, the heat burning between your legs almost made the air feel cold. The sudden change in temperature reeled you back to reality, and you tried to spit the vine out while you squirmed in the hydra’s grasp. Another gush of nectar leaked over your tongue, and you greedily sucked it down, feeling another wave of cozy fogginess settle in your head.

Not even the sweetness on your lips could distract you from the feeling of something slimeing its way between your legs, leaving a trail of slick around your entrance. The goop tingled, leaving the same warm and wet feeling behind that it was leaving in your throat. Maker help you it felt good, though some distant instinct screamed to you that it shouldn’t, but you couldn’t hear it if you wanted to. Your back arched, driving your hips against the coils between your thighs, chasing the sensation.

The hydra’s arms pushed their way inside you, many thin strands that sqirmed and writhed, working to stretch you wider. Their efforts slicked past your clit, rubbing the tantalizing ooze around the sensitive little nub while they opened you up. Your hips rocked on their own, though in your captured state you were nearly helpless to chase your own high, but the coral’s limbs worked you up for you. Inside you could feel them, sliding past each other in the warm slick in tandem with the rubbing on your aching clit making you obscenely wetter.

You cried out around the knob still in your mouth as a thicker arm started to push up into you, gliding through the slick nectar. The smaller vines coiled around the newcomer, spiraling up its length as it started to pump in and out of your dripping cunt, adding ridges to the smooth length. Fuck it’s thick! The ties on your legs held you in place as the tendril fucked itself into you, twisting and slimeing around your insides. Hot streams of juice, both yours and the hydra’s, coursed down your thighs almost embarrassingly fast, and you choked and gasped around the spigot while you came.

As if it was emboldened by your orgasm the tentacle surged up into you, leaking what felt like gallons of the wonderful, mind numbing nectar into your fluttering cunt until it was pouring out of you. It thrust against your cervix, dragging the smaller tips around the sensitive muscle. More of the threadlike tendrils tried to push in with the larger one, plucking at your clit and folds and playing you like a sinful harp.

The sensation of it all stoked fire in your core until it was nearly burning you alive, and you gladly let the blaze consume you as the devious creature fucked you stupid. Warm juice practically gushed out of you when you came again, squirting all over the arms that held you captive. Your legs were pulled further apart, anything to open you up to fit more of the sneaky devils in you until you were stretched as wide as you would go, the girth of the serpentis shaft pushing against the bones of your hips from the inside.

Slicked thoroughly, the widest arm rolled against the muscle that protected your womb, and even in your lust-drunk state you could feel it pouring its juices into you. The smaller tendrils followed the nectar up into you where no cock could ever reach, teasing at the rim of the protective coil until it started to relax. More pushed past the ring of muscle until you could feel it gaping, holding you open against the large, blunt tip.

The thrusting stopped, and you mewled sinfully around the vine between your teeth, begging it not to, oh fuck please don’t stop! Whatever aphrodisiac you had been pumped full of was screaming for more more more! Your body hungered for more release, as if you hadn’t drenched the surrounding reef underneath you. You flickered an eye open, but the way your back was curved gave you no vantage of the scene below your waist, but you could see the central pod you had so valiantly tried, and failed, to reach.

From a hole in its top grew the amorphophallus that was filling you so deliciously, and you watched in horror as it pulsed something bulbous up its length. The bulge got closer until it disappeared from your line of view, but it wasn’t long before you felt it, something big pushing against your entrance. You cried out against the gag, but you were held steadfast as the rounded thing forced its way inside you.

The width of it knocked against your hip bones until it was past their crest, and you clenched as best you could around the delicious stretch until you felt something you’ve never felt before. You’ve been fingered, you’ve been fucked and loved and filled to capacity, but the weight of something being deposited in your belly was something wonderfully new. The heft of it felt good, filling and wholesome, though the feeling of terror was still trying to permeate your hazy mind, telling you to run, as if you could. Your hands were bound to your sides, but you wanted to rub at your belly and feel what had been put there. The press of another orb teased at your entrance, and you bucked your hips at it, encouraging another fill.

So good! The unknown object settled in your womb next to the first, the size of them pressing against the back of your abdominal wall, any more and you would be showing. A third bulge made itself known, and you seized your coils around it, letting it bring you to release with its stretch. You came around the vines, and the hydra wormed another pod past your cervix, riding with you through your high. A fourth, a fifth, sixth! You forced an eye open, and the swell of your stomach was visible over the curves of your breasts. Fuuuuck, any more and you really might be fit to burst.

Three more times you were gloriously stretched and drained, the exertion of so many orgasms nearly causing you to faint, but you would do so gladly in your heightened state. One more for good measure pulsed into your swollen belly before the vines receded, and the bindings on your arms and legs withered and died. Gloriously spent, you laid on the ground in a pool of nectar and juices, weakly tugging the vine from your mouth so you could gasp for air. With shaking arms you tried to pry yourself free of the dried tendrils, but the nectar that still filled you felt so good that you almost didn’t want to move, lest it drain out.

The first thing you noticed when the effects began to fade was how much the skin on your abdomen hurt, it felt tight, and you weakly brought a hand up to feel it. Maker above! Your belly was full, and you poked at your protruding middle, feeling the pods inside you slosh around in the devious nectar. Warm goo poured out between your legs, making your eyes roll back from the heat. Through your cloudy mind you thought you heard something, something far away that sounded like shouting. The shouts got closer, and you could almost swear it sounded like your name. Maybe it was.

“Tra’laar!” That was definitely your name, though it sounded distant and fuzzy. You tried to call out to the voice, only to cough up more of the sweet syrup that lined your throat. The taste of it was still as delicious as it had been from the beginning, and another blaze of heat coasted down your spine and made your guts clench and your belly jiggle. Licking your lips you called again, this time with enough force to actually make noise, and the sound of corals being torn apart as something barreled through the reef towards you made itself known.

“Tra-” Mando skittered to a halt somewhere beside you, the sound of your gifted name snagging in his mouth. There you were on the cavern floor, covered in dead vines and some kind of goo, but the most distressing sight of all was your sudden pregnancy. Cautiously he approached you and started untangling your arms and legs, trying to clear the offending tentacles away. He kneeled beside you, his armored hands hovering over your rounded shape. “Riduur’ika? Wh- what happened to you?!” His voice was shaking, barely a whisper coming through his modulator.

“Heeeyyy~” You purred, still buzzed on the herbal wine that had soaked every nerve in your body. “Babe… I think… um. I think there’s something… i-inside… me?”

“Well I can see that!” There was some kind of tone to his voice, wedged somewhere between anger and fear and maybe just a sprinkle of desire. “What did this to you?!”

“I dunno... that wiggly thingie got all up in my bisnatch.” You rubbed at your eyes, trying to get some clarity while your armored companion stressed himself to a frenzy. Mama-hen Mando’s fretting started to make you giggle, and the jostling of your laughs had your tummy jiggling with its fullness. Above you your oathsworn was horrified, but all you could see was his silly visor and his twitchy hands. “Prob’bly need to do something about it, don’t we?”

“Fucking hell, cyare! Yes we need to get whatever that is out of you!” He sounded really upset now, panicked even, and you shook your head trying to shake the daze. You started to sit up, but the weight of your womb made it a struggle. “Hey take it easy! Here, let me help you.” His protector instincts kicked in, and he was wrapping himself up around you to raise you to a seated position. You couldn’t help the way you rubbed at your tummy, still riding the high of the juice that coated your cunt and thighs and stuck to the back of your throat. I wonder if I can bottle this up and sell it.

A soft leather hand placed itself on your swell, moving over your taut skin with a featherlight touch. “This isn’t right,” you heard him say, “I should be the one filling your belly, not some fucking vegetable!”

Stupid chuckles burst out your mouth and made you snort, “Pfft… babe are you jealous some fruit by the foot knocked your girl up?”

“Damn it all yes I’m jealous! Of course I am, I'm your husband! And why aren’t you more upset? You almost look like you’re enjoying this!” You ignored him to swipe a finger through the goop on your leg and bring it up to your lips, slurping noisily at the colorful syrup.

“It’s this stuff, it’s tasty! You should try it!” The snap of his visor told you he wasn’t going to indulge you, but his gentle touch was pressing carefully under the drop of your belly, and you could see him watching the way it wiggled. “Bah, you like this don’t you? Don’t lie to me, bucketboy.”

“No!... Well… maybe a little.” He shook his head, trying not to be disoriented by the same daze you were. “We’re getting this out of you right now! Can you sit up? Get on your knees?” He guided you up off your butt and onto your haunches, the weight of your middle lurching forward from the motion, swaying under you. “Stars above, mesh’la, I-I don’t know how to f-feel about this…” He trailed off, torn between seeing you swollen full and knowing damn well whatever it was could probably kill you. “You’re beautiful…”

“Ha, I knew you liked this, now c’mon and get this fucker out of me, yeah?” How the actual fuck were you supposed to do that? Your partner pulled his gloves off and went for the obvious route, sliding his long, calloused fingers up inside your sopping cunt with a curse. Three of his devious digits went up without a hitch in your overstretched state, teasing around to get a feel of you.

“I didn’t know you stretched this wide, cyare, does… does this feel good?”

You shot him a sideways glare, letting your lips turn up in a mischievous sneer. “Ye-yeah, feels amazing.” the ambrosia was still making you sex crazed, and even with your legs covered in your own arousal you could tell there was still more to give. “Din..?”

“I’m right here, buir’ika, I’ve got you.” He scootched back behind you, wrapping one arm in between your breasts and your belly to hold you in place while he hunted through your slick folds. Din had become an expert at finding that naughty patch of nerves behind your clit that had your muscles tightening around his strong hands in seconds, and you let him work your ecstasy right back up. “That’s it, mesh’la, fucking stars I can feel you, you’re close! Come for me, that’s it, that’s a good girl.”

He pressed his helmeted head against your own, burying the sharp edge of the beskar in the meat of your shoulder while you tightened around him. His other arm pressed down on your swell, and the force of your orgasm squeezed something out of your belly and through your channel, rubbing deliciously against your walls as it passed into his waiting hand.

The seed pod that practically popped out of you was a dark purple egg-shaped thing with swirls of green and blue, matching the description of the bounty puck to a tee. Mando brought the thing around for you to see, rubbing at your side encouragingly. It shimmered in the eerie light of the cavern only briefly before it withered in his hand and flaked away on the volcanic breeze. Gone.

“Um, Mando…” You whispered, feeling a weird mix of arousal and fear ooze down your thoat with the unicorn slime, “I think if we’re gonna get them back to the ship, I think they have to, um, fuck... stay…

“Absolutely not! What if they poison you? What if they break open or s-something and kill you?”

“But the bounty-”

“Fuck the bounty!” He roared, “Fuck everything! I can’t lose you, cyare! I… I won’t, especially for a handful of credits.” The desperation that clawed at his voice stung your heart, but you were determined not to fail in your mission, no matter how creepy it was.

“Din,” you hummed, trying to calm him down, “I’m ok, really! Maybe a little mess- Oh~!” The Mandalorian’s fingers slid right back up your weeping cunt, fucking into you mercilously. His rough fingers slid easily through the slick, and he made up for the lack of friction with sheer determination. “Ah! Ah Din! Din yes! Oh yes!!!” High as a kite you went, coming all over his persistent thrusts. His grip tightened on your middle, and another pod escaped your womb.

“I told you to stop trying to fight me.” Oh fuck he’s using that voice! Dark and husky right in your ear, searing electricity over your flesh and blowing up your ovaries. The voice of a hunter, the voice of an alpha, whether he knew it or not. The timbre of it vibrated so low and strong you couldn’t help but whine against the beskar pressed to your face. “You’re going to stop arguing and you’re going to be a good girl and let me fuck you empty so I can fill you right back up. You’re mine, MY riduur, and the only thing that should be inside you is me!” His command flooded with raw power, and you blasted out another pod or two at his words alone.

You were gone, soaked to the core with desire until all you could do was moan into the armor that held you steady. Bonelessly you gave him everything you had, drenching his arms and knees with your holographic slick. Determined as ever, your armored protector pumped into you, cupping your whole pussy in his palm while he stuffed you with his fingers. When you’d rocketed the fifth seed out, you nearly fainted in his arms, drained of all your energy. Your mind was fuzzy, but you could almost pick up the sound of a question making its way over the roaring blood in your ears. “Huh?”

“How many more?” You shook your head, and a furious growl reverberated against your skull. His soaked hand slid out of you and shook itself somewhere nearby, sending melted rainbow goo flying. When the arm coiled around your belly left you, you nearly toppled, but he caught you swiftly. “Drink.” Metal was pressed to your lips, and the broth you had abandoned earlier graced your syrup-coated throat. You’d never been so thirsty, chugging it down until you were coughing, and the hand that held you reached up to cup your jaw, imploring you to swallow.

When the thermos left your lips, you leaned back against your heavily armored partner, letting his beskar hold you up. You were tired of the appetizer that was his fingers, and your swollen belly hungered for the real deal. You needed him. “Dindin… please… please I want your cock!” The body behind you couldn’t go any stiffer, and you felt his clothed erection rub against the curve of your ass. “I know you’re hard, fuck me, please?”

“Not til you’ve done as you're told.” His rasping voice was edged with heavy breaths, whether from the effort of claiming your clutch or trying not to cum in his pants you couldn’t be sure, but it sounded fucking hot as hell either way. Plated arms wrapped around you again, and you were pulled backwards into his lap with your knees thrown over his legs. He prodded your belly, trying to get a count of how many more orgasms he was going to give you. “Four… maybe five…”

Din went for your clit, spinning tight, vicious circles around the engorged nub and making you scream. “D-D-Din!!! Oh yeees! F-fuck me! Please p-please I-I want you in me!” He only hummed against you, rubbing his groin up against your ass to tease you while you came again. He stuffed an ungloved hand up your shirt to find your breasts, tugging and pinching at the sensitive buds until he could feel you shaking in his grasp and pleading for his thick, girthy cock to plow into you and scramble your guts even more than they already were.

For you he was taking charge of the situation, being the anchor you needed to get through this, but behind his faceless armor he was trying not to lose his goddamn mind at the sight of you. Where you sat on him he could grind himself against your soft thighs, and even through the layers of duraweave he could easily imagine himself sliding his length through your slick heat, drenching himself in your cum. Filling that belly. “Come for me again, cyar’ika.” He had to distract himself from his perverted thoughts, though that was becoming an impossible chore. Here you were in his arms, looking like some kind of glowing goddess with your womb as heavy as it was, and he cursed the Universe for giving him exactly what he’d wished for.

Damnation flowed through his modulator at the sound of your begging. “Is that right, cyare? You want me to stuff my cock in this soaked pussy of yours? You’re gonna have to earn it.” He was conflicted about talking to you in such a way, but something about the way he was speaking to you made your muscles clench around his fingers while you moaned against his armor. “You like it when I f-fuck you like this? I know you love these hands, cyar’ika, but if you want me to give you my cock you’re gonna have to come! Come so I can fuck that beatiful belly of yours full!”

Maybe he was talking to himself more than you, but you whined in his arms nonetheless as your walls squeezed and flooded. Another hot wave of slick coated his wrist, and he tossed the seedpod away, diving right back in for the next. His strong palm kneaded at your tummy, taking another count, two, maybe three more. He knew he should still be worried, terrified even, but damn it if he wasn’t harder than beskar. His cock was straining against the inside of his pant leg, desperate to grant his own desires.

“D-Din… w-wait…” He almost didn’t hear you, the thunder of his heartbeat roaring as loud as it was in his helmet, but your wobby arm came back around and patted his leg. “Th-thermos…” The canister was at your lips in a heartbeat, but you pushed it away. “C… Catch…”

Oh! The broth was poured out into the massive puddle under you, whatever, might as well add soup to the mix. He prodded your guts once more, palpating the hard lumps that still sat inside you, two left? “Cyare, that’s it, almost done. Come on, come all over my fucking fingers so I can b-bury my cock in you where it belongs!” You cried into the armor, heat searing from where he was pressed against you to your fluttering muscles to bare down on his fingers with your impending final climax. Dark, sultry praises rasped out of his modulator, so close to your ear you could feel the heat of his breath. “That’s it, ner riduur, one more and you can have my cock. One more and I'll stuff you with my own seed. You want that? Come for me so I can fill you up and breed you like I know you want me to!”

You nodded against him, making some kind of affirmation noise, but the last pod would be the toughest to pull, and he need to make you cum your fucking brains out if he was going to get it. He stopped his thrusts to tease at your stretched walls, rubbing his calloused fingertips against your slicked core. “What was that, riddur’ika? I can’t hear you.”

“Y-yes Din, please…” You were breathless, your words dryer than a desert as they scratched their way past your chapped lips. He laughed darkly against you, reminding you that you should probably stop teaching him new tricks.

“Yes what?”

“Breed me! Din please you big fucking jerk pump me full! I wanna be full of you!”

The cold metal of the thermos was pressed to your folds, making you cry out from the sting of it, but a hot fingertip groped at your clit, spinning one last mindblowing orgasm out of you that nearly rendered you unconscious. The metallic plonk that came from between your legs told you the pod had been captured, hopefully with enough of the nectar to keep it from drying out. Hunting is stupid. Din’s dry hand dug into the flesh of your stomach, searching for any more of the bullshit you had been filled with.

“There. Are you ok, cyar’ika?” Something like a nod wobbled your head, though the darkness coming in around the edges of your eyes told you that might be a lie. “You did so well! It’s all over now, let’s get you back up to the- cyar’ika stay with me!” Limply you laid against him, ignoring his exhausted pleas to slump against the rock hard tent pushing against your ass, trying to get him to make good on his word. You’d never been so spent in your life, as if you’d squirted out your very soul. Blinking your eyes open, you hazily saw the tilted visor of your oathsworn and shot him a lecherous grin.

“You gonna fuck me now like you said you would?”

Mando was rarely as grateful for his armor as he was right now, the cold, emotionless beskar hiding his sweat soaked face and lust-drunk eyes. The way you were watching his visor made him think you could hear the cogwheels in his head spinning out of control. Yes, yes a thousand times yes! Beautiful creature of the stars, more wondrous than any constellation. Her cunt is so perfect, so warm and wet and beautiful and literally gushing with her arousal, just begging for me to fill it. To fill her, Her womb is open, ready and waiting for my seed to be planted, a fertile haven for my younglings. They’ll be so strong, born with daggers in their teeth and songs in their hearts. I want to see her filled. I need to!

“No.” His reply barked dryly through his modulator, chewing on the sound of his denial. “We need to get out of here right now in case that fucking thing decides it wants to go for round two.” The arms that held you together wrapped around your back and under your knees, lifting you gently away from the mess. Weakly you held onto his neck, barely aware of the reef as it passed you by. Staring up at him through tired, tear-washed lashes you were filled with warmth, though not the heat you had felt from the hydra’s nectar. Better than that. Still, though the pleasant sensation was thrumming in your heart and your cunt, you were a bit peeved that he wasn’t going to give you what you’d begged for.

“You suck”

“I know.” The back of his mind roared with desire from hearing you literally beg for him to fuck you full, making his cock throb painfully against his duraweave. Keep it together, Djarin. Stars above he didn’t want to, he wanted to make good on the filthy promises he had poured over you, but there was no telling what else was lurking in the reef. He had to get you to safety, get you to the ship, and maybe then he could indulge himself. Mark you as his territory from the inside. Shaky fingers dug up under the edge of his helmet, and the feel of your skin against his face made him halt. “What is it, ner cyare’se?”

“You’re… you’re a good man. And a good dad.” The Mandalorian froze solid at that one, cocking his visor at you sharply. A new pull made itself known in his chest, something tugging on his heartstrings. Your eyes were closed, having long since given up the ghost as you started to fade away, and it took massive effort for you to drag them back open to see him. “Even if you do fucking suck s’metimes. You take good care’a me, ‘n Beans too, we’re v’ry lucky to have you.” Your words slurred, and you tried to lick your lips to get them to cooperate, but only found more of the ambrosia stuck to your face. You wouldn’t be cognizant much longer. “Thank you, Din.”

His name being spoken by you was more addictive than any spice, and paired with the praise you were whispering against his metal he nearly melted right down to the ground with you. That was all he ever wanted to be. A good man, a good husband, a good buir. Honeyglow flooded his bones, soft and warm and gentle, the polar opposite of the beskar he was covered in. He felt you curl a lock of his hair around in your fingers, the gentle tug on his scalp making him rumble. The life of a hunter was fucked up, to be sure, but as long as he had you and his son, it was bearable.

You kissed at the chest plate you were pressed to, the one that hid the embodiment of your vows safely next to his heart. He pressed his helmet to your brow, and the way you hummed against him in his arms made him want to run back to the Crest where you could have some privacy and peel his armor away, give you what you had so desperately begged him for. Maybe it was the way you were laying so limply against his cuirass, but you seemed so small to him in that moment, like without him wrapped around your body you would dissipate on the volcanic breeze like the pods had. Protect her.

“You’re… welcome.”

Your fucked-out face nuzzled against him, and he couldn’t help but hug you even tighter, making the scent of you coast up under the edge of his armor. It was different, fragrant and succulent though it was probably the juice that still clung to your legs and face. The scent of you was still there, just enhanced by the aroma, made stronger. He took a deep breath of you before continuing through the reef, almost tripping over a low coral when he wavered. Wavered? Why am I wavering?

The sound of a deep, indulgent inhale caught your ears, and you flickered an eye open to see him burrowing the front of his helmet in the fabric covering your breasts. Against you his chest ballooned fully, holding the scent of you in his lungs until it stuttered through his modulator with a curse. You giggled weakly, “Smells good, don’t it?” A low grumble made the plates against you vibrate, telling you the siren scent of the anemone was seeping into his brain. “If you think it smells good you should see how good it tastes! Try some n’ then get’cher self some sloppy seconds, I know you wanna~”

“No! The last thing we need is for me to get caught up in whatever the hell pumped you full of… quarries.” The imagery of that made you chuckle, silly, stupid laughs that bounced off his armor. He was practically jogging now, though you could feel him stumble through the stoney gravel every once in a while as the perfume of the anemone grove started to sink into his synapses. “We’re almost out of here, just a little further…”

“Bah, alright party pooper. I’ll getcha when we get back aboard.”

“Sure, let’s go with that.”

You curled against him, feeling his arms go somehow even tighter. The living fortress that was your Mandalorian carried you with declining ease through the reef, and you could tell from the engine purring away under his armor that he was not nearly as composed as he sounded. One more poke, for good measure. “I love you, Din.”

“And I you, cyare.” His response came out a little cold, but only because he was desperately trying not to melt away into the same puddle of goo you had been turned into. Again you whispered his name, gliding through his ears like a song, and his heart ached to kiss you, to taste the flesh that hugged his Creed-sworn secret so well. He hadn’t heard it in so long before you came, and though his old alor knew it, it was forbidden, meaningless. But coming from you it was powerful, strong enough to bring him to his knees if they weren’t so busy wading through hell and highwater.

Vaguely you were aware of your egress, though most of it flickered in and out of your lust-lost mind. The warmth of the cavern fell away to be replaced with the cold, rushing air of the tunnel as you rocketed back up to the basin. Maybe you were dreaming of the sound of boots crunching through snow, or the soft gibbering of the founding, you couldn’t be sure, but it was pleasant nonetheless. You heard words being spoken from time to time as well, all of them muddied and faint. Maybe they were Basic, maybe Mando’a, but all of them sounded like they cared. Like every syllable and intonation humming through the iron on your cheek was spoken for you alone.

Your Mandalorian carried you diligently back to your broken chariot, trying his best to make small talk with the foundling as he floated along behind. The child seemed worried at the state of his adopted parents, And Din rattled off every reassurance that he could think of, but his legs were starting to weaken from the scent of the nectar so close to his helmet. He marched on through the glacial basin almost on autopilot until the Razor came into view. Warm air sent flurries of snow around him and his crew as the ramp fell open, and blearily he made his way inside.

He had to do something about the state of the two of you, but his knees locked and froze him to the spot, demanding he take a moment to breathe. There it was again, the fruity, summery scent of you that made his dick throb. Damn it all. Shaky steps hauled him through the cabin, and he laid you down on the little cot you both shared. He needed to get your soaked clothes off, but in order to do that he would have to get out of his own armor first. He shrugged off the helmet, though the metal had been protecting him from the temptation of you more than he realized, and the heat that gooped its way through his body from the pungency of your scent nearly threw him to the floor.

Din punched the buttons on his vambrace, closing up the foundling for the night whether he was ready for bed or not. Sorry kid. He peeled his armor away, setting the beskar aside and tossing the soaked fabric into the fresher. Next came your own clothes, and at first he worried he might wake you. Stars knew you needed the rest, but you made no indication that you even knew he was there.

Your limbs flopped like jelly while he tore off your clothes to be chucked into the fresher along with his until you were beautifully naked. Spread like a feast before him on the narrow bed, he couldn’t help but lick his lips. Little shimmers here and there told him that you were still coated in the hydra’s goo, and his first thought was to grab a washcloth to clean you up, but you stretched your lovely arms and made the splashes of color dance like melted candy on your skin, making his mouth water at the sight and giving him a much better idea. Maybe just… just a taste.

~

The faint whirring of the Crests innards caught your attention, and you came back to consciousness with agonizing slowness. You were laying on your bedroll, tucked safely away in the durasteel depths of your ship, though you weren’t sure if it was dark or if you still had your eyes closed. Warm fog settled in your head and wafted through your bones, a mindless comfort that left you blissfully numb. It could have been whatever the hydra had left in you, or more likely, it was whatever activity was going on below your waist. Your breath hitched in your throat, surprising you, but not as surprising as the stars that flashed behind your eyes. “Ah~!”

From between your legs a lusty groan shot right up your cunt and made you fist your hands in the plush fabric underneath you while you came. How is there anything left!? A broad tongue lapped at your clit, slurping away at the remnants of the nectar that coated your folds. The smooth muscle dragged itself through your slit, drinking in everything you were giving before sliding right back to that sensitive little bud to tease circles around it.

“Mesh’la.. I’m.. I’m sorry, I c-couldn’t help it, you taste so good~” The Mandalorian’s baritone rocked you to your core, and another flick of his tongue had you coming all over his face again. “P-please… forgive me.”

“F-f-forgive? Bahh… I told ya it was good, now get lickin’, bucket boy.” You tangled a hand in his curls, pushing him back down to enjoy his just desserts. His tongue fucked into you with reckless abandon, hungry and desperate for the taste of you. He dug his arms under your thighs and forced your mound as tightly up against his face as he could, and you heard him gasp for air between gulps. Exhaustion and pleasure tugged your eyes back closed, and you teetered in and out of consciousness, being brought back to the realm of the living with each fresh wave of ecstasy. Something rhythmic moved against your leg, the muscles in his shoulder thrumming away at something well out of sight. Is he jerking off?

In his hand he was going to town on his aching shaft, using the glittering goo that still flowed readily from your gloriously wet pussy to coat himself in. The coral’s effect had been burrowing into his brain stem from the moment he could smell it, calling to him like some kind of siren; but finally getting to taste it was an otherworldly experience. You had been through enough for one hunt, and though he craved release like a sex crazed animal he would happily content himself with just getting a taste of the ambrosial sweetness while you relaxed.

It hadn’t taken him long to coax the rainbow juices from your stretched folds, and even less time to slick himself with it. For a brief moment he thought he would just lap enough from your wellspring to get himself off, but soon he found himself unable to tear his face away from your delicious cunt, slurping away at the honeyed slick until he was nearly drowning in it. He dragged the colorful fluid around the tip of his cock, almost creaming himself right then and there with the warm tingly sensation that dribbled down his length.

Stars above you were juicy, wet and engorged against his frenzied tongue, though the rest of your body was boneless against him. He didn’t mind holding your legs up on his shoulders while he lovingly cleaned the nectar from the core of your body, in fact he was delighted to be of service. Lost in his indulgences he almost didn’t feel you tug on his hair, bringing his eyes up to meet your own.

“You… you can… in me… please... “ Nothing remained of your shattered mind, but you almost felt bad that he was trying to take care of himself when you were right there, ready and waiting. He shook his head against your leaking slit, dragging himself up for air to answer you, making the hazy emergency lights of the cabin sparkle in the wetness that covered his mouth and chin.

“I shouldn’t, you need to… to rest… ”

“Should’a thought about that before you started tonguin' me. Now get up here and fuck me like you said you would!”

You were starting to wonder if he liked being bossed around, because he growled against your core and yanked you back towards him, burying himself balls deep in one swift thrust. His wet mouth crashed against your own, giving you a taste of your own medicine. Fuck he wasn’t kidding, that’s delcious! He thrust into you with ragged strokes, messy and out of time. Muscular arms wrapped around your body, flooding your senses with the combined scent of him and the intoxicating perfume of the sunken grove.

Din hugged you close to his sweaty chest, digging fingers into the back of your head and the swell of your ass so he could rocket into your wonderous coils, punching the blunt tip of his cock against your tired cervix. His kisses were frantic but messy, all tongue and teeth and heated breaths as if you could do any better. You were almost surprised that you could feel him as stretched out as you were, but the spear of a Mandalorian was nothing to be scoffed at. The girthy thing rutted against your walls, bottoming out with every desperate thrust.

“Not… gonna… last… much... “ He choked on his own words, making a half dozen more ragged thrusts before blasting you full of his cum, painting your walls with his seed. The ring of muscle fluttered against his weeping tip, almost like a tongue that was greedily sucking his cum into your depths. That’s the only seeds she should be filled with, he thought blearily, my seed. His hips twitched against you, giving a few more staggered thrusts to milk himself to completion in your forgiving heat.

Din was panting, driven nearly to exhaustion by the effort of making good on his promises to fuck you senseless. Under him your own breath was stuttered, your chest crushed by his weight. He coiled his arms around you and rolled you both sideways, using the last of his strength to tuck you up under his arm and lay your head on his chest. You murmured something fondly against him as he lazily threaded his fingers through your hair, brushing it out of your face as best he could, but the soft breathing against his skin told him you probably didn’t notice. Soft kisses danced over your face, more for his enjoyment than your own, a fact made apparent by the cutest little snore in his ears. Sleep well, my love. And thank you. For everything.

He could lay there forever, with the weight of you on his chest and the hot slick sliding down his thighs, if he died right then and there he would die a very happy man. His fingers tried valiantly to run themselves down the curve of your spine, but there was no energy left in his body to power them, and he let them rest in the dip of your hips. Your breaths came slowly, a gentle rise and fall that heated his skin where you were pressed tightly against the crook of his neck. Din kissed your forehead again before tangling his limbs around you and burying his nose in your hair. Tomorrow we can get the exterior fixed, the inside is warm enough for now.

A gentle smile tugged at the edges of his lips, making his whiskers catch your hair. And maybe if it’s too cold for the foundling, she’ll keep him in her shirt again. Din couldn’t help but hum at the thought, you all cute and round, even if it was only temporary. By marriage you were a buir to his foundling, as truly as you would be if you had sworn the Creed, but the thought of you carrying his own flesh-and-blood ad’ika was the guiltiest pleasure he could imagine. Now that he knew what you would look like all full and heavy he could more easily indulge those devious thoughts. It was probably wrong to recall the image of you laying on that vibrant nest of tentacles, glowing and radiant and full. And in need. Needing me to care for her.

He wouldn’t admit it, and he knew you were tough enough to take care of yourself as long as you didn’t go sliding down any mysterious chasms, but he loved being needed by you. He loved that the name you had screamed for in that sunken grove was his, that you needed him to rescue you, needed him to pull the pods from your belly. Needed him to breed you. He could hear you in his mind again, you desperately begging him to fill your womb with his warriors, but you had only done so while drunk on the hydra’s wine. Was there any truth to it? Probably not, he’d practically demanded that you beg for it.

But what if there was?

Tired fingers pulled you impossibly closer to him, as if to invite you to sleep in his ribcage, curled up next to his heart. You grumbled in your sleep, murmuring something about tater tots before letting loose a beastly snore. The Mandalorian rolled his eyes, that’s her, that’s my mesh’la, my cyare, my riduur.

And maybe, when the time is right, when the bounties have been collected and the universe doesn’t seem so hostile. Maybe when we find another convert, or even just start one of our own. Someday, maybe...

Maybe I can call her my buir’ika as well.

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[ura-writes]

Trampolinist - Part Two

Part summary: You encounter a few strange teenagers, discover blown-up ruins, and find out about who caused them.

Warnings: mild anxiety, thoughts of murder, blood, threats, lots of swears

A/N - I got a good few requests asking for a taglist for Trampolinist, so here it is! Just ask and you shall be added!

@lemonmochitea

@dad-ee-drea

@victoria-a567

Also, this is non-canon compliant, but only by a bit. I may change a few small details.

Hope y’all enjoy!

(Also, if you can find the movie reference I put in here, then kudos to you!)

——

A lingering curiosity sits in the back of your head for the rest of the week, not quelled by any amount of Bedwars or Skywars, which leave you exhausted in the evenings.

Even your dreams hold inquisitiveness.

How lovely.

Eventually you have to go back to your home world to check on your animals, repair your tools and the like. It’s tedious work, but nothing you can’t handle.

Boredom eventually sets in.

It’s unnerving. You never get bored of combat, of competition between your fellow players and teammates, but here you are, eyeing the list of servers on your grid.

Only two people are on the server at the moment, their names not available for whatever reason. You’d prefer to pop on when there were no people online, mostly to scope out the server, but you’ll take only having to deal with two people.

Hopefully they’re adults and not kids that recently learned to use portals.

You stick your pointer finger out, curl it like you’re dragging it down a wall; a ripple starts where your finger lands, slowly following its path downwards. It rips a hole through the fabric of woven servers, creating a direct link to the Dream SMP. You just hope that no one attempts to close the portal, as opening one in the first place takes a good deal of energy and effort.

A sight of spruce trees and misplaced dirt greets your vision through the rip in reality.

An odd spawnpoint, but whatever. You’re not one to judge.

In the corner of your eye, where chat normally sits, a message pops up.

TommyInnit: who the fcuck

TommyInnit: what

TommyInnit: NEWY PERFHSAON

Ranboo: ah yes, perfhsaon

TommyInnit: shut the fuck n up

You chuckle at the messages rapidly crowding the chat, watching them fade idly while trying to find a way out of the really weird spawnpoint, which is, for some reason, walled off by a combination of dirt, wood and stone haphazardly placed down, as if in a hurry.

Your efforts do not go unrewarded as you spot a section of the wall that sits lower than the rest, low enough to climb over if you try hard enough.

Perfect.

Feet hit the ground rapidly as you get a running start towards the wall, scrambling upward after you jump. You fall almost immediately off the other side.

“Ouch.”

“That looked like that hurt.”

You glance upward to meet heterochromic eyes, red and green contrasting with the curious face split in half by its black and white sides. A tail flicks behind the person as their crown slips a bit down their head.

“Wh—the fuck?”

The figure laughs at your reaction, offering a gloved hand out to help you off the ground. Hesitantly, you accept, being pulled up easily, and that’s when you realize that he’s a lot taller than you thought.

“Jesus, you’re tall,” you comment idly, brushing yourself off. “Thanks, by the way.”

“No problem. I’m Ranboo.”

You introduce yourself with your tag, which elicits a hum of recognition from him, much to your pleasant shock and surprise.

“You’re the person that Dream invited, aren’t you?”

“In the flesh.”

He laughs at your quip at him, smiling with sharp fangs exposed to the midday sunlight. No point in judging a person on their (potentially, anyway) monstrous features.

“Well, you probably need a tour—“

He’s quickly interrupted by a loud “hey!”

“Oh great,” you mutter, crossing your arms. Ranboo looks a bit sheepish at your cocked eyebrow and slightly irritated expression, scratching his bi-colored hair.

“That’s Tommy. He’s uh… well, Tommy.”

A teenager wearing a red and white shirt and jeans with battered sneakers comes sprinting out of the nearby forest, coming to a halt just in front of you.

“New person!”

“Yeah, and what are you, the gremlin that got fed after midnight?”

The kid sputters out a few protests against being called a gremlin, sprinkling a good few swears in his jumbled sentences that mostly consist of rambles.

When Tommy gets his bearings, he eyes your tag, squinting at it suspiciously before his eyes widen in recognition.

“You’re the bastard that beat the shit out of me in Bedwars! Get ove’ here—“

One of Ranboo’s arms shoots out to grab the lanky teenager with ease to stop his potential assault on you. You just brush your nails off on your shirt.

“Oi! Lemme a’em!”

“No, Tommy, remember what Tubbo said?” Ranboo lectures, tail flicking in annoyance, eyes trained on him. “Remember?”

“You’re one to talk about rememberin’.”

Ranboo cocks an eyebrow.

“No punchin’ people we don’t know unless they’ve hurt us…” Tommy grumbles. “Can ya lemme go now?”

Ranboo agrees, letting go of his shirt and summoning a journal and quill to write something down in, muttering that he’s almost out of ink.

“Anyway, how about that tour now?”

You smile at him.

Maybe you’ll like this place.

——

“...and this is L’Manburg… or what’s left of it, anyway. It’s still being rebuilt.”

“How’d it get destroyed?” you ask him. “It takes a lot of TNT, Withers and dedication to destroy a city this big.”

I should know.

Tommy eyes Ranboo.

“Hey, it’s your city. I’m not explaining it,” Ranboo defends against the wordless accusation. Tommy exhales with a groan and begins his explanation.

“Wil-Wilbur, my brother, went a bit insane a few months back, blew it all up with Technoblade’s help. Wil’s… well, he’s dead.” Tommy sounds indifferent about the death, much to your surprise.

You nod absentmindedly, setting your eyes on a slightly obscured poster that flaps in the wind. When you get close enough to pin it down it reads:

Wanted: Dead or Alive. High Treason, Inciting Violence, Unlawful Use of Explosives, Extreme Terrorism.

Reward: See Authorities

Below that is a well-painted picture of a man you somewhat recognize, wearing a red cape, a crown, full enchanted Netherite armor and carrying an axe that seems to shimmer in the light.

Technoblade. You’ve had a few run-ins with him playing Bedwars and Skywars, even teaming up with him a few times. He always seemed nice enough, and certainly a damn good sword fighter. He always knew when to run and when to stand and fight, when to attack and when to defend.

“What did he do?”

Ranboo starts to speak, but Tommy interrupts him.

“Blew the rest o’ this place up. Bastard ran after that.” Tommy all but spits the words out of his mouth, like they’re acid or venom. “Fookin’ coward.”

Well, I wouldn’t call ‘knowing when to run’ cowardice, but we’ll pretend I agree, child.

“No one knows where he is now,” Ranboo adds. “Except Phil, of course. But he’s pretty much silent about it. Won’t give up a word of information.”

Shouldn’t be that hard to find one man, you muse to yourself. Bet I could.

“Well, I’ll let you know if I find anything out,” you lie with a smile plastered on your lips. “Y’know, as a sort of gift to you as the newest member of the server.”

Hah, as if.

“We’ll hold you to that.”

You nod and say your goodbyes, walking towards the central nether portal while keeping an eye out for an ender chest so you can get some of your stuff. You know the admin will take your elytra away if it so much as comes into contact with the server’s air, so you decide not to risk it.

Spotting one, you make a small noise of triumph and dart over there, grabbing the shulker with your stuff in it, transferring it to your inventory with a practiced ease.

Armor adorns your figure, enchanted Netherite striking an imposing silhouette against the blackstone beneath your feet. You twirl your sword with a grin.

Now to find Technoblade.

——

Turns out, finding a piglin hybrid is not easy.

You scoured the Nether for any sign of him, any trace of fabric, of a broken pickaxe, hell even a piece of iron he may have held. The ability you hold as a Jumper not only allows you to jump servers, but also allows you to find people if you have something of theirs.

Nothing. Zip. Nada. Zilch. Zero. Nil. Absolutely jack shit.

How can one man be so difficult to track down?

Just as you’re about to give up, a barrage of curses at the tip of your tongue, a glint of iron catches your eye.

Odd.

Hopping over a cluster of Netherrack and scaring off a few baby Striders, you see a small circle of iron sitting in a pile of red dust, looking dented and beat up.

You huff and brush the dust off of it, titling your head to the side when it reveals itself.

A compass, pointing in one direction, working even in the Nether.

Standing up, you pocket it and head to the nearest portal, jumping through to the other side only to grab the compass out of your pocket as you walk to who-knows-where. It still points in the same direction as before, only moving when you do.

An irregularity in the metal against your hand inspires you to flip the compass over to look at the back.

What lies there makes you smirk.

Technoblade’s cabin. Phil’s compass.

This might be easier than you initially thought.

:)

[makoodlesarchive]

you wear them well

you know what this is, my friends? pure indulgence. 7.1k words of total, pure indulgence. enjoy xx

pairing: bakugou katsuki x reader word count: 7.1k warnings: NSFW, unsafe sex, panty theft, bakugou in panties tag list: @allywritesimagines​   @tobiodel-ay-ee-hoo​

Tip Jar!

                                  »»————-　♡　————-««

You’re in somewhat of an embarrassing predicament.

The boxer briefs lie on your bed, looking painfully innocuous. There are at least eight pairs. You have no idea where they’ve come from.

Well, that’s not entirely true. You know that you picked them up accidentally in the laundry room when you were collecting your own load of clean laundry, and brought them back to your dorm only to finally notice them when you were putting your stuff away. The problem is, you don’t know whose they are.

Whoever owns the underwear must have taken yours by mistake -- the boxers had been in a generic mesh laundry bag that was the exact same as yours, so it’s easy to see how the mix up had happened. Still though. You’re in an awkward situation. Because your bag had contained all of your fanciest, most delicate underwear, and you’re mortified at the thought of whoever owns these boxers opening the bag up to find all that lace and silk. All that fancy underwear had cost so much money though, and you really wanted them back. How the hell were you supposed to find whoever had them now?

Your dilemma preoccupies your thoughts for the rest of the day.  It’s all you can think about as you lie in bed trying to go to sleep.

By the time the next morning rolls around, you resign yourself to just having to ask the guys in the dorm if they may have taken your underwear by accident. You try to work yourself up to it when everyone is clamouring over breakfast, feeling like you might be able to play it off casually enough that it’s not a big deal. But everyone is yelling and laughing and super hyper despite the early hour, and you chicken out. Maybe over breakfast isn’t the best time to ask, anyway.

During class, you can’t stop your eyes roving over the guys. None of them look as though they’re preoccupied with the thought of the stolen ladies underwear they procured as of yesterday, but then again, how would you know?

By the end of the day, you’re reasonably certain that you can cross Mineta off your suspect list -- there’s no way the little pervert would ever be able to keep his damn mouth shut if he had found a laundry bag full of fancy panties, and he’s been quiet all day. You cross Kaminari off the list for the same reason, although with a little less certainty. Other than that, you have absolutely no idea. No one had mentioned missing laundry at all today.

That night you lie in bed and frown at the ceiling. This was ridiculous. You wanted your fancy panties back now! Besides, you had accidentally taken eight pairs of boxers from someone. The Calvin Klein waistband told you that they weren’t cheap, either. Surely they needed those back by now?

The next morning, you’re antsy. You know that your classmates have noticed by the concerned looks that Uraraka keeps shooting you, but you just can’t get your mind off the underwear situation. The day passes in much the same way as the one before it had; not a mention of underwear to be had anywhere. You’re starting to get annoyed. You plan to mention the situation to the girls the morning after, but end up chickening out when the time comes. You can’t help but overthink everything; it’s been three days since the underwear mix-up, which is surely too long for you to have waited to tell anyone. Why didn’t you just tell them when it had first happened? You could kick yourself.

Nearly a week passes like this. For a few days, at least, schoolwork is the priority in your head. It’s nice while it lasts, to not have your every waking moment filled with thoughts of your missing panties. Unfortunately, as soon as the weekend hits and you find yourself with free time on your hands, those thoughts come back with a vengeance. It’s literally driving you insane, so you do what you always do when you’re frustrated since you started in UA -- you head to the training room to work out your frustrations.

It’s a Saturday evening, so you’re not alone in the training room, which is to be expected. Kirishima and Bakugou are having what looks like a sit up competition by the mats, and Midoriya and Uraraka are spotting each other by the bench press machine. Usually in the evenings the training room would be a little busier, but you guess everyone else is taking the opportunity to rest and relax. You wish you could do that yourself, but you desperately need to expel all of your frustrated energy before you can even think about trying to unwind. Uraraka gives you a wave and a smile, but seems to understand that you’re hoping to be left alone as you make a beeline for the treadmill. You smile back as you pop your earphones in and set up your workout playlist, before setting the treadmill to your ideal settings.

The run you set off on is a little harder and faster than what you would usually do, but your main aim is to tire yourself out. You lose yourself to the steady rhythm of your feet pounding against the rapidly moving surface of the treadmill. You completely lose track of time as your breaths start to come faster and your chest starts to heave with exertion.

After an indeterminable amount of time, a shrieking laugh sounds over the sound of the upbeat music blaring in your ears, cutting through the hazy focus that’s settled over your mind. You look up to see that Bakugou has Kirishima in a headlock and appears to be swearing loudly and rapidly at him. Despite the fact that his face is rapidly turning red from the arm wrapped around his throat, Kirishima is still giggling. A quick glance around shows that Midoriya and Uraraka have disappeared, and you wonder how long you’ve been running for.

Kirishima is saying something, but his words are drowned out by your music. Whatever he’s said seems to appease Bakugou to some extent, because he reluctantly lets him go. As soon as he’s free of his friend’s grip, Kirishima bounces backwards and throws his hands up in the air in a conciliatory gesture, though his grin is still wickedly mischievous. You watch his mouth move again as he speaks, but this time his eyes cut towards you.

You blink in surprise, and turn the treadmill off as you remove one of your earbuds. “What’s up?” you ask curiously. As the treadmill slows to a stop and you step off, the fatigue catches up to you and your legs go a little wobbly. You grab a hold of the handlebars of the machine and hope they didn’t notice.

Kirishima looks like he’s still smothering back laughs, and Bakugou has gone a curious shade of red -- you guess he must be close to an imminent explosion. Kirishima is really poking at a bear, here. He seems to know that though, because his next move is to shrug exaggeratedly and say, “Oh, nothing! I’m gonna head out, I’ll see you guys tomorrow!”

“Uh,” you return his wave as he heads out the door, a little bewildered by the jaunty bounce in his step, “Bye, Kirishima.”

Bakugou just grunts and turns back to the weights he was lifting. Your eyes linger on him for a moment, partly because you’re trying to work out that interaction and partly because when he squats with the barbell over his head his back muscles flex and ripple in a way that’s damn near mesmerising. You’ve harboured an embarrassing crush on him ever since your very first year in UA, and every time you think you’re over it you see him sweaty and perfect and you’re proven very, very wrong. Bakugou is obnoxiously attractive, a realisation that feels like a punch in the head every goddamn time you see him.

You should definitely just go, because you’re tired now and there’s no reason for you to stay. But your movements are stupidly slow as you gather up your things and watch Bakugou out of the corner of your eye. You wonder if you should say hi or something to him, but he seems pretty focused on his workout and you figure that you’ll just annoy him. Bakugou’s got a better hold on his temper than he had back in first year, but it’s probably better to just leave it.

Bakugou squats low, weight lifted high over his head. Your gaze trails over his biceps, his muscled shoulders, his thick thighs. His ass. Damn.

You look away, cursing yourself for being a pervert. Then you pause. Your eyes slowly trail back to him. It takes several long seconds of staring before you realise that you’re really not imagining it.

Bakugou’s sweatpants have pulled tight over his round ass as he sinks down further into his squat, and his waistband has been pulled down. Not much, only a little, but enough to see the waistband of his underwear poking out.

Except they aren’t his underwear. They’re yours.

You’d recognise that lace anywhere -- you had bought that pair a few months ago, when you were having a bad day and just wanted to feel pretty. They were your favourite! The front was all white silk embroidered with delicate blue cornflowers, turning to elaborate lace over the hips and the back. And now Bakugou was wearing them.

Bakugou was wearing your favourite panties.

You turn away quickly, staring stupidly into space as your mind struggles to work through this particular revelation. The underwear you had taken belonged to Bakugou. Bakugou had accidentally taken yours. Bakugou is currently wearing yours. What the fuck? What are you supposed to do now? You bite your lip hard as you think. You could leave now, pretend you didn’t see anything, and then ask Bakugou as casually as possible tomorrow whether your underwear had gotten mixed up with his in the laundry. That would surely be the best way to avoid a scene.

But then again… your gaze drifts back to Bakugou. He’s already hitched his sweatpants back into place; he must be paranoid of being caught wearing panties, but for some reason that hasn’t stopped him from wearing them to workout.

Your mouth has apparently made its mind up before your brain has, because you’re calling out “Bakugou?” before you can even finish the thought.

“What?” he grunts without turning around. He’s finished with his weights for now, apparently, and is studiously putting them back where they belong. You drop your stuff back on the ground, phone clattering loudly, and begin to approach him. He doesn’t seem to notice until you’re right beside him, and then he pauses in what he’s doing and squints at you suspiciously. “What d’you want?”

“I have a question.” you say stupidly. He looks so good this close, and the knowledge that he’s wearing your underwear is making you feel… oddly warm.

“A question.” Bakugou repeats, standing tall and rolling his shoulders. His tone makes it clear that he’s humouring you, though he looks a little amused. “Alright, ask.”

The problem is, now that you’ve been given permission to speak, you can’t think of what to say. You bite your lip hard, and your gaze moves slowly over his chest and shoulders as you think. Bakugou is surprisingly patient, and stays quiet despite his shifting feet, which reveal his restlessness. Your eyes land on his bicep, and once again your mouth moves without conscious thought. “Can I touch you?”

“Hah?” Bakugou’s exclamation is jarringly loud in the quiet that had fallen over the two of you. “What the fuck kinda question is that?”

Now would be the ideal time to backtrack to save yourself from total humiliation, but instead you blurt “Please?” even as you feel your face flush hard.

He’s staring at you in mild disbelief, but it’s slowly being taken over by something else. “You wanna… touch me.” he repeats, his own gaze mimicking yours as it begins to rove over your body. Whatever he sees has him raising an eyebrow -- you can’t work out whether it’s a positive reaction or not. “Alright. Go ahead.”

Your hand twitches. Your instinct is to reach straight for his sweatpants, but you don’t want to scare him off. Instead you do what you’ve been wanting to do for ages anyway, and run your hand over his chest. His pectoral muscles are stupidly big, and you can’t help but be absolutely enraptured by them. He’s wearing a baggy tank top with long cut outs at the arms, and when you run your hands over his chest the tank top shifts to reveal one of his nipples.

You look away quickly, worried that you’ll do something stupid and make him mad at you, but when you look up at him you see that he’s watching you. His eyes are so intense that it feels like his gaze alone is about to light you on fire. He doesn’t look mad at all.

‘Fuck it’, you think, and reach up to run your thumb over the soft pink skin of his nipple. It pebbles under your touch, and his body jerks.

“Oi, where the fuck do you think you’re touching?” he snaps at you. His voice is as harsh as ever, but you don’t miss the way he leans into your hand.

“Tell me to stop, and I will.” you say. Your voice is a little breathier than you expected, and you see Bakugou’s eyes narrow when he notices too.

“You gettin’ off on this, you little pervert?” he growls, and you gasp a little as his hand lands right on your ass. He pulls you into him, and your hips meet his. You can feel his hardness through his sweatpants, and you lick your lips as your thumb circles his nipple.

“Bakugou,” you say softly, and watch enraptured as he leans down closer to your face, “How can you call me a pervert when you’re the one wearing ladies’ underwear?”

Bakugou freezes inches from your lips. You watch his throat bob as he swallows. “What,” he says, voice rough and frighteningly quiet, “did you just fuckin’ say?”

“Did you think I wouldn’t recognise my own panties?” your voice is nearly a whisper, but in the end it doesn’t matter how softly you say it because Bakugou is already pulling back, a blank look settling over his face.

“What the fuck are you trying to say, huh?” His lips pull up in a snarl, but his cheeks are flushing red and you realise that you’re going to have to be very careful about how you approach this.

Your hand is still resting on his chest, and you allow it to trace carefully down to his stomach, coming to a stop at his navel. “I bet you look real good in them.” That’s not really what you had been planning to say, but you’ve said it now and you meant it, so what can you do? Throwing caution to the wind, you continue with, “Can I see?”

Bakugou is breathing hard through his nose, and his gaze flickers from your face to the door of the training room. When your gaze drops, you see that his hands are clenched into fists at his side. Suddenly worried that you’ve misread the situation, you hurry to say “Ah, if it makes you uncomfortable, we can forget about this. You don’t have to-” you break off as Bakugou shoves past you and makes a beeline for the door. “Oh.”

Oh god. You totally overstepped his boundaries. You turn away, mortified and unable to watch him actually leave. Shit. How were you ever going to look at him again?  

“Oi. Come the fuck over here.”

You startle as you turn around; you thought he had left. “What?” you say stupidly.

Bakugou scowls at you. He looks… a little constipated, honestly, as though he has to force the words out. “Come. Over. Here.” He over enunciates the words, his lips pulling up enough that you can see the pink of his gums even from this distance.

Your eyes dart from Bakugou to the door, confused, before it clicks. He was locking the door. “Oh.” you breathe at the realisation, “Okay.” you move over to him quickly, then chew on your lip as you watch him expectantly.

He stares back at you, nostrils flared, and you realise that he doesn’t know how to proceed. Does he need instructions? You have to bite down hard on your bottom lip to stifle your nervous giggles, because you’re pretty certain that they won’t be very well received. He just needs a little guidance. “Take off your shirt.” You coach, reaching out to pull at the hem of his tank top.

“Hah? Don’t tell me what to fuckin’ do.” he snaps, even as he tugs the shirt over his head and lets it drop to the floor. The muscles of his chest are mouth-wateringly perfect, and your hands gravitate to his pecs almost mindlessly. You keep expecting him to snarl or snap at you, but he’s being… almost suspiciously quiet. Your eyes dart continuously up to his face, searching for any sign that this has gone too far, but he just stares back at you with that intimidatingly intense gaze. Your hands trail delicately down his stomach, over his bellybutton, until your fingers are brushing against a fuzzy blond happy trail. You pause and glance up to his face again, but this time you’re met with a scowl. “Where’s all your fuckin’ confidence from a few minutes ago, huh? You think I’m gonna break if you touch me?”

You’re not an idiot; for all of Bakugou’s harshness and his brash attitude, he wasn’t very good at hiding his nervousness. You smile at him, but don’t move your hands to where he obviously wants them. “Maybe I don’t want to touch you until you take your pants off.”

Bakugou’s nostrils flare and his jaw clenches, and it looks for a moment like he’s about to start yelling. Instead though, he steps back and shucks his sweatpants so quickly he nearly overbalances. The glare he shoots you lets you know that he will probably try to kill you if you laugh at his eagerness, but laughing is the furthest thing from your mind as you take in the sight of him.

“Oh, shit.” you breathe. You thought that you were prepared for how he’d look, but you were so, so wrong.

“If you fuckin’ dare to laugh-”

You hush him reflexively, barely aware of what you’re doing. “Just let me look.”

Bakugou is built like a Greek god, and even on his worst days he looks like a professional model. But right now? Covered in a thin layer of sweat from his workout, smelling like burnt sugar, his cheeks flushed red from insecurity and his grey sweatpants pooling around his ankles? He’s never looked more attractive. And that’s not even taking into account the panties. They’re hitched high on his hips, the pale lace laying stark against his tanned muscles. The white satin and little blue embroidered flowers look so dainty, incongruous with the hard cock that’s straining so hard against the fabric that the elastic waistband is pulling away from his skin. They fit a little strangely, because the two of you are definitely not the same underwear size, but the fact that he was apparently so determined to wear them under his clothes despite the ill fit just makes it so much hotter.

“Will you stop fucking staring-” he cuts himself off abruptly, because you’ve just fallen to your knees in front of him, still staring at the sight of his reddened cock leaking all over your pretty satin panties.

“Hush.” you say, and grin up at the furious scowl growing on his face, “I’m enjoying the view.” Before he starts mouthing off again, you reach out and drag your finger slowly along the length of his cock through the silky material of the panties. He makes a noise that sounds like it’s been punched out of him, and his cock visibly twitches at your touch. You stroke your hand down the front of the panties, relishing the feel of his hardness through the soft material. There’s a wet patch right at the top of his cock where he must have been leaking precum, and you can feel yourself cream in your own panties a little bit.

“You gonna just look, or are you gonna do something about it?” Bakugou snarls, as if that will distract you from the way his hips just humped into the air looking for some kind of friction.

“I want to suck you off.” you admit, nosing your face along the bulge distending the front of the panties.

“Yes.” Bakugou says. His voice is a little strained, but his hand is firm as it grips the back of your neck and tries to pull you closer.

“But first,” you place your hands firmly on his thighs to stop him from pulling your face straight into his dick, but then you have to fight not to get totally distracted because shit, did he shave for this? “I have a question.”

“Hah?” the pure irritation in his voice is practically palpable, but he stops pushing at your head. “What do you fuckin-”

“Is this the first time you’ve done this?” you ask, fingers dancing over the shape of his cock and drawing featherlight shapes over him, “Or have you been wearing my panties every day since you found them?”

“I didn’t know they were yours.” he snaps at you as he presses his hips forward into your hand, trying to force you to increase the pressure. Your face lights up at that, because that was basically just a confession that he in fact had been wearing your panties, and he seems to realise it because his face flushes and he starts snarling again. “What kind of fucking dumbass leaves their underwear behind like that anyway, huh? It’s not like it’s my fault my underwear bag was fucking taken, and your stupid bag was the only thing left. You literally took all my underwear, you asshole, what else was I supposed to wear-”

He’s still making excuses as though he thinks you mind, or like he thinks that you’re going to make fun of him. “Bakugou,” you say quietly, slipping his cock out of the confines of the panties, “It’s fine. You look better in them than I do.”

That, at least, seems to silence him temporarily. Or maybe it’s your hands on his dick, and the way that you’re mouthing along the bottom of it. His breaths are coming in little puffs, and you would never have believed that Bakugou Katsuki could be cute if you hadn’t seen him like this. Well, maybe cute is the wrong word. It doesn’t quite encompass the outright sexiness of his half-lidded eyes, his tensed stomach muscles, the way his balls poke out from behind the lace. He’s getting impatient though, you can tell by the aggrieved sighs he’s letting out above you. You decide to be kind and to put him out of his misery, so you lick a stripe from root to tip and then take him into your mouth and give two gentle sucks.

Bakugou makes another one of those punched out sounds, his hips rocking a little further into your mouth. If your mouth wasn’t full, you would have smiled at his reaction. But then his hand comes down and lands in your hair, and he’s pushing his dick further into your mouth with a groan. His cock hits the back of your throat and you just about manage to swallow back a gag, but then you pull back, chest heaving, and scowl at him. “Hey, no pulling my hair. You’ll get it all tangled, and I am not in the mood to deal with that.”

The little shit has the nerve to laugh at that. “Who the fuck cares about a few tangles?”

Your scowl turns into a glare, and you pull back even further away from his dick, which is standing extremely hard and shiny from your spit. “That’s easy for you to say, you don’t have to untangle -!”

“Fine, fine, fine!” Bakugou snaps quickly, apparently realising that you’re actually going to stop if he doesn’t start listening. He removes his hand from your hair and awkwardly tries to pat it back into place, before giving up and settling it at the back of your neck instead. “Better?”

You hum noncommittally as you take him into your mouth again, but honestly, the weight of his guiding hand against the nape of your neck feels real good. You bob your head and take him to the back of your throat, then pull back before you gag, laving your tongue along the underside of his dick. You suckle at the tip like it’s a lollipop, and look up to watch him throw his head back and groan. You breathe hard through your nose as his hand guides you back down on his cock, until it’s pressing into the back of your throat once more.

Bakugou moans like a goddamn pornstar everytime you suck on him, and it has your thighs clenching together hard. You can feel your own panties getting progressively wetter and stickier as you rock your own hips into thin air and moan a little around Bakugou’s length. Seriously, you don’t think he even realises what he’s doing -- his eyes are closed and his head is tipped back as he ruts into your mouth, panting and groaning and utterly unaware of how fucking hot he looks right now. You don’t think you’ve ever been so turned on in your life, and you can’t stop the whimper that bubbles out of your throat as you slip your hand into your own sweatpants to rub at yourself, desperate for some kind of relief.

“What are you doing?” Bakugou’s voice sounds like he’s been gargling gravel -- it’s gone sinfully deep, and the sound of it shoots liquid heat straight to your core.

“Huh?” you say as you pull off his dick, thoughts a little hazy in your arousal. A strand of saliva stretches from your mouth to his cock, but you don’t notice it until it snaps and dribbles down your chin. “What d’you mean?”

You’re not expecting Bakugou to kneel down with you so you’re both facing each other, and it’s even more of a surprise when he sticks his hand down your pants and shoves your own hand aside so that he’s got unrestricted access to your pussy. “Unhh.” you moan out, dropping your head forward against his chest as he runs his fingers experimentally along your slit. You’re so damn horny that even the slightest touch has you rutting your hips forward into his hand, desperate for him to touch you more, harder.

“Shit,” he says, and that gravelly voice and hot breath right in your ear sends a shudder all the way down your body. “You’re so fuckin’ wet, what the fuck? You’re soaked. What got you like this, huh? Was it me in the panties? Or was it sucking my cock?”

You gasp and let out a strangled moan as he finds your clit and begins to rub messy circles around it with his thumb as his middle and ring finger dips inside you. “Bakugou-” you gasp, clenching around his fingers with a choked hiccup as he presses on your clit.

“Why are you so shy all of a sudden?” his voice is taunting, mocking, as though his own cock isn’t flexing and leaking precome all over the panties.

“Both,” you gasp out, humping your pussy into his hand as he alternates between rolling your clit between his fingers and pushing inside you to feel up your internal walls. “It was- it was both.”

“Fuck.” Bakugou hisses, and then he’s tearing his hand out of your pants and pulling at the hem of your joggers. He’s too aggressive at trying to tear them off though, and they get stuck around your knees. You bite your lip as he snarls at them, torn between helping him and laughing at him. You decide on the former, seeing as how laughing at him will probably result in him trying to fight you, and you really just want to get laid, like, now. So you help him out and wiggle out of your pants, kicking them aside and then shucking your own panties and throwing them in the same direction.

Bakugou is staring avidly at the place between your legs, and if you weren’t so turned on you might be embarrassed. As it was, you could barely think straight, so when Bakugou sits back on his ass and spreads his legs, your heart nearly fucking stops and all shame flies out the goddamned window. The panties are pretty much ruined, covered in precum and stretched out of place in the front where his cock has been distending them all day. His balls are too big to be contained by the flimsy silk, and they’re lolling out by his thigh. His cock is reddened with arousal and leaking from where it’s standing straight up on it’s own, the panties shoved down to give it space. His hair is sweat-damp and stuck to his forehead in places, his eyes burning as his own gaze gives you the same stare-down treatment that you’re giving him.

Then he raises his hand, and gestures to his lap. “Hop on.” he says, and you don’t think you’ve ever moved so fast in your life as you scramble up on him.

Once you’re in his lap his hands clamp down on your waist and guide you to grind your bare pussy against his exposed dick. “Ugh, fuck,” you gasp, grabbing his shoulders for balance as the tip of his dick presses against your clit. “Come on, just-”

“Yeah, yeah.” Bakugou shrugs off your impatient prompting, grinning into the bare skin of your shoulder where your shirt has slipped. He pulls back when your grinding starts to get desperate and starts to push the panties down.

“No!” you blurt, stilling his hands. He freezes, his eyes searching your face urgently. The flicker of panic in his eyes makes you realise that he thinks you’re trying to stop him from going any further and that he’s trying to figure out what he’s done wrong. You hurry to elaborate, growing hot from embarrassment as you murmur out, “Leave them on.”

His eyes widen, and you swear you can feel his dick pulse against you. “Okay.” he says roughly, his voice strained. He pushes the elastic waistband down and tucks it under his balls, but otherwise leaves them on. “You gonna take a seat or what?”

You laugh a little breathlessly at his attitude, because it seems like some things never change, but shuffle forward and raise yourself up on your knees until you feel the tip of his length brushing against the lips of your pussy. You sigh softly at the feeling, and reach down to steady his dick as you rock your entrance back and forth a few times, nice and slowly.

“Fuck, you’re dripping all over me.” Bakugou grunts, his hips thrusting shallowly in his attempts to coax himself inside of you despite your hand holding him steady.

You have a feeling that he’s exaggerating, but it’s true that you’re ridiculously aroused right now. You dip your hips down and close your eyes at the feeling of the tip of his cock pushing inside you. You had planned to go slow, but before you know it Bakugou’s hands are clamping down on your hips and he’s pulling you down his dick until he’s fully seated inside of you and you’re sat flush against his thighs. You’re gasping at the stretch, the feeling of fullness, barely conscious of the rocking movements of your hips.

Bakugou lets out a long, low moan right in your ear as his hips grind up to match your little movements. “Fuck,” he hisses, his hands so tight on your hips you’re certain they’re leaving bruises, “Fuck, you’re so hot inside, so wet-”

You feel yourself tighten up and clench around him at his words, and the two of you moan at the same time. “Shit.” you breathe, and lift yourself up a few inches so you can drop back down. A few more times, and you’ve established a steady pace of fucking yourself on his cock.

Even as you’re riding him though, you can’t help but look down to admire the view. The panties highlight the way the muscles in his ass ripple when he strains his hips forwards to meet yours. “Fucking hell,” he says suddenly, and you look away from the view to meet his gaze. He’s frowning at you, looking confused even as his forehead creases in pleasure. “Are you still fuckin’ looking at them?”

“Sorry,” you whine, sounding totally pathetic as you grind desperately against him, trying to get his cock to hit just right, “You just look so- so-” you gasp as he hits the spot inside you that has your legs going weak, and you lose track of the thought.

“So what?” Bakugou growls out. He’s obviously clued into the fact that he’s hitting a sweet spot inside you, because his thrusts become so precise that he just about has you squealing on his dick.

“So- so pretty!” you blurt. It’s not the word you had been planning on saying, and judging by the look on Bakugou’s face it’s not the word he had been expecting either.

“What?”

Fuck. Looks like damage control is definitely necessary. “In a manly way! Pretty in a- fuck - in a manly way!”  you groan out, internally cursing yourself -- you fucking sound like Kirishima.

“Yeah?” Bakugou asks, and the fucker is laughing at you!  “So pretty that you can’t even tear your damn eyes away while I’m fucking you?”

You groan, partly from arousal and partly from embarrassment. “Shut up,” you say, and then his eyes are flashing and he’s surging up. A yelp is driven out of you as you land on your back, Bakugou’s hands slamming down on either side of your head as he looms over you. He’s grinning down at you, sharp and wild as his gaze tracks steadily over your face, chest, and down your body.

For the first time since this has started, you’re self-conscious enough to start getting a little insecure. One arm comes up to cross over your chest as you start to get embarrassed under his wandering eyes. It was intimidating being naked under him when he was pretty much physically flawless, and the sudden fear that he’s disappointed by how you look is crushing. Your other arm goes down to try and block his view of your stomach and pussy, but you’ve barely done so before Bakugou has grabbed both your arms and pulled them away.

“Bakugou-” you start to protest, squirming a little on his dick as he presses your arms over your head and holds them there by your wrists.

“Hush,” he says in a low growl as his eyes track over your squirming body, his hips rocking deeper into you even as he holds you still, “I’m enjoying the view.”

Having your own words repeated back to you in that low, mocking tone seems to really do it for you, because you find yourself moaning helplessly as he kisses and nips his way along your neck and shoulders. “Can you- will you just-” you push your hips mindlessly into his, hoping he’ll get the message and start moving. “Come on, come on-”

“Fuck, you’re desperate, aren’t you?” Bakugou says, grinning at the way you buck into him, “Look at you. You really want to get fucked that bad?”

“Obviously!” you snarl back, wiggling your hips determinedly.

Bakugou actually has the nerve to laugh at that, but it doesn’t last too long before he’s finally pulling out and driving his hips home. “Oh, yeah,” he grunts, thrusting his hips a few times experimentally before settling into a rhythm.

He fucks you hard and fast, and all you can do is gasp against him and clutch at his shoulders. You shouldn’t have expected anything less of him, really. Every time he drives his hips into you knocks the breath right out of you, and you have to shut your eyes tight because it feels so stupidly good. Every time his thighs slap into yours you can feel the lace of the panties rubbing against your skin.

It doesn’t take long to realise that neither of you are going to last -- you were half-way to coming from the first moment you saw his cock straining against the silk of those panties, and having him pounding you into the ground like this is like the fulfillment of every wet dream you’ve had over the three years of knowing him. And judging by the mindless grunts and sloppy snapping of his hips into yours, Bakugou’s just as close.

You lock your ankles behind his back, trying to urge him deeper as you sneak your hand down between you to rub frantically at your clit. Your breathing is interspersed with gasping moans as you feel your stomach tightening, the muscles in your legs beginning to clench up.

Then, just as you’re about to tip over the edge, your hand is knocked aside. “What the fuck!” you complain instantly, scowling at Bakugou.

He scowls back at you, though most of his focus is still going into keeping his rhythm of fucking you. “What are you doing? Am I not- unh- enough for you, huh?”

“Stop being so mouthy and make me come.” you complain, reaching your hand back down. It’s knocked aside yet again, this time to be replaced by Bakugou’s own. His fingers fumble a little at first as he tries to lean his weight on one hand and balance the thrusting of his hips with the rhythm of stroking your clit. “Fuck-” you start to moan, but then his lips descend on yours and he’s kissing you. It’s messy, drool going everywhere in a way that is decidedly not sexy, but you’re apparently so far gone that you couldn’t care less.

“Come.” he mumbles into your mouth, pulling at your lower lips with his teeth before kissing you hard again, “You need to come, you need to come right now-”

You were so close anyway, but the way he’s kissing you combined with him actually telling you to come and the way he’s rutting into you so sloppily and his fingers massaging those hard, fast little circles in your clit has your whole body heaving and locking up. Your back arches and you let out the softest, most breathless little gasp as the build up of your orgasm finally snaps and you come.

You strain against your orgasm so hard that you damn near pull a muscle, chest heaving with the force of your breathing as you try to calm down. Your thoughts are a mess as your muscles start to relax, aching after the way they had tensed up so hard. Your body has barely loosened up after your orgasm before Bakugou is cursing colourfully and pulling out of you, knocking your legs away as his hand grabs at his cock and pumps it viciously fast.

You push up onto your elbows, eyes wide as you watch him fist his cock so hard it looks painful. The sight he makes is absolutely sinful -- his cheeks are flushed red at the highpoints of his cheekbones, his eyes fever-bright as he watches you watching him. His mouth lolls open, his brow scrunched as he fucks his fist, desperately humping into his own grip, panties shoved carelessly down around his thighs.

“You look so gorgeous.” you tell him, your voice hoarse and absolutely wrecked.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck,” Bakugou snarls, and then he’s coming, cum erupting in spurts all over his hand and dripping down onto your stomach and still throbbing pussy. He keeps stroking himself all the way through, shuddering hard. His eyes are still open, flicking from your face to the places where his cum is streaking your skin.

You fall back to the floor, exhausted, as though Bakugou’s orgasm had sapped the last of your strength. “That,” you say, with no small amount of satisfaction, “was very nice.”

To your surprise, Bakugou drops down on you and shoves his face into your neck, ignorant (or uncaring) about his weight on top of you. “I knew you were a weird little pervert.” he murmurs into your skin, nipping at the same place.

“Excuse me?” you protest immediately, fruitlessly pushing at his stupidly broad shoulders. “Wait until you’re wearing your own underwear before accusing me of being a pervert, please.”

That makes him snicker, but he still makes no move to get up from where he’s pretty much crushing you. “Yeah, yeah, whatever. You want these back?” he plucks at the stretched out waistband of the panties slung around his thighs. Apparently one good fuck was enough to knock all the insecurity about the panties right out of him, because he just looks smug and cocky as he watches your eyes drop down to them.

You scowl in an attempt to hide how flustered the sight of him laying on top of you, spent and sweaty with the dirty panties halfway down his thighs, makes you. “You stretched the front of them all out of shape.” you complain halfheartedly.

“It ain’t my fault I got a fat cock,” he says lazily, snorting a laugh when you turn to glare properly at him. “Whatever, quit moaning. I’ll buy you new ones.”

“Yeah?” you brighten at the thought. Going from thinking all your panties were lost to this point was quite the jump, but you couldn’t say you were disappointed with the result.

“Mm.” he hums, stretching his neck before baring his teeth at you, bending his head to press a kiss to one of your breasts. “Only if you promise to show them off for me.”

“I think I can manage that,” you grin, stomach fluttering pleasantly at the implications that this wasn’t just gonna be a one time thing. “Maybe we should get you your own pair, too, so you won’t have to steal mine.”

He delivers a lazy but stinging smack to your ass for that remark, “Don’t be cute.”

“Can’t help it, it’s my default setting,” you say before flicking your gaze back down his body and grinning at him, “Besides,” you lean in and kiss the lobe of his ear, delighting in the near imperceptible shiver that travels down his spine as you whisper, “You wear them well.”

[plush-rabbit]

LOV W/ Quirkless S/O

A/N: More just on taking care of them (i went a little OOC w/ them because I thought about Jin putting a jacket around your shoulders and I cried)

Bubaigawara Jin:

Jin treats you as if you are made of glass. He is just full of emotions and love and he doesn’t try to hide it. He’s eager to go up to you, to wrap his arms around you and keep you protected. His personalities will switch over from time to time, but even if they do, his hands never leave your body, constantly fretting over to check if you have any bruises or bumps.

While you two are out together, he takes great care of you. He’s intimidating. He’s a well-built man who has quite a stare even behind a mask, so most people avoid getting into any sort of altercations with either of you. He has an arm around your waist, pulling you close whenever you are near, pulling your leg up to overlap his, his hands constantly on you. 

He’s actually rather glad that you’re weak. He doesn’t like the negative side effects that it comes with but he’s happy that you rely on him so much. He likes knowing that he found his place in a family. He found his place with you and he likes to pull you on his lap and keep you safe. 

If you happen to faint near him, he’s quick to catch you. He’ll scoop you up and will hold you while resuming his activities as if everything is normal. He doesn’t fret too much with your spells since you get back right up. He’ll only worry if you actually hit yourself on the fall or if you tell him that you’re feeling queasy. At that point, he’ll settle you down and bring you some alcohol wipes to have your senses focus on something. He’s knowledgeable about the human body so he knows how to give you a quick fix-up when needed.

Jin values you. If you’re feeling ill, he keeps you close. He’s reliable, so he’ll go on whatever mission that he needs to, but he checks in on you every hour. His rough hands will glide over your sleeping body, he’ll nuzzle close to you and move his hand to the base of your neck and slowly curve over the back of your head and press his lips to your forehead. He’s greedy and he’s pulling you close, promising that he’ll protect you till death.

Dabi:

Dabi is indifferent to it in the beginning. If you faint, he’ll raise a brow and fix you up, smoothing out your hair to check for any bumps and if you seem fine, he doesn’t really fret over you. He’s seen you faint a few times and you always come out of it all right, so he isn’t too worried about you. As the relationship strengthens, he values your input with various hypotheticals, going over different plans and just hearing what you have to say.

On the rare occasion that you two do go out, he has a hand on you. It can often be seen as possessive- a hand around the back of your neck, arm hooked around you, and while a hand hold doesn’t seem possessive, he has a tight hold on your hand, enough to cause a slight strain but not uncomfortable. He’s fiercely protective but in a quiet way. He has a hand on you to steer you out of harm’s way, to keep you close to him and make sure that if you do start to feel weak, you can lean on him.

You’re quirkless and you’re weak. He isn’t going to let anything bad happen to you. He’ll act indifferent to caring about you but that’s how he is, he doesn’t want to show his true colors to the public or even to the privacy of your eyes. He keeps a hold on you to keep you from bumping into things. If you were to faint in front of him, he’s quick on his feet and he’ll catch you- pulling on your collar or arm usually. 

If you tire easily, he tries to find a reason why in an inconspicuous way. He’ll tug on your arm and tell you that he’s tired so you two have to sleep earlier, stroke at your back and keep an arm above your chest, keeping you trapped there and if you are unable to sleep, he’ll talk to you, tell you a story about a heist he once did or have you just talk to him about anything. If you aren’t eating well, he forces you to have small snacks in between meals- a granola bar, fruit, a smoothie- just something so you don’t have an empty stomach.

Dabi is a complicated character. He doesn’t want to form an attachment because he wants to believe that he doesn’t need it because he just doesn’t- various reasons- but you’re this fragile thing who clings to him for protection, who eats what he has to offer and while the input is valuable, he likes to hear you speak. He’ll keep you as safe as he can, try to understand the type of pain that you go through. 

Iguchi Shuichi:

Shuichi panics when he finds you growing tired randomly. However, it’s internalized, so when he feels you leaning against him, slow moving arms and hands that wrap around his, he thinks you’re just trying to cause him to grow flustered, so he’ll nudge his arm to get you to pay attention only to ee your tired eyes that you can hardly keep open. He’ll stiffen, take a sharp intake of breath and just let you rest while he figures what’s wrong in his mind.

He tries to maintain a cool composure but at the end of the day, seeing you grow tired for no apparent reason, makes him nervous. He tries to find a reason for it, grabbing your face in his hands, claws that brush gently over your skin as he searches your eyes. If you cover your hands with his eyes, he narrows his eyes and will move to pinch your cheeks, the side of his fingers squishing the fat of your face.

He will try to find a reason why you’re feeling so tired. He’ll let you sleep in longer, shutting off any alarms before you have a chance to stir. He’ll curve his hand over your forehead, checking if you have a fever before he leaves to get ready for the day. He’ll check how long you naturally sleep and when you start to take a pill for an ache in your body, he will make you sit and rest. He’ll usually have a small snack for you- a bag of candy or some gummies that you can snack on. 

He desperately tries to make sure that you don’t overwork yourself. He’ll sit by you, have you put your work down- yes, he understands how important it is for you to plan for future missions, but he needs you to understand that your health is more important. He’ll have you sit by him, a hand over your hip as he keeps you by him, watching him play a video game or a let’s play.

He’s easily flustered and his words to you are often strained because he’s nervous about messing up in front of you. He will press himself close to you late at night, rub his claws down your spine and scold when he finds that you’re still awake even though your eyes are drooping. Shuichi knows that you’re lying when you tell him you can’t sleep but when you bury your head in his chest and beg for him to talk to you, he’ll agree and talk about a movie he once saw when he was small and the details are all over the place and he’s unable to recall more than the emotional parts, but it’s enough for you to sleep.

Sako Atsuhiro:

As expressive and eccentric that Atsuhiro can be, he’s quite easily surprised when he finds out just how fragile you are. He’s visibly taken aback when you faint in front of him and he’s grateful for the mask that covers his frantic eyes and there’s a jerk of his hands as he reaches out towards you, only for you to pop back up rubbing the top of your head.

He keeps a close eye on you. He doesn’t want you going out alone in case you happen to feel ill and he tries to convince you to go with him or let him go. He’s worrisome. The showman is nervous around you, intertwining your hands before you have a chance to answer and he’s already pulling you away.

His first instinct when you faint in front of him is to catch you. However, he’ll often encase you in a marble when he does so. He’s secure enough in his abilities that he could catch you before you have a chance to actually hit the floor but putting you in a marble and doing a quick trick of his fingers allows for a louder action. He has this growing grin that quickly turns smug when you’re in his arms and he’ll kiss your forehead and make a sly remark about how he caught you.

During your fainting spells, he tries to keep a closer eye on you to see how you act before actually fainting. He watches for a stumble in your step, how you lean into him or the weakening of your hand. He pulls you close to his chest and will step to the side, asking if you feel alright. There are moments where he asks for you to describe what you feel like when you’re about to faint- pure curiosity to see if you can pinpoint it before your body can react. 

Ever-present, Atsuhiro doesn’t leave your side. He values what you have to say and while he isn’t fond of letting you be alone, he’ll swallow the nervous feeling that lodges in his throat and press a kiss against the tip of your nose, a gloves hand curving around your face as he whispers against your lips to call if you feel ill and not to push yourself. He’s entirely devoted, asking for a few favors and making sure whatever workload you have is shortened. 

Shigaraki Tomura:

Tomura tries to act like he doesn’t care. He’ll act like your fainting spells are an annoyance to him. Even in the beginning, he’ll mutter under his breath about how annoying that it is that you faint.  But he’s extremely nervous. His eyes will widen and his hands will reach towards you before he remembers and he pulls his hands back. He feels awful- especially when he gets harsh stares from other members. It’s understandable but there isn’t much he can do about it.

He can’t do much when it comes to physically taking care of you. He’ll offer you the things you need to help you feel better, ignore the stare of Kurogiri when he sneaks you snacks, and sometimes he enables the more unhealthy behavior. It’s not on purpose but he likes staying up late with you and having you sleep in for the simple fact that you always curl next to him or find a way to just be near him when he insists for you to sleep separately. 

However when he starts to see that you’re growing weary from the simplest act and resulting in you passing out during random hours, he stops the behavior. He grows as a person and in turn he takes on a more caring approach to you. He’s strict as time goes on, he’ll make you go to bed at a certain time, have you finish plans in the morning if you have things to do.

He isn’t a fan to argue with you on something that is important to your health. He wants to know that you are getting the rest that you need and once he gains control of his quirk, he’s leaner with you. He’ll let you stay near him as long as you don’t work or do anything that prevents you from sleeping and he’ll run his hand up and down your back or massage at your hand.

Tomura will still let you sleep in. He likes to watch as you sleep, pressed against his side with a hand thrown over his body and he’s just watching you. The sun peeks through the window and his alarm rings as time edges closer to a meeting and he’ll sigh. He lets you sleep in, letting you get all the rest that you need while he has the more strenuous work saved for others.

Toga Himiko:

Himiko winces when she sees you faint for the first time but she’s quick to act. She’ll run her hand over your head, check for any bumps or possibly broken bones, and when you awaken, she’ll ask if you’re okay and if you say you are, she’ll lightly tap your head. She can almost always tell afterwards if you’ve gotten enough rest or if you’re eating properly.

She knows that eating healthy won’t solve everything but it’s a step in the right direction. As much as her lovesick attitude can make her appear ditzy, she’s quite intelligent. So she’ll see you start to rub at your eyes or lean against a solid surface and she’ll pull you down to sit next to her and offer a sweet that she has on hand. She tries to be dotting; absolutely falling in love with the idea of being your strong knight. 

She likes having you lay on her lap or cling to her sleeve when you start to feel a bit dizzy. She appreciates the feeling where you trust her enough to start to lean onto her. While your drowsiness appears more often, she really does love it. She likes the clinginess that you start to show, the heaviness of your eyes where you’ll try to keep your eyes open in order to hear her talk more or plan things out.

There are times where she’ll end something early just so you two can leave. She doesn’t care for consequences and she gives you a cheeky smile when you both run from prior engagements. She likes to just find a quiet spot, play with make-up or watch a video online. Oftentimes, if she has the feeling that you’re growing tired, she’ll offer for you to lay on her lap or will just talk about her day, oftentimes mentioning the League in one of her stories.

Himiko loves when you seemingly pass out beside her. She loves to just move you onto her lap and press her face close to yours and watch you. She’ll trace a delicate finger over your features, dip her finger on your cupid’s bow and just watch. She likes to take pictures and if someone happens to come by and you aren’t awake yet and she knows that you’re fine, she’ll have people be silent as she continues whatever she was doing while you get rest.

[ashintheairlikesnow]

Not a Baby: Nat and Chris (And Ronnie)

CW: The first part is pure fluff with a couple underage drinking references/jokes. Second part references the events of Chris getting appendicitis (One, Two, Three, Four) and takes place while he is healing from surgery. Includes surgery references, whumpee rejecting medication, medical trauma references

Sometimes, you just want bittersweet fluff lined with angst.

-

“You gotta help me out,” Tristan sings along with the radio as they wait at a red light, Ronnie furtively checking her phone. “It’s all a blur last ni-eee-eye-ee-ight…”

One message from Paul, just now out of bed after a longer-than-usual workday had fully wiped him out, thanking her for leaving some food in the fridge. She smiles, faintly, at the sight of the little heart emojis he leaves after every single text. 

He’s not much for showing emotion in his face, not like Tristan wears his own feelings on his sleeve, but he knows how to make sure Ronnie feels loved. He always has.

The light turns green, and she taps on the gas, then lets her foot slowly press down. Next to her, Tristan dances in his seat, totally unselfconscious, rocking back and forth. 

“We need a taxi, ‘cause you’re hungover and I’m broke…”

Ronnie starts laughing, one hand over her mouth, the other still on the wheel.

He blinks, turning to look at her. They just clipped his hair short last week, getting him ready for the next competition coming up. She never expected to be a Gymnastics Mom, not once, but here she is, chaperoning her teenage son to the gym on a Saturday afternoon, where he more or less lives these days. “What?”

“I just. It’s something else to listen to your teenage son sing about being hungover, Tris. That’s all. You’re way too young for this song. And probably just for Katy Perry in general, not that anyone should listen to-”

“Mom.” Tristan rolls his eyes, leaning over and pointedly turning the volume up on the radio. “I like Katy Perry. And I, I, I know what hungover is. I’m not, not, not, not-... not-not four years old. I’m fifteen.”

“Fair enough, but I don’t think my fifteen-year-old should know about being hungover, either.” She takes a turn, the radio cheerfully blaring that’s what you get for waking up in Vegas and she wonders why she keeps letting Tris pick the radio station, exactly, when they could be listening to some perfectly fine soft rock right about now. “What do you get up to at Aki’s, huh? Maybe I need to speak to Aimi. Ask if you’re having wild parties as soon as I leave.”

“Oh my god, Mom.” Tristan turns bright red, and she tries not to enjoy how much he’s his father’s son - always but especially when he blushes, the red seeming to make the scattering of pale freckles stand out even more, not less, when he does. “You are, are not going to-... we don’t drink, Mom. We just, just watch shows and… hang out.”

“I know, baby,” Ronnie says, laughter still edging her voice. “I’m teasing you, that’s all.”

He glares out the windshield where he sits next to her, running his fingers up and down the smooth seatbelt, along its edge. Back and forth, enjoying the mix of silk and rough in the texture, she thinks. 

“I’m not a, a, a, a baby,” He mumbles, all teenage resentment and irritation. 

“Oh, honey. That’s the downside of having parents,” Ronnie says, gentling her voice down to affection, taking another turn. She can see the gym now, down at the end of the street. Aimi will probably already be here with Aki, she figures, and maybe they can make a coffee run while the boys practice. “It doesn’t matter how old you get. You could be fifty and I could be sixty-seven and I’d still see you wrapped in that hospital blanket looking up at me with big eyes. Even when we’re both old, you’ll still be my baby.”

He rolls his eyes again, but this time she catches the hint of a smile he’s trying to hide pulling at one side of his mouth. Tristan leans forward and switches the radio station over to Ronnie’s favorite, then falls back into his seat, focusing on the seatbelt again.

Sometimes, like his father, he doesn’t know how to say he loves her, but he always knows how to show it.

-

Two and a half years later

Nat came down for a glass of water, only to find Chris wide awake on the couch at 3 am, top teeth biting down so hard on his bottom lip she was afraid he’d draw blood, making his slow, careful, shuffling way towards the stairs.

She’d managed to convince him to go back to the couch, or really more or less command him, but the trade-off was promising she’d stay downstairs with him for a while.

Now, instead of water she has a mug of hot tea steaming gently on the side table, instead of her warm bed she has Chris’s head resting on a pillow in her lap while she runs fingers slowly through his hair - dark red in the night, lit with a hint of silver by the reflected light coming off the television - and instead of dreams, she has reruns of Frasier.

“You palmed your pain medication earlier, didn’t you?” She asks the question as gently as she can, without judgement.

He doesn’t answer, green eyes locked on the television, where the main character’s younger brother is preparing for a date and managing to set an ironing board on fire in the process. It’s probably one of the best scenes in television history, but Nat can’t even begin to pay attention to it. Worry has her all twisted up, heart beating a little too fast, as she picks up her mug and takes a sip, honey and lemon and yes, a little bit of whiskey in her tea all settling over her tongue. 

“Chris,” She says, softly. “I asked you a question.”

“Mmmhmm,” is all he says, and he doesn’t move. His head is a soft weight against her leg, and his hair runs like silk through her fingers. He’s pale not just from the darkness and the late-night TV, but from the pain he must be in, must be holding back.

Of course, there’s no one who has come through her house who hasn’t been pretty good at hiding pain, after a while. Once you’re drowned in it, once it’s your everyday truth, you learn not so much to actually hide it as simply to go on living with it. 

No one Chris’s age should already be so good at this.

“You have to take those, or you’re going to hurt like this all the time for a while,” Nat says, trying to keep from lecturing him. His freckles stand out more, lit by the cool blue-tinged light of TV. She watches him smile, just a little, at the slapstick comedy going on. “It’ll take longer for your incision to heal if you-”

“Don’t, don’t like pills,” Chris whispers, and she watches one of his hands, palm flat, running up and down the heavy weighted blanket she’s laid over him. It’s soft as rabbit fur, and he starts to hum, nearly a whisper, as he touches it. “Jake’s gone. Out. Didn’t… didn’t want them.”

Nat takes a deep breath, closing her eyes briefly. “Chris, you can’t only take pills when Jake is here to give them to you. He can’t always be here, he has things he does outside of this house-”

“I know. But… I didn’t want them. I, I, I don’t mind hurting a little.”

The funny thing is, it’s not bluster. He really doesn’t. Chris would really rather lay here, awake in the middle of the night, in terrible pain than simply put two pills into his mouth and wash them down with water. There’s been too much done to him with drugs, and he’s not the only one she’s had to help recover the idea of medicine as something other than torture.

He’ll get there.

She hopes.

“Okay, well… where did you put them?”

There’s silence, again, but this time he shifts a little, a flash of his hurt and discomfort across his expression. “In, in the couch cushions.”

“Do you have any of your other doses in there?”

“... mmhmm.”

“Chris…” She sighs, putting her hand up to her forehead, rubbing her fingers just above the bridge of her nose as the tension starts to build behind her eyes. Oh, her head’s going to hurt soon. She can’t just be up at night like she used to without paying for it the next day. “How many have you skipped? Huh?”

“... four.”

“Four. Four times-... okay.” She exhales, slowly - he’s tense under her hand, now, and she can feel the worry in him. Knows he’s trying to figure out if he’ll be in trouble, get punished. Disciplined for the ways he’s learned to live with what happened to him.

A different kind of test than what he’s tried on Jake, but it’s still a test.

“Chris. I can’t tell you how much I don’t want to have to sit here and watch you and see you swallow them. I know that it’s hard for you, I do, and I’m so sorry that we have to do this, but I have to take care of you. I want to take care of you. And part of that is making sure you know how to care for yourself. When you’re recovering from serious surgery-”

“The, the, the, the cut’s not even that big,” He mutters, a hint of irritation. 

Nat feels a surge of affection for him that, if she were standing, would nearly knock her off her feet. Chris interrupting her, Chris being pouty and sulky and every inch a seventeen-year-old boy, is a new thing. She doesn’t take it for granted.

It’s just… a little inconvenient right now.

“It doesn’t matter how big it is. It went all the way inside your stomach, and it was a pretty serious surgery. You need these pills or you are going to hurt like hell for so much longer than if you take them and get better. You got it?”

He sighs, but relaxes against her again, and she starts running fingers through his hair again, simple and maternal. “Yeah. I, I do.”

“Okay. Let’s watch the show and see if maybe you’re up for taking your dose and heading back to sleep in a bit, huh?”

“Will you, you, you stay? Even if I-... even if I do, and fall asleep?” He twists a little to look up her and winces as it pulls the still-tender muscles in his abdomen. “Will you stay?”

Nat thinks about how badly her back’s going to hurt in the morning. The headache already trying to sneak its way in around the edges. How she’s going to end up napping half the day away and not getting a damn thing done she had planned.

Then she just smiles down at him, at his wide green eyes in his narrow face and the heavy blanket hiding every other inch of him in softness and warmth. “Yeah, okay. I’ll stay right here with you, ‘til Ant’s up in the morning. How’s that sound?”

“Good. See if you can get comfortable for a bit.”

The two of them fall back into an easy silence, broken only by the low-volume of the TV show, and get through two more episodes of Frasier before Nat’s tea is gone and she and Chris are both half-asleep on the couch, her hand simply resting on his hair, now, light but ever-present. 

Eyes closed, the television’s cool blue still dancing against the inside of her eyelids, she hears Chris mumble, “Night, Nat,” in a sleep-slurred voice. It’s got to be four in the morning, there’s not much night left.

“Night, baby,” Nat murmurs.

“Not a, a baby, Mom,” Chris whispers, but both of them are too close to sleep to notice.

-

Tagging: @burtlederp , @finder-of-rings , @endless-whump , @whumpfigure , @astrobly @newandfiguringitout , @doveotions , @pretty-face-breaker , @gonna-feel-that-tomorrow @boxboysandotherwhump  , @oops-its-whump  @cubeswhump ,  @whump-tr0pes  @downriver914 @vickytokio @whumpiary @orchidscript @moose-teeth @nonsensical-whump @outofangband

[haechanplsacceptmylove]

Ruin You

Characters: BF!Johnny x reader

Warning(s): adult content, unprotected sex, spanking, edging, bulging, daddy kink, choking, oral: giving and receiving, basically just Johnny ruining you.

Genre: smut

Summary: Johnny finally decides to take a step and discover your body and ruin your innocence.

Word count: 2k

Requested✅

You enter your boyfriend's apartment with a devious smirk on your face, excited to startle him but as soon as you get close to his room you hear the shower sound from his bathroom. You sigh entering his room, seeing his shirt thrown on his bed you run to it and quickly change your clothes. You look at the mirror: his black shirt reaching the middle of your now bare thighs and smile to yourself jumping on his bed and laying on your stomach taking your phone out to play a game while waiting for your boyfriend. 

You and Johnny have been dating for couple months now, you met him in the club where you were celebrating your 21st birthday and you both just ended up having each other's numbers. You told him from the beginning that you want to take things slowly especially when this was your first relationship and he completely understood your situation, especially after experiencing your innocence on the dance floor.

"hi babygirl" your boyfriend's voice interrupts your thoughts as your head turns to the direction of his voice. You blush looking immediately away. He only had a towel wrapped around his hips, as one of his hands was using another towel drying his hair. "aw don't be shy" you hear him chuckling "just put your clothes on oh god Johnny" you say huffing trying your best to stop blushing "what if i won't" you turn your head back towards him in shock and your eyes end up staring at his perfect muscly body "like what you see?" he smirks walking closer. You huff and look away blushing more "y-you're going to be sick if you don't put clothes on" you stutter making him laugh at your flustered state. You feel his warm hand on the back of your thighs, freezing immediately. "you expect me to stay still and control my hormones when my cute tiny babygirl is wearing my shirt and swaying her pretty legs in front of me like that?" he whispers in yours ears, still massaging your thighs. You uncontrollably close your thighs making him shake his head. "come on baby" he hovers on you from behind, still whispering in your ear "i know you want to touch me" he kisses your earlobe, now his both hands are massaging your both thighs making you shiver at the feeling. "J-Johnny-" "it's daddy" you bite your lips as he trails wet pecks on the area behind your ears down to your nape and shoulders making you shiver more, accidentally letting out a small whine "you like that?" he teases. You lean your head down into the pillows in embarrassment, giving Johnny more access to your nape as he doesn't waste any time to attack it with kisses and sucking on it leaving bright red marks on it. You bite yours lips trying your best to not make any sound, but your body says otherwise as you keep shivering and curling your toes whenever his lips make connect with your soft skin. 

Johnny gets up and turns you around, smiling at your red cheeks as you try to look at anything else other than him. He holds your chin forcing you to look at him, you shut your eyes as soon as you see him leaning closer, earning another chuckle from him. Finally you feel his hot tasty lips on yours as you return the kiss immediately going straightly to a needy heated make out. You wrap your arms around his neck deepening the kiss, feeling his warm hands go under your (his) shirt, rubbing on your soft stomach. You break the kiss to catch your breath as you stare into each other's eyes. "tell me whenever you want to stop" you nod. He leans back taking your hand in his hand and placing it on his well built abs making you bite your lips, feeling as if your face's burning in embarrassment. You bring your other hand and place it on his abs along with the other one, Johnny let's go of his grip on your hand and looks at you as you stroke your hands from his v line up to his chest, making him bite his lips trying his best to control himself. You look down and blush, seeing the bulge that has formed under his towel. Johnny notices and smirks "you see what you do to me babygirl?" you look away. Johnny takes your hands and pins them above your head "answer me when i ask" you gulp "y-yes". He starts sucking and biting onto your neck, his hands reaching the hem of your shirt, taking it off you. You try to cover your exposed body but he holds your hands "you're gorgeous y/n" he pecks your lips "so... No bra?" he smirks making your frustrated. As you were about to answer him you feel his hot lips on your nipple, sucking and biting on it, making you let out a low groan, biting your lips right after. "i want to hear your pretty moans baby" he says holding eye contact with you as he trails kisses from your left boob to your right, again sucking and biting on it as his hand massages the other. You let out a loud moan at the new feeling, your fingers tangling up with his hair. “you drive me crazy” he kisses down your stomach, finally reaching your clothed clit. He looks at you and you nod giving him the permission to continue. He presses soft kisses on your inner thighs making you squirm, finally kissing your sensitive clit, making you curl up your toes trying your best to control yourself. Johnny takes off your panties throwing them on the floor, not wasting any time, positioning himself between your legs, putting them on his shoulders as his tongue drowns between your folds making you moan closing your legs around your boyfriend's head. He quickly holds your thighs, opening them wide, attacking your sensitive nerves with his wet hot tongue, sucking and biting onto your clit, your moans music to his ears. He finally inserts his tongue into you and you grab his hair, pushing him deeper "y-yes daddy please don't stop". Hearing you, Johnny quickly inserts two fingers into you, making your back arch as a loud moan escapes your lips. He starts thrusting them in and out of you in a quick pace making you see starts. "f-fuck i think I'll cum-" you moan making Johnny stop all of his movements. You whimper at the emptiness "what was that for" your frown. "do you know how many times i had to hold myself from destroying your little cunt and just release myself in the bathroom because of you?" he says licking his fingers. You bite your lips "now you're going to pay for that baby" he says, motioning to you to sit down in front of him on the edge of the bed as he gets off it. He stands in front of you, looking down at you. He grabs your small hand and puts it on his hard member, making him groan and throw his head back in pleasure. You lick your lips and start stroking his member through the towel. "yes baby just like that" he starts thrusting into your hand making himself moan. You bite your lips and take off his towel slowly, freeing his big member. You gulp at his size making him chuckle "big, isn't it?" he smirks "i-it is" you look at him "it's okay baby i know you can take it" you nod. You start stroking his member, Johnny following your moves. You lick your lips and lean towards his throbbing member, licking the precum. You give the head couple kitten licks "don't tease babygirl" you finally take him in your mouth, holding eye contact with him, making him twist in your mouth at the hot view in front of him: his innocent cute girlfriend on her knees taking his huge member in her mouth. He throws his head back as you start sucking him up and down, using your hand to stroke the left of his length that's definitely not fitting in your mouth. Johnny holds your head and starts thrusting into your throat making you gag around him, tears streaming down your face, he holds you still, cutting off your breathing space, you tap on his thighs and he takes himself out of you, letting you cough and breathe heavily. "fuck baby you make me lose my control" he pushes you back on your back and hovers up on you and opens your legs wide, wrapping them around his hips. "I'll try to be gentle baby" he says kissing you, as his huge member stretches your entrance, finally entering you. You feel your insides getting stretched out and you hold his arms. He stays still making you adjust to his huge size. You nod making him start thrusting in and out of you in a slow pace, fastening slowly. "g-go faster" his thrusts get a lot faster, making you both moan in pleasure "shit babygirl you're so fucking tight mmh perfectly sucking my dick into you" he sucks your earlobe making you moan louder "fuck oh my god don't stop daddy" you cry out feeling him thrust deeper and faster, hitting your g post every time. You scratch his back leaving red marks on it, making him groan in your ear "fuck baby you feel so good" he sucks on your neck leaving red and purple marks, his hand goes down to your stomach, eyes following it, making him smirk at the bulge formed in your stomach "fuck baby im in your guts" he chuckles, pressing on your stomach, feeling himself fuck you raw. "fuck daddy I'm close-" he pulls himself out of you making you cry out "do you deserve it baby?" "y-yes please i want to cum daddy please" you cry out, throwing all of your shame away. Johnny turns you around so now you're laying on your stomach, he places a pillow under you hips making your ass higher. "now start counting" he spanks you, earning a yelp from you "o-one... two... thr-ee".... "f-four" he rubs the red marks on your buttcheeks "these are how many times i just wanted to pin on you on the wall and fuck you senseless in just one day" he kisses your back, spreading your buttcheeks and slamming into you from behind, making you yelp. He starts immediately thrusting fast and deep making you on cloud nine. "fuck y-yes daddy you're so good" you yelp as Johnny spanks you again, one of his hands going up to wrap around your throat adding pressure now and then, as his other hand goes down to rub onto your clit increasing the pleasure, he leans down groaning and whispering dirty things into your ear. You starts moaning louder feeling close for the third time "please daddy let me cum I've been a good girl" "hm should i let you" he questions, sucking on your shoulder "y-yes please daddy let me cum around your big dick- oh god" "cum baby" you cum, clenching around his member making him moan and release into you, painting your walls white and filling you up. He collapses next to you and takes you into his embrace "fuck baby that was amazing" he pants kissing your head while stroking your back. You hide your embarrassed face into his chest making him giggle "c'mon baby don't be shy" you hit his arm playfully. He holds your chin finally making you look at him "i guess you're not innocent anymore" you grab the pillow and throw it at him, making you both chuckle. Let's go shower. "t-together?" "together" he carries you to the bathroom with a smirk.